#I did not expect Emily to finish it SO quickly but she did a lovely job and was delightful to work with!!

[lucienarcheron]

✨meet me in the afterglow✨

DELIGHTED to share this beautiful elucien piece I commissioned from @/the_megabee33 on Instagram 🥰 Emily (@toastyrobos) took my vision and ran with it and I ADORE how it came out! I’ve been screaming, crying, and throwing up joyfully since I saw it 🥹♥️ I was thinking of saving it until July for elucien week so forgive me because how could I when I can give you some ✨fated mates in their wedding bliss✨ right now!! 

*please do not repost anywhere!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Matchmaker

Summary: JJ tries to set Spencer up with Henry's pediatrician.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x pediatrician fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none!

Word count: 1.1k

a/n: gonna grab his cute little face and smooooochhhhhh

btw i will be posting on tuesday's and friday's because they won the poll but this is a bonus thursday post because i'm hungover and want spencer's love

main masterlist

“Hey, Spence!” JJ called out as she strolled into the bullpen, her bright smile making Spencer look up from the file he was reviewing.

“What’s up, JJ?” Spencer replied, adjusting his glasses and setting the file aside to give her his full attention.

“So, I was thinking…” JJ began, her tone light and playful, but before she could finish, Emily chimed in from across the room, a grin spreading across her face.

“Well, that’s never good,” Emily chuckled, earning an amused roll of the eyes from JJ.

“Love you too, Em,” JJ shot back, her voice dripping with mock sarcasm before she refocused on Spencer. “Anyway, as I was saying, I was thinking, you’d be a really good match for Henry’s pediatrician.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “Ohhh, what’s she like? Super brainiac nerd?” Emily teased, wiggling her eyebrows at Spencer, who scoffed lightly.

“Rude,” Spencer shot back with a half-smile before turning back to JJ, his expression softening. “And uh, that’s nice of you, JJ… but I’m not really looking to be set up.”

JJ, undeterred, leaned against Spencer’s desk, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of determination and affection. “Oh, come on, just meet her. She’s the best! I know you guys will click.”

Spencer’s smile faded slightly as he considered her words, his brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, he sighed, his tone gentle but resolute. “Sorry, JJ. I’m not interested. It’s sweet of you to think about me, though.”

Spencer assumed that was the end of the conversation, especially since JJ didn’t bring up the mystery woman again in the days that followed. He thought he was in the clear, believing that JJ had respected his decision. Little did he know, JJ wasn’t one to give up so easily, especially when she believed she was doing something good for someone she cared about.

—

“Hey, babe,” you greeted Spencer when he answered the phone, your voice warm and light, immediately bringing a smile to his face.

“Hi,” he replied, and even through the phone, you could hear the smile in his voice, the simple greeting filling you with that familiar warmth.

You and Spencer had only been seeing each other for about six weeks, but those six weeks had been transformative—arguably the best of both of your adult lives. Every moment spent together seemed to be a little brighter, a little more meaningful, as if you had both found something truly special.

“What’s up?” you asked, settling into a comfortable spot on your couch, your curiosity piqued by the call.

“Well,” Spencer began, his voice carrying a note of hopeful anticipation, “I was going to see if you would want to hang out Friday night. We could watch that movie I was telling you about.”

A smile spread across your face, touched by his thoughtfulness, but a twinge of regret quickly followed. “Awe, Spence. I’d love to, but my friend actually invited me out that night. I’m sorry, honey.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for you to wonder if he might be disappointed. But then Spencer’s voice came back, just as warm and understanding as always. “Oh, it’s okay, maybe Saturday?”

Relief washed over you, your smile returning in full force. “I can do that! Put me in your calendar, genius.”

“Will do,” Spencer said, and you could almost picture the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“See you then, can’t wait,” you replied, your voice full of genuine excitement. The anticipation of spending more time with him was something you both shared, and as you ended the call, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar flutter in your chest, counting down the days until Saturday.

—

Seeing as Spencer didn’t have any plans for Friday night, it didn’t take much convincing for the team to drag him out for drinks at their usual bar. The large booth was already filled with the familiar hum of conversation and laughter as the team chatted amongst themselves, waiting for JJ to arrive. The atmosphere was relaxed, the kind that only comes from years of friendship and countless nights spent together unwinding after a long week.

When JJ finally walked in, the group greeted her with smiles and waves, but it didn’t take long for them to notice that she wasn’t alone. Following close behind her was another person, and as they got closer, Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief. No way.

“Hey guys!” JJ greeted, her voice full of excitement. “This is my friend, Y/N! She’s Henry’s pediatrician, and she is absolutely amazing. Spencer, this is who I wanted you to meet.”

Spencer couldn’t even try to hold it in. The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once, and before he knew it, he was laughing—right in JJ’s face. It wasn’t just a chuckle, either; it was a full, genuine laugh, the kind that took him by surprise as much as it did the rest of the team.

“Reid, have some manners. What is wrong with you?” Derek’s voice cut through the laughter, laced with awkward confusion. He wasn’t used to seeing Spencer act this way, especially not when meeting someone new.

But before Spencer could even attempt to explain himself, you joined in, your own laughter bubbling up as you leaned down toward him, completely unbothered by the awkwardness. With a playful smile, you kissed Spencer on the lips, the simple, affectionate gesture leaving everyone at the table stunned. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted him warmly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Spencer, still grinning, managed to recover enough to return the greeting, “Hi.”

The rest of the team stared in shock, jaws practically on the floor, while JJ’s expression morphed from confusion to wide-eyed realization. “Wait… you two know each other?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise.

“Oh, we more than know each other,” you teased, taking a seat next to Spencer and intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend.”

Derek’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of you. “And you didn’t tell us, pretty boy?”

Spencer shrugged, a bit sheepish but mostly amused by the whole situation. “It just… never came up.”

Emily finally broke the silence with a laugh. “Well, this is one way to find out!”

JJ groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment before laughing along with the rest of the group. “I can’t believe I tried to set you up with someone you’re already dating!”

“It’s okay, JJ,” Spencer reassured her, still holding your hand. “At least you know that your matchmaking skills would have worked out.”

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[maxiskindahere]

Hello! i just finish reading the Lute x Reader you just recently made and im Inlove I'm wondering that if you can make a part 2 of it? if it's not too much to ask, like Lute goes to reader after the trial or if the reader was with lute that's also fine and the aftermath of the extermination where reader was worried of Lute then she goes full shock when she saw Lute's State. This is just an Idea of mine of how the part 2 goes but you can always do it ur way :)) Thank you! <3

abso-fucking-lutely i can!!

it doesn’t follow the exact bit but i wanted to see if i could fit in everything you asked for 🫶 apologises if it’s not what you were expecting x

part one here

Extermination is entertainment | Lute x F!reader part 2

cw: swearing, talk of murder

Y/N sat quietly scrolling through ‘Blessed’, which according to the Winner who made it.. is the Holy version of an app called ‘Twitter’. She didn’t really understand the whole concept of Twitter, but she quite enjoyed Blessed.

Though, her quiet time was quickly disrupted as she notices a text pop up from Adam

DickMaster

good luck bitch

But before the girl can ask anything, an angry Lute bursts through the door “Those fucking hellspawns!” She shrieks, slamming the door behind her causing Y/N to jump in surprise “Holy shit! Give a girl some warning” Y/N exclaims, holding a hand to her heart

“All this talk of redemption after they killed one of us, they all deserve to die.” Lute rants, anger coursing through her veins “Wait, did they win?” Y/N asks in shock, putting down her phone “Of course they didn’t! Sinners can’t be redeemed!” Lute exclaims, taking a deep breath

“Sorry, I just..” Lute sighs, running a hand through her hair “Everyone on the council knows now, Adam exposed it.” She explains to the h/c angel who nods slowly, still not sure what the issue was “So you won! That’s all that matters right?” Y/N asks, a silly smile on her face

“I guess” Lute digresses, taking a seat beside Y/N who swiftly wraps her wings around her “You know, if you’re stressed.. I know a great stress reliever” Y/N teases, wiggling her eyebrows

“Please, you sound like Adam.” The lieutenant deadpans, playfully glaring at the other “Ouch!” Y/N says, holding a hand to her chest “You’re so rude”

“Maybe, but you love it.”

—

Realistically, you knew you had nothing to worry about. Those demons didn’t stand a chance against the extermination army but you were still extremely nervous.

If one figured out how to kill an Angel, the others could catch on.. and that scared her more than anything.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks softly, sitting down beside Y/N on the park bench “Yeah.. Just nervous.” Y/N says simply, picking at her fingers “Lute seemed off before she left, I’m worried it will affect her performance.” The girl explains, leaning against the back of the bench

“Maybe Charlie got through to her” Emily comments, a playful smile on her face as Y/N lets out a small laugh “I doubt it, she was really annoyed after the meeting” Y/N says with a soft smile on her face

“Well, I’m sure she’s fine!” Emily reassures the girl who looks down at her lap with uncertainty before noticing the familiar shine near Sera’s office “I think that’s them, I’ll be back” Y/N tells the Seraphim before swiftly flying over to the “meet up” point

She was excited, Lute had promised to help her with some basic self defense skills when she returned.

But what Y/N saw was the opposite of exciting. She saw a bloodied Lute, one of her arms was pulled apart and she was staring down at the halo in her hands.

“Holy shit” Y/N gasps as she notices it’s Adam’s halo “Lute? What the fuck?” She exclaims, frantically flying over to her partner, resisting the urge to hug her

“Adam is dead.” Is all Lute says, her gaze strong as she stares into the skyline “Are- Are you okay?” Y/N asks quietly, looking at the missing arm

She didn’t know what to say, how do you talk about that? For the first time in her life, Y/N was speechless.

Adam was dead, and God knows what happened to cause that.

And then there’s Lute, showing no emotion per usual but Y/N knew that look in her eyes.

“It’ll regenerate, now move. I have someone to talk to.”

—

it’s so hard to write abt what Lutes reaction was when she got to heaven bc we only see her with Lilith, but i personally would be in too much shock to care about anything else if i was her x

requests are open🫶 i’m trynna get back into writing and this is a lot of fun :)

[reidsgfbf]

I Want Your Love

spencer reid x gn! reader

in which spencer surprises the rest of the team with his music taste, which may or may not have been influenced by his partner he hasn't had the decency to tell them about yet

inspired by the fact i had I Want Your Love by Transvision Vamp in my head recently

warnings : no use of y/n, a few swear words here and there, characters may be a lil ooc, reader is only mentioned, they/them pronouns for reader

word count : 541 words, proofread

Of course, Spencer ended up drawing the short straw when the rest of the team was deciding who would drive them to the local police station. He'd only gone to the toilet, albeit reluctantly, for a few minutes, and when he'd gotten back, Morgan had tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs and told him he was driving.

Spencer agreed, only on the condition that he got to play music on the drive. The rest of the team reluctantly agreed, thinking they'd only be treated to classical music as they all bundled into the SUV.

Spencer slipped into the driver's seat, took his phone out of his pocket, which you'd bought him and taught him how to use, plugged the aux cord into it, and brought up the playlist you and he had made together.

He made sure everyone had their seatbelts on- because did you know that there's a mortality rate of approximately 50% of people who don't wear seatbelts in moving vehicles?- and then started playing his music.

The opening guitar riff of I Want Your Love by Transvision Vamp sounded out in the vehicle and nearly everyone did a double take as Spencer pulled out of the parking space and hummed along to the music. This is not what they were expecting at all.

"When the hell did you start listening to this stuff, pretty boy?" Morgan asked, narrowly dodging Emily's wayward arms as she and JJ danced to the music.

"My partner introduced it to me," Spencer replied simply and everyone paused, including Emily and JJ. The car was silent, apart from the music playing, as everyone, sans Spencer, digested this information.

"Your... partner?" Emily asked slowly, making sure she heard that right.

"Yep." Spencer responded, popping the 'p'.

"Since when have you had a partner?" JJ asked. Spencer thought for a second.

"Since about five months, two weeks, fifty-seven days and sixteen hours ago," Spencer responded precisely. "But it feels like longer."

His little lovestruck grin made Morgan snicker, which was quickly cut off when Emily jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

"Where did you meet this elusive partner of yours?" Rossi asked.

"At a museum. They were arguing with security about an incorrect factoid about Christopher Columbus actually." Spencer chuckled. "Because he wasn't actually the first European to set foot in America. In fact, he never set foot in America at all. He set foot in the Bahamas instead. The first European to ever set foot in America was actually the Viking Leif Erikson, son of Erik the Red, who discovered Greenland. Leif then discovered what is now Newfoundland and Labrador."

Emily snorted. "Trust you to meet the love of your life at a museum where they argued with the security."

Spencer laughed. "I stepped in and helped them argue with the security, but it ended up with us both getting kicked out, so we went to have some ice cream together instead, and we got to know each other."

By now I Want Your Love had finished, and now the playlist turned onto Lovecats by the Cure. Emily laughed.

"I definitely want to meet the person who has such a cool music taste now." She grinned.

"Maybe at some point," Spencer replied.

[cheynovak]

Sheriff's bargain - Part 4

Beau Arlen x Y/N female reader

Summary:  Y/N, a seasoned con artist, is arrested after returning to Montana, where her past comes back to haunt her in the form of Sheriff Beau Arlen—the man she abandoned five years ago. Facing charges linked to a drug lord, she’s offered a deal to work as an informant. Torn between her criminal life and lingering feelings for Beau, Y/N must decide whether to help him bring down the crime ring or continue running from her past.

Warnings: Abduction, beating, blood, abuse,...

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Like/Share/Comments are welcome

Seeing Emily standing there, her eyes filled with confusion and a hint of hurt, left me completely stunned. I froze, my heart racing as I tried to figure out what to say, but nothing came out. Instead, I excused myself quietly, mumbling something about needing to get dressed. It was better to let Beau handle this with her. She was his daughter, and I had no place in this conversation.

I slipped past them and made my way back upstairs, the tension thick in the air. As I quickly changed out of his shirt and into my own clothes, I could hear their voices from downstairs, though I couldn’t make out every word. Emily was upset, her tone sharp, and I could hear the confusion in her voice as she demanded to know what was going on. Beau’s voice, though quieter, was firm as he explained the situation, but the words that stung the most came when he said, “She’s no one, Emily.”

No one.

"I though you still loved mom?"

"I did, I mean, I still do."

"Then why risk losing her."

"Em, your mom chose to leave me remember. This was just..."

"I know what this was dad, I just thought you weren't like those men."

“Like I said, she needs safety, one thing lead to another, but she won't come in between us, Emily. We are a family."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of me. I had expected him to downplay things, to protect his daughter from the mess I’d dragged into his life, but hearing him dismiss me so easily—like I didn’t matter at all—hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I finished getting dressed and, without thinking, slipped out of the house for a walk. I needed air, space to clear my head. The streets were quiet, the early morning sun casting long shadows as I wandered through the neighborhood. My mind raced with everything that had just happened.

