#;; but also oh my god emily i cannot thank you enough for sending in such beautiful things 🥹🥹 my heart is literally singing!!!

[kaerinio]

@drakonprince approached her grace at her name day feast:

IF YOU WILL: please imagine the (modern) childhood birthday parties of Rhaenys+Aegon+Dany+Jonaemon. Bouncy castles. Petting zoos. Popular performer of their choosing. Beach trips. When they are older, going exploring in ancient pyramids and castles. Dany's birthday is no less extravagent than the others!

Dany's birthday (general verse) may be difficult in a certain sense, but Rhaegar never wants her to feel like that's her doing, or to ever feel like her birth was a bad thing. SO PLEASE IMAGINE: Rhaegar, in escaped the wall au, plotting with Missandei to put together a party when he finally figures out when Dany's nameday is! He has over a decade of celebrations to make up for, and while he may not be able to shower her with gifts the way he could in the past, he does the next best thing: plays for her, sings for her songs he knows she never would have heard, old songs of their House (it's the first time he's played since he was sent to the wall 🥺). Also: Rhaegar and Missandei putting together a book about House Targaryen!!! Of all the lesser-known facts Rhaegar knows!! Stuff he heard from Uncle Maester Aemon!! A book that's neither glorifies nor demonizes their House, but presents them as people existing in a family, as a family 🥺

pleaaaaase, i'm literally sitting here now thinking about the total juxtaposition between canon and this modern configuration where dany actually loves her birthday and actively looks forward to it. every year, from the time she is able to make requests, she does so freely (bc of course she feels so safe making requests to her brother and elia)! and when she learns how to write, she starts creating lists of ideas to bring before them! screaming about the trips when they're all older . . . how, prior to their day of travel, dany literally cannot sleep due to her anticipation of the adventure. does she, in the middle of the night, seek rhaenys, aegon, and/or jon/aemon, hoping that someone else is awake to share in her excitement? yes! those celebrations in particular always make dany reflect on how it doesn't necessarily feel like it's just one of their birthdays; it really feels like a celebration of them all just being together, loving each other, cherishing each other. in terms of her own birthday, ultimately, while she is deeply, immensely grateful for her exorbitant parties (how could she not be???), the truest gift of all, the thing she always looks forward to the most, is being surrounded and loved and celebrated by her family.

now, general verse!!!! don't mind me while i sit here weeping. i still need to write a full thing about it but . . . dany's namedays in canon are a grim affair due to viserys' projection of the fault of rhaella's death onto her. because of this, she's essentially been conditioned to just . . . walk past her own nameday. so, any, and i mean any effort that rhaegar puts into celebrating it, into showing her the joy to be had in that day, brings tears to her eyes. real tears (that she tries to blink away, but some will spill no matter how hard she tries . . . and perhaps she calls herself a childish fool internally for crying 🥺). please imagine the sheer excitement on her face when she sees him poised with a harp! the way her lips part when he sings the first note! the awe displayed so rawly on her face! she never doubted the descriptions of her brother's skill, but to hear about his talent and to actually hear for herself are two different things. picture the tears (bc ofc she's moved to tears LIKE PLS). picture the queen melting away, revealing the sweet and vibrant girl beneath, who requests songs, who asks to hear some of them again, who hums or sings along softly once she commits some of the words to memory, who, tossing all care to the wind, sways and dances! imagine how her eyes shine when that book, this book of their house, is presented to her . . . how, at the end of the festivities, she goes to sleep clutching it to her chest, housing this lost family in her arms and heart. also . . . the way dany reads passages over and over, going directly to rhaegar with questions, wanting to hear his own thoughts in his voice.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the window

summary: reader gives spencer a really cute holiday gift, and he really, really appreciates it (spencer reid x gn!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this was supposed to be a blurb lmao. also anon, u did not specify gender, so this is gender neutral!!! also, this is for the holiday season and isn’t specific to christmas (aside from mentions of secret santa gift exchange). also also, spencer knits canonically.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

Rolling your eyes, you closed the seemingly menacing pop-up on your screen and continued to finish up your paperwork. A few seconds passed before a second pop-up appeared.

DO NOT CLOSE MY MESSAGES!!!

You heaved a sigh and stood, making your way to Garcia’s lair. Pushing the door open, you skipped a greeting entirely and chided, “Dude, you gotta stop sending scary pop-ups to my computer. People are gonna start thinking that unsubs are hacking the FBI and threatening agents.”

From beneath her horn-rimmed glasses, Penelope tutted and chewed the end of her pen. “You are no fun. Besides, you are forgetting my immensely cool and mysterious origin story. ‘The Black Queen’ was not one of the good guys!”

“That’s true,” you admitted, “but you’re one of us now, so that means no more suspicious messages unless you want to be fired.”

She gave you a contemptuous glare, “Not gonna happen. Also, I’m really shocked that you thought you could distract me from the matter at hand.”

Furrowing your brow, you replied, “I don’t even know what the matter at hand is.”

Garcia’s smirk curled devilishly. “You and Reid.”

Further confusion ensued. “And what about us?”

She groaned and threw her head back, “Oh my god, you really are dragging this out. I know that you did not get him for Secret Santa, but you still got him a present.” The quirking of her eyebrows was enough to indicate that she meant more than what she was saying, and you were hesitant to explore the implications.

“Okay, first of all, it is illegal to look at my credit card history, and secondly, he is my best friend, so yes, I got him a present. Is that a crime?”

“Certainly not...but this does solidify the fact that you’re in love with him.”

“Dear god, Garcia, I am not in love with Spencer Reid.”

The look she gave you was one of utter incredulity. Her disbelief was so strong in fact that she did not deign your statement worthy of verbal response. Instead, she sat there. Staring. And under her rather unnerving gaze, you began to fidget, your resolve slowly dissolving. Squeezing your eyes shut, you relented. 

“Okay, maybe I am the littlest, tiniest bit in love with Spencer Reid.”

“Well, duh, but what I really need to know is when you’re gonna tell him.”

“When? Garcia, this is not a ‘when’ question. Actually, it’s not a question at all because never in a million years would I ever tell him.”

“Why not?” she exclaimed, gesturing with her pen still in hand. “You spend almost all of your time together, at work and at home! You guys go to bookstores and museums and cafes. He talks about his silly little statistics, and you listen, and you make your silly little jokes, and he laughs; you’re a match made in heaven! And he’s so obviously into you! That boy writes the definition of heart eyes every time he looks at you.”

Steeling your jaw, you rebutted, “That’s just not true.” Your voice faltered. “Sure, I’ve noticed a certain...affection, but he does not love me in the same way I love him.” You let out a shaky breath before deciding to continue. “Did you know that in all of our years of friendship he’s never touched me? I mean sure, it’s happened once or twice in the field, but that was always an accident. And yeah, I know he has his thing with germs, but don’t you think if he liked me as anything more than a friend, he would have done something by now? A pinky promise, a teasing elbow jab—I don’t know—something?”

Penelope’s face softened, and she tried to recover your confidence. “He’s like that with everyone! He likes his space. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him initiate contact with anyone on the team.”

 “But isn’t that the point, Garcia? I’m just like everyone else to him. He wants space from me.” Bitterness roiled in your stomach and dripped from your tongue. “Not very romantic, huh?” 

Trying to piece together a counterargument, she stumbled slightly, “No, I will give you that.” She paused. “But I think he’s just scared. Not of germs, not of you, but of his feelings for you. He’s not the most well-adjusted person I know.”

You chuckled lightly, gradually resuming your normally light-hearted disposition, “I would agree.”

“Well, I hope he likes his present.”

The semblance of a tired smile graced your face. “Yeah, me too.” 

You turned to walk out and had almost made it out the door when her voice stopped you. “Also, I will stop sending suspicious pop-ups to your computer.”

Peeking back through the doorway, you grinned.“I think it’d be for the best. Texting does exist for a reason.”

——— 

It had been a really good day. It wasn’t often where an entire day in the bullpen passed only with friends and laughter and love and light, but today was one of them. Snow fell silently outside the windows, but everything inside felt warm like laughing so hard that your cheeks ache and your stomach hurts.

By now, a sort of daze had befallen the team as the giddiness wore on and the alcohol set in, fuzzing eyes and minds. Most everyone had paired off after the gift exchange a few minutes prior, but no one had drifted too far. (Maybe it was the team instinct: never stray too far from the pack, but it was also likely that everyone just enjoyed the proximity to their loved ones, their family.) Garcia seemed to be in heaven, tucked into Morgan’s side on a couch that had been dragged haphazardly into the bullpen, and murmured conversation stretched on with intermittent peals of laughter. Predictably, Hotch and Rossi had sequestered themselves to a nearby desk, their scotch glasses never dry and grins never fading. (Hotch during the holidays was something special. His often frigid demeanor thawed, and out from the ice peeked his former self who wasn’t so serious. (His rare giggles were quite the surprise though.)) Emily and JJ sat on the latter’s desk, discussing anything and everything (except for psychopathic murderers), while you had pulled your chair up to sit beside Spencer at his desk. 

“So are you pleased about your gift from Rossi?” you asked, a faint grin playing at your lips.

“I am,” he replied, clearly enthused. “But I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he managed to get an authentic TARDIS key.” His finger traced the edge of the authenticity certificate Rossi had bestowed on him that sat on his desk; the key was already hanging around his neck.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded. “Well, money is a powerful thing.”

“True,” he mused before furrowing his brow. “But that’s another thing, the expense limit is not a suggestion, but he always treats it like it is. Puts all the rest of us to shame.”

“There’s no shame in an inexpensive gift!” you argued. “As long as time or thought was put in, it doesn’t matter.”

“Penelope surely didn’t skimp on time spent for yours,” he said, pointing to the homemade knitted hat and glove set on the desk beside you.

“No, I did not!” she yelled from her spot on the couch, somehow having managed to pick up on your conversation, and you laughed. “Lots and lots of time and love was poured into those!” Her speech was slightly slurred as her eggnog intake began to infringe on her lucidity.

“I know this, and I love you for it,” you beamed at her.

“I love you too.” She proceeded to bury her face in Derek’s shoulder who could only chuckle at her antics. 

You picked up a glove and inspected it. “I truly cannot comprehend how she made these. Circular knitting needles are my living hell.”

Sitting up with renewed interest, Spencer said, “If you need help with them, I could lend a hand. I knit my mom a sweater this year, and I think I finally understand how they work if you ever wanted me to show you.”

“I’d love that.” Hopefully, the flush of your cheeks could be blamed on the wine you had had. “Speaking of your mom, how is she? Are you excited to see her?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, and he nodded. “She’s good; her nurse said she’s been doing really well lately. She’s less paranoid, more alert, so I’m really excited. I think this will be a good trip.”

“I’m so glad!” You sat there with a dumb smile for a moment, your mind lagging for a moment (damn wine) before realization crashed onto you. “Wait, speaking of your mom, I have something for you!” He cocked his head to the side as you stood up and went to your desk, rifling through one of the drawers. Pulling out a neatly wrapped gift, you trotted back over and offered it to him. “This is for you.”

He took it, running a hand over the wrapping paper (it was the one with cowboys wearing Santa hats that you had found when shopping together a couple weeks before, his favorite). “(Y/N), you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Shrugging lightly, you said, “Yeah, I know we did the whole gift exchange thing, but I saw it, and I thought of you and had to get it.” And you definitely did not actively seek this out for him in the search for his perfect present. Which is something somebody who is definitely not in love with him would do.

He looked up at you, eyes already glassy and searching your face for something. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but then he met your gaze with unwavering certainty. “Thank you, (Y/N/N).”

“No problem, ya big sap, now open it already.” 

Ever the cautious one, he opened it carefully, sliding a finger under the edge of the paper and gently easing the tape up. The small action of unwrapping a present so attentively was just so Spencer your heart swelled as you suppressed the growing grin. From the paper emerged a book.

“‘A Collection of Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer,’” he murmured, smoothing a hand over the cover.

When he didn’t immediately react, seemingly frozen, nerves crept up the back of your neck, and you sputtered out some sort of reasoning. “I know your mom used to read Chaucer to you; you mentioned ‘The Parliament of Fowls’ when we worked the Fisher King case, and it’s in this collection, and I thought it’d be fun for you to take it to Vegas and read it together and—”

Your explanation came to an abrupt halt as Spencer threw his arms around you, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. Immediately melting into it, you embraced him with a similar intensity and buried your face in his neck. Something in his touch allowed you to let go, and it felt like the moment you could finally exhale. 

A breath you’d been holding for longer than you could remember. 

You could smell the cologne that he wore for ‘special occasions’ and his shampoo and something so faint but so undeniably him, and his hand slid up to the back of your head, cradling it in the most tender fashion, and you felt like you could cry. So you pulled him closer, and he did the same.

The hug definitely lasted longer than what most people would find comfortable, but neither of you could be convinced to retreat until you became aware of the silence that had settled over the bullpen. You felt the many pairs of eyes on you, and it pained you to pry yourself off of Spencer. Breathless, you looked around at the shocked faces of your co-workers who sat with mouths agape and eyes wide. You coughed slightly to try to ease the tension and then for some reason beyond your knowledge, you decided to wave at them in the most awkward fashion. Sitting back down, you could feel stares lingering as conversation resumed, and you looked up at Reid who looked like a deer in headlights. You laughed quietly, tugging his sleeve until he received the memo and sat down again. 

He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact, glancing at his present. “Thank you for the book, (Y/N/N).”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your tone earnest as ever. Still reeling from the hug, you faintly became aware of the speed of your heartbeat and unconsciously brought a hand to your chest. You attempted fruitlessly to sort through your raging thoughts, while across from you, Spencer tried to think of something, anything to say now. 

He couldn’t really believe he’d done it. His germaphobia remained everpresent, but somehow the emotion welling in his chest at your sincerity and benevolence had overridden it, and he felt helpless in stopping himself. His heart had lurched in his chest as if it was suddenly struck with the need to be in your hands, propelling him forward. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to. He had wanted to for so long, but he’d never mustered the courage before. There was something so special, so intimate about touch, and so many people gave it so freely, and he just didn’t understand how they could allow themselves the indulgence. The absolute luxury of giving and receiving love. Spencer often felt like he sat by a window, watching his life pass by outside of it, and he had always wanted to open it, to really experience all the joy and all the grief and all the love that was waiting for him, but it was scary to open himself up to those feelings and the hurt that could ensue. So, he usually sat discontented by his window. But today, it was like he’d grabbed a hammer and smashed the glass completely and stepped through to be able to return the love you had offered him. 

It felt so good.

But now, he had no idea what to do. He stood there in the midst of the shattered glass, and deep down, he knew had to take the last couple steps to get to you, but he didn’t know how. 

His fingers fidgeted in his lap as he analyzed your blank face, trying to find something to give him the next direction when a realization hit him. “I didn’t get you anything!”

Drawn back from the depths of whatever thought you had been stuck in, you met his gaze and shook your head. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I broke the gift exchange rules to get you something, so you had no way of knowing.”

“But I feel terrible.” His eyebrows drew together, and he frantically tried to think of some way to repay you. “You get me an incredibly lovely and wonderfully thoughtful gift, and I’m the loser who didn’t get his best friend a present!”

“Spencer—”

“Wait!” he interrupted, a revelation arriving. (He knew how to take the last steps.) “When I get back after the holidays, do you want to get dinner with me? Then, we can go to the bookstore on 10th that you love, and you can pick out a book, and I’ll pay.”

Your eyes widened further than you thought possible, and your heart which had only partially recovered was off to the races once again. You decided to take the plunge and ask the burning question. “Do you—um, do you mean like a date?”

“Yeah,” he answered, beaming so brightly. “Yes. Like a date. If you want to.”

You held each other’s gaze, and the warmth that had filled the bullpen all day filled your chests, and you smiled so hard your faces hurt. 

So silly, you thought, to have wasted all this time boarding up my affection and keeping it tucked away, safe and useless.

So ridiculous, he thought, to have sat by that stupid window for so many years when the real thing feels so sweet.

“I think I’d like that a lot.”

[feral-ballad]

hellloooo, so what’s up with u lately? What are you reading?

