#i don’t know the @ of the authors on tumblr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveanddeepspice · 2 days ago

Text

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 6 / ?

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again.

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched. One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize. But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right? It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help. You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him. “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone. “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?” ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful. “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.” Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.” You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away. “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.” A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.” This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away. “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -” “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood.

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind.

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream.

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration.

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt.

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance.

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.”

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?”

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

“Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.”

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth.

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you.

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat.

Well, fuck.

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it.

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one.

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other.

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you.

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew.

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.”

Oh God.

There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed.

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.”

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked.

Everyone except for you.

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.”

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.”

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!”

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held.

“How would I do that?” You asked.

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.”

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head.

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building.

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed.

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?”

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?”

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?”

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence.

Dinner. Shit.

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior.

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest?

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so.

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.”

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did.

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?”

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf.

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church.

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home. She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect.

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door.

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket.

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction.

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside.

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming.

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change.

But, maybe -

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow?

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?”

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you.

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true.

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating.

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura.

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder.

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up.

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.”

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.”

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.”

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate.

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind.

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?”

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.”

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you.

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in.

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -”

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs.

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words.

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.”

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern.

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm.

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged.

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...”

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression.

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway.

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.”

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -”

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly.

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way.

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.”

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head.

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in.

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?”

Of course you did. More than anything.

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.”

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin. His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say.

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin.

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.”

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth.

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch.

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way.

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans.

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded.

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -”

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready.

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart.

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan.

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole.

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more.

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling.

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat.

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch.

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse.

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold.

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time.

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer.

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk.

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible.

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking.

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?”

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense?

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed.

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath.

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought.

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb.

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

#lds #l&ds #love and deepspace #lds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lds rafayel #lds xavier #lds fanfic

39 notes · View notes

evervigilantnightshade · 3 days ago

Text

The Line - Part One

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions. Father of reader's death mentioned. It will get pretty angsty for a bit.

Authors note: I used to write on Tumblr in a different fandom for a long time and then left. Now I'm back under a different name and I hope you like what I have to say.

Y/N couldn’t remember a point in her life that wasn’t geared towards being in the military. It ran in her family, going back generations. Her father was one of the most famous marksmen spoken amongst anyone in service. He was made for combat and dreamed of having a son to follow in his footsteps.

When his first child was born he held his wife’s hand and admired her strength as she delivered their addition to their family. The first moment he looked into Y/N’s eyes he fell madly in love, no longer caring about succession. All he wanted was happy, healthy children. He was then gifted with 4 more girls.

As she grew up though Y/N showed vast interest in what her father did. Always asking questions, begging him to teach her how to shoot a gun. She kept herself in shape and made sure to do well in school.

When she turned 15 she told her father she wanted to join the military when she turned 18. He sat for a while saying nothing and she started to feel a bit anxious.

“Y/N sweetheart can I ask you why you want to join?” He finally spoke

She paused to think about her answer, wanting to convey exactly how she felt.

“It feels right. I want to do something with my life that matters, I want to feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself. I see the camaraderie you have with the men in your unit and I want that too. It’s in my blood dad, just like it’s in yours.”

“You do understand that as a female it will be a long hard journey for you?”

“If I work hard enough though and I’m a good soldier it shouldn’t matter though right?”

“Oh sweetheart I wish for you that was true. However, almost all the time all they will see is that you're a girl and deem you less than themselves.”

“Well I’ll just have to prove them wrong. And besides I won’t be doing it for them.” She said with determination in her voice.

He sat for a bit longer and then reached over and put his hand on hers.

“Whatever you need I’ll be there.” He said with a smile.

“I want to do this on my own though.” She explained. “Not saying I don’t want you to be there for me. I just don’t want to rely on your reputation and the family name. I want to prove to myself and to you that I can do this.”

Her dad understood but was still worried for his daughter.