I had always known this would be complicated, that getting involved with Beau again would only make things messier, but hearing him tell his daughter I was no one brought back a painful reminder of the truth.

I wasn’t supposed to be a part of his life. I was a complication, a mistake from the past, and now I had gotten too close.

As I walked through the quiet streets, trying to clear my head from the whirlwind of emotions, I noticed something unsettling—a black van driving slowly behind me. At first, I thought it might be a coincidence, but the more I walked, the more certain I became that I was being followed.

My heart started to race. I picked up my pace, glancing over my shoulder, hoping they’d lose interest. But the van kept its steady crawl, staying right behind me. Panic surged through me, and I broke into a run.

The van’s engine roared as it sped up to match my pace. I frantically pulled out my phone, trying to call Beau. My hands trembled as I dialed his number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Cursing under my breath, I kept calling, hoping he’d pick up, but with each unanswered ring, my fear deepened.

I rounded a corner, thinking I could lose them, but the van swerved, cutting me off. Tires screeched as it blocked the path ahead of me. I turned to run back the way I came, but two men jumped out, grabbing me with brute force before I could take another step. I fought hard, kicking and struggling against their grip, but they were too strong, their hands clamped down like iron shackles.

Before I could scream, a sleek, black Mercedes-Benz pulled up beside us, its dark windows gleaming under the morning sun. My breath hitched in my throat. I knew exactly who it was before the car even stopped.

King.

The car door opened, and from the back seat stepped King himself, dressed in an expensive black suit, his eyes cold and calculating as he looked me over like I was nothing more than property.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with danger. “Did you really think you could hide forever?”

Fear clutched my chest as I realized how serious this was. Beau wasn’t picking up, and now I was face-to-face with the man I had spent years trying to avoid.

My phone lay forgotten on the street as the van sped off, taking me deeper into the clutches of King and his men. My heart pounded in my chest, a sinking feeling growing with each passing second. They didn’t just catch me—they had been watching for a while.

When we arrived at one of King’s warehouses, I was dragged out of the van and into the cold, dimly lit space. The air smelled of oil and rust, and the sound of metal clanging echoed in the distance. I was shoved into a chair, my wrists and ankles bound tightly with thick ropes that bit into my skin, sending sharp waves of pain through my body. The handlers stood close, their cold eyes fixed on me, waiting.

King's voice echoed in the room as he approached, smooth and calm, the kind of calm that terrified me. “Let’s make this easy, sweetheart.”

The interrogation started, and I tried to play it cool, tried to lie my way out of it like I’d done a hundred times before. They asked me how long I’d been working for the police, how deep I was involved, and I swore I wasn’t. I spun a tale, saying I was still just the same con artist they had known. But King’s men were smarter than that.

One of them smirked, shaking his head.

They leaned in closer, a sick gleam in their eyes as they explained how they had followed me, how they had staged the break-in at the safehouse just to see how quickly the sheriff would rush to my side.

Then on of them pulled out the photos.

My blood ran cold as they tossed picture after picture on the floor in front of me—shots of Beau and me at the bar, the tension between us obvious. Another of us in his car, that moment when I poured my heart out and admitted the truth about why I dated him. And the last one—the one that made my stomach twist—was from last night.

It was grainy but unmistakable, a photo of Beau and me standing in front of the kitchen window. We were locked in a kiss, his hands on my waist, mine in his hair. Another where he pulled my shirt over my head.

I felt sick. They had been watching us. They had seen everything.

“You think you can run with the law and get away with it?” King’s voice was dangerously low, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. “I don’t care about the lies you’ve told him to get him in your bed. I care about what you’re feeding them, about us.”

My mouth went dry as I stared at the photos, my mind racing. They knew about Beau, about the sheriff's department working with me. They weren’t guessing anymore—they had proof, and now my life, Beau’s life, was hanging by a thread.

For days, I held my tongue, enduring their brutal attempts to break me. My body ached, every inch bruised, my lip split and swollen, and my eye black and nearly swollen shut. Blood dripped from my mouth as I spat on the cold concrete floor, my throat dry and raw. I knew if I cracked, they’d destroy not only me but everyone connected to me—especially Beau.

King paced in front of me, his polished shoes clicking against the floor, his sharp eyes assessing me like I was nothing but a broken toy. "Fine," he finally said, his voice low and menacing. "If you won't tell me what you've shared with the cops, maybe I need to send a message to your sheriff boyfriend. Let him know we're serious."

My heart stopped, and despite the pain, my eyes widened. My mind raced, terror gripping me. No—Beau wasn’t part of this. He couldn’t be dragged into this nightmare. But King, seeing the sudden fear on my face, just smiled, cold and calculating, before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

I was left alone in the darkness again, my wrists and ankles raw from the rope digging into my skin. But the pain was nothing compared to the fear twisting inside me. King wasn’t bluffing. He had been watching Beau, tracking us both, and now he was going to use him to make me talk.

I felt helpless, trapped in that suffocating dark, and for the first time in years, I felt true fear for someone else. Beau had no idea the danger that was coming for him, and I was powerless to stop it. Tears of frustration stung my eyes as I pulled weakly against the restraints, my body too battered to fight back any longer.

I had no choice now. I had to protect Beau, no matter what.

--

Beau’s POV:

It had been days. Days of waiting, hoping, pacing around the station like a caged animal. But Y/N hadn’t returned, not a single word from her. Everyone at the station thought I was overreacting, that she was just playing another one of her games. A con artist, a thief—they didn’t believe she could be in real danger. I’d heard it more times than I could count.

“She’s not reliable, Beau. This is what she does,” they'd say, dismissing my concern like I was the fool for caring.

But I knew better. This wasn’t her just disappearing because she felt like it. Something was wrong, and no one believed me. The frustration burned in my chest as I slammed the door of my truck and drove home in silence. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my mind replaying every moment over the past few days, searching for something I might’ve missed.

When I got home, Emily was sitting in the living room, going through the mail, a sadness in her eyes that tugged at my heart. She looked up at me as I stepped inside.

“Bad day?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hopeful.

I shook my head, exhaling a long sigh. “Yeah.”

I walked to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and leaning against the counter, the weight of it all pressing down on me. My eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where her phone lay on the table—broken, scuffed, the screen shattered. I had found it days ago, abandoned in the street. It was the only sign of her, the only thing I had left of her since she disappeared. And it wasn’t enough.

Emily stayed quiet, sensing my frustration. She knew something was wrong, but I didn’t have the heart to drag her into the mess. I didn’t even know where to begin. All I knew was that Y/N wouldn’t just leave me. Not this time. Not after everything we had been through.

I couldn’t believe that she’d walk away like she had before. Not after we’d gotten so close. Not after we shared… everything. I stared at the bottle in my hand, feeling my pulse throb in my temples. Something was off, and it gnawed at me like a slow burn. I had been in law enforcement long enough to know when something wasn’t right.

But no one wanted to hear it. Not the department. Not my colleagues. And it left me standing alone, a pit of dread growing deeper with every passing hour.

I turned, my eyes landing on her phone again, and clenched my fists.

Where the hell are you, Y/N?

“Dad?” Emily’s voice trembled, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Her wide eyes were locked on the envelope in her hands, and my heart sank. It was drenched in blood, the dark red staining her fingers. She stood frozen in the doorway, fear etched into every inch of her face.

I moved quickly, taking the envelope from her with shaky hands. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tore it open, dread clawing its way up my throat. The first thing I saw were pictures—pictures of me and Y/N. Us at the bar, sitting in my truck, that moment in the kitchen when we kissed.

My stomach twisted.

Then the next set of photos slipped into my hand—photos of Y/N, her face swollen and bloody. Her eye was nearly shut from the bruising, her lip busted wide open. There were rope marks on her wrists and ankles, and the vacant, defeated look in her eyes told me she had been tortured. They’d hurt her. And they’d made sure I knew it.

I stared at the pictures, my heart pounding in my chest, a fury building inside me like nothing I’d felt before. They had her. The people I’d been chasing—the ones she had been trying to protect me from—they had her, and they were using her to send a message.

Emily’s voice wavered. “What… what does it mean?”

I couldn’t hide the anger, the fear. “It means they’ve got Y/N.”

Emily gasped, her hand covering her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She had known something was wrong, but this—this was worse than either of us had imagined.

I clenched my fists, crumpling the photos slightly as I tried to keep my composure. “Emily, I need you to grab a bag, you're going back to your mom until this is over.”

She shook her head, panic rising in her voice. “But Dad, you can’t—”

“I have to.” My voice was firm, but inside, I was barely holding it together. “They took her, and they’re trying to get to me. I won’t let them hurt her any more than they already have.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. My mind was already racing, running through every connection, every lead. I had to find Y/N. I couldn’t waste any more time.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the department, barely keeping the fury from boiling over as I made arrangements. Emily needed to be safe. I wasn’t going to let these bastards drag her into this any more than they already had.

“I need a security transport for my daughter,” I barked into the phone, pacing the kitchen as I glanced over at Emily, her face pale and full of worry. “Two teams, one to stay with her and another to escort her to her mother’s place. I don’t care what it takes—make it happen.”

There was no room for argument, no hesitation. My little girl wasn’t getting caught up in this nightmare. Once I knew Emily was safe, I could focus on Y/N without the constant dread gnawing at me. My hands tightened into fists at the thought of what they were doing to her while I stood here, wasting time.

After Emily was packed and escorted out of the house with the team, I sped toward the station, the envelope of bloody pictures still on the passenger seat next to me. My blood was boiling. The blood on the envelope had turned out to be pig’s blood—a sick, twisted message to play with my head. It made me feel even more helpless, like they were taunting me, daring me to make a move while they held Y/N captive.

I stormed into the station, every muscle in my body coiled tight with frustration. I had been telling everyone for days that something wasn’t right, that Y/N wouldn’t just disappear, and they’d all brushed me off. Now I had undeniable proof, and it was too damn late.

“Sheriff Arlen,” one of the deputies said, approaching me hesitantly as I walked in the meeting room, my expression no doubt fierce.

I slammed the bloodstained photos down on the desk in front of him, my jaw clenched tight. “They’ve got her,” I spat, my voice low and dangerous trowing the pictures of her bloody face on the table. “And you all ignored me when I told you.”

The room went quiet as a few officers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from skepticism to guilt. I could see it sinking in now, the reality of what was happening. Y/N wasn’t some flight risk who’d skipped town. She was in real danger, and they had wasted precious time.

“I want every available unit on this,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’re finding her, and we’re bringing her back!”

--

Taglist:

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @libby99hb

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 8/34 - fish and chips

[Read on AO3]

“So, can I buy my wife some dinner?” Mulder asks. His hands are shoved deep in his coat pockets now as they descend the steps of the courthouse, fighting back against the chill in the air. The tie comes untied practically as soon as they walk out the door, hanging listlessly around his neck.

Scully looks over at him, the word ‘wife’ somehow sounding different coming out of his mouth now that they’re outside in the real world. It does something funny to her heart.

“What do you have in mind?” she asks, maintaining her calm composure.

They’ve eaten together countless times before, in cities and towns all across the United States. On occasion, Mulder would even pick up the check, when he was feeling particularly chivalric. But this feels different. Not overtly so, but just enough to be noticeable.

They eventually settle on walking down by the harbor, where a few vendors are selling food to tourists visiting for the holidays. With a greasy basket of fish and chips each in hand, they continue walking until they hit the end of the pier, claiming for themselves a wooden bench overlooking the water.

“Some day, huh?” Mulder remarks, slathering a fry in ketchup before putting it in his mouth.

He’s a master of understatement, her partner. He would describe almost dying as a “minor injury” if she wasn’t there to give him the unwavering doctor stare. But his wry humor is one of the things she loves most about him. Among other things.

“No turning back now,” she comments, nudging his side with her shoulder. “You regret tying yourself down yet?”

He looks at her at that, his expression one of disbelief. “Never,” he answers. “You?”

“No, Mulder. I– I’m more grateful for this than you can imagine.”

His lips pull back in that easy smile she doesn’t get to see often enough, and he relaxes back against the bench. The wind coming in from the harbor is brisk, occasionally bringing a spray of mist with it. It makes his hair stick up in adorable little spikes, and she just wants to run her hands through it and smooth it down.

They’re the only ones crazy enough to be all the way out here for longer than the time it takes a tourist to snap a quick picture. The temperature is dropping quickly as nightfall approaches, and it wasn’t all that temperate to begin with, it being so close to January. Somehow, Scully still feels perfectly warm.

“So, why did you really want to get married on Christmas?” Mulder asks, after a few minutes more spent contemplating the darkening horizon.

He’s looking at her now, one arm draped casually over the back of the bench, now that he’s finished eating.

“I guess I just liked the idea of having something to remember this holiday for other than bad memories,” Scully answers, thoughts of her father and Emily filling her head. “And…”

“What?”

She pauses, wondering if she should share this somewhat embarrassing, personal detail with him. One look in his eyes and she feels her tongue loosening, and suddenly she wants to share everything with this man.

“Well, I always used to imagine a December wedding when I was a little girl,” she admits, preparing herself for the teasing she’s come to expect from her partner. 

She and Missy had loved cutting pictures out of magazines and putting them in binders, concocting the perfect futures for themselves. Over the years, the specific details of her imaginings changed as her taste did, but one thing remained the same. A winter wedding, maybe with snow. Evergreen branches and little white and red berries adorning the bouquet. Lace sleeves on an elaborate wedding dress, its long train dragging behind her in a beautiful cathedral.

Missy was the complete opposite, filling her book instead with pictures of hot summer weather and wedding dresses that were just a little too revealing. 

It’s been a long time since she’s thought of those binders, maybe still collecting dust somewhere in Maggie Scully’s house.

Mulder’s knee tilts toward hers, knocking against it affectionately. “Sorry it wasn’t quite the majestic fantasy wedding of little Dana Katherine Scully's dreams,” he says, giving that shy, apologetic half-smile she knows so well.

“I don't know…” she shrugs. “It wasn't too far off.”

He shakes his head, breathing a humorless laugh through his nose. “You don't have to lie to make me feel better,” he says.

“No, really,” she starts, turning toward him. “It– Maybe it wasn't in a big cathedral with lots of flowers and people there, but…” She looks into his eyes and then quickly glances away, hiding a blush. “Well, in a way, I married my knight in shining armor, didn’t I?”

She chances another look at him, and he’s smiling a big cheesy smile. Great, she inflated his ego.

“Oh yeah? And what armor would that be?” he asks, laughter in his voice.

She rolls her eyes. “A parka not quite warm enough for Antarctica and two layers of pants,” she answers dryly.