I’m really cannot read anything in the way i wanted for two years now and it has been pretty upsetting and stressful, in the moment part of me still cannot read but the other half just can’t pick up a good book (believe me i think i start reading like 30 different books already and any of them put me on the hook), but yeah it sucks and the good ones that i picked up i just had to give up because of triggering :/

About the post where i asked what did you liked to read, i love poetry so much! Emily Dickinson has been my obsession for quite a long time and i just love SO MUCH her poems. If you give me the pleasure i would REALLY recommend watching the tv show “Dickinson” (if you’re into tv shows and movies, of course), it’s really great and talks about Emily’s life and poems in a really fun and creative way (also contains amazing LGBT+ scenes on it), check it out if you can someday! (Also you don’t need to know Emily’s poems or anything like that, i actually start knowing her work and her story through the tv show)

Well i hope you’re okay, and i hope you’re readings are good or at lest better then mines. Take deep breaths for me, sleep well, eat something good and a really big warm hug! ;)

hello, angel! ♡ i’ve been enjoying places i’ve taken my body by molly mccully brown & blood and guts in high school by kathy acker these days! i hope you have been doing well💘

and oh god… yes, reading slumps can get pretty stressful, especially when you base it on your productivity level, and even worse, self-worth. it’s okay if you’re not always in the right head space for it, reading is not everything. i continually try to remind myself that reading should always be a comforting & relaxing experience rather than an anxiety-ridden one. because life is already full of anxiety.

and of course omg it’s my pleasure! i love emily dickinson immensely & her poetry is a delight, i’m so glad that she’s been getting more recognition because of the tv show. i’ll definitely check it out, thank you so much for the recommendation, darling!🌷

i don’t know how i should thank you for being this kind enough to check up on me… it means a lot to me, truly. i’m sending you love, roses & dozens of kisses!!!💗💗💗💗

[danielleslegacy]

Soulmates || Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

Request: yes / no (but they are open always)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Just a wedding fic, that no one asked for bahaha, but yes, wedding. 

Word Count: 2,404

Warnings: it is just fluff that is all, its tooth-rotting, you’ve been warned.

Pairing: fem!Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

I smooth my hands down the front of the laced front of my dress, casting my eyes back up to the mirror in front of me. Makeup done in such a beautiful way that my eyes pop, the soft blush that lays on my cheeks making me seem younger and more innocent than I am. Behind me I notice people walking into my dressing room. 

“Oh Y/n,” the voice of one Emily Prentiss says, causing me to turn to face her, “You look absolutely gorgeous.” 

My eyes flash over the girls quickly, their beautiful dresses, similar but not the same, adorning their bodies. My eyes fill with tears as I let out a soft laugh. “Thank you Em.” 

“That boy is going to die watching you walk down the aisle in that,” Penelope gushes, her own voice thick with unshed tears. The group lets out a laugh. 

“Thank you for being here,” I say, reaching my hands out to hold the sides on JJ and Penelope, as they are standing on the outside of Emily, “I just wish my parents were here too, you know?”

The girls nod, “They are here, Y/n, they’re always with you.” JJ says, giving my arm and encouraging squeeze. 

“Alright no crying missy, we’ve got a wedding to do,” Eemily says offering me a tissue, which I take and dab underneath my eyes softly. I let out a breath and turn back to the mirror, admiring my dress one last time, with a firm nod of my head, I turn to the dresser and pick up a bracelet. 

“I need some help with this part,” I confess, holding out the bracelet and my wrist to the girls, JJ takes it and clasps it. A multitude of pendants hang off it, each one for a different person in my life. 

“It’s beautiful, was it from boy wonder?” Penelope asks, obviously catching onto one of the charms on the bracelet, a silver book, it was tiny but it was there. 

I nod my head, a smile coming to my lips, “A wedding present, you guys are on here too.” I say gesturing to the four leaf clover. “The whole team is on here,” a small set of handcuffs on the other side of the clover, a reference to our job. “Mum and Dad too,” I say, finally pointing to the two angels. 

A soft knock at the door frame draws us out of our bubble, “Sorry to interrupt ladies, but it's time,” Hotch’s face is painted with guilt at having to pull us away. A wave of anxiety rushes over me, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came, and it’s replaced by pure excitement, excitement at the fact that it’s finally time to marry my soulmate. 

The girls slip out the door sending words of encouragement, and waves as they exited. 

“How do I look, boss?” I ask doing a twirl for Hotch, my dress spiraling around me. I stop back to face him and he has a wide, proud, grin on his face. He gives me a nod in response.

“You ready?” He asks, extending a hand out towards me, which I take readily. 

“Yes,” I put simply, it was an easy answer because yes, i am ready to marry Spencer, i am ready to start the rest of my life with the person that i cannot live without. We walk down a hallway in Rossi’s house and just before we walk out and into the garden, we stop. Rossi had offered his house as the venue once again, as it was practically assumed that after JJ’s wedding to Will that Spencer and I would inevitably marry here too. I’m not in view of the group yet, but I can see the garden, lit up in beautiful lights, and a few seats scattered around the yard. Lanterns litter the grass, like the scene from Tangled. A fairytale coming to life. 

The music begins, a classical wedding march, a giggle erupting from my chest. “In a few minutes I’m going to be married, Hotch,” I say as he opens the door for us to walk out of. 

“Yes, yes you are Y/n.”

We step out on the lawn and I feel everyone's eyes on me, but my eyes are only focused on the end of the aisle, only on Spencer. His beautiful all black suit makes him appear even taller than normal, and his hair is styled to perfection. His eyes shine with tears, and in that moment my refill again. I continue walking, my smile staying spread across my lips, and when I eventually meet the end of the isle, I give Hotch a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you Aaron,” I say softly. The kiss is returned and he places my hand in Spencer’s. 

“You have something truly magical,” He says, taking a step back to join the rest of our team. No, our family. For the first time I looked over all of their faces, all red and tear filled. 

From beside me Rossi clears his throat, “Welcome, Welcome everybody, we are all here today to celebrate the union of two beautiful people.”

My eyes gather with tears and I flick them up to Spencer’s, his own filled too. I squeeze his hands, my excitement evident on my face. 

“We have all watched these two souls find one another against all odds. I’m sure Spencer could tell you the odds of their meeting, and I asked him once, and he told me that day that it’s a 1 in 10,000 chance that he would meet his soulmate. To which I followed up by asking him, and she’s the one right, kid? The boy just nodded his head. Later that same week I asked Y/n if she believed in soulmates,” He lets out a little chuckle, “See what I did there? She didn’t really answer me, but she did look over at the doctor and smiled. I knew what she meant by that. I am by no means an expert on marriage or soulmates.” 

“Ain't that a fact,” Derek mutters from the small group, referencing the italian’s multiple divorces and we erupt into a fit of laughter. My shoulders shake with laughter and tears fall down my cheeks. Spencer’s eyes focus only on me, his own shining with tears, and I can tell that he knows that this is a memory that he will be looking over for years to come. His fingers dance along my wrists and connect with the bracelet. 

“What are you gonna do?” Rossi continues with a shrug once the group is quiet,”But as I was saying. I am no expert, but you don’t need to be to know that these two souls were made for one another. They share this deep and beautiful understanding of one another, their differences and similarities. The two truly complete one another. I am so lucky to have been able to watch your love blossom from an awkward mutual pining to what I see before me today. I am also honored to be able to marry you to one another. So without further ado, let’s get to the important part. You have both prepared vows, Y/n, you first.” 

I nod my head excitedly, my smile widening as if that was even possible, “So like Rossi, I also asked you the odds of us meeting, and I got the same answer. Only, I asked you after our first date, we had probably known each other for six months at that point, eating ice cream in my apartment while watching Hercules. And it was that day that I fell for you. You couldn’t just sit and watch the movie, you kept telling me facts about ancient greece and greeks gods and goddesses, and I knew that I only wanted to experience movies with you being able to tell me about them.” His eyes twinkle and a tear slips down his cheek, I raise my hand up to wipe it away, “That night I called my mum, and i told her that I had met the man I was going to marry,” My voice catches in my throat, “I told her all about you and how you made me feel and she told my dad, and they both instantly loved you, because i was happy and excited.” 

His finger toys with the bracelet on my wrist, tears streaking his face. “And Spence, if they had met you, I know that they would be all about me marrying you. So my vow to you is to always love and savour every moment we have together, and to never go to sleep angry, and to listen to you always. I also promise to take care of you and to love you forever.” 

Spencer unlinks a hand from mine holding up his pinky to which I link mine around it, letting out a watery laugh.

Tears fall from my eyes, when Spencer begins his own vows. 

“I am a man of science and logic and numbers and facts.” He begins, “When you start falling in love, your brain releases chemicals like vasopressin, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin that light up your neural receptors and make you feel both pleasure and a euphoric sense of purpose. That’s the facts of what love is. And before you, that was an easy enough understanding. I had thought I knew what love felt like. But falling in love with you was unlike anything I have ever experienced before in my entire life. And it took me so incredibly long to figure out why. It’s because all logic went out the window. My first and last thought every day was of you, I worried about you constantly and I could not figure out why. But then I noticed that I just wanted to be around you all the time and I didn't want you away from me. And then I got it. Love, this was falling in love. All those other times in my life where i thought i was experiencing love were test drives in comparison to falling in love with you. So today I vow to you, to continually throw logic away and to love you with all of my being for as long as life permits it. And if the Buddists are right, then the meeting was actually 500 years in the making, and I promise to you that in 500 years I will find you again.”

“Oh Spence,” I whisper to no one by him, reaching up to try to wipe the tears off my cheeks. 

“This ceremony will not create a relationship that does not already exist between you. It is a symbol of how far you have come in these past few years. It is a symbol of the promises you will make to each other and continue growing stronger as individuals and as partners. No matter what challenges you face, no matter how much you succeed, you now succeed together. The love between you joins you now as one. Now for the exchanging of rings,” Rossi states, handing us each other's rings. 

"Y/n, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love," Spencer says softly, slipping it onto my fourth finger. 

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you,” I reply, sliding the plain gold band onto his fourth finger. 

Rossi clears his throat, “You two are officially the first members to marry within the BAU, you may now kiss.” 

My smile only widens, as my hands reach up to cup his face softly, and my lips press to his. I feel the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. From behind my closed eyelids I see a flash, but I take no notice lost in the kiss with my now husband. Our lips move against one another, he dips us down slowly yet romantically,, and once we pull apart I miss it, so I quickly press my lips to his and then move back. My smile permanently on my face. The others are clapping and hollering from around us. It is then that I finally notice the camera grasped in Penelope's hand and I’m already so grateful for the pictures that she must have been taking.

My eyes flick back to Spence, “We’re married.”

“Yes we are,” He grins, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around. The group lets out a chorus of laughs and Rossi’s voice breaks through. “Now we eat.” 

We share a beautiful meal, some pasta that I assume Dave made and the conversation flows freely. 

“Remember when you called me on your way to your first date with Y/n?” Morgan teases, “You were so nervous that I actually debated calling an ambulance to make sure you didn’t have a heart attack.”

The group laughs once more and Spencer buries his head into the crook of my neck, clearly embarrassed, “Yeah, well I had reason to be.” 

“Oh wait, that reminds me,” JJ begins, “Y/n called me the day Spence finally asked her out, and you guys, I wish you had been able to hear the excitement in her voice. I know I’m a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to see that the girl was already crazy for him.” 

I let out a soft giggle, reminiscing on that day, and I bring up mine and Spencer's conjoined hands and press my lips to his. 

The soft sounds of Jason Mraz’s ‘I Won’t Give Up’ begins to chime through the air, I stand up, and pull Spencer along with me. 

“Dance with me?” I ask him, and he just nods in reply, pulling me in closer to him. One of his hands rests on my hip and the other encloses mine. I rest my head onto his chest, I can hear the stop patter of his heart beat, as we sway together. He unloops our fingers, and my arms wrap around his waist and his other hand falls in my hair, holding me as close as possible. I feel so protected by the man who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. 

~

TagList (let me know if you want to be tagged!) 

@saucybeeches​

[spencers-renaissance]

Start With This

Summary: Luke accidentally hurts Spencer because they are both hopelessly stupid, but when Spencer's faced with a dangerous situation there's nothing he wants more than Luke. Calling him turns out to be a very good decision.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Making Up, Getting Together

Pairing: Luke x Spencer

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: implied/mentioned sexual assault, more detailed cw on the end notes of the AO3 post <3

Read on AO3

Luke knows he’s getting obvious. His subtlety has completely thrown itself out the window, his dignity’s in the wind, and he’s so, so painfully aware of it all. 

He was probably in love with Spencer before he even met the man: his reputation had preceded him -- as he’d told him that first day in the briefing room -- and the way his friends talked about him, the gentleness he seemed to possess along with the dynamite intelligence of a 187 IQ had his stomach fluttering as he walked in to meet him for the first time. And hadn’t that just sealed the deal. 

Spencer’s face as he walked into the room feels like it’s been permanently burned into the back of his eyelids ever since. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting but it certainly wasn’t someone so adorable. He’d been so open and welcoming and they’d hit it off straight away, every look shared between them, every joint task on the case in Arizona had him buzzing with excitement. If he could spend every waking moment with Spencer, he would. 

And he’s been so good at keeping it under wraps, but lately the looks the girls and Rossi have been sending his way are a bit too… knowing. Like they see right through him. It’s terrifying, really. He’s never had a bad coming out story, mostly because he didn’t until his late twenties when it was much less taboo to be gay and he was surrounded by people who cared far too much about him as a person to care about who he fucked. But he’s also never had a crush on a coworker before, not even a friend, so to be under so much scrutiny in a situation that feels so out of his depths is overwhelming to say the least.

The next case they take on, then, he takes extra caution to be subtle. He volunteers to pair up with others before Emily can assign him something with Spencer; he ignores the looks he directs his way and leaves him behind to room with JJ while he pairs up with Steven. Maybe it’s even more obvious, maybe the looks he’s getting now are far harder to deal with than the ones before but he’s made his bed. Now he’ll lie in it.

And he’ll pointedly refuse to acknowledge the hurt looks Spencer is shooting his way. It’s better to ruffle a few feathers now and get over his crush than ruin such a good friendship and drive a wedge through the team, even if his gut twists and his heart protests as Spencer furrows his brow and looks at his feet.

★

Spencer is fully aware that his chances with Luke are slim to none -- he’s not delusional -- but boy does it hurt being avoided like the plague. It takes him back to school, when he was either politely ignored, mocked from a distance or straight up bullied, when nobody could associate themselves with him without risking a beating of their own. 

As soon as the case is over, he declines Emily’s invitation to go for a drink at her place with the rest of the team, instead opting to go out by himself. There’s a small, hole-in-the-wall joint a few blocks from his apartment that he’s been to a few times; it’s low-key and reasonably quiet, and the food is nice, too. It’ll do him good, he thinks, to get out of his head a bit with a few drinks and a book or three. He’s met the guy who owns the place a few times, and no-one pays enough attention to care that he’s reading a book at a bar instead of solemnly staring into a pint or gyrating on the dance floor, neither of which especially appeal to him.

As predicted, the bar is quiet, so he orders a drink and some nachos and heads to a table in the back. He used to hate bars; so full of people and germs he tended to avoid them at all costs. Now though, he finds the background noise soothing, the chatter and music a comforting backdrop to his own isolation. And on days like today, after difficult cases and tricky emotional minefields to navigate, it’s the perfect setting to sit quietly and read, far more preferable than the deafening silence of his apartment. 

For some reason, though, he simply cannot get his mind off Luke. He was so hopelessly gone for him and it was making everyday tasks that much harder. Even psyching himself up to get out of bed and go to work was proving more and more difficult: knowing he would have to face the man he loved so much who clearly did not love him back was bordering on psychological torture at this point. 

His one saving grace, though, was that he’d always been able to take refuge in the fact that they were friends. That even if he could never have Luke kiss him or take him on a date or sleep in his bed, he could have his friendship. He’d have the warm smiles and hugs and inside jokes and that would be enough. But now even that was seeming like a farflung pipe dream. Had he figured him out? Did he realise Spencer’s feelings for him and feel disgusted? Violated even? 

It’s only after Spencer’s been reading the same page over and over for nearly 10 minutes that he gives up and orders another drink. If he can’t distract himself, he may as well drown his sorrows now he’s here. 

And drown them he does. He finally stumbles onto the pavement outside the bar in the small hours of the morning feeling a little dazed and confused, and he squints his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. He lives round here, he knows that much, but where? He’s looking around for a taxi when a man he’d seen sitting not far from him in the bar approaches him. 

“Hey, baby,” he grins, checking Spencer out as obviously as he’d been doing inside.

It takes Spencer’s mind only a few seconds to recognise that he’s in a potentially vulnerable or dangerous situation but he can’t for the life of him sort through his muddled brain fast enough to figure out the correct response, here. Instead he stares dumbly at the man in front of him, trying to not look as scared as he feels. 