She joined up at 18 just like she said she would and despite her determination her father had been right. It was hard for her, and there were times when all she wanted to was give up but that wasn’t in her. So she fought harder, trained longer and pushed herself to limits she didn’t even know she had. She was top of all her classes and was the best shooter on base.

In fact she was so good that she was asked to join a special program in the UK for top marksmen. Again she pushed herself to the limit but it paid off. Her reputation sored and eventually she was recruited by Captain Price to join his team. The 141 became her brothers in arms and the family she always admired her father for.

The last time she saw her dad he told her how proud he was of her. She did what she set out to do, all on her own skill and determination. He now felt that the part of him that wanted a successor was fulfilled in ways he could only have dreamed of.

He died of a heart attack 6 months later and it destroyed Y/N.

Now a year later, Y/N was laying in the mud high above the target zone, the ever vigilant sniper. Ghost was positioned opposite her, giving them both a complete view of any threats that may arise and compromise the mission.

This year had been rough for the 141. They had been chasing the same target that seemed to elude them no matter what they did. The target was a man named Bako, a once low-level member of a drug empire now turned kingpin. Using violence and betrayal he has taken out anyone or anything that has been in his way. He has plagued the team for far too long and has become an increasingly dangerous threat.

After all the escapes, near misses and wrong information the team finally got confirmation that he would be here, at this warehouse, meeting with his high-level partners. The plan was to bring the building down on top of them all, ending this once and for all.

Soap, Gaz and Captain Price were currently approaching the target area quietly in a small boat. Y/N watched through her scope as the three men climbed out of the boat and made their way quietly across a small patch of grass that separated the water from the warehouse. The first thing she noticed is that Price had switched out his usual bucket hat for a baseball cap. Y/N’s core clenched, remembering a deal they had made a few months back.

They had been on a hard mission that had kept them away from the base for three months. After they all had showered, slept, and decompressed Soap was convinced they all needed a good old fashion BBQ to let off some steam. Kate agreed so her wife and her decided to host at their place.

Ghost and Soap were sitting at the picnic table while Y/N sat on a chair in the sun, wearing a pair of shorts and a v neck white t-shirt, trying to get some colour on her unusually pale legs. Beside her Gaz was going on about a girl he had invited that he was excited about. Granted he had only spent one drunken night with her before their last deployment.

“She’s smoking hot Y/N, and smart.”

Y/N glanced up over at him, shielding her eyes from the sun despite wearing sunglasses.

“And you're sure about this one? Cause the last girl you were seeing went a bit crazy when you had to leave on missions. She called the Mexican embassy trying to find you. We weren’t even in Mexico.” Y/N reminded him

“Or what about the girl who was convinced you were sleeping with Bells and then tried to pull her hair out at the bar?” Soap chimed in and Y/N reached up and rubbed the side of her head.

“Took me by surprise. She was lucky I wasn’t armed.”

“Yeah or that one…” Ghost started but Kyle interrupted him.

“This one is different. I have a good feeling about her.” He smiled at them and Y/N felt a bit bad for him.

“I’m sure she’s lovely Gaz.”

He nodded at her looking proud. She chuckled thinking about the ways Ghost would intimidate her without even trying.

“Ahhh good times” she mumbled and was about to take a swig of her beer when she froze the bottle half way to her lips.

Price had just walked in wearing form fitting jeans, a slightly tight, black shirt and an army green baseball hat. He looked fucking amazing. Y/N bit her bottom lip and shook her head.

Beside her Gaz waved his hand in front of her face and she looked up to see him, Ghost and Soap all looking at her, grinning.

“You ok there Bells?” Ghost grunted smugly.

“Fuck off” Y/N said with a grin despite being slightly embarrassed at getting caught drooling over their Captain. “And in this moment, if you're going to use my call sign, use the whole thing, dickhead.”

“Apologies Belladonna” Ghost said and then raised his beer which Y/N reciprocated.

She took a long sip of her beer to wash down the heat that was creeping up her neck as well as creeping downwards.

After putting his beer in the cooler, Price grabbed one and headed over to the group and nodded at them hello. Everyone either nodded back or mumbled a hello.