He tosses his head back, looking heavenward for a second and smiles. “Ah, don't forget my valiant steed: the Sno-Cat Model 2000.”

“Valiant,” she agrees, “but not the most dependable.”

As time passes, the sky fades into an inky dark blue. The harbor sparkles with the lights of countless boats, some far out on the horizon. 

It’s funny. Sometimes when she looks out there, she can almost believe her father is on one of those boats, just waiting to come back to shore. She’d always thought Ahab would be there with her on her wedding day, smiling and proud of her and walking her down the aisle. 

Now, she sort of feels like he was.

She looks over at the man next to her, contemplative as he usually is when he has nothing to say. Her father would have liked him, she thinks. Well, eventually. She has to think he would respect Mulder’s drive, and the way he cares for her. Maybe it’s foolish and idealistic, but the alternative, she doesn’t even want to consider. She’s said before that they are alike—devoted entirely to their cause. The important thing is that she’s happy, and their unconventional partnership works for them.

Nobody else’s opinion matters, only theirs. That’s the biggest lesson she’s learned in her time with Mulder.

On the way back to their car, he hands a couple dollars over to a vendor and procures two steaming cups of hot chocolate, citing that the unpleasant memory of the bone-deep chill they experienced in Antarctica was making him cold. When Scully brings the warm liquid to her lips, she catches sight again of the sparkling ring on her finger, and she stops to admire it.

“If you don’t like that one, we can trade it in,” Mulder says, taking a sip of his cocoa and watching her expectantly over the lid of his cup.

“It’s perfect, Mulder,” she says, hopefully putting any worries he might have to rest. “You didn’t have to… Just a simple wedding band would have been fine.”

He shrugs noncommittally, bouncing restlessly in place to keep warm, or maybe out of discomfort with this particular conversation. It’s a nervous tic she’s come to love, unless she’s extremely overtired, in which case it gets on her nerves quick.

“I figured it would be good to have them for interviews and stuff,” he adds, glancing around. “I mean, obviously we can’t wear them all the time, but—”

“Oh,” Scully says. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She can only imagine what the rumor mill at the Hoover building would say, if they waltzed in one day wearing matching rings. Only this time, there’d be some undeniable truth to the claims.

“Not that…I don’t want to wear it, Scully,” Mulder assures her, absentmindedly twisting his own ring with his thumb. “It’s just—”

“Yeah.”

It’s a shame, in all honesty. She likes the weight of it on her finger. It feels right, somehow. And she likes the sight of him with his on, too. It’s a tangible thing, something to remind her that he’s made a commitment to her. 

She can’t help but think that if, God forbid, another Diana ever arose, that ring would provide an assurance that would get her through it without the emotional distress she experienced the first time around. A token that validates the possessiveness she feels, warranted or not.

Mulder shifts his cup of hot chocolate from one hand to the other and digs in his pocket again. “I did pick these up, too,” he says, pulling out two long, silver chains and depositing one in her hand, “if you want to keep it somewhere safe when you’re not wearing it.”

For some reason, the fact that he’d thought of this ahead of time makes her throat clog up and her eyes sting with tears. He’s always been a bit of an odd gift-giver, bestowing her with bizarre little trinkets that either mean nothing or everything, and it's never easy to tell which. But this… It’s hard to picture him standing in a jewelry store, contemplating her taste in jewelry and the practicality of wearing it in their situation. 

How much money had he spent on it? Did he worry he was being presumptive? Had it taken five minutes or five hours to make his decision? These are questions she never thought she’d be asking herself, and it’s just proof of how crazy her life has turned out.

She wonders if he’ll take his ring off now and slide it onto his necklace, but instead he places the chain back in his pocket, a choice that seems heavy with perceived meaning. She follows his lead, tucking hers away for the time being as they continue their walk. 

Later. For now, she can enjoy the way it sparkles when the Christmas lights all around them catch it just right.

“Hey, Scully?” he says, glancing down at her beside him while they wait for the crosswalk to tell them to cross.

She looks up at him, his earnest expression setting off the butterflies in her stomach.

“I’m glad you said yes,” he finishes.

She smiles wistfully, looping her arm into his and leaning against his shoulder.

“Me too,” she agrees.

-.-.-

Bill is waiting up for them when they get back to Maggie Scully’s house well after it has gotten dark. The original plan had been to go their separate ways after their “errand” at the courthouse, but time had gotten away from them. She wasn’t about to send him home at this hour, only for him to have to drive back in the morning, no matter how much he protested that he would be fine.

After a brief confrontation in which Scully has to defend why her partner is still with her (“Mom invited him to Christmas, Bill”), he begrudgingly fetches a spare pillow and quilt and sets them on the couch in the living room, warning him that he’ll need to be up bright and early for present opening. Mulder salutes him sarcastically, earning a look of scorn that fizzles at Scully’s challenging stare.

“How’d the case go? You smell like seawater,” he says gruffly, hanging around far longer than needed or wanted.

“Nothing much we could do to help,” Mulder answers with their pre-prepared response. “They let us off the hook early.”

After a few more questions, which they expertly dodge, Bill disappears up the stairs to the room his family is staying in, and Mulder breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well, you did it, Scully. You successfully snuck back in without your mom finding out,” he says, cracking a smile.

“Didn’t even have to climb through a window or anything,” she adds with a straight face. “I’m kind of disappointed.”

The room falls silent, save for the sound of the heater running to keep the house warm. Somewhere in the kitchen, the ice maker rattles. 

“Will you be okay down here?” Scully asks, looking over his shoulder at the couch and worrying her lip.

He glances behind himself, then turns back to her with a tender smile. “I think he probably found the quilt that smells the most like mothballs, but yeah, I’ll be fine,” he says jokingly.

She frowns. “I can get you a different blanket. There has to be more in the closet upstairs, I’ll just—”

“Scully, Scully, I was kidding,” he says, stopping her retreat by placing a hand on her upper arm. She immediately freezes, her eyes landing on the spot where his hand touches her, seemingly realizing for the first time how close they are standing.

For an instant, he reflexively pulls away as if burned, and she feels the loss like a phantom limb. But then he’s back, this time softer. Hesitant, but purposeful. 

She shifts her gaze up to meet his.

“I’ll be fine,” he reiterates, his voice dropping to a murmur. It’s all she can do to nod, lost in the dim light of the room reflected in his eyes. His eyes scan her face, lingering for a moment on her lips, and then he whispers, “Goodnight, Scully.”

Before she knows what’s happening, he’s lowering his head, and she feels his lips press against her cheek. Although it’s not an altogether unfamiliar gesture, tonight it feels… significant. He pulls back with a soft smile and releases her, not that she could move if she wanted to. It’s like her feet are glued to the floor, and her cheeks burn at the thought of getting stuck in a daze like this from such a simple action.

Fortunately, her brother saves her from further embarrassment. “Dana, you coming?” he calls from upstairs, shaking her from her stupor.

“Yeah, be right up,” she answers distractedly, eyes unable to stray from Mulder’s. She blinks a few times and frees herself from his spell, taking a step back toward the hallway. “Um. There’s towels in the bathroom,” she states, taking another step. “I’ll be in the first room on the left upstairs, if you need anything.”

He nods quietly, smiling at her in that way that makes her stomach flip.

“Goodnight,” she says.

“Night, Mrs. Mulder.”

-.-.-

Sleep proves difficult, which probably shouldn’t surprise her. It’s a combination of things, really. The ceremony, the brief touch of his lips to hers in the courtroom, the kiss on her cheek before bed. ‘Mrs. Mulder,’ which is frankly, ridiculous, but endearing nonetheless. And a whole host of other moments from the day that she wants to commit to memory.

It hits her, as she’s lying in bed after her shower, that this is her wedding night. It’s not at all like she grew up expecting it to be, but given the circumstances, it would be weird if it was. Things are strange enough as it is, and that—well, that would complicate it even further. 

She watches the clock on the nightstand turn to midnight, the blinking display of red numbers ushering in Christmas Day while the other side of her bed lays empty. His presence is felt, though, in the cool press of her ring to her chest, now looped around a chain and hidden beneath her clothes.

She tells herself she’s wearing it still because she doesn’t want anyone else to stumble upon it in the morning, but then she’s always been good at lying to herself. Her hand travels to it unconsciously, clutching it in a fist, reminding herself that it’s real.

She sighs, rolling over. Maybe Mulder’s insomnia is rubbing off on her. With another frustrated exhale, she sits up, lowering her feet to the floor. She gathers the knitted blanket from the foot of the bed and drags it with her, creeping to the door and prying it open slowly.

Maybe he’s still awake. They can stay up and just talk, or sneak some Christmas cookies from her mother’s tupperware. Either one would be preferable to laying awake up here all alone.

When she gets to the foot of the stairs, however, she hears the sound of steady, gentle breathing coming from the direction of the couch.

Figures, this is the one time he actually manages a good night’s rest. 

She rounds the corner into the living room and glances down at the figure on the sofa. Sure enough, his arms are tucked up against his chest, his face relaxed and tranquil. He looks so young, like this. Younger even than the day she met him. 

Oh, she loves him. Of course she does. How could she not?

The way his cheek is pressed up against the pillow makes her want to curl up next to him, but she settles for the worn La-Z-Boy recliner across the room. After draping her blanket over her lap, she tugs it over her shoulders and curls up, the overstuffed chair rocking back and forth with every movement. She watches him, in the dim light from the Christmas tree in the corner. His knees hang over the edge of the too-small couch, and yet he’s as peaceful as ever, his chest rising and falling in measured increments.

Beneath his thin, pale gray t-shirt, she sees a small, circular outline. His ring, resting right over his heart.