“You looking for a good time?” the man asks, reaching a hand forward to pet crudely at his face. Spencer wishes his flinch wasn’t so obviously borne from terror, but he’s sad and drunk and confused so all he can do is shake his head aggressively and back away. “Aww, come on. I’m a catch, I promise.”

Spencer jumps back further, his back hitting a brick wall as he finally finds his voice. “No, leave me alone, thank you,” he says, trying to sound firm but only sounding scared shitless. The man is huge, Spencer is not, and the street is quiet. Spencer does not like any of these variables, let alone a cocktail made from them. 

The man laughs cruelly, but before he gets a chance to respond another beefy guy he recognises from inside the bar comes over, cigarette in his hand, and clocks the situation. “Oi,” he shouts aggressively, approaching the two of them. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Dude said no.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Before Spencer can blink, the beefy guy punches his assailant square in the eye, causing him to cuss them both out before telling Spencer he isn’t even worth the trouble and leaving to lick his wounds. “Hey, you okay?” the beefy dude asks, voice much softer when talking to Spencer. “You need me to call someone?”

At this moment, the only person Spencer wants is Luke. He’s shaken up and so sad, and even if Luke is sort of the reason for that, he has to try, right? Maybe… maybe he just was having a bad day and it isn’t Spencer at all. He could call JJ but even her cuddles wouldn’t scratch the itch that’s burning away at his skin, so he finally shakes his head at the guy looking at him with concern. “No, no it’s okay,” he says slowly, voice catching a little. “I know who to call.”

★

Luke also says no to Emily’s invitation, instead heading back to his own place and cracking open a bottle of wine before plonking himself in front of the team and appreciating the cuddles Roxy chooses to bestow on him. He throws in an oven pizza sometime around 11pm and eats it, laughing humourlessly at the scene for a moment. God, if his colleagues could see just how pathetic he is Emily would have to boot him off the team. 

The wine and the warm temperature of the room have him dozing off on the sofa by midnight but he’s woken up abruptly by his phone ringing not long after. The clock on the wall says 1.50am so this is either a case or an emergency; blearily he picks it up to see Spencer’s name on the screen and he can’t slide his finger to answer it fast enough. 

“Spencer?” he asks, voice full of concern. 

The only reply is a choked off sob, making Luke sit up on high alert. “Spence, what’s wrong?” his voice is gentle but determined, he wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it damnit.

“Can you-- Can you come and get me?” Spencer asks tearfully. He sounds hesitant like he thinks Luke might say no or be angry with him which doesn’t make any sense. He’d never feel like that, not for anything Spencer needs from him. 

“Of course,” he reassures him, gently, still a little bewildered by the absurdity of it all. He springs into action and leaps off the sofa, slipping into some trainers and grabbing his keys. “Where are you, Spence? I’m on my way to the car.”

Spencer rattles off an address before he says, “Wait, don’t go, can you stay on the phone with me?”

Luke’s heart damn near melts at that but he obeys and stays on the phone with him, mumbling platitudes and promising he’s on his way the whole five minute drive until he pulls up in front of the address Spencer gave him, immediately spotting the younger man hunched down against a wall. He parks the car quickly and rushes over, crouching down in front of Spencer and gently pulling his head away from his knees so he can look into his eyes. He immediately recognises he’s drunk and sighs internally, hoping this won’t be too impossible. 

“Hey, Spence, what’s going on?” he asks earnestly, holding onto the man’s forearms partially to help steady himself and partially to offer a noninvasive point of contact for Spencer. 

“Sad,” Spencer says, looking into Luke’s eyes with wide, honest eyes. “You’re angry at me.”

“What?” Luke asks incredulously. “I’m not angry at you, Spencer.”

“Yes,” Spencer nods enthusiastically. “You wanted to work with other people on the case today. You were ignoring me.”

He’s not quite slurring his words but it’s close, and if Luke wasn’t so concerned about the situation at hand he’d find it adorable. “Oh, Spencer, no,” he protests, a sinking feeling in his chest. His own insecurities and fears had got the better of him and he’d managed to make Spencer feel bad about himself. “That was unrelated and not your fault at all, okay? It’s complicated and definitely not a conversation to have on the ground outside a bar at 2am, but we can talk about it somewhere else if you’d like. Do you want me to take you back to your place?”

Spencer looks back at him. “No, don’t want to be alone, please don’t leave me on my own, Luke,” he says, eyes wide in fear this time, not honesty. 

“Okay, okay,” he placates him. “Would you like to come back to mine?”

Spencer launches forward to hug Luke, burying his face into his neck and Luke takes the opportunity to relish the feeling of Spencer’s lithe body against his own, the intimacy he craves so deeply finally being awarded in a small way. “Should I take that as a yes?” he chuckles.

As soon as they get into Luke’s apartment, he gets to sobering Spencer up. He’d managed to pry the number of drinks he’d had out of him in the car, and as soon as they get back he butters him some toast and gives him a glass of water to drink on the sofa while he fills up another glass and grabs some advil. 

“How’s that, Spence, are you okay?” he asks softly as he joins him on the sofa where Spencer is dutifully munching down the toast while late-night TV plays in the background. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, smiling up at Luke, already looking more lucid than he did on the street, though he suspects part of the reason was he was scared and a bit disoriented then and now feels safe. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Spencer,” he smiles back, patting his knee affectionately as he pours him another glass of water. “Have your toast and another glass of water and then you can have a shower, if you like. It’ll help ground you and warm you up a bit.”

Spencer’s compliant through it all, which is obviously desirable, but he’s also quiet. He takes the hoodie Luke chucks his way without comment and slips it on -- Luke very pointedly does not think about how good he looks -- before looking to him for his next direction. 

His eyes are much clearer now and he seems far more sad than drunk, so Luke steers him back to the sofa and hands him a blanket. “Hey, Spencer,” he says, waiting for him to look up before continuing. “What’s going on? Why did you need me to pick you up?”

Spencer fidgets with the blanket as he answers. “Well, I went to the bar to stop thinking, like distract myself, but it didn’t really work so I just decided to have some wine instead, which was really nice and I liked the fuzziness, but then when I left there was this man. He came up to me and was trying to… like he was trying to ask me to sleep with him,” he risks a quick look up to check if Luke is listening to him but averts his eyes from the intense stare when he realises he is. “But I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do and I panicked but then this man came out of the bar and he punched the other guy and helped me but then I called you so he didn’t have to do anything else.” His voice is nervous as he talks, clearly unsure of himself from the way he darts around from point to point, his typical eloquence evading him. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” Luke says, earnestly. “I’m sorry that happened to you but I’m even more sorry that you were sad enough to drown your sorrowsbecause of me. Tomorrow, I promise we can talk about this and I’ll explain everything, but right now I think you should sleep. You can take my bed or the sofa tonight, whichever one makes you feel more comfortable, and then I’ll make you whatever you want for breakfast in the morning and we can chat. How does that sound?”

Spencer looks satisfied for now, cocking his head to the side. “Hm, can I have pancakes?” he asks.

Luke laughs fondly at that, leaning forward to ruffle Spencer’s hair lightly as he tries not to read into it when Spencer leans into his touch. “Are you kidding?” he teases. “You’re looking at the pancake maker extraordinaire right here.” He relishes Spencer’s giggle at that, pleased at how relaxed he looks now he knows Luke isn’t angry at him. “Pancakes in the morning. For now, where would you like to sleep?”

“The sofa’s fine,” Spencer says softly, a small smile playing over his face as he follows Luke with his eyes as he stands up to collect some blankets and pillows. “Thank you, Luke.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles back, and hands him the extra blankets and cushions. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

★

Spencer wakes up to the sound of dog paws on wooden floors and is momentarily confused -- he does not have a dog nor wooden floors -- before the events of last night flood into his head with a crashing wave of humiliation. He sits up abruptly, blinking his eyes against the soft grey light of the gloomy day, and looks around until he meets Luke’s eyes where he’s sat drinking a cup of coffee at the dining table. 

He knows he’s flushing an embarrassing shade of red but he can’t help it, this whole situation is so bizarre. “Good morning,” he finally says.

“Morning Spencer,” Luke says, hiding his far-too-wide smile behind his coffee mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

He just nods and hums in response, before excusing himself and rushing to the bathroom for a small semblance of privacy. Looking in the mirror, he splashes his face with some cold water and fiddles with his hair until it’s sat the way he wants it to before taking some deep breaths in a vain attempt at composure. He’s sort of in love with Luke, being in his apartment like this is mildly intoxicating. 

Eventually, he surfaces back in the main living area where Luke’s already started on the pancakes. “Hey, you good?” he calls over his shoulder as he flips the pan, a delish smell intoxicating the kitchen.

“I’m good,” Spencer confirms, joining him in the kitchen for a front row seat of Luke cooking. Chatting menially together as the pancake stash slowly builds, Spencer gathers all the toppings at Luke’s direction before they move to sit at the table and start tucking in, both trying to ignore the rising tension at what they both know is coming.

“You’re being so nice to me now but all throughout the case you barely looked at me, I mean you couldn’t even share a room with me in the hotel,” Spencer says after a few moments of silent apprehension as they have their first bites. “Is it… is it because I’m gay?” His voice drops to a whisper, face contorting from confusion to apprehension, feeling a little nervous that Luke might get angry now he’s reminded him of it.

“What, no, Spencer, of course not,” Luke says defensively. “God, I’m not a homophobe. The exact opposite, actually. I’m gay, too.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Luke puts his knife and fork down and runs a hand over his face as he psychs himself up. “That’s the problem. The truth is, I’m into you, Spencer, very much so. And I’m fully aware that you’re my best friend and you won’t feel the same way, so… that’s a problem. The others were starting to realise so I distanced myself, but it has nothing to do with you, it’s all me so please don’t blame yourself, alright?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to explain why I acted like that.” Luke apologises, sitting forward again. “I know this is probably making you uncomfortable, I can drop you back or call you a cab or something--”

“No,” Spencer says suddenly, snapping back into action as the information finally processes. Leaving right now is the last thing he wants. “No, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just caught off guard. You… like me?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke smiles, a little awkwardly. “If you want to put it like that.”

“Oh.” He pauses for a moment as everything finally clicks into place. “We are both very stupid.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the primary reason I was sad and drinking at a bar alone last night was because I am very much in love with you and feared you were pushing me away. That I’d lost my chance forever,” Spencer explains. “I don’t have much experience with relationships, so I didn’t know how to deal with it and when you started acting distant I did the same and… ran away, I guess.”

Luke’s glad that Spencer’s eyes are clear this morning and his eloquence is back or he’d fear he’s still somehow drunk out of his mind still and has no idea what he’s saying. “Oh.” It’s his turn to blank on a response. 

“To be honest, Luke, I don’t know where to go from here,” Spencer laughs, a little awkwardly.

“Let’s start with this,” Luke says, getting up from his seat across the table and sliding into the chair next to Spencer, bridging the gap between the two before he kisses him gently. Spencer’s hand reaches forward to grip the front of his shirt, kissing back with just as much trusting desire as he feels Luke smile against his lips. They part at the kiss’ natural conclusion, pulling back to look at each other, tense awkwardness replaced with a new understanding of one another. 

“Yeah,” Spencer smiles. “That feels like a good start.”

It’s a good start, but it’s by no means the end. The heaviness that had weighed between them for so long finally lifts and the lightness that replaces it means they both breathe easier, finishing their pancakes in between shy, cautious looks and shameless giggles. “Do you have anything you need to do today?” Luke asks as he washes their plates up, Spencer perched on the kitchen counter next to him. 

“Nope,” Spencer says, smiling at the implication of such an answer. 

“Well, what do you feel like doing?” he asks, wearing far too cheeky of a grin for Spencer to avoid leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips. 

“Hm,” Spencer ponders, looking out the window at the rainy day. “I think movies and snacks would be perfect if I have you as company.”

“You smooth little thing,” Luke teases, poking Spencer’s side with a wet finger and delighting in the giggle that escaped his lips. “That sounds perfect to me.” He washes the frying pan last and quickly wipes down the kitchen before they head to the sofa, arms piled high with all the crisps, chocolate and cookies they can find in his cupboards. Spencer also digs about in the freezer and finds a pint of ice cream to share, which they feed each other bites of later in a sickeningly sweet, cliched moment of tenderness.

Luke chooses the first movie, picking out a Marvel film that Spencer ends up actually enjoying, though Luke can’t exactly say the same about Spencer’s choice, an obscure period piece from the 1960s. Still, he cuddles him close and pays attention to every minute. If it matters to Spencer, it matters to him. 

And if wasting the day away with movies, snacks, and heart to hearts turns out to be exhausting enough that Spencer just has to stay the night again, this time sharing Luke’s bed with him and Roxy, then they’ll just have to make the absolute most out of such a terribly inconvenient situation. And they’ll deal with how to hide a 2 night love-fest from a team of profilers in the morning, because they’re far too oblivious to realise they already know.

Tags: @johanna-swann @pretty-b0yy 

[something-tofightfor]

Also 😂😂 I feel like the kid ask demands the following

OC: I want a baby

Din: oh my gosh. Steal one [thats what happened you can't tell me it didnt!!!]

OC: I want a baby

Billy: billy russo has left the chat

OC: babe?!

OC: I want a baby

Ezra: a baby baby?

OC: the alive kind

Ezra: a human baby or a small furry whiskered baby

OC: either or (I have never seen this movie. I got 5 minutes in and then riddle with guilt about all the things I Should be doing )

OC: I want a baby

Benjamin: i'm baby

OC: I want a baby

Jack: I'm gonna veto that /yeehaw OR

Jack: when the time is right

OC: I want to have a baby

Logan: we have to finish game of thrones

OC: seriously

Logan: do I sound like I'm kidding

OC: I want a baby

Javier: good for tax returns (I have also never seen this show asjdhdks)

OC: I want a baby

Caspian: I want us to go to sleep at a normal time. Guess neither of those are happening

OC: I want a baby

Ryan: we only have like $12 combined

These are all in good fun 😘 not meant to offend anyone who actually does want kids. Just... everyone knows we like, like 67% of this list bc these people are human trash fires. Who are absolutely not stable enough to raise small humans. Babies are great at derailing life 😂 or plots, but kids don't fix things. That said I DO appreciate so much how you and a lot of other writers have made it like, word of god that Logan loved Emily so much and that everyone stays true to "grumpy solitary traveler adopts a chaos child" as sort of Din's whole schtick

UNDER A CUT BECAUSE LENGTH:

Real talk, the "i want a baby" text trend always makes me laugh. I didn't send one to my BF, and instead told him out loud one day, and his response was "I want an Amazing Fantasy 15, which costs less than a kid" and then proceeded to tell me that if I was serious it wouldn't be with him. (AF 15 is the first ever appearance of spider man and it's roughly a $200,000 book in GOOD condition, and a half million in GREAT condition) But as for the guys:

Din's is half correct; he wouldn't want you to steal a child, because then people would be after you, but I could see him telling you to keep an eye out for one in need. Billy peacing out ASAP and going no contact ... 10000000% accurate Ezra having a pet makes me feel all mushy inside because I feel like giving that man ANY sort of domesticity is such a good outcome for him. (i can't say much else if you haven't seen it, because I don't want to spoil the movie - but if you get a chance please watch!) Benjamin ... just wants to be loved and I feel like he wouldn't want toshare right away and if you saw my most recent post... he needs just as much care as a kid sometimes, so... you are not incorrect.

Jack i can hear him saying that he vetoes the idea. That's very Jack. I think he would have made a good dad - but I also think it would have changed him a LOT as a person, and I'm not sure that as a Statresman, it's the right time ... so the second half checks out, too. Logan ... oof. Yeah, that's about right, too. I can't see him wanting to share anyone he finally chooses to love like that; I truly think that he enjoys his lifestyle too much - and if he DID have a kid, he wouldn't want to have a nanny care for it - so he would HAVE to change. I DO though, think that his fears of being like Jim are totally unfounded, and that he could be a really good dad ... but it's not on his list of priorities. Javi and his tax returns, ahahaha. He seems like the type of that would have waited until the last possible second to fill out his returns. and all other important paperwork - but DAMN if he would use an advantage like that. I don't think he would have wanted to risk having a baby in Colombia - but he'd be just a little more open to it when his life calmed down slightly. I don't think that was ever in the cards for him - and there's SO LITTLE actual information available about the real Javi that it's hard to tell... but during the time of Narcos? Definitely not a good idea for him. Caspain ... poor man just wants to sleep after dealing with King Stuff all day, and I am right there with him. Ryan ... my version of Ryan and reader have considerably more than $12, but I still don't know about introducing a kid. Definitely not while he was traveling, because we see what happens to Cowboy and Ginny... and how miserable it made Cowboy. I agree with you about the trash fires. Wholeheartedly. I also think that they mean well most of the time (With the exception of Billy.) Raising children isn't easy, and I think that that's why so many of them in canon did not HAVE kids of their own (I know Caspian has one later) and instead focused on found family. You're right again when you say kids don't fix things, and it's not fair to use them to TRY to fix things or change someone. Logan being the Best Uncle Ever for Emily - and literally DOTING on her whenever he could SHOULD HAVE BEEN canon. I'm thankful, too, that so many writers decided that was the case, and are running wild with it. Her main male influence seems to have been William, which is a GD mess and a half... and I want to change that indefinitely. And as for Din and Grogu? Chaos child is the way I will address him from now on so thank you for that. And that grumpy man smiles ALL THE TIME under that helmet at Grogu, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

-

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.                                