“You four are unusually quiet.” Price said reaching over and using the picnic table to pop the cap off his beer.

“We were just asking Bells…” Soap started but Y/N interrupted.

“We were actually just talking about the new girl Gaz invited to the BBQ.”

“You invited a girl here?” Price said and then chuckled. “Is this one, mentally stable at least?”

Y/N got up, deciding to grab another beer, making a point to walk by Soap and smack him on the back of the head causing Ghost’s shoulders to shake while he silently chuckled.

Price glanced over at Y/N while Gaz started telling him about his new girl.

He almost fully turned around to watch as she bent over to grab her beer out of the cooler but then stopped himself.

“Damn those are some dangerous shorts” He thought to himself and felt his jeans becoming a little tighter.

He turned back at Gaz who was just staring at him.

“Jesus Christ, the two of you.” Gaz shook his head and then walked over to talk to Kate.

Price went over and sat at the picnic table.

“What’s he on about now?” Price asked and Soap and Ghost exchanged glances.

“No clue sir.” Ghost said, not wanting to be the one to point out the obvious.

The conversation naturally flowed then into football and the comment was forgotten. About an hour that consisted of chit chat and laughs, Kyle’s new girl showed up with a friend.

Immediately Y/N got a bad feeling about them.

Nancy was perfectly manicured, with her makeup and hair done up a bit much for a backyard BBQ. She had on a pair of white capris with a blue sleeveless blouse and wedges. Her friend looked like a copy and paste version of her.

“Hey everyone,” Gaz announced to the group. “This is Nancy and her friend Becca.”

For an awkward moment, no one said anything or made a move to introduce themselves to the girls. It was Kate that broke the silence and walked over.

“Nice to meet you two. I’m Kate. Kyle has told us all so much about you Nancy.”

“Awe he’s just the best isn’t he?” Nancy said, grabbing on to Gaz’s arm.

“We certainly think so.” Kate said with a forced smile. “Do you girls want a drink? We have beer in the cooler.” She gestured over to the cooler on the deck.

“Oh we don’t actually drink beer.” Becca said with her nose scrunched up.

“Yeah we are wine girlies.” Nancy said in a playful tone.

“Um ok, yeah we have some wine in the house. Do you prefer white or red?” Kate asked.

“Definitely white.” Nancy said looking over at Becca who nodded. “Yeah we’ll take white.”

Beside Y/N she heard Ghost mumble “Gods give me strength.” Which caused her to smile.

She then looked over at Price who was looking at her with a grin on his face and she grinned back.

“You better go introduce yourself Cap. You are the leader of the team after all.” Y/N teased and he cocked his head at her with an amused look on his face.

“Only if you come with me.” He retorted and Y/N laughed

“You’d have a better chance of convincing Ghost to join you.”

“Don’t even ask sir.” Ghost said, getting up and walking in the opposite direction of the girls just to be sure.

“Go on then.” Y/N sighed and stood up motioning at the girls.

Price stood up and then smacked Soap lightly on the shoulder.

“You too Soap.”

He groaned but stood up reluctantly.

“Play nice you two.” He warned and they made their way over to where they were standing.

Gaz’s face lit up seeing them approach.

“Nancy, this is my Captain.” He said proudly.

Price smiled back and then extended his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh Captain! That’s a fancy title.” Nancy said and then placed her hand in Price’s facing downward as if expecting him to kiss the back of her hand.

Instead he awkwardly shook her hand while holding on to the ends of her fingers.

“Call me John.”

“And this is Johnny and Y/N.” Gaz said motioning to where her and Soap were standing.

Nancy looked over at them and then stuck her hand out the same way to Soap, while completely ignoring Y/N

“So many handsome men on your team.” Nancy said while looking over at Becca who was shaking Price’s hand.

“I agree.” Becca said with a smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes and then turned around without saying a word, walking over to Ghost.

“How was that?” He asked and she just knew he was grinning under his black surgical mask.