She closes her eyes, sending a wish to whoever might be listening that one day, that heart might belong to her, and hers to him.

~~~

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[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 6

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, some minor chaos not sure how much i like this chapter, and i honestly feel like t's been way too fucking long since i've written but i know that's not true. but we're moving forward and getting more plot so... yeah... dont hate me lololol.

It wasn’t often that Alex woke up to an empty house and if you’d asked her, she say that today, it felt rather strange. She’d gotten so used to you being around in the mornings that even despite knowing you had to be at work early, something was almost… off about it. She couldn’t help but smile at the coffee pot being full, a little sticky note stuck to the outside with a smiley face on it. She was ever thankful for your thoughtfulness, pouring herself out a mug before getting started on her breakfast. She was even more thankful that it was Friday and the weekend was finally on the horizon. Not that it had been an overly stressful week or anything, you hadn’t even had to leave DC area for a case, it had been a pretty boring week, she was just excited for a break.

Finally she managed to drag herself away from the crossword, having to leave it half completed so she wasn’t late for work herself. Grabbing her bag she tucked her lunch inside it and scooped up her keys, heading to the front door and it was there she found the entry way table scattered with today’s mail. Mail that had clearly distracted you on your way out the door, a container and a now stone cold coffee sitting beside the envelopes. She chuckled, scooping up the container before letting herself out of the house.

*

You hadn’t been concerned at all about your six month review, after all it was just with Emily and you knew that you’d been doing your job and meeting if not exceeding expectations. She’d gone over a handful of things with you, asked if you had any questions and then the two of you had spent another near half hour in her office chatting. Eventually she got a phone call and you muttered something about finishing up paperwork so you didn’t have to take it home with you, returning to your desk.

Which is exactly where Alex found you when she got into the office.

“Think you might be missing something.” She smirked, sliding the Tupperware out of her bag and onto your desk, “and I picked you up a fresh refill.” A steaming Starbucks cup made home next to your forgotten lunch and you glanced up to her with a wide smile.

“Oh you are a godsend!” You reached out to grab the coffee, taking a sip, completely unsurprised when she’d picked up your seasonal favourite, “thank you. I didn’t even realize.”

“You would have by lunch time.”

“You’ve got me there.” You laughed.

“What was so distracting in that mail?”

“Nothing exciting.” Rolling your eyes you took another sip, “late car payment, they didn’t update my address when I asked. Got it taken care of on the drive in though.”

“Good.” She smiled softly, “you want me to throw that in the fridge?”

“That’d be amazing, thank you.” You flashed her a smile before turning back to your work and Alex picked up the container, dropping her bag at her desk before disappearing into the break room. While she was in there she figured why not and fixed a second mug of coffee for herself.

“Morning.” Emily’s voice rang through the air as Alex tossed the stir stick into the garbage, glancing up at the other woman.

“Morning.” She shot her a warm smile over the brim of her cup, watching Emily pick up the coffee pot, draining it of liquid. She added cream and sugar into the mug before quickly refilling the machine to brew again. “That long of a day already?” She asked with a laugh and Emily huffed her own laugh out.

“It’s the extra early mornings, they’re just not for me.” Emily shook her head, taking a sip of her coffee, “did you know that Murphy got up early enough to go for a run before coming in today?”

“I was still blissfully dead to the world.” Alex replied with a chuckle.

Emily’s phone pinged and she let out a sigh, doing her best not to roll her eyes, it felt like anyone and everyone was demanding things of her today and it was barely past nine. Her eyes scanned through the email, letting out a huff and she glanced up to Alex.

“I know you just got in, but is there any chance you can make sure to get those reports for the Reyez case to me today?”

“Of course.” Alex nodded, “I’ll put them at the top of my to do list.”

“Thank you.” Emily smiled softly, taking a breath when her phone started ringing. Picking up her very needed coffee she answered, disappearing back into the hallway to retreat back to her office.

The day went on quite like that, everyone had small wrap up assignments, paperwork, or other odd tasks to occupy them. While it was mainly quiet in the bullpen there were little spurts of conversation, debates over topics or call backs to cases if someone needed reminders. Shortly after lunch Alex finished up with her task, knocking on Emily’s office door with an extra coffee in one hand and files in the other.

“Figured you might need a pick me up.” She greeted, placing the mug down on her desk.

“Thank you.” Emily responded, immediately grabbing the mug to take a sip, “you really know how to boost morale.”

“Oh I’m not done yet.” Alex chuckled, revealing the small tub of chocolate covered espresso beans from her pocket, “here. A pick me up always needs an extra afternoon treat too.”

“Well you’ve officially become my favourite team member. Don’t tell the others.”

Alex laughed, settling into a chair across from her desk as she placed the file folders into Emily’s inbox, “I did a follow up call with the girl’s parents, you’ll be happy to know that her recovery’s going well and they’re already done with the nightmares.”

“God you really are the best, aren’t you?” Emily chuckled, “think that’s the part that we always lose track of, we leave town and move onto a new case before we can even really close the last one.”

“Yeah.” Alex frowned slightly, accepting a chocolate treat when Emily offered it to her.

“Okay but I need a break, talk to me about anything aside from work.”

“Do you have big plans for the weekend? Another round of debaucherous mini golf?” She smirked and Emily let out a huff, playfully glaring in her direction.

“Absolutely not. It sounded a lot better than it turned out. I’d prefer this weekend to be hangover free.”

“I heard that McDonald’s ended up not treating you very well.”

“I will never look at a Big Mac the same way again.” She grimaced, “hey, thanks for the hospitality, even if you didn’t know I was there til the next morning.” She laughed, “the house is super nice.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing the pool.” Alex teased.

“More like I wanted to drown myself in it that morning.”

“Well I think more than a few of us would be against that.” She chuckled, pulling a laugh from Emily as she took another sip of coffee.

“How’re things at the house? You finding it weird to be living with someone again?” Emily was genuinely interested, at this point she was just trying to distract herself.

“They’re great! We’ve really fallen into a good routine, it’s actually nice to have someone else around all the time again. You know when you’re living alone and it feels like there’s just constantly something to be done, whether it’s cooking or dishes, or cleaning and you have to do it because it’s your mess? Now it just feels lighter, and she’s good company to have around, but you already know that.”

“Yeah.” Emily’s eyes drifted toward the window, watching you work away at your desk, “she doesn’t bring work home all the time does she?”

“No more than the rest of us.” Alex replied with a chuckle, “she’d prefer to keep her weekends for play unless we’re out on a case.”

“You really keep her grounded, you know that?”

“Well one of us has to.” She teased with a sly grin and Emily scoffed.

“Hey! I’m just trying to make sure she’s having a fun time settling into DC.”

“Well you’re succeeding.”

“What about you?” Emily asked, leaning forward to grab another chocolate, “you getting out and having some fun on the weekends?”

“Emily please.” She laughed, “the last time I did something like drunk mini golf was probably ten years ago.”

“So what you’re saying is next time I have a stupid idea we’re dragging you along.”

“Oh, no. You girls can keep your fun to yourselves.” She chuckled, “but I appreciate the thought.”

“Guess I’ll have to think of something tame then.” Emily grinned, “but seriously, you can’t tell me you just sit around the house all weekend?”

“Sometimes, yes.” She admitted with a laugh, “with our workload? Sometimes all you need is a nice break, a good book out in the sunshine. Maybe some people think it’s boring but sometimes it’s all you need. Other times, I’ll get out in the city, even if it’s just by myself.”

“I take it that means you haven’t started dating again?”

“No.” Alex let out a loud laugh, “and I honestly don’t know if I want to bother.”

“Oh c’mon…” Emily prompted, “what’s gonna hurt about a couple of free dinners?”

“James and I made it work because he was gone just as much as I was, I don’t know if I have the energy to work through all of that again. Besides, at my age I figured I was kinda just done.”

“Alex, please, we’re basically the same age.”

“And you constantly talk about being married to the job.” She shot back with a playful grin.

“I’ll download an app if you will.” She offered, “hell, I’m sure we could get Murphy into it.”

Alex had never been more thankful for the interruption of a knock at the door, Emily calling out to come in before you popped up in the doorway.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“We’re doing literally anything but work, what’d you need?” Emily asked.

“Okay well if you weren’t working then I feel less bad about this… I was looking at listings, how’s Crestwood for a neighborhood?”

“Sweetheart that’s a five minute drive from our place.” Alex replied with a small laugh.

“Oh, okay, perfect.” You smiled back, “I’ve got a couple places in there and a couple in Glover Park lined up to go see on Sunday, you free?”

“I fly to Boston Saturday.”

“Fuck, right. I forgot you were teaching next week.” You glanced to the other woman, “Em?”

“I didn’t have any plans yet, sure.”

“Remember that even if you’re wildly hungover I’m still dragging you with me.”

“I don’t plan on taking any shots for the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah… you said that two weeks before mini golf.”

“I will be there!”

“Thank you.” You replied, dragging out the final vowel in a sing song voice, “and… I may have found a place in Alexandria that’s doing an open house today but only til five…?” You practically pouted at her and Emily laughed, playfully rolling her eyes.

“You were here early; you can cut out early. Just keep your phone on the chance we catch a case.”

“Will do boss!”

**

You’d made the grave mistake of napping once you’d gotten home from the open house and now you just knew you were going to be paying for it. At the very least, it was Friday so a late night probably wouldn’t hurt that much and if you were being honest, you preferred it. There was something calming about being awake while the rest of the world slept. Though, not everyone was sleeping.

Your head swiveled from your spot on the couch when you heard Alex’s door open and she wandered down the hallway, smiling softly at you.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand darted out to grab the remote, turning the volume on the tv down, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t.” She replied with a small huff, crossing through the kitchen to pull down a wine glass, filling it with merlot, “I thought it was anxiety about the flight tomorrow so I did some middle of the night packing thinking that would help.”

“I take it, it didn’t?”

“Nights are just weird, a little restless a lot of the time. Even if James wasn’t here all the time it’s still weird, first it was a struggle to sleep in the empty house, then it was readjusting to having someone around. Reminding myself that the weird bump in the night wasn’t to be worried about.” She rounded the side of the couch, leaning on the arm, “what’re you doing up? You’re not still working are you?”

“Very lazily.” You laughed, flipping the file folder closed, “just knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, I prefer the night owl lifestyle anyways.”

“Explains the coffee addiction.” Alex smirked and you chuckled, “what’ve you got on?” She asked, gesturing toward the tv and you looked up at it.

“Uh… god, don’t judge me.” You laughed, “Love Island.”

“I can’t say I’ve seen a single episode.”

“It’s a little over the top dramatic, but it’s also really good mind numbing television after a long week.”

“Understandable.”

Alex slipped down the arm of the couch, nestling into the corner of the couch opposite you, her gaze on the screen and you turned the volume back up. Your eyes flitted between the file on your lap and the screen intermittently until you needed to get up to grab a refill and you let out a soft sigh, finally tossing the folder onto the coffee table. With your attention no longer on work, you were able to keep up a more frequent conversation with Alex, laughter and jokes about the show, a few questions that you answered considering you’d seen it before. Along with little comments about the upcoming weekend and how you were going to spend your free time, how long Alex was going to be in Boston for and if she had plans to see Daniela while out there.

A few hours passed, Love Island continuing into a marathon, keeping both of you fully occupied and invested. Alex caught herself laughing over just how ridiculous everything was, yet she was someone still completely enthralled with the entire thing. Her mind wandered back to the conversation in Emily’s office, wondering if the dating world had really progressed into something that needed this level of extremity.

“Alright,” She started, taking a sip of her wine, “I know a lot of this must be fake and extra dramatic for the show, but please tell me the dating world isn’t really that bad?” She looked toward you and you scoffed out a laugh,

“Alex, dating is a fucking joke. I think I’d rather end up on Love Island than have to navigate this bullshit. At least then I’d be guaranteed to be surrounded by attractive people and have the bonus of getting paid to do it.” You laughed, pulling one from her as well as she shifted on the couch so you were more facing each other.

“Is the terribleness why you’re not dating?” A brow raised in your direction and you shrugged, shaking your head.

“I just can’t really be bothered. I mean, we don’t exactly have a lot of downtime from work and to have to put in that much effort on days off? Ugh.”

“You’re in a new city, plenty of new suitors.” She grinned and you playfully rolled your eyes, nudging at her leg with your foot.

“Doesn’t help me meet any of them. Everything nowadays seems to be trapped on dating apps, and they’re a nightmare on their own, never mind being a queer woman attempting to use one.”

“How so?” She asked and you chuckled, “what? Oh come on, enlighten someone who’s never used one.”

“You looking to get out there on Tinder Blake?” You asked with a tease, nudging at her thigh again and she rolled her eyes, “but seriously, you’re lucky you’ve never used one. I’ll open an app, swipe for ten minutes and all I’ll have found was a bunch of couples looking for a unicorn, an apparently ‘open’ relationship where the girl says she just wants to play or explore her sexuality, a surprising amount of men despite having selected women only, full on married people looking to cheat, or poly couples. Which, I’ll support the last one, but I much prefer monogamy and half the time you’re wasting your time because people won’t have told you any of the above in advance, you find out on like, date three. Which doesn’t happen until like, months down the road considering how much free time the FBI loves to give us.”

“Well you could always look into giving it a second chance now that you’re in D.C, everyone here is career driven, a lot of them put it at the top of their priority lists, they’d understand.”

“I’d rather be a spinster with eight cats than open Tinder again to be completely honest.” You laughed, “but if you want me to help you set up an account I will.”

“Ohoho.” She laughed, “no, I think I’m good.”

“If you’re looking to get out there an app is probably your best bet. I mean, when was the last time you organically met someone you clicked with? Bonus points if it wasn’t at a bar.”

“I’ve got a pretty good track record when it comes to bookstores.” She grinned across at you and it was your turn to laugh, shaking your head at her.

“Doesn’t count, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It was a correct answer to your question.” She retorted with a smile, “maybe dating is… completely overrated nowadays.”

“It really is.” You let out a sigh, your gaze drifting back to the television. Alex watched you for a moment, the gears in her head turning as you continued watching the show.

“Do you ever get lonely?” She asked softly and your eyes shifted back to her, your head tilting as you took in her words.

“Sometimes.” You shrugged, “but between work and maintaining stability in life there’s not much time leftover. Guess I don’t really think about it, besides,” grinning you shoved at her leg again with your foot, “I’ve got you to have middle of the night life chats if I can’t sleep.”

“I guess that’s true.” She replied with a soft smile, taking a sip of her wine before her gaze found its way back to the screen.

“Are… you lonely?”

“Hmm?”

“Is that the reason for all the questions?”

“Oh, no!” Alex pursed her lips, shaking her head, “having the house to myself was weird at first. Even though James was gone a lot, after the divorce I found that in the back of my mind I was still expecting him to show up sporadically. It felt like there was a little bit too much space for just me here, but, we’ve got that fixed now.” She laughed and you smiled back at her, “honestly when I got divorced I kind of figured that was it for me, I’d had a big love, now it was time to focus elsewhere.” She shrugged, “Emily brought up dating earlier, I guess it’s now just on my mind.”

“Well don’t black list it completely, you’re an incredible woman, brilliant, not to mention gorgeous. Anyone would be stupid lucky to have you.”

“Now you’re just sucking up.” She teased, feeling the warmth of the compliments soothing through her.

“More like pointing out the obvious.” You stifled a yawn, doing your best to hold it back but it was too late, Alex involuntarily let out an even larger one, followed by a small laugh.

“I guess it’s finally time for bed.”

“Probably a good idea.” You stood from the couch, collecting both yours and Alex’s empty glasses to place in the sink, “you don’t want to sleep through your alarm.”

“Definitely not.” Alex smiled, yawning once again as she said a quick thanks before she turned down her hallway, “goodnight y/n.”