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

--

So

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

no

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

uh

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

no

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii  @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream​

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

[miraculouspaon]

@dragon-robot asked for my “top 5 chapters/oneshots you’ve written” and I’m happy to oblige!

1. 36. Prisoner Oh-Three-Eight (Where Have All The Heroes Gone And Where Are All The Gods?)

“Putting aside for the moment,” Eight interrupted, trying to keep her voice down, “that you think getting over the fence faster than the guards can catch you will be easy, why? You just got out of a week of solitary! Can’t you keep your goddamn head down for a second? Besides, what’s the point? You’re just as much of a prisoner on this side of the fence as that one, trust me.”

“The point,” Six said, “is they stole everything from us. Everything. Our memories, our freedom, our lives. And we’re probably going to die in this hell without ever knowing why. So before that happens,” he took a deep breath and looked Eight straight in the eyes, his green ones suddenly brighter and more focused than Eight had ever seen them, “before that happens I am making one happy memory, just one happy memory that they can’t take away from me.”

How could my top chapter have been anything else? I wrote a 166k fic, the longest fic of my life, and I wrote the entire thing around this fucking chapter. I’m so proud of it, guys. Marinette and Adrien, stripped of their memories and separated by a fence, falling in love all over again in this hopeless place, uggggh, it’s perfect.

2. Chéile Séala

“No mortal should fall in love with a fae,” Niamh said sadly. “We never bring your kind anything but sadness in the end.”

Nathalie looked into Niamh’s eyes. They were light, as though she'd wept the color right out of them. “I suppose it's not really optional,” Nathalie whispered. “Falling in love.”

Niamh blinked. “No,” she agreed, meeting Nathalie’s gaze, “not for my kind, either.”

Fucking selkies, man, who doesn’t love them? It’s the perfect myth for Mama Agreste, and once I realized the story needed to be MamaNath it pretty much wrote itself.

3. 7. The Damsel (Your Princess is in Another Castle)

“Ma'am, I am really gonna have to ask you to leave my partner alone.”

“Oh, but we have so much in common,” Adele said mockingly. “We’re both from Paris, we’re both-well, I'm not a superhero anymore, but I used to be, we…” Adele trailed off before narrowing her eyes yet again at Marinette. “Wait. A superhero from Paris… do you have a Miraculous?” Again, there was no need to wait for Marinette to give any response. “And you came here? Well, I certainly hope you people know what you’re doing, because if I just spent four years in captivity in order to keep my Miraculous away from Henrik only for you to come along with and hand him another one, I am going to be extremely put out. Which one do you have, anyway? Fox? Bee? Too much to hope you found mine, I suppose… good Lord, you don’t have one of the big ones, do you? Jesus, you do. Do you have any idea what kind of damage Henrik could do with a major Miraculous? I rejected mine because with it he could have taken over the world in a week, with yours it probably wouldn’t even take him until the end of the day, and you-”

“Oh my God,” Marinette exclaimed, finally snapping, “I cannot believe I have been listening to everyone singing your praises nonstop for like a month now, you are the most annoying person I have ever met in my life.”

Look I’m gonna try my best not to make every entry from Generations but it’ll be hard because Generations is easily my best writing, hands down. I love every second of this chapter. I love Marinette awkwardly infiltrating a cult to rescue her crush’s mom, and I love that said mom just gives her, like, the hardest time imaginable for her trouble out of sheer pettiness. I love showing that side of Adele, as opposed to the weak victim or the perfect saint of a mom/heroine, I love playing with characters acting on incomplete information, and I love Marinette snapping right back at her. And of course, this chapter also has Gabriel and Adele’s reunion after four years and ugh, my heart.

4. 9. An Unexpected Reunion (No Happily Ever Afters)

“This is starting to get to inconvenient for all of us, don't you think? It was merely a small annoyance when your family wouldn't stop pestering our friends at the police station-those sorts of misunderstandings can be so easily righted, after all. But now they're sending in,” Hector paused and looked Jonathan up and down again, “whatever he’s supposed to be. Why not just clear everything up before this escalates and somebody gets hurt? Sign the contract, explain to everyone that you work for us now and there are no hard feelings, and we can all get back to our regular lives.”

“Hector, I have six weeks to finalize a syllabus for an advanced course on the reign of Louis X. I do not have time for this. Incidentally, it wouldn't kill you to learn a bit about the man yourself, he had some interesting things to say on the subject of forcing men to do jobs they have no interest in doing. What do they call that, again? Right, slavery. He was against it. Something of a controversial stance in 1315, but nowadays it's a bit more-”

“How dare you,” Hector interrupted, his face turning red. “You should be thanking me for this opportunity. If your great-uncle hadn't served this family well for so many decades, I wouldn't even begin to entertain the notion of making such a generous offer to some half-breed maricón nobody like you. One more slight like that and I won't hesitate to-”

“What's he saying?” Jonathan interrupted in French.

“I'm not translating it,” Ferd replied angrily.

“Why not?”

“One, I don't care to repeat some of the more colorful insults. And two, it is a very run-of-the-mill villain monologue. I assume you've delivered enough of those yourself that you can figure out the gist on your own.”

Shut up, Generations is my baby. Anyway, there was exactly 0% odds this list wasn’t going to have a Ferdithan chapter on it. By all rights, Ferdithan shouldn’t have any fans whatsoever, it’s a Hawkmoth/OC pairing where Hawkmoth is also functionally an OC. But to my endless shock and joy, readers love these nerds. This chapter in particular is great because we get to see the 1000% Done version of Ferd, and when he’s fed-up he defaults to Snarky Historian and I love him.

5. Imogene

Gabriel blinked, momentarily taken aback at his wife’s flat tone. “I meant, do you remember that one night? You woke me up, hours after everyone else at the resort had fallen asleep. You led me back to the shore. We were so in love, and you were so excited to be…” Gabriel trailed off. “Don’t you remember?”

Emilie frowned. She knew they’d gone to the Bahamas for their honeymoon. She knew it had been magical. She knew it had been the trip of a lifetime. And yet… she knew it the way she knew that the Earth was round, or that water froze at zero degrees Celsius. She knew it like it was a fact she couldn’t remember learning. Her memories of the trip were just vague, shallow impressions. She didn’t remember the night Gabriel was talking about at all.

“Don’t worry about it, my love,” Gabriel said quickly, seeing that his question had upset Emilie. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course our honeymoon matters, Gabriel,” Emilie whispered. Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I think I came back wrong.”

Sometimes I think my best writing is permanently behind me, that my heyday was a few years ago and I’ll never write anything good again...and then, Imogene. It’s so good, guys, it’s everything it was in my head and more. It was stuck there for a while, actually, because originally my idea was a lot angstier and Imogene died at the end, either because permanent sentimonsters were unstable or because her continued existence was draining Nathalie’s life force due to the damage of the Miraculous and she snapped her own amok in a blaze of self-sacrifice. Then Feast established that sentimonsters could live for centuries, then the Miraculous got fixed at the end of S3, and I kept trying to make it work until I realized I was just killing her off because her existence was inconvenient for the main characters. But so what? Isn’t it more interesting for everyone to have to deal with it, to acknowledge her personhood? It drives me mad when characters die for no reason other than to make things easier, and here I was doing the same thing without even realizing there could be another story, a better story.

[werewolves-are-real]

Hello! if it isn't too much to ask, can you share a short snippet of whatever you're currently working on? I am particularly fond of your Temeraire fic, but anything would be good - I am enjoying your latest immensely, although Star Trek is not my fandom.

:) Thank you! It’s always nice to hear people enjoy the writing.

I’m having a lot of fun writing more Star Trek - it’s nice to write something different. It seems like I only talk about Temeraire these days, ha, so I included excerpts from a Temeraire fic *and* a Star Trek fic below

The Temeraire snippet is from a fic where things... escalate at the start of book 2, The Star Trek fic is from an old, old WIP I never posted, where I wanted to address the way the crew (and especially McCoy) tend to criticize Spock’s heritage. It’s old and.. not so great, but I like pieces of it, so I’m considering rewriting it (once I’m done with other fics, hopefully)

(Temeraire)

Laurencewakens slowly after the battle. The last thing he remembers is thefighting; Temeraire was flying, the boarders had been repelled, andthen a Petit Chevalier was falling upon them...

“Sir,”says Mr. Allen. “Are you awake? Do not try to rise, please.”

Ignoringthis, Laurence levers himself up with an elbow. He looks around;Digby and Allen are crouched around him, each holding a hand over thehilts of their swords. The three of them are behind the bend ofTemeraire's leg, and in the distance Laurence can hear an argument.

“Iswear to you,” Admiral Barham's voice rings out, “If CaptainLaurence resists we will use force...”

“Goodgod, man, shut up,” Granby snaps. Laurence winces in mortification;the lieutenant will get himself booted from the service, using thatkind of language against an admiral. “Captain Laurence is injured,and you must wait to see him.”

ButBarham's threat has already roused Temeraire. Above them theCelestial lowers his head, snarling. His ruff is blood-streaked andgory from the battle; with his teeth bared he looks savage.

Barhamroars, “You will control that beast, Lieutenant! All of you willstand down, or we will take action - “

“No,Sir,” Granby snaps. “No farther, not one damned step. Temeraire,if these men make ready you may knock them down.”

Thatis too far. Laurence struggles to his feet, ignoring Digby's objects.“Help me up,” he snaps, when Allen insists on waiting for thesurgeon. “I must speak with the admiral.'

Reluctantly,they support him from under the protective shadow of Temeraire's leg.Barham scowls tremendously as soon as he appears.

“Thereyou are,” he says. Granby looks furious. “Did you think you couldhide here like a coward? You are under arrest, and if you prevaricateany more than by god I will have the Sergeant shoot you.” Hegestures to a nearby officer, who reluctantly levels a gun inLaurence's direction, flinching under the weight of Temeraire'sgrowl. “And stand down that animal, at once!”

“Iwill not stand down,” Temeraire says. “And you are not comingnear Laurence, not at all.”

Temeraireraises a claw. At the same moment Granby makes a quick gesture.Immediately the nearest aviators jump behind Granby, forming a line.They start to raise their rifles.

Ashot rings out.

Laurenceslides to the ground, startled. Granby shouts. More gunshots.Temeraire roars – loud enough to rattle his bones – and above thetreeline, at the edge of the clearing, Maximus suddenly looms up. Hepeers over with alarm, alerted by the commotion. All over the covertother dragons rise to look their way too.

“CaptainLaurence!” Digby cries. His hands are covered in blood, and hepushes futilely at Laurence's side. Laurence stares at him, thenlooks down. His jacket is soaked and red.

Laurencerealizes that Allen is holding him by the shoulders, bearing all hisweight.

He'sbeen shot.

“Oh,hell,” Laurence says aloud, and knows nothing more.

______________________________

It'snight when Laurence awakens. He looks up at the star-studded sky,trying in vain to remember the name for the little cluster of lightsabove his head. He's lying atop Temeraire and recognizes the scalesbeneath himself without any issue; maybe this is why it takes him toolong to remember the shooting, and Barham's yells, and the screams.

Laurencetries to stand.

“Oh,there you are,” says Mr. Allen. “Please do not get up, Sir, notagain. Roland, can you tell the lieutenant he's awake?”

Emilyscuttles away. Looking around, Laurence sees that for some reasonhe's resting in a a jumble of blankets and medical-supplies atopTemeraire's back. He becomes aware of people speaking in thedistance; then they cut off, abruptly, and under him Temeraire jolts.“Laurence!” the dragon cries. “Are you well?”

“Yes,my dear,” Laurence lies. His leg is throbbing in time with hisheart, and Laurence doesn't think he could stand,even if Allen let him try; the wound in his side makes him feelqueerly like he could snap in half if he made any wrong movement.“What has happened?”

“Well,I killed that awful admiral,” Temeraire explains. “So now we areall rebelling, but everyone is arguing about how to do it, eventhough I'm not sure how anyone would fight us.”

Laurencestares at him helplessly for a moment. Then he manages to prophimself on one elbow, looking around.

Thereare other dragons crowded into Temeraire clearing; more have sweptaway the trees to combine their space with that of Maximus. There aredragons coiled atop one another, heavy-weights on the bottom withclusters of Yellow-Reapers and Longwings and Bright Coppers clingingto their backs. And in between the dragons are the crews, andservants from all over, with a group of men and women wearingcaptain's-bars standing in a semi-circle before Temeraire.

Andeveryone is craning to look at Laurence.

Laurencedoes not immediately give speech to his dawning horror; Granbyscrambles up Temeraire's side, looking profoundly relieved. There's astreak of blood across his forehead; he doesn't seem to notice. “Sir.I'm glad you're awake – should we call the surgeon?”

“Forgetthe damn doctor,” says Laurence. “What the devil happened?”

(Star Trek)

McCoy has now been aboard for fourteen days, or two Terran weeks.Spock is well aware that his own interactions with the doctor couldbe interpreted as increasingly hostile. He feels no need to censurehimself. If he cannot risk reporting the doctor or properlyreprimanding him, he at least refuses to meekly submit to the man'sslurs. He has survived worse, and he will not give this human thepleasure of victory.

To this end he continues to verbally spar with the man, but howevermuch he makes the doctor sputter and grumble the man always comesback. And however efficiently and logically Spock can cut him down,humans do not much appreciate logic. Officers who watch theirarguments continually express amusement, and this rankles worse thanthe man himself.

After one too many incidents of open disrespect that leave hisscience department highly amused at his expense, Spock resolves tofinally reprimand the irrepressible doctor when he next acts in a wayunfitting a Starfleet officer. Public humiliation is never pleasant,but he is long past the point of having to tolerate racism. McCoyshows every sign of staying aboard for a long while, and Spock willnot let this situation continue.

Then the captain develops Vegan Choriomeningitis.

There is little warning when it happens. The bridge is quiet andcalm, officers moving with easy efficiency. It's only the second hourafter the shift's beginning - late enough for the officers to haveproperly woken, and early enough that everyone is still energized.Except, unusually enough, for the captain.

Spock notices the captain's blinking eyes and the quick, painedgestures he makes to his head. A headache, obviously, but these arefairly frequent among humans. Not a matter of much concern, howeverunpleasant. The captain seems tired as well, but he assumes this is aside-effect.

When Yeoman Tracey hands the captain a requisitions form, though,the man just seems puzzled. Instead of skimming and signing thedocument, he stares at it blankly for some two minutes, Traceystanding awkwardly by his side.

No one else seems to notice, but Spock keeps his attention on theentirety of the bridge. So he hears Tracey hesitantly ask, “Issomething the matter, Sir?” and turns just in time to see thecaptain crumple to the floor.

“Send for a medical team,” Spock snaps efficiently before Uhuracan even turn to see the source of the noise. Jumping, she quicklycomplies.

Spockwaves off the frantic yeoman impatiently, checking the captain'scondition with quick, careful fingers. His skin is significantlyhotter than normal for a human - 39ºC (102.2ºF)- but he seems not to have injured his head in the fall, which isgood. The man's pulse is a rapid flutter, but weak. Spock tilts hishead. The captain must have realized he was sick, and ignored it, tohave come to this state. Illogical.

The door slides open, and in a whiskof blue uniforms and terse orders McCoy takes Kirk straight toSickbay.

______________________________

The whole ship gains a certain tensionwhen the captain is in sickbay. Spock also finds, unpleasantly, thatmore eyes watch him. People want assurance that they are underadequate leadership. Spock wonders if people are comforted by hisdirection. He doubts it.

When the immediate crisis will likelybe over, and the doctor thus free to speak, Spock hands the con toSulu and makes for the infirmary.

“Took you long enough,” McCoysnaps at the sight of him.

Spock doesn't bother with a rebuttal.“Report on the captain's condition.”