“When Gaz makes his way over to you for introductions, and he will, do me a favour and scare them enough so they leave yeah?”

Ghost chuckled beside her.

“You a bit jealous there Bells?”

Y/N looked over at Becca who was currently squeezing Soap's bicep.She watched as Price took a slight step back to avoid the same treatment.

“Got no reason to be.” She said with a satisfied smirk.

“Because you’re pretty confident those girls aren’t Price’s cup of tea?”

“Why would that matter to me? He’s a single man who is extremely good looking, and has a nice… everything.” She let out a sign at the last word causing Ghost to audibly laugh.

“Oh love you got it bad.” But then his voice turned serious. “Hope you know what you’re doing.” He said cautiously.

“What does that mean?” She said a slight frown forming on her face.

“Just don’t want ya to get hurt is all.” He said with a shrug.

She took a second to swallow the lump in her throat and then plastered on a fake smile.

“Hey you know what I always say. Can't get hurt if you don’t catch feelings.”

“So it’s purely physical then?” He asked, turning now to face her.

“Of course.” She replied but they both knew she was lying.

“Y/N…” he started but he was interrupted by Gaz calling out to him.

“Well, it looks like it’s your turn.” she said relieved as she slowly turned and started making her way over to Kate.

“Don’t you fucking leave me.” Ghost hissed

“Sorry I think Kate’s calling me, I think she needs help with the grill.” Y/N called over her shoulder and then laughed.

“You know there are people out there who are scared of me.” He called out after her

“And I’m not one of them!” She called back.

Y/N watched out of the corner of her eye as Nancy and Becca were introduced to Ghost and he made no movement to reach out and take their limp hands.

When they started grilling him about his surgical mask he stayed silent but when Becca reached over and squeezed his arm, telling how beautiful his eyes were, it was his breaking point and he turned and walked away without a word. Y/N heard Gaz say something about Ghost being shy and Becca giggled.

“I guess we’ll just have to break him out of his shell.” She said in a high pitched voice.

“Ok food is ready!” Kate called out

Y/N was disappointed because she really wanted to see Becca try.

They all sat down and ate the amazing food, constantly complimenting Kate and her wife saying it was one of the best meals they had had in a long time.

After eating everyone was lounging around patting their full bellies. Price was sitting behind Y/N in one of the chairs smoking a cigar and talking to Kate.

Becca and Nancy approached Y/N who was currently tidying up the picnic table.

“Hey, you’ve been avoiding us.” Nancy said slurring slightly while pointing her finger at Y/N

“Have I?” Y/N said, mocking her playful tone.

“You have, but that’s ok. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends eventually. Now we wanted to ask which one of these guys do you belong to?”

Behind them Price and Kate halted their conversation to pay attention to what was happening now in front of them.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” Y/N answered with gritted teeth.

“Oh don’t be like that, you know what I mean. Which one is yours? We don’t want to be stepping on any toes here. We’re trying to find a match for Becca.”

“I figured that much.” Y/N replied tensely.

“Yeah, being a soldier's wife would be so cool! And like they’re never home but you get all this respect for serving your country. How great is that?!”

Y/N was about to tear into her but she felt a hand grab hers.

“Watch it love. We wouldn’t want to ruin Laswell’s lovely BBQ would we?” Price whispered in her ear and closed her eyes, suddenly very aware of how close he was.

She clenched her jaw when he let go of her hand and went back over towards Laswell, but remained within grabbing distance.

“Oh perfect, you’re with the old man! He wasn’t even on our list of candidates!” Nancy said excitedly.

“Not on your list?” Y/N said, her voice slightly raised “He should be on the top of that list!”

“I mean we totally get it, for you he is but he’s just like not our type.” Nancy replied and Becca nodded.

“Oh but he’s a Captain! You must have amazing benefits! Especially like that death one.” Becca started and Y/N lunged.

Before she could reach the girls though an arm wrapped around her waist and picked her up dragging her towards the house. Behind her she could hear Nancy and Becca still talking.

“What’s her deal?”