“Night.” You shot her a smile before returning your attention to the dishes, quickly washing what was leftover as Alex’s bedroom door clicked shut.

Making sure you had your phone; you brushed your teeth and finally made the way back to your bedroom to climb into bed. The conversation with Alex was still very fresh on your brain as you slipped between the sheets, dropping back against the pillows. You had been truthful, you weren’t lonely, you’d made friends with the team, you had regular people you saw out on runs or at the gym and you had Alex for company at home. Chewing on your lip for a minute you finally reached out, grabbing your phone and swiping across until you found the toggle with the handful of dating apps you’d used in the past. You made it less than five minutes on Tinder before you were reminded exactly why it was absolute trash and not worth the fucking effort. You had friends to spend time with and a perfectly good vibrator for things they couldn’t assist with. Tinder was completely unnecessary.

Right?

_______________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar

[glazedsnail]

It's fanfic time again.

I mean it started small but it's a long one so I'd rather send through like rapid fire like taktaktaktaktaktaktak y'know?

Nah I don't make sense to me either.

Anyway.

Misery Loved Company

ShanexOCFarmer (♀️) 18+ / swear words/substance misuse/explicit/suicide ideation/mention of abuse.

Part 1 is there, and part 2 here

Hang on a little bit more the smut is so close you can almost smell it you horndogs.

Also that's how I imagine Elliott's in his cabin wanting to go on an evening walk but he's just stuck.

And now you know why I'm not a pixel artist.

A soft gust of wind plays with his hair. I put back a slightly greying strand behind his ear. I don’t know what to expect of this evening anymore. It’s been all over the place.

‘So, uh’ he starts ‘are we like…’

‘I suppose we are.’

‘Should we drink to that?’

I giggle.

‘Might as well finish the pack, right?’

We each get a new can and enjoy it in silence, in the newfound status quo of our… relationship? We’re both in our thirties, this is laughable.

‘Thank you for inviting me out tonight. The beach was a very nice idea, I’m having a great time’

He still slightly blush, scratching his head.

‘Me too’ he finally mumbles. 

My empty stomach decides to join in so loudly it covers the waves, the wind, the distant seagulls and the crickets. 

Shane bursts out laughing. I squeeze my empty pouch hoping to make it shut the hell up. This date had not one romantic moment, this is a disaster.

‘Sorry’ I’m so darn embarrassed.

He laughs again, and it’s the most beautiful thing.

‘Y’know, we’ve not touched the pepper poppers yet’ He remarks.

‘Oh you’re right. Lemme just’ I grab the tightly sealed tupperware and a note falls from its lid. I hand the recipient to Shane.

This is Emily handwriting:

“If it doesn't work out with Shane I can hook you up. Shouldn’t be too hard :)”

My eyes blink fast. What the hell does she mean? Why the fuck did she think this would be a good idea? I quickly crumple the paper.

‘What’s that?’ Shane asks, in the middle of a pepper.

‘Nothing, some nonsense from Emily.’ 

I try to shove the crumpled paper in my pocket but miss. He takes the opportunity and grabs the piece.

‘Let me have a read.’

No please Yoba no. Not after everything. Why is the universe so against Shane and I enjoying an evening together? These past hours start to feel like weeks. I try to snatch it back but he stands up.

‘No!’ I cry as I follow him up, grabbing him by the arm with all my newfound farmer might.

‘Is it girl talk you’re embarrassed about?’ He laughs, keeping the small piece of paper away from me. I’m desperate to get it back. ‘Ouch!’ I just bit his arm. ‘You’re completely nuts!’ He yells, massaging his arms with the slight imprint of my teeth. 

‘Please Shane, give it back!’

I cannot let him read this nonsense. He’d take it to heart. I know I would. I don’t want a hook up, I never wanted a hook up in my life. I don’t want anyone else. I do not want anyone else. I want to taste his lips again, I want to experience the weight of his body against mine, wake up in the morning and watch him sleep peacefully, kiss him every chance I get, feel his stubble between my thighs. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else, I need him. Just him.

‘Oh shit Fern are you ok?|’

I fell face first in the sand. He lifts me up as I cough some sand out of my mouth.

‘That was quite a fall.’ He pats the sand out of my legs.

‘I guess running on three beers isn’t of my age anymore. Where’s the note?’ 

‘Right here.’ He holds the crumpled note between two fingers, above my head. 

‘Can you please give it to me? Please?’

‘What’s so embarrassing, c’mon, it can’t be that bad.’ He laughs and unfolds it. I bury my face in my hands. Between my fingers I can see his smile slowly disappearing.

‘Shane, it’s’

He lifts a finger towards me to stop me and I shut up. My throat hurts so much, there’s so much I want to say. It’s all stuck in there. His smile is gone. He looks furious.

Without a word, he swiftly walks towards the blanket and starts picking things up.

‘Shane I know how it looks but please I beg you, stop.’

‘What? You read the note. It’ll be easy to find you another hook up. I don’t doubt it myself the way you can twist people around your finger.’

‘It’s not what I want!’

‘Or another relationship, why do I care.’

‘I did not ask Emily to hook me up, she was just being silly, I don’t know I… There’s no “if it doesn’t work with Shane”, please. Please! You have to believe me.’

I try to stop him from packing but fail miserably.

‘I did believe you Fern, that was my first mistake. I believed your insistence came from a genuine place, that there could be such a thing as an “us”. Even believed someone like me could be…Shit, leave me alone Fern.’

‘No.’

‘Move from the blanket.’

‘No.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Move.’

‘I will not move unless you hear me out.’

‘Oh that’s just precious. You’re going to try and use your stupid words to twist me around like you did the whole evening, all the times you were ever talking to me, aren’t you? It’s never been about me, just about grabbing an easy cock for the night? Or get some high on saviour complex? Do you think you’re the first one I meet?’

‘Do you hear yourself?!’ I snap, still intimidated by his raised voice. ‘If I wanted a cheap fuck I would have stayed in the city. If I wanted no substance I wouldn’t have been so vulnerable with you. Are you going to judge me based on a silly note instead of all we’ve been through? I like you Shane. A lot. Fuck. A LOT! Yeah, this date could have ended with us fucking, who knows? Who knows with this damn date anymore. But you know why it’d have happened? Not because I want to fuck, but because I want you. I wouldn’t even care if all you ever wanted was a cheap fuck or wanted me cause I’d be happy, stupidly happy, to have you, even for one night. Just you, you, Shane. Do you understand? I’m not the hook up type, never have and never will but I just lo…like you so much.’

‘Aren’t you tired of your big speeches by now?’

I am furious.

‘Shane, look at me. Look at me in the eyes.’ I grab him by the hoodie. I’m trembling, keeping my tears at bay as much as I can. ‘I choose to believe you trust me enough to know I could never lie to you. I know this means nothing. You know, I met the saviour type. the fixing crowd. I know them. The one that takes pride in being part of your recovery while putting you down enough so you're stuck thinking you can't improve without them, that you'll never do or be any better. Don’t you dare take me for one of them. I know you can't believe I'm like that. ’

He averts my gaze. I gently place my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me again, slowly caressing the roughness of his stubble.

‘You’re trying really hard aren’t you?’

‘Trying what? I simply hate being misunderstood, misperceived. Hell, at the best of times I hate being perceived at all.’

‘You weren’t too concerned about being perceived by me of all people.’

‘I don’t have any explanation for this. I could try my whole life to explain why I need you.’

My voice has gotten lower, so has his. He grabs my hand still resting on his cheek and lowers it down. I try to get closer but he grabs me by the waist. He reaches my chin and rests his thumb on my lower lip. His eyes fall into mine. I can see he’s scared. I know his grief.

He calmly blinks, his eyes now looking softer.

The candles are almost down to the wick. Their flickering lights send stripes through his conflicted face. I can’t remember when was the last time I took a breath. His hand steadily goes from my waist to my back and, in a defeated groan, he pulls me towards him and kisses me.

My legs are going to give in. I grab the back of his head and kiss him back.

‘Fern’ he starts, leaving my lips.

‘Please, kiss me again.’

He tightens his embrace, not waiting to be asked twice. I part my lips, use my tongue to part his and taste him. His kisses are incredibly soft. His hands on my body are making me shiver and lose complete control. I let my hips roll towards his bulge. He wants me, he can have me. I want to give myself to that man over and over again. I want him, no, need him, to fill me up with sin. 

‘Shane...’ I whisper in a lustful voice.

‘Fuck.’ he answers.

He carries me down the abandoned blanket. I gasp as his hips fall between my open legs, making me arch my back.

‘I want you.’ I manage to say.

He buries his face in my neck and starts kissing the tender skin, gives it a nibble, and bites into it as he hears my moans growing in his ear. 

That’s when the rain decides to start heavily falling on us.

[the-lunar-library]

Writerly Questionnaire

Questionnaire by @davycoquette

This is a very in-depth questionnaire for writers, suitable for original fiction writers, fanfic writers, and people who aren't writing but who are messing around with OCs. It's a lot of fun and I'm glad I stumbled over it.

Original post here.

About You

When did you start writing?

Very, very young. I would write and draw picture books about horses. Occasionally I finished them. The first chapter “book” I completed was called Starlight's Fury and heavily based on The Silver Stallion and similar wild horse stories. It was also only 3100 words. Short chapters, big writing, and lots of illustrations.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Sometimes. I have no interest in writing romance novels from the 1960s, but if I can find them cheap secondhand, I will snatch them up. I'm trying to think if there's themes I seek out without wanting to write them myself, and I sort of have the opposite... I tend to avoid stories centered on love triangles, but in my original fiction, I keep writing relationships that, if they aren't exactly triangles, veer awfully close. Eider-Diarca-Yew, Charmian-Jimson-Rigmor, Akantha-Alexandros-Genesius, and, yes, another one for the fourth book. In my own mind, I can declare these aren't love-triangly love triangles, but possibly I am kidding myself.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer?) you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

I wrote last week about how Tanith Lee greatly affected my voice was I was developing it in the mid-2000s. The combination of her conversational tone and unexpected imagery really struck me, and I still find myself looking back to her and thinking how she would approach certain narrative moments.

I once heard a professor say that Emily Dickinson's writing style “scared him” because it was so spare and direct, and, my golly, I would love to be able to do that, and it's something I keep in mind when heading into heavier subjects. (I don't always want to scare the reader, but I often want that direct impact.)

Recently, my mother read The Alice Network by Kate Quinn and said its style reminded her of mine. But I don't think there's anyone I've been often compared to.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I love the idea of writing in a cozy coffee shop, but the truth is that I would probably be too distracted. I tend to write in my bedroom, cross-legged on the floor. When I was younger, I mostly wrote longhand and would snatch whatever writing time I could, during free periods, in cars, that sort of thing; I would take my writing notebook to school and on trips.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

The muse, she does not come when she's called. She likes music though. A lot of the time, any music will do, just to create a sense of shut-in-ness and a barrier from the world. If I'm writing something emotional, then I might go for really emotional music. (I wrote the last chapter of The Stars Are Fire with “Weight of the World” on repeat.)

But I don't rely on my muse if I can help it. When I was younger I did, and my (original) first drafts spanned years, and en route I often ran out of interest and momentum and they languished unfinished. So now, when life allows it, I try to set time aside (a 30 minute block, say), and that's for writing (includes editing) and you just have to sit and write, sorry, but yes, you may take breaks between paragraphs. This allows me to write much more quickly, and the idea that I won't be working on this first draft for years affords me a light at the end of the tunnel. I don't expect it to always work, but right now, it works enough.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Yeah, somewhat. Relatives' homes, different areas where they lived (the differences in scenery, animals, overall moods), and then where I grew up, traces of it have shown up in my writing. As for people, that's a tricky thing to cop to, basing characters on people you know. I don't have any characters that are one-to-one analogues of people I know. When it comes to antagonists (dangerous territory), I try to draw more on my own negative traits and bend or exaggerate them rather than settle scores writing someone I know as a villain.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Ones that I've noticed include guilt, a sense of being cursed, conflict between once-friends, untrustworthy romantic interests, large snakes, learning how to break free/express anger in a useful way. They're not surprising. Not that I'm an edgelord or something, but these are things I'm interested in, these are things that I think make for really powerful stories.

I could also sweepingly say DEATH, because that is something I return to, though I think more in fanfiction than in original fiction. Lost Savior, Elysion, Death and Ker, The Stars Are Fire, parts of The Muse Trilogy, definitely parts of the unposted Fate stuff – they all focus on mortality and what it means for you (the person dying) and how you cope with it (the person surviving).

I'm sure there are themes that would surprise me, but that's the sort of thing a reader figures out before the writer does.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

I'm the author, and I'm irresponsible, and I'm saying Alexandros, the trickster prophet from To the Ravens. He's not my favorite in that I think he's particularly admirable. You could definitely pick a better role model. But I love writing him. He's creative, intuitive, over the top, very fun in how he talks and how he acts. He can be warm and reassuring and heroic. He's beautiful and eloquent and he can cut right to the heart of the person he's talking to. But he's always operating from an angle, coming up on your side. He spins explanations quickly, he lies with a smile, and he never looks back. He's exhausting, but so fun to write.

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

I feel sorry for Diarca, and he's shut up in a mirror, he could use a friend. I would also love to be friends with Wuxle, just an absolutely steady presence, someone who will watch your back when you're in danger while undramatically pointing out you're maybe not making the best decisions. I could see myself befriending Akantha and Karyai and probably even Kokkonas, though we might bicker a lot.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

It's probably too easy to just list off antagonists, particularly the ones who head into Actual Villain territory. Among the “good” or more neutral characters, I think I'd find both Charmian and Yew sometimes frustrating in real life. But then, their bad decisions are part of why their stories happen. I don't think I'd actually dislike them, but there might sometimes be words exchanged.

Tell me about the process of coming up with one, all, or any of your characters.

I don't have any one method. With Eider, I set out to make her very appealing – I designed her to be extremely beautiful for that fairy tale factor, and I wanted her to be very brave and earnest in the hopes the reader would really get behind her. So there were a lot of deliberate choices made in her creation. Similarly, Arsen was intentionally written to evoke gothic romantic hero tropes, hopefully to examine them in an interesting way. Other characters come along in a more as-you-go sort of way. I've talked about how Jimson was originally a more villainous character, and I'm not sure what exactly changed him – the needs of the story versus how I felt while writing the character – but he definitely circumvented my plans. Akantha was originally a defiant trickster character, but researching the lives of Greek women in antiquity ended up being more interesting to me, so I wrote her well within those confines, defying them in a more slowly building way.

Right now, I'm brainstorming a possible ghost character, but at this stage I don't have much set in stone – some world-building ideas for where the ghost comes from, some tropes I might use for their personality. I think part of this process is going to involve reading different ghost stories from different sources and seeing if that shakes any interesting ideas loose. From there, I might just start listing possible tropes, origins, arcs, regardless of whether they're good, and see what connections form. Or maybe I'll work on a different character from that project and the arc of that character could end up shaping the ghost's arc secondarily. It's still early enough that things could head in so many directions; the ghost doesn't even have a name yet.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Many! There's the stuff I mentioned above, like Yew, Charmian, and Akantha all considering themselves cursed in some respect. I see some similarities between Jimson and Alexandros, these charmers who have some pragmatism behind their smiles. Mabry and Yew are also somewhat similar, bold, irreverent, even having some similarity in their designs with their long sleek hair and big dark eyes. Charmian and Akantha both deal negatively with arranged marriages. These characters aren't identical, but they share some themes and ideas I've been turning over and exploring from book to book.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I'm able to draw them, and that's another way I refine their characters. (Though in many cases, I don't draw them until after the project is finished.) Even so, it's not perfect. I can draw a figure with the necessary traits, but it doesn't necessarily capture the character. I still feel like I haven't ever properly drawn Arsen, and though I've gotten closer with Diarca, he's still elusive. Still not entirely pleased with any pictures I've done of Genesius – I don't think I've quite gotten his maturity, maybe. Real people do sometimes influence the characters' designs; I'd been watching lots of Poldark ahead of writing The Price and Prey of Magic, and my goodness, Aidan Turner and his deep sultry voice definitely passed some DNA on to Arsen.