Face darkening, a scowl on his face,McCoy complies. “It's not good. Vegan Choriomeningitis. Damn thinghas a high enough fatality rate as is, and Jim, the idiot, has let itgo on much longer than advisable.”

Spock nods. “To my understanding,Vegan choriomeningitis is fatal if left untreated within 24 hours.”

“I can't tell when he picked it up -the incubation period is unpredictable. All we can do at this pointis treat him and hope for the best.”

Spock considers the situation, andsays honestly, “Given the captain's nature, it is quite possible hehas been suffering for far longer than twenty-four hours. Death islikely.”

From what he knows of the captain'snature this is true. Indeed, had Kirk not collapsed on the bridge helikely would have struggled through the entire shift, though Spockknows that this particular disease causes extreme pain in the musclesand extremities. He is an admirably determined man - but, in thiscase, sadly misguided. His death will be... truly regrettable.

But McCoy seems suddenly angry.

“Damn it, man, do have a heart atall?” He bursts.

Spock blinks, wondering at thenon-sequitur. “I fail to see how my physiology is relevant to thepresent situation,” he says, honestly puzzled.  McCoy's sole focusshould be on the captain.

The doctor seems, if anything, evenmore furious. “I'm not in the mood for your damn logic, and I don'tknow what Jim sees in you. A computer has more feelings than aVulcan!”

This being said, McCoy dramaticallystomps into his office, leaving Spock blinking and perplexed in themain portion of Sickbay.

So, with little else to do, Spockleaves.

_______________________________

Later, this is what Spock learns;

Kirk goes into a critical state. Hisbody starts to overheat from the disease, and inflammation to thebrain causes him to have a seizure. After he is stabilized, McCoythrows caution to the wind and tries an experimental drug regimen -dangerous, untried, and wholly inadvisable by every tenet of logic.

It also works.

Quickly, asa matter of fact. The nurses and some biologists talk about theincredible benefit this will bring to the medical community; everyoneelse is just glad to hear that the captain is awake and talking lessthan a day after his collapse.

He is, of course,also tired. Spock assesses the captain's condition when he visits himin Sickbay. Kirk seems to have grown more pale during his shortillness. His face shines with sweat, his hair limp and lifeless. Hismovements are slow and fatigued, made only with great effort. But heseems relieved.

“It was close.And not a pleasant experience.”

“As you nearlydied, I would not expect it to be.”

Kirk smilesweakly. “Oh, not just the pain. Though that wasn't fun. I gotdelirious at the end.”

“That is acommon symptom of the disease,” Spock consoles.

“Whichisn't much of a comfort when you've rambled out all your secrets.”Kirk gives an embarrassed laugh. “I'm just glad it wasBones,” he says. “I trust him, you know? The things I said...”He shakes his head. “Anyway, he said to stop by sickbayimmediately, in the future,if I'm feeling off. What a pain; do you know how often this job givesme a headache?” He shakes his head. “But, I can deal with it forBones. Only for him! I'm not typically a fan of doctors - I'm glad Iconvinced him to come aboard.”

“It is indeedfortunate,” Spock murmurs, trying not to imagine this man dead.

Soon afterwardKirk drifts into sleep. And Spock, reluctantly, resigns himself totolerating Leonard McCoy for so long as he can safeguard thecaptain's health.

[mrs-captain-evans]

Blind Date - Chris Evans x Ofc

Summary: Melanie (ofc) has been set up on a blind date with Captain America himself, Chris Evans. How will it go? Pairing: Chris Evans x Ofc Word Count: 1841 Warnings: Fluffy

A/N: Today is my birthday! So to celebrate I have written this little piece which sprung from an idea due to a friends first (and awful!) date. Thank you @mycapt-ohcapt for once again being an amazing support. Forever grateful <3

--------------------

This was the worst first date you’ve ever been on. Your best friend, Emily, set you up on a blind date with, what she described as, the perfect man who will make all your dreams come true. She gave you his number last week in case any plans change, but the only thing she told you was his name, Chris, nothing more. When you asked for his last name she said you’d bail if you knew who he was. You were sat at the 2 person table in a luxurious and exclusive restaurant in Boston fearful for your life. What if he was a serial killer? He didn’t sound creepy in his messages, but you still felt panicky.

The restaurant was far more expensive than your liking. Looking around at the other diners, feeling out of place, you couldn’t help but notice the time. He was 35 minutes late! If it wasn’t for the fact your glass of wine cost more than your weekly shop, you would of left 15 minutes ago.

Feeling frustrated and wanting to take your anger out on your best friend, you pulled out your phone to send her a text, ‘Ugh, he’s so late *rolling eye emoji* This is the last time you set me up, the fucker couldn’t even cancel himself. The waiters are giving me funny looks. You owe me big time for this!’

With a tight smile on your face, you looked towards the waiters, who were giving you a sympathetic look and asked for the check. Reluctantly paying for your drink, hoping your card didn’t decline, you thanked your server while vowing to never listen to your best friend again.

Standing up and downing the rest of your wine, you moved to leave, but a tall, muscular man with a full beard and a frantic look on his face caught your eye. The hostess pointed in your direction and the man politely nodded and turned in your direction striding towards the table. Reaching you, he apologised instantly “Oh god, I’m so sorry, my meeting overran, the traffic was terrible and I couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

Realising who your date was, you replied with a dazed edge to your voice, “That’s okay, I was just about to leave but I’m going to quickly use the restroom.” Before giving him a chance to reply, you rushed off in the other direction to compose yourself.

Chris Evans. Your date was Chris Evans. Captain America, Chris Evans. You couldn’t believe Emily, how could she? Not only was he the hottest bachelor in Boston, he was your celebrity crush. You were aware that Emily was distant friends with him but you never thought she’d actually set you up with the actor. You always knew that letting her plan the whole date was a bad idea, she picked the most over the top restaurant in Boston and now you were going to have to sit with the man, trying to act normal.

Heading back towards the table with a smile on your face, you noticed your wine glass was now full again and Chris sipped from a glass of his own, with the remaining bottle in a silver bucket to the right of him. As you approached the table to introduce yourself, Chris noticed you and awkwardly reached his hand out towards you, miss judging and knocking your glass over, tipping it straight onto your brand new, and expensive, dress.

“Shit! Fuck! Sorry.” Grabbing some napkins and passing them to you, he continued apologising, “I am so sorry, let me pay for the dry cleaning.”

Irritated at him for not only ruining your new $170 dress, but also being late, you couldn’t help your sarcastic response, “No point in dry cleaning, it’s ruined!” Looking up at him, seeing the sheepish look on his face, you couldn’t help but carry on, “I can’t just afford to spend nearly 200 dollars on a dress for it to be destroyed after wearing for an hour! This is the last time I ever let Emily interfere with my love life.”

“Look I am really sorry, I can’t apologise enough, I’m just- well I’m nervous.” Seeing him shifting on the spot, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, blushing, you felt bad for snapping at him.

“No I’m the one who should be sorry, I shouldn’t of snapped at you.” Still trying to wipe off as much as you can, you gave Chris a small smile, showing him he was forgiven.

Both of you sat back down and finally got onto the formal introductions, “I’m Chris Evans, the biggest and most awkward dork in Boston. Nice to meet you” He sent a wink your way.

Laughing at his humour, you flicked your hair over your shoulder, throwing him a cheeky smile, “Melanie Clarke, or Mel, the most wine drenched girl in Boston right now.”

“Yeah, I asked for that!” God, his laugh is infectious. You couldn’t help but look around the room in discomfort. This was not your kind of place, you’re a simple girl who loves a local and casual restaurant with home cooked food and doesn’t cost a months rent for a three course meal.

Noticing your uneasiness, Chris asked you if everything was okay. Wanting to be honest, you told him how you felt, “I’m not really a fancy kind of girl, I prefer little quaint, family run places. You know where the owners know your name and you can have a fulfilling meal surrounded by charm. Nothing that breaks the bank.” Seeing his embarrassed smile, you tried to make him feel a bit better, “Don’t get me wrong, this is a beautiful restaurant.”

“But..”

You looked into his eyes, shrugging slightly “It’s just not me.”

Seemingly delighted with your response, Chris let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god, I hate places like this. Do you wanna get out of here? I know a great pizza place”

“Yes please, I thought you’d never ask!”

Signalling for the check, Chris reaches into his pocket to pay the bill. Frantically searching through all his pockets, raising his voice slightly “Fuck! I cannot believe this.”

Surprised by his sudden outburst, you glanced at his annoyed face, “What’s up?”

Repeating his words and no doubt feeling mortified, “I cannot believe this! My earlier meeting overran and I left my house in such a rush to get here on time, that I forgot my wallet.” Shaking his head in disbelief, cursing at himself, “Chris you dick! And shit, you were late anyway! And now you’re cursing in front of a lady, fuck!”

As much as you enjoyed seeing him squirm in his seat, you felt a tiny bit sorry for the actor. You had a feeling he wasn’t always this horrendous at the dating scene, he did have a bachelor boy reputation after all.

The waiter comes over with the check and recognising the guilty look on his face, you reached into your purse and produced your credit card. “Don’t worry I’ll get this, a bottle of wine can’t be too expensive right?”

Wrong. As you studied at the bill you nearly choked on your own breath when you saw the figure at the bottom of the slip, $120. Trying not to look startled, you forced a smile the waiters way, hoping that your card didn’t decline. Thankfully the payment went through and you politely thanked the waiter.

Breaking the silence, Chris cleared his throat from across the table, and spoke to you in a timid voice, “All I seem to be saying to you is sorry, but I really do apologise, for everything.” Not wanting to be a bitch, you acknowledged him with a curt nod, trying not to let your anger boil over. “Please let me at least drive you home.”

“What and potentially get run over? No thank you. I’ll call a cab.” You exhaled loudly while pulling out your cell phone.

Just as you were about to dial the number, Chris’s small, gentle voice interrupted you. “I’ve really screwed this up haven’t I?” Closing your eyes for a brief second, you let his words and tone of voice sink in. Opening your eyes, you could see he was slumped in his chair, not making eye contact with you and looking very ashamed of himself.

“Sorry Chris, I just don’t think it was your day.” Feeling a bit guilty for barking at him a moment ago, you wanted to let him down gently.

He lifted his hopeful eyes, and while he stared into yours, asked “I’m guessing a second date isn’t on the cards?”

“I don’t know Chris.” Shrugging lightly, you couldn’t help but think this was all a big mistake.

With a smug smile on his face, and a knowing smirk, you suddenly felt on the spot, “Oh c’mon, please, I owe you big, remember?”

Confused at his question, you furrowed your eyebrows together not understanding him, “Huh?”

Grilling you further, “The ‘he’s late, what a fucker for not cancelling, you owe me big time’ text.”

Completely forgetting you had his number, texting him back only 5 hours ago confirming you were still on for this evening, you must of accidentally sent your message to him instead of Emily! Now you were the embarrassed one, “I umm- oh shit”

Chuckling lightly at you, “Looks like it’s not your day either.”

Mortified at making such a rookie mistake, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Nope, obviously not.” Your voice was tight and your breath was coming out in short bursts. Noticing Chris’s laughter you were pulled out of your near anxiety attack and couldn’t help but feel amused. This was definitely not the way you thought your evening would turn out, but as much of a catastrophe it was, you were happy you shared this awful experience with such a charming and humble man.

“Look, I know this evening hasn’t gone well. Actually it’s been a disaster, but I would love to see you again.” Pausing a little, he sent a wink your way, “Plus I owe you that pizza right?”

After a small debate in your head, you quickly decided to give him another shot. After all it was Emily who planned this outrageous dinner date. If you were both in a more comfortable environment then things, may perhaps, be more successful.

“Okay Evans, you’ve got yourself a second date….just.”

Smiling widely at you, he stood up, checked his watch, and held his hand out for you to follow his lead, “C’mon, it’s only 7.45pm, my condo isn’t too far from here, I can pick up my wallet and treat you to the best pizza in Boston. It’s the least I can do for being late, and ruining your dress. Oh and for making you pay for that ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine.”

Placing your hand into his, you both walked out of the restaurant feeling a lot more relaxed with big smiles on your faces.

“Just you wait until Emily hears about this!”

--------------------

Thank you all for reading! Please reblog and comment, it’s very important to all writers on here.

If you would like to be tagged, please leave a comment or send an ask.

Tag List: @mycapt-ohcapt @princess-evans-addict @gigglegirl77 @coffeebooksandfandom @the-sunshine-in-the-dark @loricameback

[unholyhelbig]

bella accidentally outing bechloe to the girls?? love ur work!!❤️❤️

[A/N: Thank you! Also, I literally made this after my favorite Mila Kunis scene so… I’m tired stop judging me.] 

—> SEND PROMPTS HERE

Beca pulled the glass of wine up to her lips, letting the sour liquid coat the crystal as she nursed the drink. She was already feeling the beginning of a buzz and it was only fifteen past six. The last thing she needed right now was to drown her anxieties about the reunion in a thick glass of self-regret.

She was leaning against the island in the middle of Stacie’s kitchen. Her main task was to grab the cheese platter that her friend was insistent on because we’re older now, Beca. And no one hates cheese. Which, the small brunette had to give her.

Instead, the group had ended up migrating into the large room, talking about where their lives had gone and how easily the conversation flowed between them again. It had only been four months since they last saw each other at a pop-up performance, but still, they enjoyed catching each other up.

Emily leaned heavily into Aubrey’s side, keeping her own glass of white wine palmed as she tightened her fingers into her girlfriend shirt. Aubrey was laughing at something Stacie said, and Chloe- well, Chloe was a beaming beacon of light in the corner of the room.

She was smiling, smiling at something Amy talked animatedly about. The shorter girl had exaggerated movements as Chloe nodded out of obligation. Her silk shirt was becoming untucked as she moved, locks of silky auburn hair fell into her eyes.

Beca beamed into her own drink, taking a long gulp before she shifted herself against the granite. Her eyes moved to the small girl that dragged a neon color crayon against a white piece of paper.

Even at the young age of five, Beca could tell that Bella took after her mother.

Her eyes were soft, and her skin was a smooth olive color. She had medium flowing hair that framed her little shoulders as she sat quietly and listen to everyone chatting around her. It looked like she was trying to concentrate on keeping herself in the lines- her tongue poking out of the corner of her lip.

“You know, kid” Beca started, capturing the girl’s attention “your godmother is pretty amazing.”

“Aunt Chloe?” Bella drew in a soft breath as she glanced up from her project “I thought you hated her.”

Beca furrowed her brow. Kid’s said some wild things- but this was otherworldly to her. She had never shown disdain towards Chloe, not in her recent memory. Maybe as a teenager fresh out of high school and thrown into College at Barden. But those days were long gone, and Bella couldn’t be too observant, could she?

“I don’t hate her, what makes you say that?”

“When you and Aunt Chloe came over last week for movie night, I heard you two in the bathroom.” She spoke simply “You were screaming at her.”

“Oh,” Beca squeaked. She wished she hadn’t waited for her wine to warm. Now it made her stomach churn. “Those were… happy screams, Kiddo.”

“They didn’t’ sound happy.” Bella trotted out “And then you punched the wall and yelled the F-word.”

Beca drew her bottom lip into her teeth, biting down hard enough to feel a pinch, but not hard enough to draw blood. I cannot give this kid the talk right now, holy fuck. Her thoughts were racing, her fingers digging into the side of the counter.

“Okay, I um…” She stuttered “I don’t really recall doing that, so… I don’t” She trailed off, a light whisper.

“You did,” She said, “You were like Oh my fucking god!”

Beca lifted her eyebrows, shifting so easily as to stand near the child in order to muffle her. She swallowed thickly. If her stomach wasn’t dropped in the first place, now it was soring.

“Oh my fucking god!”

“Okay!” Beca placed her and gently on Bella’s arm “Shh, okay. Here’s the thing. Aunt Chloe and I were just playing a fun little grown-up game.”

“You played that game seven times.”

“Six and a half, but let’s not-“Beca stilled “let’s not talk about this.”

That seemed to deter Bella, the girl shrugging her shoulders softly before she picked up her orange crayon before filling in the empty space that was the tigers tail. She was kicking her feet back and forth, Beca raising her glass to her lips as she gulped down the remainder of the liquid.

It was then that she realized the stark silence of the room.

Part of Beca Mitchell hoped that the party had forgotten her existence and trailed back into the living area. But she knew her family, and the quiet of the room was never a good sign. She swallowed the sour coating on her tongue before dropping her shoulders and turning around slowly to face the girls.  