I realize though that's not quite the question. How do I see them in my mind, as real people or drawings? I think it's closer to real people, but real people whose faces are still sometimes a bit blurry and uncertain to me.

Your Writing

What's your reason for writing?

I've always done it, and I've always been considered good at it (for my age group, when that was still applicable). As with a lot of writers, there's a sense in which writing's difficult and I drag my feet, but simultaneously I can say that I love it, I get an emotional and even a physical sense of well-being from it. It makes me feel accomplished, it organizes my thoughts. Being able to write, especially original projects, often feels like it's a sign of my mental health being good. When my mental health isn't as good, writing fanfiction allows for a lot of comfort and fun, emotional release, and interacting with other fans. (Which is not to say I only write fanfiction when things are going wrong in my life – don't worry about that! But for years I felt like I couldn't write original stuff anymore and fanfic gave me a way to keep writing.)

In a more exterior way, there's a quote from the Matilda movie that I can only paraphrase, but which has always stood out to me: That writers send their books out like ships to bring messages to people. I'm not claiming to have very deep material, but I think about how much enjoyment other writers' books (and fics) have given me, and I would love to pass that on as a writer.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

All comments made in good faith, even criticism, are generous gifts. But the comments that really stand out tend to be specific – lines people liked, twists that surprised them, theories they have. One comment I remember from years and years ago was an anon on Fanfiction.net who noticed I updated a certain fic the same day every week, and that made them look forward to that day all week. Another reviewer said that years after first reading it, they still quoted one of my fics. Learning that is so touching and I'm feeling all fuzzy writing about it now.

As for criticism, I've definitely gotten it, and while I don't always agree with it, I think I can tell when the reader's put thought and honesty into their feedback. So even if I don't make the changes they suggest, the feedback is still valuable. Other times, the critic's been exactly right, and even if the feedback comes too late for me to change a project, I can still keep it in mind as I write new things.

In general though, comments in and of themselves are motivating. You might know people are reading a fic, you might see the hit number going up, but not hearing what people think about it is discouraging.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

It's that Matilda quote again. I really, really want you to enjoy my writing, whether it's original or a fic. I want you to read it and remember it years later, and it gives you a warm nostalgic feeling, taking you back to that time in your life. When it comes to characters and world-building, I hope people find them intriguing and worth studying for their own writing, and I hope the themes and my takes on them resonate with people. But the real thing, the crucial thing, is that I hope you like my writing and remember it.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

It's hard not to think of an answer that doesn't come from someone else. It's also easier to focus on shortcomings. Part of the problem is that quality is subjective, so something I really like about my writing could be just the thing a given reader hates.

I think I'm capable of some good poetic language. For some people, it might shade too purple; other people might say it doesn't go purple enough. Some would say that if I like a line, I should make like Faulkner and kill it, but I don't subscribe to that motto. If you let all your darlings live, will you let some awful cringey lines survive? Yeah, probably. But experience will make you better able to hear what sounds awkward and what doesn't, and, honestly, better that your writing be awkward and memorable than serviceable and anonymous.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People note my descriptions, my dialogue, especially funny one-liners. Readers have also liked (or at least been affected by) my emotional endings, particularly in fanfic. On reflection, my fics' endings tend to be received pretty well.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

It's tiresome to harp on, but I do see a lot of flaws in my writing. I often feel my plotting is weak and I can fumble when it comes to internal rule-/world-building.

On the positive side, right now, at this point in my life (the last 7 – 5 years or so) I'm very happy that my writing's been happening, projects emerging quickly, projects getting finished. I can't know if that will last, but I'm grateful for it as it's happening.

As for the writing itself, looking at it separately from me, my feelings are complicated. Like many (most? all?) writers, I'm writing the stories I want to read, so that's fun. On the other hand, they're written by me, so I can see backstage, as it were, see all the scaffolding and compare the story to an ideal non-existent version of it in my head. So that harshes the fun.

I've written before that when it comes to my fanfic, I'm able to go back after posting and reread it and enjoy it a lot. But rereading my published stuff doesn't offer much relaxation – I'm too caught up in things I can no longer change. I still feel that way with The Price and Prey of Magic and The Escape of Lady Aigle, but with To the Ravens, I have been able to go back and reread it, at least some sections. And while I still see small things I question and wish I could go back and alter, I do enjoy rereading it. I don't know if I've turned some corner or if there's just something special for me about To the Ravens.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

If I'm looking at this literally, I think I would be too depressed to write. But looking at it theoretically, at the broader question – or maybe just hoping that my initial depressed paralysis would be temporary – yes, I think I would write even if I didn't expect anyone to read. I have writing projects that I never plan on sharing. I have a diary I don't ever want anyone who knows me to read. My favorite fanfic has never been posted, and I'm still torn on whether it ever will be. Like I said above, writing makes me feel good. So if I'm the last human, I think writing would help. And I think I'd want to document things, just in case someone ever did come along.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I don't know if anyone can write with such selfish purity, if they're intending to share their work. (Again, see my favorite fic, just for me, utterly self-indulgent. But even there, I didn't write it without ever considering what other people would think of it. The barrier of outside criticism was lower, but it was still there.)

So yeah, I think about the audience, in terms of making my ideas clear, or trying to make sure I'm not unwittingly offensive or insensitive, and then, yes, what they might enjoy. On the other hand, I'm very much writing the stories I want to write. My fanfic is mostly for niche JRPGs from the 2000s, 2010s, not exactly white-hot fandoms; even within those fandoms, I don't think I'm writing the subjects or characters that will get the most hits. As for the original stuff, if I was going for mass appeal, all three novels would be markedly different. I don't think I would've written a book about a second-century snake cult on the moon.

But I think there's a subtler answer. There's “readers” as in generic, mainstream readers. And then there's people who read my stuff. These are people I do and don't know, and if they like some of my writing, I'd like to think they'd enjoy more of it. I wouldn't want someone to read one of my fics/books and be majorly disappointed by another. At the same time, you can't expect to hit the target for every reader every time; that's unreasonable.

This answer is just getting more garbled. Yes, I do both. I have no idea what the percentages are, but I think generally it's always best to be true to yourself in writing, even if it might alienate some readers. Again, better to alienate and make an impression than to be palatable and easily forgotten.

[lilveeblog]

summer games

jj’s little play group holds some summer sports games

obviously jj and emily become super competitive

“Jay! It’s time to go baby, come on,” Emily shouted, grabbing the car keys.

“Coming mama!” JJ shouted back from the living room. She skipped out of the room with her bunny in her hand.

“Bunny stays here angel,” Emily said gently.

“Oh please mamaaaa, I leave her in car,” she whispered softly, fluttering her eyelashes at the older woman.

“Hm, okay fine. Come on then!”

Emily and JJ were off to their little’s playgroup today. This was a small group, with only about 6 littles in it, but it was JJ’s happy place. Luke was in it too, with his caregiver Garcia. JJ loved going every other week. When she missed it because of work - she got really upset. Today, was their summer games! Emily and JJ, being super competitive were very excited to win all the games.

They arrived and JJ skipped up to her little friend, Elle. They wrapped their arms around each other and gave each other big cheek kisses as usual.

“Me an mama gone beat you so hard!” JJ teased and Emily laughed, wrapping her arm around JJ’s shoulders.

“Let's not be cheeky,” she warned gently but Elle smiled widely.

“Nuh uh.. Me an dada are going to win the mostest!”

Once everyone arrived, the teams got dressed in their colours. JJ and Emily went with purple. First up was the egg and spoon race - nice and simple.

“I got dis mama, I gon do super good!” JJ said gently, jumping up and down in front of Emily.

“Okay, you got this. A nice steady hand and fast walk yeah - like holding the gun,” Emily giggled. JJ gasped and covered her mouth, giggling quietly.

“I not gon shoot anyone with the egg mama!”

“You might need to if you’re losing,” Emily teased and JJ fell into more laughter.

“To the starting lines!” Danielle, the group leader bellowed. JJ kissed her mama quickly before running towards the purple stripe on the grass. She was handed her spoon and then her egg which she made sure was perfectly balanced before positioning the spoon correctly in her hands.

“That’s my girl,” Emily cheered from the sidelines and a wide smile spread on JJ’s face.

“I so gon beat you,” Elle giggled in her green t-shirt from beside the blonde.

“Nuh uh,” JJ giggled back.

“I gon beat you bofs!” Meg cheered.

“On your marks!” Danielle cheered. Emily watched as JJ wiggled her bum in anticipation.

“Go!”

Instantly, all the little ones set off. JJ, of course, was first. Elle wasn’t far behind. Megs fell to the back but being the youngest it was expected. Jordan was nearly catching up to Elle. Luke was third. The caregivers stood on the sidelines, cheering on their little ones.

“Come on Jay! Quick!” Emily chanted as JJ was about to cross the line. She came first with Elle just behind her.

“And first place goes to JJ!” Danielle announced and JJ jumped with joy. She dropped the egg and spoon, jumping into Emily’s arms.

“I did it, Mama!” She screeched.

“I knew you could baby!” Emily praised, giving JJ a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

The next race was a caregiver race. The sack race. They decided to let the caregivers do this one to avoid injuries to the little ones. Emily climbed into her purple sack, just beside Gideon and Kate who were in their own sacks.

“You’re going down old man,” Emily sneered, sticking her tongue out at Gideon.

“Oh don’t try me, Prentiss,” he laughed and shook his head, sending a wink over to Elle.

“I’ll have you know, I’m going to win for my boy!” Garcia mumbled from the end of the line.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kate rolled her eyes. “Good luck losers.”

The race began and all the caregivers began their sort of hopping/ jumping towards the finish line. There were lots of ���mamas’ and ‘dadas’ being shouted from the overcompetitive little ones. JJ was feral, however.

“Go! Go! Go mama!” she screamed in a deep voice, clapping Emily along. Kate was first though, Emily not far behind. “Mama you got to win!” JJ continued. “I beeve in you!”

Emily, feeling empowered by her baby’s words, jumped harder. Then few more jumps and she crossed the finish line just before Kate did. However, in a sack, Emily fell face-first into the grass.

“Mama! You did it!” JJ praised, running up to Emily who was sprawled on the ground. She’d rolled herself onto her back and looked up as the blonde-haired beauty appeared in front of the sun.

“I knew you could do it, mama,” JJ giggled, leaning down to kiss Emily on the head.

“Thank you, baby,” Emily smiled.

“Now get up, it my race gain!” JJ laughed as she ran off in the direction of the little ones.

Next, was the obstacle course. The little ones had to hop on some spots, spin around the poles and do some skips on the skipping rope before balancing for three seconds on the balance beam and running back to the beginning.

“You got this my baby!” Emily said to JJ softly, rubbing her shoulders as she stood at the starting line.

“I total got this mama,” JJ repeated.

Of course, JJ won again. She was the most athletic of all the littles and she flaunted that.

Next was another caregiver's game. They had to see who would jump rope the longest.

“Okay mama, you have to bounce bounce bounce - yeah?” JJ advised.

“Bounce - got it!” Emily laughed, cupping JJ’s cheeks.

“You got this my mama,” she said softly as Emily went to the skipping rope lying on the ground.

Emily won with Garcia close behind her.

“Mama!” JJ cheered again, jumping onto Emily’s back with glee. Emily laughed and held her girl close to her, soaking up the excited and sweet JJ she was receiving. There was something so pure about her little one being so free and innocent. She loved seeing her Jay like this, rather than built up with all her anger. “You the bestest,” JJ whispered, wrapping her arms securely around Emily’s shoulders and resting her head on Emily’s head.

The games all continued and JJ and Emily came first in every single one. JJ had stayed with the same enthusiasm and joy throughout the entire day but her winning streak was beginning to give her a big head.

“I win you lose,” she chanted to Luke during their lunch break. Luke made a foul face before stomping off. Emily sighed then, just as JJ turned to do the same to Elle and Megs.

“Jay,” Emily said softly, calling her girl over.

“Comin mama!” JJ cheered, skipping over to Emily. Emily was sitting on the grass and JJ sat at the side of her, leaning her head on Emily’s shoulder. Emily passed her her sippy cup which she gratefully accepted and then Emily began the slow, quiet lecture.

“You’ve done a really good job winning all the games today, angel. Mama is super proud of you,” she began. JJ giggled and nodded.

“I poud you mama,” she replied, kissing Emily’s shoulder. Em smiled before wrapping an arm around JJ’s waist, bringing her closer.

“You’ve done so well Jay but mama is going to ask you something, just once okay?” Jay looked up at Emily, furrowing her eyebrows. “When you win, I don’t want you to be cheeky and mean to the other people that didn’t win. It’s okay having some laughs with them, telling them you’re going to win but sometimes you have to take other people’s emotions into consideration with what you say to them.”

“Mama it just tease,” JJ tried to interject.

“Ah. I know some of it is but when you tell them that they’ve lost that upsets their feelings,” Emily replied.

“It doesn’t,” JJ argued.

Emily sighed, “Sweetheart, I don’t want to argue with you. You’ve had such a good day, all I’m saying is that you need to be nicer to your friends.”

“I is nice,” JJ huffed, crossing her arms.

“Just be careful what you’re saying to people, my love,” Emily whispered, pulling JJ closer to her.

The last race was a rally running race between everyone! Emily was going first and then JJ was to take the baton and finish it.

“We’ve got this baby!” Emily said happily, giving JJ big high-fives.

“We got this mama!” There was no doubt that JJ was the fastest in the BAU so never mind her little’s playgroup.

“On your marks!” Danielle announced. Everyone ran to their spots and Emily threw the baton between her two hands. JJ stood in position, ready to take the baton.

“Get set!”

“Go!” The first set of people began running and Emily went halfway around the track. She wasn’t first, with Jordan in front of her but she didn’t mind as she knew JJ would out run anyone. Emily reached JJ and handed her the baton. JJ set off immediately but in the next second, Luke crashed into her side.

JJ toppled to the side, falling hard on her hip and bagning the side of her head on the track. Not having enough time to stop, Elle came tumbling over JJ, kicking her in the back in the progress. Immediately, cries echoed around the track and the race stopped.

“Whoa!” Emily shouted, heading to JJ’s side. She helped Luke off the floor, who had tumbled onto JJ and she scampered around to see her little’s face. Her head was bleeding and she was crying in pain.

“Okay baby, can you sit up for me?” Emily whispered gently. JJ cried more and more people crowded around. Thankfully, Jj managed to roll onto her back, her head was really the biggest concern.

“Can you hear me baby?” Emily asked, stroking JJ’s cheek. JJ nodded. “How many fingers have I got up?” She asked again.

“Three,” JJ replied, sobbing to herself.

“Good girl, you’re okay,” Emily whispered, stroking her back. Danielle arrived with the first aid kit then, opening it up and taking out an antiseptic wipe.

“No no,” JJ cried as it touched her head, she moved away from it and closer to Emily.

“We’ve got to clean it up baby, it might have sand it in,” Emily sighed, wrapping her arms around JJ.

“Mama,” JJ sobbed into her mama’s chest. Emily held JJ’s head still whilst Danielle got to work on cleaning it. JJ cried more but stayed still, knowing it needed doing.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well,” EMily praised, kissing JJ’s head and stroking her back.

“It’s just a graze really, it will most likely bruise though,” Danielle said. “She’ll probably get a bump but she’ll be okay.”

“See you’ll be okay my love,” Emily whispered, rocking JJ in her arms, trying to calm down her cries. “Mama’s got you, it’s okay.”