Emily had her lips slightly popped, perfect eyebrow raised. Aubrey’s cheeks were flushed, and Stacie was muffling her laughter with the bulk of her hand. Chloe- well, Chloe was the quietest Beca had ever seen, scratching the back of her neck as heat licked at her cheeks.

“How much of that did you hear?” Beca squeaked out.

“Beca, when my child mimic’s Oh my fucking god! It tends to capture my attention.”

“I was listening the whole time,” Amy said.

Chloe pulled her fingers up to her nose, squeezing the bridge as she let out a shuddering breath. “Six and a half?”  

[operativehq]

after almost twenty four hours after the submit has closed and 11+ hours of reading applications and making painstaking decisions, the long-awaited acceptance post has come. i’d sincerely thank every single applicant for applying because i really don’t lie when i say that i read through every single app and had to make some very tough decisions, some that hurt my heart because almost every app came neck and neck with each other. this entire experience has been surreal -- i never expected for my plot idea to take off so incredibly and for such kind words to be said about it. i definitely did not anticipate 43 apps to end up in my inbox and to have such dedicated and patient applicants. thank you so much to everyone who’s been a part of this experience already, i really, really can’t say it enough or articulate it well.

to people who are not accepted -- i really mean it when i say that i wish i could accept everyone. every single app went beyond my expectations, and if you weren’t accepted it is NOT a testament to your writing abilities or anything personal. having to pick ONE person out of so many apps, or ELEVEN out of FORTY-THREE ?? it’s nearly impossible. it breaks my heart to not be able to accept THIRTY-TWO apps that were so beautiful. i strongly encourage people who weren’t accepted to keep an eye on this rp in case any openings or expansions occur in the future, because i’d really love to have people reapply. i wish i could type with the conviction and passion that i’m feeling right now when i say that every app blew me out of the water, but now i’m repeating myself over and over again. ( if anyone would like feedback on their app or for me to send their app back to them, please let me know over the course of this week. )

with that said, under the cut are the eleven accepted applicants. please send in your accounts within TWENTY-FOUR HOURS and be sure to check out the CHECKLIST as well as the inbox of your character blog once you send in your account so i can send invites to the ooc discord chat !!

CONGRATULATIONS LAURA ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT AURUM, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS MALCOLM WEBB ( REECE KING ). 

holy crap, laura !! your writing is amazing !! you really made malcolm come alive, with everything from your edits to your stunning biography and description of his personality. my heart really hurt for malcolm while i was reading about his background and you really provided so much depth behind the surface-level rich kid. you displayed his vulnerabilities and desires incredibly well. also, i love how you even added depth to the way his skills ?? thank you so, so much for applying, love, and welcome !!

CONGRATULATIONS EMILY ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT CRIMSON, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS RAFAEL BOLÍVAR ( TYLER POSEY ).

emily -- can we talk about the way you write for a sec ?? it’s absolutely phenomenal. you took a darker twist to crimson than i could have imagined and i loved every second of it. your backstory for him is incredibly unique to me and i’m so excited to work with his narrative throughout the rp !! beyond that, you really know your character well !! i was blown away by your para samples -- the way you wrote his connection with nikolai and also that drabble about him and tony ?? you have such a knack in your writing to be able to sympathize with your muses, like oh my god. i’m so glad you applied and i can’t wait to see how you develop rafe !!

CONGRATULATIONS CHRISTINA ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT CYGNUS, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS RHYSAND ATTWOOD ( HARRY STYLES ).

you truly went above and beyond, christina, and i am honestly so glad you came out of retirement from the rpc to apply !! the cygnus competition was so, so tough, but i kept coming back to your application. not only is your writing incredible, every facet of your application was so detailed it was clear that you had an understanding of rhys !! the thing that completely sold me was that you wrote about every connection rhys would have and how rhys would act and that was so great to see !! i also loved your twist on rhys & odessa’s connection ?? i also love his potential development and the way you tied his story into the plot !! i can’t wait to write with you, love, welcome to operative !!

CONGRATULATIONS TERESA ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT HAWTHORN, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS CALLIOPE MAXWELL ( CARTIA MALLAN ).

my goodness, i absolutely loved your app, teresa !! it was so unique and i loved how you showed how much depth callie had and the development that she has gone through and will continue to go through. i just loved the twist on her backstory and how she didn’t start off too kind ?? you made the skeleton of hawthorn three-dimensional and complex !! also, your ideas for her goal and how to extend it into a plot in the future was so creative and intriguing, i can’t wait to explore it more with you, love !! also, the liberties you took with your para sample absolutely paid off !! i loved seeing callie’s perspective on the provided connections. welcome, teresa !!

CONGRATULATIONS JULIE ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT HYALUS, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS DANAË BAUTISTA ( CLEO LAZULI ).

hyalus was another tough decision, but julie, i absolutely loved your take on hyalus. not only did the memes and vines make me laugh out loud, but you gave such a fresh perspective on our resident hacker. just the aspects ( and perhaps irony ) of her father’s condition made me incredibly sad, but it provided a ton of depth to danaë ?? and i loved the fact that you gave her the label ‘ the icarus ’, the way you explained it made me love danaë even more !! also, your research for the role literally had me with my mouth open while i was going through your app ?? and the fact that you included a family tree / timeline ?? your dedication is unreal. thank you so much for applying and i can’t wait to see danaë on the dash !!

CONGRATULATIONS RHINE ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT MERCURY, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS LYSANDER SEO ( LEE JONG SUK ).

the competition for mercury was probably one of the toughest -- every single app i read for that role was filled with so much effort and talent, that i kept going back and forth between so many. but rhine -- i strongly believe that you have an ability to paint with words. as i kept reading, i was just swept away by your writing ability ?? every single sentence was like a masterpiece !! and the way you wrote lys and his backstory was something i’ve never really seen before, and the amount of research you put into it was amazing !! while i was reading it all, i was internally screaming out of astonishment for your writing and sorrow for lys. he has so much depth and you understand him so well !! i cannot wait to see you play lysander on the dash and in events !!

CONGRATULATIONS EL ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT NOX, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS KINGSLEY LIM ( BANG YONGGUK ).

el, el, el !! your writing is insanely beautiful and by the end of your app, i felt like i understood king extremely well. his backstory had me crying and i loved the way you made nikolai a tether for king. also that pinterest ?? organized from head to toe had me already screaming, but then your explanation for each color and what it meant... it had me on the floor, quite honestly. your understanding of king and the very dark take on nox’s skeleton was stunning to read !! and those last two lines of his bio ?? had me weeping. in any case, i can’t wait to see kingsley develop here and welcome to the rp !!

CONGRATULATIONS GUBSE ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT OPHIDIAN, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS OLIVER KNIGHTLEY ( XAVIER SERRANO ).

goodness, the depth you gave ophidian was astounding  -- the anger, the loneliness, the flirtations  -- it was all wrapped up into oliver so perfectly ?? and then your development questions... the way you answered them ?? your writing is absolutely amazing !! it's a different vision i had for ophidian, but that’s in no means a bad thing. it's exactly why i loved it so, so much. just the line " he looks in the mirror. ' what are you capable of ? '" gave me shivers. i absolutely cannot wait to see how you play oliver on the dash. congratulations and welcome to operative !!

CONGRATULATIONS MINNIE ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT PHANTOM, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS JIYOON ARIELLA HAN ( PARK SOOYOUNG ).

everything from the biography, to the stats, to the connections, to your character’s goal... all i can say is wow !! i also absolutely loved the pinterest boards that went along with the biography !! every twist and turn that your writing took me on had me love every minute. it was a different take than i expected for phantom, but you captured the skeleton’s essence and really made it your own !! the explanation of her personality just confirmed that you were the one for phantom !! your writing is spectacular and i truly can’t wait to write with ariella !!

CONGRATULATIONS HONEY ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT PHOENIX, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS FRANCIS KANG ( JEON JUNGKOOK ).

holy shit, honey. i was weeping for francis and i really loved your take on phoenix’s connection and the depth you put behind him. i loved how much of a facade he put up & your depiction of him and odessa !! besides all that, your writing is gorgeous !! your in-character paragraph for phoenix really sold it for me !! you really have a good grasp on francis, and your creativity with his background / personality has me so excited to see where he goes and how he’ll develop !! thank you so much for applying and welcome !!

CONGRATULATIONS CLEO ! YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED ACCESS TO THE FILE OF AGENT SCORPIUS, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS ANGELINA DELAROSA ( CINDY KIMBERLY ).

the scorpius decision was probably the toughest of the whole acceptance process -- each app was absolutely amazing and i was struggling to pick just one. but i kept coming back to yours. your writing is almost poetic, and the way you wrote angelina was something that really pulled at my heart. the fact that you gave so much depth to the scorpius skeleton, beyond just a seductress, really gave it to me !! also, your paragraph samples, your explanation on her personality ?? my goodness, i could really tell that you understood angelina, from the way you wrote her goal, to her despair following nikolai, to the way you even wrote a drabble about her first mission... and the way you described those aesthetics as well !! your app had me absolutely floored !! you’re such a talented writer, and i can’t wait to see where you go with angelina !! welcome to the roleplay, love !!

[someonesingingalong]

taxi (I)

elevate my heartbeat

- 

The neon lights from the local bar reflect onto the streets outside. The cool weather isn’t unusual for January, but the occasional gust of wind makes it feel like the temperature is dropping by the minute. Hope’s hands shake as she ends the call on her phone and returns it to her back pocket. She clasps her hands together and brings them to her mouth, blowing hot air in a poor attempt to remain warm. She regrets not grabbing anything else but her oversized sweater- usually, she stays out long enough to the point of overheating in an overcrowded bar, but tonight she’s turning in early. She lets out a yawn that turns into a visible puff of cold air and realizes that camp had been more exhausting than she originally thought it would be. She knows the first one of the year is always tough, with fitness tests and all, but Hope feels her. The influx of younger players isn’t necessarily a bad thing; they have pushed them all in different ways. Their team is getting faster and stronger each day, and while they still struggle to find chemistry, Hope is certain they’ll make significant progress in no time and be an even better team than the one in Vancouver. They have to be if they have any chance at earning another star.

 Hope looks at her watch; it’s a quarter past ten. Her ride back to the hotel should arrive within the next five minutes, but she can barely keep her eyes open. They just about flutter shut when she hears a door swing open followed by a stumble of steps. She’s mildly annoyed that she’s not alone anymore- she doesn’t have the energy for a conversation- but when she turns around, her expression softens. She can’t help it (she never can).  

“Hope, hey!” It’s Kelley, face flushed with a nearly empty drink in hand. She walks over and Hope feels her energy roll off in waves. She stands up a little straighter.

 “Hey.” Hope greets in return. A part of her knows it’s just in Kelley’s nature to be so approachable, so likeable. But another part of Hope wonders if there’s intention behind her actions. She wonders if her younger teammate purposely seeks her out; it’s more often than not that she finds the younger woman lingering around her, even if it’s just for a small fist bump or an exchange of looks. This thought alone is enough to make her palms sweaty. It shouldn’t, but there’s always been a lot of should nots between them. Should not have been roommates. Should not have been friends. Should not have left the after party in London, alone. Should not be alone tonight.

 “Where are you running off to?” Kelley asks, her eyes widening with an idea. “Wait no, I want to guess. Let me guess! Don’t tell me!” She grips Hope’s arm, as if her alarmed tone wasn’t enough.

 “Okay…” Hope says slowly, more concerned by Kelley’s hands and their potential to wander. She knows from experience.

 Kelley lets go though and brings her hand to her chin in a classic pensive look. Hope smiles at her dramatics, completely oblivious to the fact that Kelley’s actually serious about whatever game she’s trying to play. Hope doesn’t mind though; it’s killing her wait time.

 “Oh, I got it!” Kelley’s on her toes now, taking a step closer to Hope without actually touching. “You’re going to a coffee shop!”

 “Yeah,” Hope’s on auto-pilot, completely distracted by the distance (or lack thereof) between her and the shorter brunette. She quickly corrects herself, “What? No, Kell, what coffee shop would be open now?”

 “Well, I don’t know…I’m close though, right? You’re getting coffee, but at one of those gas stations, right?” Kelley shoots her finger guns, making some sort of clicking noise with her mouth.

 Hope stares at Kelley in disbelief. Sometimes it’s hard believing she graduated from Stanford. She reasons, “Kelley, why would I be getting coffee this late? It’s ten at night. Where do you think I’m going?”

 “Ahhh, yes, yes…I know exactly where you’re heading. It’s that place we all came from. You know, it’s like home but sorta not really home. There’s a bed with pillows and complimentary breakfast in the mornings and those really nice old men who greet you every time you enter or leave. It’s called, uhm…oh gosh, don’t tell me, it’s on the tip of my tongue…”

 “You’re joking right?” If it weren’t Kelley, Hope would’ve walked back to the hotel by now. Where was her damn ride?

 “Don’t tell me! I almost have it!” Kelley pauses shortly before giving up, “Okay fine, I give up. It’s too hard.”

 “A…hotel?”

 “YES! That’s it!” Kelley’s eyes shine like a kid on Christmas morning, completely unaware of her drink sloshing all over the place. “Yes! Thank you! I knew it. You and I, Hope-” She points between them wildly, “We’ve always been on the same page!”

 Realization dawns over Hope, she can’t believe how tired she was to miss this. Her response is flat. “You’re drunk.”

 “Am not!” Kelley shoots her a look, taking great offense.

 “Yeah, you are.” Hope bends down slightly, her suspicions confirmed as she gets a strong whiff of alcohol. “Give me that before you spill the rest of it.” Hope takes away her drink, grabbing her arm at the same time. “You’re going back inside before you wander off lost and it’s New Orleans all over again.”

 “Hey, I was not that drunk that night! I mean, we had to do Abby’s sendoff justice.” Kelley tries to struggle free, but after realizing she’s no match to Hope’s goalkeeping arms, she grins stupidly. She kind of likes it. Hope rolls her eyes.

 There’s definitely intention.

 Before Hope can drag her any further down the sidewalk, she sees an outpour of her teammates from the entrance to the bar. Alex is the first to spot them. “Oh, I found Kelley!”

 “You guys leaving already?” Hope tugs at Kelley, bringing her over to the rest of the group.

 “Well someone got us kicked out.” Emily glares at Carli, standing next to a timid Sam.

 “What karaoke bar does not have ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’? Absolutely ridiculous. That’s a classic duet!” When Carli’s riled up, the team can’t help but pick on her. It’s amusing- and it’s good for her.

 Becky smirks, “You’re just mad that we destroyed you guys at pool.”

 “No, I’m not! We deserve a second challenge. I vote for darts, but oh no, Pinoe insists on karaoke and you listen! We wouldn’t be here if we just stuck with darts. We never listen to Pinoe! Why would we do that now?!”

 Pinoe perks up from afar, hearing her name. “Keep your panties on, Carl!”

 Sam speaks calmly, “It’s really, okay, Carli…I don’t mind. It was just one game of pool. We can come back another time and-”

 “Are you giving up on me?!” Carli turns to Sam, sending her a look of betrayal. “We don’t give up. You understand? I’m tired and I want to be anyone else but here, but we’ve been challenged. We don’t give up ever.”

 Pinoe shouts back, “Guys, quit the bitching. Let’s go! Alex and Allie found us another bar, just a couple blocks down.” The three of them begin to lead the way.

 Hope sees a bright yellow taxi turn on the street (finally). “Oh, thank god. Guys, my ride is here. Take Kelley.” She gently pushes her forward.

 Sonnet looks at them, confusion etched on her face. “She’s not going back with you?”

 “Hey, that’s a great idea!” Kelley looks up at her, excitement building.

 “No, it’s a terrible idea.” Hope cuts off Kelley. She tries not to overthink the fact that her teammate would think she and Kelley were leaving together. Hope walks towards the taxi, placing a hand on the door handle. She’s close to her escape, but she can already tell things are only going downhill from here. “I’m going straight to bed when I get back.”

 “Now you’re talking.” Kelley winks, and Hope feels warmth rising to her face and she’s never been more grateful for the darkness outside.  

 “Look, she’s drunk- like too drunk- to come out with us anymore.” Becky points out, “Can’t you just make sure she gets back to the hotel in one piece?”

 “Oh no you don’t…” Hope shakes her head, now opening the door of the taxi. “You cannot just leave me alone with her.”

 “I’ll be good, I promise!” Kelley begs, her eyes widening almost to the point that Hope can’t say no.

 “See? She promises, Hope!” Becky chuckles and then continues seriously, “Please just take care of her for us, okay?”

 “Well of course I would.” Hope glares, resigning. She doesn’t know where the night is heading, but she also wants to find out. She beckons, “Okay, come on, Kelley.”