Once JJ was up standing and off the track, the race began again. JJ didn’t want to run this time, feeling sorry for herself. She stood on the sidelines, scuffing her feet on the grass. She’d asked to go home, embarrassed but Emily and Danielle had asked her to stay for the awards at the end. They just had to finish this race and then they’ll get them. JJ and Emily had won the most points so were getting the top prize but they were doing participation pirizes too.

“We go sit down mama?” JJ whispered, turning to Emily.

“We can go sit down, you okay?”

“It hurt,” she sighed, tapping her head.

“I’ll get you some painkillers when we’re back in the car angel,” Emily said gently, kissing the uninjured side of JJ’s head. JJ nodded. Emily sat in the grass and JJ sat inbetween her legs, leaning back into her mama. Emily wrapped her arms tightly around JJ’s waist, holding her baby girl close.

“The biggest smile prize today goes to Jordan!” Danielle announced. Jordan smiled and ran up to get her trophy before taking a bow and accepting the claps and cheers.

“The best boy today goes to Luke!” Danielle announced and Garcia cheered louder than everyone else as Luke ran up to receive his trophy.

“The best sport today goes to Megs!”

“The loudest cheerer today goes to Elle!”

“And finally, last but not least, the one with the most points today - who out did everyone incredibly and worked super hard to do so… the best of the day prize goes to JJ.” JJ slowly got up from her mama’s arms and walked up towards the podium. She took a big bow before taking her trophy and running back to Emily, sheepishly.

“I’m so proud of you today baby,” Emily said gently as they climbed into the car.

“Fan woo,” she mumbled, snuggling up with ehr teddy.

“Nap time?”

“Mhm, go long way.”

Emily chuckled and headed out of the car park, ready to take the long way home whilst her baby got some much needed rest. Emily really was so unbelievably proud of her girl. She’d done incredible today.

[shuublebunny]

I wrote something. It’s probably garbage but it came to me out of nowhere and I decided to put my ideas into writing before they disappeared forever, for once

“Gabriel, you’ve gone too far.”

Nathalie? What was she still doing up so late? Adrien had only just gotten back from patrol, and it was late for him. What was Nathalie still doing up? And his father, too?

“I could understand when you were doing this for Emilie’s sake, but this is beyond that now. You’re insane. It’s like being Monarch has completely consumed you.”

What? No, that couldn’t be right. There was no way. No way his father was the villain he and his lady had been fighting for—

“Not only have you put all of Paris in danger, but your own son! How many times have you tried to akumatize him now, Gabriel? How many?” He wasn’t paying attention anymore. He couldn’t. How could he when he just learned his father was the very man who had been trying to hurt him and Ladybug for so long? Who had put so many people in danger? How could he ever forgive that? How could he forgive himself for not knowing?

He moved before he had any time to think. He hadn’t even registered that he had transformed. Nor did he register himself calling upon his cataclysm and trying to kill his own father. He hardly even felt the excruciating burn of his own touch slowly destroying him as he missed his target.

Shit.

He missed.

He tried to hit his father and missed.

He would die instead.

Once again, without thinking, he made his way out of the Agreste manor as quickly as he could. Did he reveal himself? No, he couldn’t have. He might have… he wasn’t sure. It didn’t even hit him that he had travelled all the way across the city until he caught a glimpse of her worried eyes staring back into his as she unlocked the window to let him enter.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette certainly hadn’t been expecting this visit. Especially not since their last meeting when they revealed their feelings for one another. Since deciding to remain friends, Marinette hadn’t seen much of the masked man—not as just Marinette, at least. Her train of thought was cut short when she looked him over once more, realizing the ragged state he was in. He was doubled over, hardly holding himself up and nursing some kind of burn on his side. His suit seemed to have disintegrated under the area.

He was in tears. The silly, always-smiling Chat Noir was crying.

He could barely choke out her name, all but collapsing into her as the realization of what happened caught up with him. His father was Monarch. And he was none the wiser. This whole time, his father had been putting countless people in danger and he never realized. He was such an idiot. How could he not know?

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” She rubbed gentle circles along his back in an attempt to ease whatever had gotten him so worked up. Was there an akuma? Did he fight against a villain alone? No. She would have noticed if something had threatened Paris. Besides, she was out on patrol with him not too long ago. What happened?

He was silent for a moment, then everything spilled out of him in a barely intelligible stream of words. “Marinette, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’ve put you in danger. I put everyone in danger. My father…he’s my—and I didn’t even notice. How did I not know?” His words became louder and more desperate as he continued to ramble on, seemingly unable to stop.

“Hang on, kitty. What’s going on? What about your father?” For starters, she didn’t even know who Chat Noir was behind the mask. It was safer that way, they had both agreed, so there was no way she could have known who his father was. “Is he in danger?”

He shook his head, before rasping out a nearly inaudible response, “my father is Monarch… I’m so sorry, Marinette. I never wanted to put you in danger.”

“I love you too much.” He wasn’t sure if she had caught the last part. It was getting harder for him to speak. He somewhat forgot he was still Chat Noir.

Her stomach dropped. Whoever Chat Noir was, his father was Monarch. Their enemy. The one who had tried to steal their miraculous since they awakened. Before she could finish her train of thought, she was met with a flash of light as her friend had turned back to his civilian form. He must have used his power before. And she was too late to look away. Where Chat Noir once stood resting in her arms, Adrien Agreste took his place.

Adrien.

Her Adrien.

All to quickly, she had figured out why he looked so awful when he came to visit. He had cataclysmed himself. Chat Noir—no—Adrien had hurt himself. The revelation hit her like a bus.

Without thinking, she held him closer and transformed. She didn’t know what else could be done. She could use her lucky charm to reverse whatever damage he had done to himself, though… or at least, she hoped she could. Transforming seemed to be the wrong course of action (at least transforming so abruptly), as Adrien began to panic more. “I’m sorry, m’lady. I jeopardized the mission. We know each other’s identities. I put you in even more danger.”

Gently shushing him, she called upon her lucky charm, not even bothering to look at what object she had manifested. It didn’t matter. As long as she could summon her miraculous ladybugs and heal him, she didn’t care. Pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, she threw her lucky charm into the air, allowing it to work its magic, which thankfully, it did. Adrien’s breathing evened out, the dark rash had disappeared from his skin without a trace, and his expression of agony melted into a less-pained, yet still worried one.

Ladybug breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, feeling the burdensome weight of her worries for Adrien’s life roll smoothly off her shoulders. He would be alright. He would live. That was enough for her.

[anintrovertwriter]

Embry Call imagine - Newborn fight

I was stressed to say the least. I tried not to show it but it was a wasted effort because I was, according to him, an open book. I know fighting vampires was in his nature but we were talking about a newborn army here. Everything was ready for tomorrow as Embry said. He had to patrol all the night and would go on “the battlefield” right after. I would have loved to spend the night with him, but Sam had other plans. For my safety he said, I would sleep at his house and spend the day with Emily, Sam’s fiancée. 

I therefore came to the res after school to spend the beginning of the evening with Embry. He tried to make me eat something but I couldn’t eat anything. I wasn’t sleeping either by the way. 

If we were touchy normally, it was on another level right now. I wasn’t leaving him out of my sight, which made the others laugh. Especially the ones who already haven’t imprinted because Emily was feeling just the same as me, but she somehow managed to hide it better than me. 

Once in his room, we came on his bed. I literally lied on him and laid my head on the crook of his neck. He put his hands on my back and softly stroked it. It usually made me calmer, but everything was really working these days.

“ If you think I’ll fall asleep, you are making a huge mistake.

I retorted, moving my head upwards so that I can look him in the eye.

At least I tried, he said laughing

This is not funny. I won’t eat or sleep until this is all over

Don’t worry, I already told you everything will be alright. He kissed my temple as a way to calm me down, but I was having none of it.

You don’t know that.

They don’t even know we exist, it will be a piece of cake.”

I looked away, terrible images worthy of my worst nightmares came back up and I wouldn’t help but think of the worst.

“ Eh Y/N, look at me.

He had to take my chin in his fingers so that we could look at eachother again. A traitorous tear rolled alongside my cheek.

“ Don’t cry my love. I hate seeing you like this. Nothing will happen to me.”

I felt bad for crying in front of him and showing my weaknesses but, the possibility of losing him was absolutely inconceivable. 

I sighed before responding 

“ I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. I can’t live without you, you know it. It’s impossible. I…”

I didn’t have the time to finish my sentence as he crashed his warm and soft lips upon mine. I knew he was trying to convince me through the kiss what he couldn’t do with words. My hands instinctively went around his neck to deepen the kiss, meanwhile he had one hand on my waist and the other stroking my cheek. I was assaulting him with neck and jaw kisses as he was repositioning him under me. I ended up on his knees and kissed him as if my life depended on it.

He did something I wasn’t expecting given our current situation. He took me in his arms and cuddled me, not letting me go. He even rocked me, to calm me down probably. I sighed. God knows how I wanted to stop time and stay like this forever. The only perceptible sounds in the room were our soft breathings and the beating of our hearts. I listened to this melody, my head on his chest. He from time to time placed kisses on my hair or along my ear. I laughed at every ticklish sensation that procured his gesture.

All of a sudden, Embry got up and I immediately knew the boys were picking him up. We both grunted in annoyance and the concern that faded got back up. I tensed and did my best to tackle him, for him not to move. He laughed at my poor and childish attempt to keep him captive in his own room. He would have stayed here, I knew that. He got up, carrying me at the same time. I looked like a mole on his rock. He whispered a short “ wait two minutes” and put me on the ground but I quickly hugged him and I held myself back from crying again in front of him. I would let the tears fall for my upcoming sleepless night. 

“ I’ve got to go. Try to get some sleep and remember that nothing will happen to me or the others and I will come back to you in one piece. Stay on the res territory with Emily okay ?

I only managed a nod and succeeded to say a barely audible “I love you” as much as my throat had a lump. 

“ I love you more than anything Y/N. And don’t say it as a farewell or something. It’s going to be fine”. 

He kissed me again and looked at me with a stain of apprehension on his features.

“ I will see you tomorrow at Emily’s” And with that he disappeared through the window.

There was no need to say that I haven’t got a wink of sleep. I waited for the sun to rise, curled up in a ball trying not to think of what was going to happen a few miles from here. When I thought it was reasonable, I went to Emily's. That walk on the snowy path, as short as it was, refreshed me and cleared my mind a bit. She was cooking when I arrived. I helped her the best I could in silence. Keeping our hands busy helped us keep our mind focused on something else other than the fight that was currently happening. Even though she did her best to hide it, I knew she worried about Sam, as strong as he was. The morning passed slowly. My left hand was all beat up because of my habit of pulling off my skin around my nails.

I might have not been a wolf, but some sort of a sixth sense made me feel that something was wrong by the sudden and piercing  pain I felt in my heart. I never felt something like it. It was at that exact moment I knew something happened to him and I was terribly sure he had been hurt. Tears started to run as my friend tried to make me breathe calmly. 

“ He’s hurt” I managed to say even if I was sure she got it. 

The boys stoppe my pace up and down in front of the house when they emerged behind the trees, running. Emily and Sam met up quickly and hugged each other so tightly. As I feared, Embry was not here to be seen, which only confirmed my fears. Quil told me he has been hurt by a vampire and that he was currently at Billy’s house, the doctor looking after him. I’ve never run faster in my life than in his instant. As I got closer I heard a terrible scream inside the Black’s house. I froze in place. I was a few meters aways from the door but I was unable to move. Jacob tugged me by the arm to make me move and said when his anxious eyes met mine.

“ He has all of his bones on the right side broken. Carlisle is treating him”. 

I swallowed hard, incapable of articulating the least sound. Before I could hear another scream that would have made me pass out, I took a deep breath and entered the room. 

Embry, laid on his back, his body covered in sweat, eyes closed and left fist clenched. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I whimpered seeing him like this. I quickly made my way at his side and held his right hand. He murmured my name but I shushed him.

“ Shush my love, keep your strength”

I kissed his forehead and Carlisle, who stopped his medical care when I stormed in the room, got back to work not without having looked at us before. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr Cullen told us everything was taken care of and he would come back later in the night to give some morphine. The pack came to see him in small groups but I never left his side, holding his hand. He woke up an after the doctor left and feeling himself able to speak he said 

“ I am sorry for not keeping my promise

Shush my love, what matters is that you’re alive. I said, stroking his cheek

However, never do that to me again. Never. I almost had an attack.

No more fights with newborns,noted. 

No more fights at all. I don’t think I would support being apart from you like yesterday”

He tried to get up in order to sit but the pain stopped him. He therefore took me by the arm to made me lay down next to him. 

“ Why didn't you lay down before ?

I was afraid of moving and hurting you.

I am strong, remember.

Yeah Mr Muscle. Get back to sleep. I told him smiling

Thank you for everything Y/N. I love you

Love you to Em’.” 

[ososimilar]

Chapter 7- Sam 

“So youre saying if I’m writing a song I should write the instrumental first?” Sam asked, leaning over the railing of the bridge. He was staring into the water, watching driftwood float by. 

“Well there's no specific way to write a song, it just depends on you.” Penny leaned over the railing, mirroring Sam. “If you want to write the lyrics first you can. If you've already written them you should just use those.”

He turned his head to look at her and their eyes met. They did this most Saturdays, came and stood on this bridge and talked. Sam used to have a crush on Penny when they were kids but he grew out of it by the time they were old enough to actually date.

“I already wrote a song… or half of a song.” He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. “I was actually hoping you could tell me what you think?” He scratched the back of his head nervously.

“I’d love to, Sam.”  She waited as Sam fumbled around pulling a notepad out of his pocket and handing it to her. “It's probably not any good but maybe you can make it better.” He chuckled nervously as she looked at the notepad. He watched her read, taking in the words. It only took a minute or two to read, but to Sam it felt like 10. As she looked up from the notepad she was met by Sam's eager eyes, desperate for her to say something about it. “Ahhh… its… ahh… different from what I expected from you.” When she saw Sam's’ reaction she pivoted. “It's a good different, a more mature tone.” She handed the notepad back. “So who's this boy in the song?”

Sam's face flushed and he clutched the notepad, hiding it from her. “Well.. its… its… uhhh…. Hes…. its a metaphor.” Sam sputtered trying to think of what to say. I can tell Penny can't I? She wouldn’t  care. But no one needs to know. Besides I’m not gay. 

Sam could tell from Penny’s reaction that she didn't like that answer. “I… okay, you don't have to tell me.” She said dejectedly.  

“Its umm… the songs are about Seb but…” he paused to think and quickly added, “but it's nothing romantic. I just think he's a good friend and want to spend more time with him is all.”

Penny Sighed in relief. Could she really believe that?

“Oh, I’m glad you have such good friends Sam.” She put her hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you, we've known each other for years and nothing could change my perception of you.” She stood there for a while, looking up at Sam and getting lost in his smile. Eventually Penny seemed to come to her senses and said, “I have to go work on some lesson plans.” Her voice wavered like she made that up on the spot, but Sam believed it. So she walked away leaving Sam alone on the bridge. 

Why is she acting so weird? OOH, Emily should have finished my gift for Seb by now! He skipped with glee toward Emily's house. He looked down the other street and saw what appeared to be Seb, walking toward Pierres. Is he going to see Abby? In that moment all the joy left Sam’s body and was replaced by dread. 

He wasn't thinking straight. Took off toward Sebastian. Before He caught up to Seb. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder. He couldn't process what he'd just done. Unable to process his actions he stood face to face with Sebastian. 

Shit, you can't just say nothing, say something. Anything. 

“Hey Seb…” he said in a long drawn out fashion stretching his words to pad for time. “I saw you in the distance and thought I'd come say Hi.” He took his hand off Sebs shoulder and put it behind his head like he always did when he was nervous. “So where are you headed?” Hed come over in such a rush he failed to notice the bag Sebastian had in his hand. 