 “Really?!” Kelley’s eyes shine as she skips over to Hope. She gushes, “You’re so kind.”

 Carli is heard yelling at them to hurry up. Becky sighs heavily, “Okay we have to go before your best friend rips us a new one.” She fishes into her pockets, “Here’s our room key. I’m guessing we won’t be back or quite awhile. You can leave it at the front desk or I’ll probably just crash somewhere else. See you later!” She and Emily jog after the rest of their team.

 “Bye.” Hope barely gets out, before realizing and calling out, “Wait, Becky, why would you crash somewhere else?! I’m not staying with her!” She hears distant laughter and lets out a heavy sigh. She’s about to step into the car when Kelley startles her.

 “Curb! Curb!” Kelley’s pointing towards the ground at their feet.

 “Yeah, I know.” Hope says, “Come on, just watch your step.”

 “You watch your step.”

 Hope gives her a stern look, “Get in the damn taxi, Kelley.” She grips the younger woman’s shoulders, guiding her in.

 “Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” Kelley jokes, struggling against Hope’s touch until she’s well situated in the back.

 Hope apologizes to the driver, “Hi, thanks for waiting.” She leans further forward and whispers. “If you can get us back to the Marriott on 6th street in less than twenty minutes, I’ll tip you extra.”

 They begin to move and Hope notices Kelley fidgeting. She sighs, “Will you keep still?”

 “You’re no fun.” Kelley frowns, frantically touching everything all at once to spite her seatmate in the back.

 Hope yawns, “Please, I’m tired.”

 Kelley now occupies herself with the little button on the inside of the door handle. The window slowly rolls down, and then up….and back down….and back up. Hope closes her eyes and silently prays for patience. She hears Kelley and by the sound of her voice, she already knows her eyes are bright with no good. “Oh! I want this to be like that one movie!”

 “What movi--Jesus, Kelley! Get back in here!” Half of Kelley’s body is hanging out of the window, and she knows that if she doesn’t do something in the next ten seconds, their ride would include a visit to the emergency room. She reaches across the back seat to grab Kelley’s waist.

 “This is the dream!” Kelley shouts, the cool breeze sending her hair in all sorts of directions. She frowns as she feels herself being reeled back in. “Hope…” She whines loudly, “Let me live for a few more seconds!”

 “Sit down and I’ll let you live for the rest of your life.”

 Kelley struggles for good measure. She looks down at Hope’s strong grip, and when she lifts her head, a smirk forms. “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

 “No, I cannot.” Hope watches as Kelley’s brows wiggle, teasing her. She almost laughs, but keeps it together because- well, she’s an adult.

 “I think it’s nice.” Kelley’s cheeky smile is both irritating and cute.

 “Well I think it’s necessary.” Hope rolls her eyes, freeing a hand to reach around Kelley and roll the window back up. Kelley responds by hovering a finger around the button, the window going back down. “Roll it back up, Kelley, I’m cold.” Hope feels the temperature of the taxi continue to drop.

 “Well I’m h-o-double-t-hott.”

 “Not funny.” Hope’s expression is serious. When Kelley fails to listen, she raises her voice, “Quit playing with that!”

 “Okay, Mom.” Kelley sticks out her tongue in a childish manner.

 “Don’t test me.”

 “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.” Kelley puts her hands up apologetically, but there’s a spark of trouble still evident in her eyes. She clears her throat. “You can let go now.”

 Only now does Hope notice her hands, dangerously placed at Kelley’s hips. She lets go immediately without a word and moves closer to her side of the vehicle. She looks out the window and feels warmth creep up her neck. She hopes Kelley doesn’t notice (oh but she does).

 It’s quiet, but only for a minute. Kelley can’t stop playing with the zipper on her leather jacket and it’s not even that loud, but Hope hears it ringing in her ears. “Psst…psst…Hope?”

 Hope reluctantly turns her head to the side, whispering, “Yes, Kelley?”

 “Do you want to know a secret?” Kelley asks in a hushed whisper.

 “No, but you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?”

 Kelley giggles, sharing, “I haven’t been this drunk since the World Cup.”

 Hope knows it won’t do any good trying to convince her otherwise so she brings a hand to her chest, appalled, “No! The World Cup?!”

 “Shhh! Shhh!” Kelley hushes her, moving closer to Hope. “Keep it on the down low! You can’t tell anyone.”

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” Hope promises.

 “Pinky swear?” Kelley adds.

 “I swear.”

 “No, Hope, pinky swear?” Kelley emphasizes, bringing her last digit of her hand up in front of Hope’s face. It’s ridiculous.

 “Kelley…”

 “Come on, you gotta do it! You gotta!” Kelley whines until Hope can’t do anything other than hook their fingers together to shut her up. Kelley literally has her wrapped around her fingers.

 Kelley, of course, is far from done. She sighs loudly, and then again and again. Hope sees their hotel in the far distance; she just needs to last another five minutes or so. “Do you have something else you want to say?”

 “Well, not really. It’s just…well, things were so different back then.” There’s a raw honesty underlying Kelley’s voice, and Hope wants to hear more.

 “It’s only been a year.” Hope responds.

 “Things were so good.” Kelley’s short statement makes Hope think. Kelley wasn’t wrong. They had been on top of the world- they still were, but in a different way. The road to Vancouver wasn’t an easy one, but when they arrived, it was like life had only just begun. They played like they never played before, and loved the game fiercely. They won, but they were hungry for more. They would have that chance to make history at Rio.

 Hope peruses, “I know you’re drunk right now, but if we’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to need a little context around ‘things’.”

 “Everything. The tournament, the team, my role on the team-”

 “Hey, you’ve earned your starting spot.” Hope cuts her short. She doesn’t understand why Kelley’s still second guessing herself.

 “Sure. Maybe.” Kelley looks down, shielding herself from Hope’s intense stare. She asks timidly, “But am I ready?”

 “You’ve been ready since London. You played every minute with me. I know, Kell, you’re a good player.”

 “But the team is so different now. I just don’t feel connected to as many people as I did back then. I don’t know who I can lean on, both on or off the field. I can’t juggle a relationship outside my career. It’s too hard and I…I’m going to die alone.”

 Hope watches Kelley’s insecurities unfold in front of her, escalating at a rapid pace. She knows she’s not exactly coherent at the moment, but she knows that these thoughts are coming from deep within nevertheless. She confronts her, “Whoa, slow down. You are not going to die alone.”

 “How do you know?” Kelley stresses.

 “Because…” Hope is careful with her next words. “Because you’ll have me.” The instant flicker in Kelley’s eyes makes her realize that she hadn’t been careful enough.

 “Oh! Oh-”

 “No-”

 “-Oh! I have an idea.” Kelley scoots unbelievable close, her voice low. “If we’re both like 40 and still single, we have to get married, okay?”

 “Yep, there it is.” Hope knew this conversation was inevitable, especially with Kelley in such a state. She plays along for the second time- somewhere along the ride, she’s given up on fighting all logic and reason. “Let’s elope in Vegas. That’s one everyone does!”

 “That’s what I was going to say! I like it! Quick and dirty!” Kelley grins, and Hope’s breath hitches. “You know what, Hope? You are my soulmate.” Hope can’t help but laugh, now that finger guns are involved. Kelley smiles, too, cocking her head to the side, “What’s so funny?”

 “You are hammered.”

 “I am not! I mean it, Hope, I really do. You’re my soulmate!” Kelley’s voice increases in volume.

 Hope makes eye contact with the driver in the front, and he’s laughing with them. She shifts her look back to Kelley. “I’m sorry, Kell, but I’m kind of taken.”

 “Only kind of?” Kelley tests.

 “I’m very much taken.” Hope repeats, holding her hand up and pointing to her ring. “See?”

 “Oh.” Kelley deflates back into the seat. She realizes, “So I am going to die alone.”

 “No!” Hope wants to chuckle, but she keeps her tone at bay. “No, you won’t, I promise. You have me-as a friend,” She quickly clarifies, her eyes softening. “You will always have me.” Maybe it’s the way Kelley looks back at her or maybe it’s the sudden realization that their night was just beginning that causes her heart to pound against her chest, but she had spoken the truth. She meant every word.

 “Thanks, Hope.” Kelley’s hands are now playing with the ends of hers sweater (Hope’s not at all surprised). “You’re pretty lucky, you know, to have found your soulmate.”

 Hope just stares at Kelley. She truly was. But she finds herself telling her, “Marriage isn’t all that it seems, Kell.”

 “No.” Kelley refuses to believe, “No, it has to be with you. Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.” Hope doesn’t know how to answer; she’s in no place, anyways. Kelley’s hands have ventured to her legs now. She swallows, “Your hands, Kelley.”

 Kelley responds nonchalantly, “I know.” She winks. “Now, we’re even.”

 Hope is wide awake now. The taxi driver announces their arrival and Hope quickly fumbles with cash in her wallet. She grabs Kelley’s hand, leading her up the steps and through the lobby. The elevator ride is incredibly long- Hope spends the entire time prying Kelley’s hands away. They really shouldn’t be left alone any longer.

 Hope finally opens Kelley’s hotel room. She sighs in relief. They had made it back without any problems (yet). She busies herself with tidying things around the room, telling Kelley, “Get ready for bed.”

 “Now you’re talking.”

 Hope freezes, deciding no response is the best response. She continues around the room until she hears Kelley. “A little help over here?”

 Hope turns around, and she realizes that maybe she shouldn’t have let Kelley get ready alone. She sighs, helping her take off her shirt. Hope tries not to look, hastily tripping over a pile of clothes on the way to the bathroom. She fills up a glass of water and rummages for a bottle of aspirin. She returns and Kelley still doesn’t have a shirt on. Go figure.

 “I can’t find a clean shirt.” (No shit, Kelley.) She looks at the items in Hope’s hands. “Are those for me?”

 “What?” Hope can only stare before blinking back to reality, to responsibility. “Oh yeah, yeah…it’ll help with the hangover in the morning.” She puts everything down on the nightstand.

 Kelley slowly climbs into bed. “Thanks for taking care of me, Hope.”

 “You can thank me when you have a shirt on.” Hope turns around again, looking for a clean shirt- or really, a dirty one would do at this point. She hears Kelley climb back out of bed, and she feels her dangerously close.

 “I don’t need a shirt.”

 “You—you’re going to get cold.” Hope stutters. The minute she turns around it’s over.

 “It feels pretty hot to me.” Kelley replies huskily, placing her hands on Hope’s hips. Now, she really can’t concentrate.

 “F-found it! I found it! Here!” Hope whips around, taking the shirt and pushing it against Kelley’s chest.

 Kelley doesn’t move, their faces only inches apart. She places a hand on top of Hope’s, still holding the article of clothing in place. “I’m not saying this because I’m drunk right now, but I love you, Hope.” She steals a quick glimpse at her lips. “Like a lot.”

 “I…I know you do.” Hope barely gets out, amidst a swirl of responsibility, excessive pining, and desire. Hope feels Kelley’s touch fueled by the alcohol coursing through her veins; it commands her to no control. All Hope can think about now is that Kelley’s body is pressed up against her own and that she wants her- sober.

 The t-shirt falls to the floor.

[hotchsi]

hi, I'm Squirrel! I have very unpopular criminal minds opinions but I absolutely do not care how many people agree with me. here is my list of the 50 best episodes of the show :)

currently I'm working on a canon divergence fic with transfem hotch. so if you like that. it will be out. sometime.

also have longer plans for a series of script-format case fics which tie in to one "season", but those will probably come out in over a year—I'll be writing them to practice the screenwriting skills I'm going to learn over the next couple years of college.

I am the pioneer of spencellethan (reid/elle/ethan polycule. they are the original bi4bi4bi) and a champion of wiljemily (will/jj/emily polycule where will and emily are platonic metamours because emily is a lesbian and they are both monogamous. jj is polyamorous though and loves them both! jj being poly is canon btw, that's not an unpopular opinion it's simply a fact)

my url is hotchsi, obviously, which is a better-sounding alternative to the ship name hossi (hotch/rossi). I fell in love with these two while watching the show for the first time.

I also ship most of the canon relationships, however I'm a firm believer that emily is a lesbian who's experienced comphet her whole life, and that spencer and jj have a sibling relationship with no romantic undertones or overtones. this is an anti-jeid zone (I will never send hate though. if you like jeid and also like my content that's fine, just be aware I will never make content for this pairing, or even content that is vaguely positive towards it.)

in a similar vein of jeid (in that I despise it and it gives me inc*st vibes), though with far less canon basis (thank god) is moreid. I cannot see these two as anything other than brothers or close friends. sorry. same deal as jeid, no hate if you're being respectful, but I will never promote or create content with this pairing

another of the bigger ships, hotcheid. I'm pretty neutral on them. I will never create or promote content for this pairing on this blog, but I am open to reading fic for them. I don't actually ship them but they are a good enough supplement to the sorely lacking gen fics in this fandom

I also ship morcia/marcia (I prefer it with the second spelling) but I love their dynamic in any form. I just love these two. token straights.

oh yeah, another thing. everyone is queer except morgan and garcia. this is more than a headcanon. I interpret these characters as queer within the narratives and boundaries established by canon. when I watch the show, I accept these characters as queer as if it were explicitly textual, and I could support my readings of these characters as queer with evidence from the text if I wanted to. I read no other bau member as straight. morgan and garcia are the only exception. (by the way, this is the BEST way to watch the show. just accept everybody is queer and watch the eps as if they were canonically, explicitly queer. you'll cry WAY more)

I think that about does it for things you really need to know about my cm views. please feel free to disagree. I know my opinions are very much not universal, and that's ok! I'm just happy to share how I enjoy the show

[letstrysomefanfic]

I Thought We Already Weren’t PART 2 (Peter Parker x Reader Angst)

Request: anonymous asked: Ooh I love angst!! Can you do something where the reader has a huge crush on peter but he likes Liz and he asks her out on date and he asks the reader for help with everything so she basically plans the whole thing for him and he keeps saying things like “wow ur such a good friend” and out of jealousy she asks Flash on a date and they start to go out and Peter says he’s not good enough for her and they get into a huge argument and deicde it’s better if they stop being friends…

Word Count: 1,386

Warning: angst (yay), dating Flash (is that a warning?)

A/N: IT’S HERE!!! the much anticipated, highly demanded PART 2!! omygod i cannot express how EXCITED AND THRILLED i was to see how much you guys loved the first part. i was honestly so surprised and holy crap i didn't expect it to blow up that much and that quickly! you guys have no idea how much that meant to me and just thank you for loving it ❤️❤️❤️

anyway this is much shorter than the first part, because i actually got an idea so this can be a sort of set up to a possible 3rd part???? also there’s this one part/line in here that i’m especially proud of cuz it’s especially sad/angsty and i decided to be evil like that haha sorry (not rly) but i’m curious to see if you guys can pick out which line it is.

thanks again SO MUCH to the anon who requested this, this was such a good request ❤️❤️❤️ (pls reveal yourself to me if you can so i can spam you with much love and thanks)

Part 1   Part 3

You tucked your hands under your arms as you anxiously waited by the curb. The crisp night air was brushing against your face. You checked your watch for probably the thousandth time. Even though there were still a good five minutes until seven, a different kind of cold began to grow in your stomach. The confidence you had when you started this mess was nowhere to be found.

What if he didn’t show up? You must look like such a hopeful idiot, waiting here on the curb in the nicest shit you could dig up from your mediocre closet. Maybe you overstepped yourself. What if you were seen as desperate? So desperate that you asked out the biggest ass in school?

This was a mistake you thought. I should just go back upstairs. He’s probably not even gonna show up anyway. But what if he does? Better I reject him rather than the other way around I guess? He does need a bit of rejection in his life.

You glanced down at your watch again. Two minutes. You’d wait here two minutes more. Give Flash at least one minute past seven, then that’s it. If he wasn’t here, you were going back up. You’d have to find some other way to distract yourself.

Just as you thought this, a flash of silver zoomed into your vision, screeching to a halt right in front of you. Flash leaned his arm over to the passengers seat, nonchalantly tilting his head toward you.

“Someone ask for a hot date?” he smirked, one eyebrow raised.

“I asked to be wowed,” you scoffed, reaching for the car door. Still unsure if you were going to regret this or not, you fastened your seatbelt. You didn't hear Flash’s reply as an odd feeling washed over you, like you were being watched. You glanced around uneasily, but passed it off as maybe you were just really really nervous. “Let’s just get this show on the road, shall we?”

Unbeknownst to you, as the convertible peeled away, a figure leapt from a roof, swinging a safe distance behind it.