“I was just headed home.” Seb said, still stunned from the confrontation. 

“Oh, cool.” Sam chuckled nervously. “So whats in the bag?” he got onto his tiptoes to try and get a better angle on whatever was in the bag but still couldnt make it out. 

“Oh um… its just some stuff I got from Emily. You'll probably see later.” Seb pulled the bag toward him, hiding the contents from Sam

“Later?” Sam had to stop and think for a second. “Yes! D&D later! Our campaign comes to an end!” Sam was easily distracted and his worry about Seb and Abby had lessened. 

“Yeah… I have a couple things planned and I’m just preparing.” They stood there for a second, looking each other in the eyes. “Well I should get home.”

With that, Sam was once again left alone. He could hardly remember what he had to do. Eventually he remembered he'd been on his way to see Emily. 

[hazel-of-sodor]

Guardian Ch.7 What We Leave Behind and Ch.8 Epilogue

Guardian

Other Stories

Ch.7 What we leave behind.

Samantha didn't wake until the following day, much to her alarm. Stephen had just rolled his eyes and pointed out there wasn't much she could do until Thomas was repaired. So she spent the morning sitting on the end of one of Thomas's water tanks, content to listen to Nicole trade barbs with Thomas from her perch on the other tank as they watched the workmen finish Emerald. While Samantha had been asleep, her cab had been fitted and a tender brought for her. The workmen were fitting on her side rods, and expected to test her once the rods were fit and she was painted. Emily was parked in front of her and the two sisters were happily chatting. The workmen had easily repaired Emily's buffers from their exposure, but had found it necessary to replace Thomas's buffer beam and part of his running board outright. Workmen were painting the new metal to match the old. Thomas had also convinced the painters to put lining on the front of his side tanks and on top of his splashers. Which Nicole was gleefully teasing him about.

The head painter walked over to Emerald, and waited patiently for the sisters to notice her. "Alright Emerald, we need you to choose what livery you want, if you don't want to be the same as Emily we have plenty of others to choose from."

"I don't have to stay green?" 

"They can paint you any color you want, "Emily assured her.

"Can I be Midland red with gold lining?" Emerald asked hesitantly.

"How did I know," Emily said wryly. 

Emerald blushed as Emily chuckled.

"Emerald always loved to watch the singles on the Midland," Emily explained to the bemused painter.

"There's nothing wrong with admiring another engine's paint," Emerald said quickly.

"Yes, because it was only the paint that had your attention," Emily teased.

"Either way you'll fit in," Emily said "two of them work on our branch and Dawn still wears that livery. Even if your name won't quite fit anymore" she said amusedly.

It took the rest of the day for Thomas to be fixed to Victor and Stephen's satisfactions. During that time Emerald had been painted in her chosen colors and had chosen a new name to match, Scarlett.

"All of our sisters and brothers had names starting with e and I hated it, " She'd explained. "Too many of our names sounded similar. Scarlett means my name still matches my paint, while sounding completely different."

Thomas was loaded onto a flatbed and shunted behind James to be taken back to Knapford with his evening goods, much to the red engines annoyance. James complained that Thomas was too heavy, while Thomas cheekily said he had gotten lazy and needed the exercise. The two could still be heard bickering as they left the yard.

Samantha and Nicole were watching them leave when the sound of gravel crunching alerted them to Stephen joining them.

"You know I've known those two my entire life," the young Hatt mused, "and still I can never tell if they like each other or annoy each other more."

Nicole snorted in dry amusement.

Samantha went to ask Stephen a question but hesitated, only for Stephen to notice anyway.

"Go ahead, I'm sure you have plenty of questions after your engine's latest misadventure."

Samantha hesitated for a second more, then , "You didn't seem surprised when we pulled her in. Is this something that happens often on the North Western?"

"More than the other regions, " Stephen said softly, " we're the last safe haven for unwanted engines, and somehow the spirits know that. It's still rare for most crews to encounter, but...."

   "But our engine is in the middle of it all," Samantha guessed.

Stephen was quiet for a long moment. "Not all phantoms are benevolent, back when I was a child, I was playing at Tidmouth one evening when one found me Just as the sunset. I'd tagged along with my grandfather that day to see the engines and my friends at Tidmouth. I was playing hide and seek with some of the local children in the unused sidings when it found me. The spirit of an engine that had been sent away by my grandfather, it blamed him for its fate and wanted revenge. Had Thomas not sensed its presence and put himself between us..." Stephen trailed off.

Nicole frowned, "He can sense them?"

"Yes and a good thing too. It had just backed me into an alleyway when Thomas arrived. The engine tried to go through him to get to me, but he held firm. It ended up knocking him off the rails and onto his side, but then Gordon arrived, having heard Thomas whistling for help. Phantom or not, few engines are a match for an angry Gresley. Afterwards, Grandfather took me aside and explained about Thomas and his role with those engines who can't pass on."

Stephen hesitated, obviously conflicted whether to tell them more.

"Is this why he introduced himself to Scarlet as Caomhnóir?" Samantha asked quietly.

Stephen’s gaze snapped to her quickly, his steely gaze assessing both of them, before saying bluntly, " I'm surprised he already trusted you enough to let you hear that, you've only been his crew for...." He shook his head, "never mind that."

He paused, "Robert informed you of the hidden engines?"

"He said that Thomas helped our other engines hide others from scrap."

Stephen snorted, looking down at the rails in front of them, " More like they helped him. While my family is rightfully proud of the engines we've saved, the number pales in comparison to the number our engines did, and he's the one in charge. I can't prove it and don't want to, plausible deniability and all that, but he's been hiding engines around the Island longer than my family has run the line. I expect he'll start taking you to check on some of them soon."

"So he doesn't trust us yet, not really," Nicole said dejectedly.

Stephen barked a short laugh," Robert was his driver for over fifty years, the one who drove Thomas to Sodor in the first place, and he didn't know where they all were. Thomas himself is the only soul who knows where they all are, even the other engines can only guess. By all accounts Thomas saw my grandfather as a father figure, but it was only when the man had mere weeks to live, that Thomas revealed that he'd saved the coffeepots he'd built.  Thomas firmly believes that no one else can reveal them all if nobody else knows in the first place. The fact he revealed that name to you means he already trusts you more than most crews who have worked with him."

"Why is a name so important?" Samantha asked in confusion.

"At some point something noticed your engine's efforts, and gave him the name as well as a solemn duty to guard those he saved as best he could. All engines recognize the name and help him where they can, but ultimately it is his fate and duty."

"Something?"

"The Lady."

Samantha and Nicole started laughing only to realize Stephen was completely serious.

"But Lady is only an old folktale! A myth made up by engines to explain bad luck!" Nicole spluttered.

"I've been a man of the church my whole life," Stephen said quietly, " but I assure you she's real. Whether she's an angel, the first engine to pass on, or something else entirely made by God to protect his metal children, I cannot say. She is their guardian of justice, luck, and virtue and Thomas is her chosen servant. She may send him or she may act through him, but he will always answer her call."

Samantha suddenly remembered Thomas's eyes and lamps glowing gold. "That's how he knew Scarlett could be saved."

"Mostly likely." Stephen turned to walk away but paused. "This will not be the last time you find something unknown while working with him but remember this, he takes his duty to you as seriously as his duty to other engines, and there's a reason she chose him to be Caomhnóir. Try to get some more rest before you return to Ffarquhar in the morning."

"What does it mean?" Nicole asked.   

Stephen looked towards the setting sun, "Guardian, Caomhnóir means Guardian."

Ch.8 Epilogue

Several months had passed and Scarlett had happily settled into her new home on the Kirk-ronan branch with Emily. It was a cool October night as Thomas raced along the coastal route of the Little Western Branch with a goods train, covering for Duck, who was undergoing overhaul.

Once again Thomas tensed, a sudden tautness in the running board alerting the crew to something wrong. This time when Thomas began to apply the brakes, Samantha worked with him to quickly stop the train. As they came to a stop, a deep puffing sound was heard, echoing off the cliffs around them.

The specter soon came into view puffing around the bend ahead of them before rolling to a stop with a physical clank as it gently buffered up to Thomas. The engine was massive, the same size and a similar shape as Gordon. But with eight smaller driving wheels. It was solid in a way Scarlett hadn't been, and it was clear it had been scrapped, as the cuts still glowed molten red, and flames still licked along its body.

"Dry rails and smooth running my friend, you have journeyed a long way to be here tonight."

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

So I tried writing a scene of vaniah in Pride and Prejudice style, after having just reread the first four chapters thereof. You may judge the result for yourself. I'm happy with parts, but a lot of it sounds forced and unnatural - and because I was focusing on the prose, the characterisation is slightly weird through the dialogue. I did borrow a handful of phrases directly from the book, especially at the start.

“So! we are married!” he said. “What think you of that?” “Indeed we are,” his lady returned, in a lively tone. “And shall you now tell me of those secrets you have kept from me these years of our acquaintance?” He withdrew his gaze, and answered coldly, “I will not. Would you, perhaps, expect me to, when I have concealed them for such time?” “Are we not one in the eyes of the law?” “Perhaps: but that does not mean I will tell you all that I have kept so long within me. You must remember that we have a marriage to uphold, and I would not destroy that.” Emily’s curiosity was therefore piqued, and she said, “Think you that what you hide would destroy the good feeling we have one for another, so quickly?” Here the gentleman did not, for a moment, give an answer. Presently he said, “Not the feeling I hold for you; but that which you hold for me, the regard in which you consider me, would undoubtedly be gone.” “See, now you cause me to wonder at your true meaning in this matter. What, pray, could you mean?” He withdrew the hand that had been resting on her shoulder, and replied, “I shall not speak of the matter at present. As time passes we may discuss more of these secrets.” Emily desired very much to press him to divulge them, but the better part of wisdom prevailed, and she said no more. She was naturally possessed of an even temper and very steady disposition; but despite appearance to the contrary she suspected Vaniah of a far more uncertain temper than he ever revealed. To an outsider he was reserved, unemotional and occasionally possessed of a hauteur that irritated her whenever revealed. Among those he held in high regard, however, he was friendly in voice if not in expression, and she frequently drew from him the sorts of smiles a great painter might have immortalised on his canvas centuries earlier. With no other did she know him to smile so; but Emily did not consider it worth her time to ponder more deeply. Vaniah had said that he did not love her in the way a husband ought to love his wife: and yet he had vowed to love and cherish her in his own way. Even though their marriage was in no way conventional, Emily fancied it would do good for both of them. Their journey proceeded without incident, and little conversation from either side. Both were engrossed in their thoughts, and a certain barrier was now between them that would take a little while to dissolve. Neither had expected to travel back together, especially married as they were now. Emily was distracted by the errand on which she had been sent originally, and Vaniah was (as was his custom) tending towards the taciturn as time went on. It was long established that when weary he cared less about giving offence: and, being extremely weary, he showed the truth of it. When they arrived, he gathered both his belongings and her own as a matter of course. Emily was startled into silence, for he had never done so before. She commenced to wonder what he expected of their accommodation now that they were married, but was too shy at present to ask.

I would love feedback! This was a fun writing exercise, 10/10 would recommend even tho this scene is very unlikely to show up in any form in the finished book - there's not enough going on here that I can't handle some better way in other scenes.

[Tagging @stealingmyplaceinthesun @graycedelfin is there anyone who wants to be added to my taglist just tell me ]

[subspencer]

spencer w a thot gf. not in like a cheating way but in a way where like she Knows she’s hot af. megan thee stallion

we love to see it !!

wc: 940 cw: dirty talk, super supportive boyfriend spencer, and it's not explicitly pervy but if you like perv!spencer you'll like this too

---

“Do you think Spencer’s going to like it if you wear that?” JJ asked, watching you get dressed in the mirror as you adjusted the tiny silk straps of your dress.

“Yes, JJ,” you resisted rolling your eyes as you tugged on the incredibly short hem of the dress. “He knows he doesn’t get a say in what I wear. Besides, he likes it when I dress the way I want.”

You smiled while sweeping a coat of gloss over your lips, picturing Spencer’s face later on when he’d see you in this outfit. You had on a silk slip dress in a soft purple color, his favorite shade.

He’d never seen it before. To go with it, you wore a strappy pair of sandals that he actually helped you pick out on a shopping trip together. He liked the way they laced up your legs, making you look so tall and drawing his eyes over your whole body.

“Now, for your hair,” Emily interrupted, pursing her lips as she went back and forth between two looks. She pulled your hair into a sleek ponytail and then let it all down. “See, it looks so shiny and sweet down, but pulled back…”

“Totally brings out your tits,” Penelope chimed in.

She was right. With your hair out of the way, you could get a clear view of your chest, just barely contained in the tight bodice of the dress. Laughing, you handed Emily a hair tie and nodded, “The choice is clear, then.”

Emily pulled it back perfectly, placing final touches on herself as well before the four of you headed out for the night. The plan was to have a little girls night, and at the very end, meet up with the boys.

You didn’t spend too long with the girls before you started to miss Spencer. You couldn’t wait any longer to see him, or for him to see you, so you sent him a little text.

Come sooner.

That was all you needed to say, and without a doubt in your mind you expected him to show up within the hour. One of the hottest things about him is that he always did anything you asked him to. Putting your phone away, you went back to the floor to dance.

-

“Seriously, Reid, you’re not jealous?” Derek smirked. The pair had been in the bar for an entire ten minutes now, watching you dance and not notice their presence at all. “She doesn’t even know you’re here.”

“She’s enjoying herself,” he shrugged, eyes still on you with a smile. “I like seeing her happy.”

“She’s surrounded by a bunch of other dudes!” Derek’s brows were up his forehead now. None of the guys were touching you, though. You wouldn’t let them, and Spencer knew that.

“Yeah, I know, I have eyes,” Spencer scoffed, taking a sip of his scotch. “Watch this,” he shot Derek a wink, placing his glass down on the bar top in his place and walking over to you.

He approached from behind so you couldn’t see him, getting closer to you while you were distracted with dancing. Spencer slipped his hands over your waist, stepping so close he could feel the heat coming from your body as he delicately wrapped his large hands over you.

“I have a boyfriend,” you scoffed and pushed the two hands away with force, not bothering to look behind you.

Spencer smiled. Placing his hands back on you, he pulled you with just enough force to have you colliding your back onto his chest. “Let’s not tell him, then,” his lips skimmed against the rim of your ear as he whispered it close, voice low and playful.

“Spencer!” you gasped, turning around to find exactly who you expected it to be. You’d recognize his voice anywhere. Your arms quickly wound around his shoulders, pulling him for a quick hug, followed by a heated kiss. One of his hands slipped lower from your waist and roamed down to your ass, running his palm lightly over the soft flesh as his tongue slipped into your mouth. The fabric of the tiny dress rode up under his fingers; he could’ve easily pulled it up entirely and grabbed at your bare skin, Instead, he ducked his fingertips under so subtly, digging them into you.

Minutes later, the song ended, and your lips broke apart. You whined when Spencer removed his hands too soon for your liking, laughing at your pout as he put them back to your waist.

“I like this dress,” he smirked, running his thumbs in slow circles over the soft silk at your ribs.

“I knew you would.” You ran a hand through his loose waves, eyes dark with lust for him after getting to see him properly. He looked good enough to take home right then and there, just leave everyone behind to get home with him sooner. Pressing a kiss onto his neck, you teased, “Do you think it’ll look better on your floor?”

“No. I think it would look better pulled up to here,” his palms squeezed your waist tighter, fingertips tickling you and making you giggle as he wiggled you closer. The gap between you was nonexistent, chests and hips pressed together, “while I fuck you in it. What do you think?”

You nodded, letting him take you by the hand so you could leave together. “But Spencer, I swear if you get anything on another one of my dresses, I’ll ruin you.”

Laughter played around the rims of his lips, remembering all of your dresses and skirts he’s stained by finishing on them. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure I finish inside you then.”