Peter watched grimly from the rooftop across the street as you turned back to smile and wave. He was relieved that there no sincerity in it at all. However, even with that comfort, he still couldn’t believe you had actually gone through with it. You had actually gone on a date with Flash. Goddamn fucking Flash.

He waited a little while after he saw the light turn on in your bedroom window. He did feel a little guilty for ‘tagging along’ the whole night. But it was for your safety, because he still cared, that’s all. Well maybe it was a little more than ‘just caring’, but he refused to acknowledge any more than that as he fired a web, headed home.

Those good ol’ crappy Monday blues washed over you as you yawned, lazily shutting your locker. Trudging to the cafeteria, you met Ned along the way.

“So,” he prodded, “how was it?”

You shrugged, “It was distracting.”

“Like actually? Like you didn’t think about you-know-who at all?”

“No, keep your voice down!” you hissed. “But yeah it surprisingly was really distracting, acting interested in his lavish, spoiled-brat life. The food helped too; it was all soooooo good.”

“Damn. Expensive though?”

“Hoooo yeah.”

“So, what? Are you gonna do it again since it worked? Is it even worth it?”

“Probably,” you replied. You felt a little guilty, using someone like this (even if it was Flash). As soon as you both had sat down at your usual spot, that raspy voice plopped down next you.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Flash leaned his elbow on the table, trying to appear cool.

You had to keep from laughing. “Hey, Flash,” you dragged out each vowel, hoping you didn’t sound too annoyed.

“So… Friday… I’d say you were pretty wowed, weren’t you?” Pausing from pulling out your lunch, you dramatically cocked your head, thinking. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you from two tables away.

“A little,” you sighed, turning to face Flash. “Your choice in venue was the only thing that really wowed me. That and the food.” He raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, I guess I just expected a little more, considering how much you boast about you being such a ‘great date’—”

“Hm, not easily impressed I see,” he squinted at you. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the picky type, (Y/N).”

You chuckled, smirking, “You’d be surprised, Flash.” You met his eyes, silently challenging him. Knowing there was no way your confession of ‘not being wowed’ didn’t offend him, you waited for his offer.

“Well, I got a sort of reputation to uphold, and I can’t have anyone less than impressed at my… wooing skills,” he began. Ned had to stifle a snort, averting his eyes from Flash’s glare. It was painfully obvious how suave he trying to appear. “How’s about same time this Friday?”

You raised your eyebrows, borderline flirtatiously (gasp! something you never did unless it was unconsciously to Peter), “I expect to be wowed.”

Flash swung his legs from under the table, spinning up, “Oh, and uh, don’t worry about what to wear; I’ll send you something nice,” he called back as he strolled away.

Eyebrows raised, impressed and somewhat uneasy, you turned back to Ned. He had the same expression on his face. You both exhaled, laughing in shock.

“Damn, (Y/N), I didn’t know you had game!” Ned snickered. “Got Flash frickin Thompson wrapped around your finger!”

A heat crept to your cheeks as you slapped his arm, hissing, “Dude!”

As you giggled, you caught a quick sight of those warm doe eyes out of the corner of your own. Instantly your cheeks fell and your lips pursed into a grimace. That blunt stabbing gnawed your gut. In that one short millisecond, you both connected for the first time in months through the same unacknowledged agony and heartache. Peter had quickly averted his gaze but you had already seen it. That sadness, that anger, and was that… regret? Everything you saw in him, you were all too familiar with.

Peter turned to Liz with a small grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t just jealous; he was hurting. Just like you were. But you realized you didn’t feel the satisfaction you were craving. Peter was wearing that face that so often would cause you to immediately be ready to fight whoever/whatever made him like that. And now it was because of you. Hanging your head down, you felt the guilt settle in your stomach, wishing you hadn’t brought that upon him.

If Peter had laser vision, Flash head would have two eye-sized holes in them.  “I’ll send you something nice.” That phrase echoed in Peter’s mind. Flash couldn’t do that. He couldn’t expect to just win you over by ‘sending something nice’. He looked back at you expecting to see that classic eye roll you reserved just for that asshat. Instead you laughed. You blushed. He could only register his clenched fists; the rest of his body had gone numb. His face dropped, weighed down by what felt like betrayal and sadness.

“So I guess they’re dating now?” Liz murmured, confused. “Huh. I would’ve never seen that coming.”

Peter turned to face her, trying to focus on the amazing human sat next to him. His girlfriend. Girlfriend. Odd. That word didn’t have the same ring to it as it did a few weeks ago. He was scared to realize that Liz didn't have the same glow, either. Not like she had before. Not that she wasn’t any less beautiful, oh God no. Peter just couldn’t see her in the same light as he had when he’d so boldly and anxiously approached her that Tuesday so seemingly long ago.

Stop thinking like that, Peter told himself. None of this should be happening. He shouldn’t be experiencing what he was when he saw you. He shouldn’t be wanting to throttle Flash anymore than usual. He shouldn’t be thinking of Liz as any less than he had before. That word should have the same magical feeling to it. You and him should still be friends. Things should have never changed. There were all these things should be. But they weren’t.

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Open Me Carefully

I recently finished reading the book Open Me Carefully, which is a collection of letters, poems, and letter-poems Emily Dickinson sent to her close friend and sister-in-law, Susan Huntington Dickinson.

I decided to buy it after seeing Emily in a list of historical LGBT+ figures; although we’ll never know if their relationship was romantic or sexual in any way, it is clear from these letters that their connection was very deep on an intellectual and spiritual level.

Of course, as a bisexual female myself, I love to interpret them in a gay way, and below are some extracts that I particularly liked. (alongside my own little commentary now and then, sorry!)

(For some context, both women were born in December 1830)

“I wept a tear here, Susie - on purpose for you - because this “sweet silver moon” smiles in on me and Vinnie, and then it goes so far before it gets to you - and then you never told me if there was any moon in Baltimore - and how do I know Susie - that you see her sweet face at all? She looks like a fairy tonight, sailing around the sky in a little silver gondola with stars for gondoliers. I asked her to let me ride a little while ago - and told her I would get out when she got as far as Baltimore, but she only smiled to herself and went sailing on. I think she was quite ungenerous - but I have learned the lesson and shant ever ask her again.” - October 9, 1851

I LOVE how she describes Nyx the moon in this letter!!

“Will you let me come dear Susie - looking just as I do, my dress soiled and worn, my grand old apron, and my hair - Oh Susie, time would fail me to enumerate my appearance, yet I love you just as dearly as if I was e’er so fine, so you wont care, will you? I am so glad dear Susie - that our hearts are always clean, and always neat and lovely, so not to be ashamed. I have been hard at work this morning, and I ought to be working now - but I cannot deny myself the luxury of a minute or two with you. The dishes may wait dear Susie - and the uncleared table stand, them I have always with me, but you, I have “not always,” why Susie, Christ hath saints manie - and I have few, but thee - the angels shant have Susie - no - no no! [...] Oh my darling one, how long you wander from me, how weary I grow of waiting and looking, and calling for you; sometimes I shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away, Oh you never will - say, Susie, promise me again, and I will smile faintly - and take up my little cross again of sad - sad separation. How vain it seems to write, when one knows how to feel - how much more near and dear to sit beside you, talk with you, hear the tones of your voice - so hard to “deny thyself, and take up thy cross, and follow me -” give me strength, Susie, write me of hope and love, and of hearts that endured. [...] Only want to write me, only sometimes sigh that you are far from me, and that will do, Susie! Dont you think we are good and patient, to let you go so long; and dont we think you’re a darling, a real beautiful hero, to toil for people, and teach them, and leave your own dear home? [...] I must leave you now - “one little hour of Heaven,” thank who did give it me, and will he also grant me one longer and more when it shall please his love - bring Susie home, ie! Love always, and ever, and true!” - February 1852

Susan’s daughter Martha said “Her [Emily’s] devotion to those she loved was that of a knight for his lady.”

“Oh Susie, I would nestle close to your warm heart, and never hear the wind blow, or the storm beat, again. Is there any room there for me, or shall I wander away all homeless and alone? Thank you for loving me, darling, and will you “love me more if ever you come home”! it is enough, dear Susie, I know I shall be satisfied. But what can I do towards you? - dearer you cannot be, for I love you so already, that it almost breaks my heart - perhaps I can love you anew, every day of my life, every morning and evening - Oh if you will let me, how happy I shall be! [...] pretty soon I waked up saying “Precious treasure, thou art mine,” and there you were all right, my Susie, and I hardly dared to sleep lest some one steal you away. Never mind the letter, Susie; you have so much to do; just write me every weeks one line, and let it be, “Emily, I love you,” and I will be satisfied!” - February 1852

“dont you go Susie, not to their meeting, but come with me this morning to the church within our hearts, where the bells are always ringing, and the preacher whose name is Love - shall intercede there for us!” - February 1852

“And I do love to run fast - and hide away from them all; here in dear Susie’s bosom, I know is love and rest, and I never would go away, did not the big world call me, and beat me for not working. [...] When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, shall I, but I shall have yourself, which is more - Oh more, and better, than I can even think! [...] Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, go now, this very moment, for I need her - I must have her, Oh give her to me! [...] he [God] is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more.” - April 5, 1852

“I have thought of it all day, Susie, and I fear of but little else, and when I was gone to meeting it filled my mind so full, I could not find a chink to put the worthy pastor; when he said “Our Heavenly Father,” I said “Oh Darling Sue”; when he read the 100th Psalm, I kept saying your precious letter all over to myself, and Susie, when they sang - it would have made you laugh to hear one little voice, piping to the departed. I made up words and kept singing how I loved you, and you had gone, while all the rest of the choir were singing Hallelujahs. I presume nobody heard me, because I sang so small, but it was a kind of comfort to think I might put them out, singing of you. I a’nt there this afternoon, tho’, because I am here, writing a little letter to my dear Sue, and I am very happy. I think of ten weeks - Dear One, and I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still. The sun does’nt shine at all, but I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose. And I pray that such summer’s sun shine on my Absent One, and cause her bird to sing!” - Late April 1852

I joked on twitter about the gay agenda being to sing about missing your girlfriend when everyone else in church is singing hymns. Because of course they talked face-to-face whenever they were together, a lot of the letters were sent when Susan was away, so they’re filled with Emily’s pining for and missing of her. Later in this same letter she describes how she gathered flowers and an acorn and a snail shell to give to Sue once she returned which is absolutely adorable. She continues to gift her flowers throughout her life and in her poems compares both of them to flowers.

“Our last words were of you, and as we said Dear Susie, the sunshine grew so warm, and out peeped prisoned leaves, and the Robins answered Susie, and the big hills left their work, and echoed Susie, and from the smiling fields, and from the fragrant meadows came troops of fairy Susies, and asked “Is it me”? No, Little One, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor can the heart conceive” my Susie, whom I love.” - May 1852

I love how Extra™ Emily is with her romantic analogies in these early letters lmao

“And now how soon I shall have you, shall hold you in my arms; you will forgive the tears, Susie, they are so glad to come that it is not in my heart to reprove them and send them home. I dont know why it is - but there’s something in your name, now you are taken from me, which fills my heart so full, and my eye, too. It is not that the mention grieves me, no, Susie, but I think of each “sunnyside” where we have sat together, and lest there be no more, I guess is what makes the tears come. [...] we shall not be separated, neither death, nor the grave can part us, so that we only love!” - June 1852

“I have but one thought, Susie, this afternoon of June, and that of you, and I have one prayer, only; dear Susie, that is for you. [...] and when I look around me and find myself alone, I sigh for you again; little sigh, and vain sigh, which will not bring you home. I need you more and more, and the great world grows wider, and dear ones fewer and fewer, every day that you stay away - I miss my biggest heart; my own goes wandering round, and calls for Susie [...] Susie, forgive me Darling, for every word I say - my heart is full of you, none other than you in my thoughts, yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me; If you were here, and Oh that you were, my Susie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us, and your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language - I try to bring you nearer, I chase the weeks away till they are quite departed, and fancy you have come, and I am on my way through the green lane to meet you, and my heart goes scampering so, that I have much ado to bring it back again, and learn it to be patient, till that dear Susie comes. [...] I add a kiss, shyly, lest there is somebody there!! Dont let them see, will you Susie?” - June 11, 1852

“And very, very often when I have waked from sleep, not quite waked, I have been sure I saw you, and your dark eye beamed on me with such a look of tenderness that I could only weep, and bless God for you. Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me as you used to? [...] I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you - that the expectation once more to see your face again, makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast [...] Why, Susie, it seems to me as if my absent Lover was coming home so soon - and my heart must be so busy, making ready for him. While the minister this morning was giving an account of the Roman Catholic system, and announcing several facts which were usually startling, I was trying to make up my mind w’h of the two was prettiest to go and welcome you in, my fawn colored dress, or my blue dress.” - June 27, 1852

“And now, my absent One, I am hoping the days away, till I shall see you home -  am sewing as fast as I can, I am training the stems to my flowers, I am working with all my might, so as to pause and love you, as soon as you get home.” - February 24, 1853

“Why dont you write me, Darling? Did I in that quick letter say anything which grieved you, or made it hard for you to take your usual pen and trace affection for your bad, sad Emilie? Then Susie, you must forgive me before you sleep tonight, for I will not shut my eyes until you have kissed my cheek, and told me you would love me. [...] I dont know which it is - I only know that when you shall come back again, the Earth will seem more beautiful, and bigger than it does now, and the blue sky from the window will be all dotted with gold - though it may not be evening, or time for the stars to come.” - March 5, 1853

“Will you write to me - why hav’nt you before? I feel so tired looking for you, and still you do not come. And you love me, come soon - this is not forever, you know, this mortal life of our’s. [...] I’m loving you at home - I’m coming every hour to your chamber door. I’m thinking when awake, how sweet if you were with me, and to talk with you as I fall asleep, would be sweeter still.” - February 28, 1855

“Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a “Diver” - Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest, Her heart is fit for home - I - a Sparrow - build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest.” - 1850s

There’s also a poem that begins “Your - Riches - taught me - poverty!” which is pretty gay too so look that up if you want (it’s too long to type on here).

“for the Woman whom I prefer, Here is Festival - When my Hands are Cut, Her fingers will be found inside - [...] Take the key to the Lily, now, and I will lock the Rose” - 1864

“You must let me go first, Sue, because I live in the Sea always and know the Road - I would have drowned twice to save you sinking, dear, If I could only have covered your Eyes so you would’nt have seen the Water” - 1860s

Then there’s a letter-poem that begins “To miss you, Sue, is power” but again it’s too long so look it up!

“I would have liked to be beautiful and tidy when you came - You will excuse me, wont you, I felt so sick. How it would please me if you would come once more, when I was palatable.” - 1870s

“Susan knows she is a Siren - and that at a word from her, Emily would forfeit Righteousness” - 1876 or later

I love how she compares Susan to a siren, whom we all know is the gayest mythological creature.

“To own a Susan of my own Is of itself a Bliss - Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord, Continue me in this!” - late 1870s

“Sue - to be lovely as you is a touching Contest, though like the Siege of Eden, impracticable, Eden never capitulates” - 1876 or later

“Susan- I dreamed of you, last night, and send a Carnation to indorse it - Sister of Ophir - Ah Peru - Subtle the Sum That purchase you” - 1876 or later

apparently at this time Emily’s handwriting made her “Y”s look like an “S” so the “you”s in this poem look like “Sou”, or Sue :D

“That Susan lives - is a Universe which neither going nor coming could displace” - spring 1880

“It was like  a breath from Gibraltar to hear your voice again, Sue - Your impregnable syllables need no prop, to stand” - early 1880s

“With the Exception of Shakespeare, you have told me of more knowledge than any one living - To say that sincerely is strange praise” - early 1880s

Comparing her to Shakespeare!? Holy shit what a compliment !!

“Perhaps the dear, grieved Heart would open to a flower, which blesses unre- quested, and serves without a Sound.” - early October 1883

Emily sent this to Susan after her seven-year-old son had just died. I think it’s very touching how she tries to cheer her up a bit with a simple flower, as apparently Susan shut herself away for about a year after the death, so clearly words weren’t the biggest comfort to her.

“One of the sweetest Messages I ever received, was, “Mrs Dickinson sent you this Cardinal Flower, and told me to tell you she thought of you.” Except for usurping your Copyright - I should regive the Message, but each Voice is it’s own” - 1880s

“The tie between us is very fine, but a Hair never dissolves. Lovingly” - late 1885

Emily had fallen ill around this time so I think the tie being fine is because of the possibility of death, which she believed could not take away their love.