“No clue, let’s go talk to that scary one again. I bet he’s hot under that mask.”

She was struggling to get back out to the yard when Price finally put her down in the kitchen.

“Let me go back out there. I promise not to kill them.” Y/N said while pacing the kitchen, Price was now blocking her only way out. “Just maim them a bit.”

“Hmmm” Price grunted, standing with his arms crossed in that way that Y/N loved. His fingers tucked under his arms, his thumbs pointed up and his hips jutting out. But she didn’t notice, she was too mad.

“Death benefits! Death benefits. She’s talking about fucking death benefits like it’s the lottery.” Y/N went off still pacing. “They’re just out there looking to sucker one of you into marrying them so they can get your fucking benefits.”

“Not me.” Price said amused. “I’m not on their list”

“Yeah that’s another thing, not on their list. How can they look at you and not want you?”

“Well,” Price said,walking over to Y/N and standing in front of her causing her to stop pacing. “I’m on your list and that’s all that matters to me.”

Y/N blushed and then smiled slyly.

“And am I on yours?”

He started slowly walking towards her and she was taking small steps backwards until she was against the kitchen sink. He leaned over and put his left hand on the counter beside her.

“You are the whole list.” he said quietly and then grabbed the bottom hem of her shorts, his knuckles brushing against the skin of her thigh. “Especially in these.”

Y/N felt her skin tingle and heat up but also felt a nervousness in her chest. They had never been this close to stepping over the line that separated play and real. Ghost’s words echoed in her mind “Don’t want you to get hurt.” A slight frown formed on her lips and immediately Price started to back up.

“Sorry, that was too…” He started but Y/N grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back.

“Don’t you dare.”

He looked down at her lips and then further down before looking back into her eyes.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Because we have been playing this game for quite a while and once we cross that line I don’t think I could ever go back.”

He moved his knee in between her legs and she let out a soft moan as she rocked her hips forward against it.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked, flattening her hand on his chest and slowly moving it downward.

“God woman.” He hissed and was about to slam his lips down onto hers when they heard Gaz calling out his name.

“Fuck.” Y/N cried out and slipped out from in front of Price who moved forward, pretending to be doing dishes.

Gaz walked into the kitchen and looked at the two of them confused.

“What’s going on?” He asked looking over at Price who wouldn’t turn around.

“Nothing, we’re not doing anything?” Y/N replied quickly

“Dishes” Price added behind her.

“Yeah dishes. We’re doing dishes.” She then picked up a dish towel to sell the story.

“Ok… well Nancy came up to me and said that you were acting weird and looked like you were mad at her.”

“Right, that.” Y/N sighed, relaxing slightly. “Gaz I want you to look at me and listen to what I’m saying alright? Hard no on Nancy.”

“What? But..” He sputtered but Y/N grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Gaz she was talking about death benefits and how you’ll never be around. She may be nice looking on the outside but on the inside she is ugly.”

Gaz sighed and then looked out towards the backyard.

“Could I just enjoy the outside for a bit before I send her packing?”

“NO!” Y/N and Price said in unison.

“Fine. I’ll get her out of here.” His head fell and he made his way back outside.

Price stepped away from the sink and Y/N handed him the dish towel to dry his hands. She stood still facing away from him, her hands on her hips with her head down.

“We should get back out there.” She sighed and then looked up at the ceiling.

Behind her even though she couldn’t see him, Price nodded.

They were silent for a moment and Y/N felt his hand rest lightly on her hips and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Wear those shorts again for me sometime?”

“John,” She said quietly and he pushed his hips into her with a moan, hearing her say his name. “You wear that hat again and you’ll see me in a lot less.”

He groaned and nipped at her ear. They stood there for a minute and then John reluctantly let her go.

“Ok we really need to go out back.” She said turning around to see John trying to adjust himself.

“You go, I'm going to need a few minutes here.”

After that they got busy at work with missions, training, paperwork and stakeouts that took over their lives and they hadn’t had a chance to be alone once. John went back into Captain mode and it was starting to feel like the BBQ was just a fever dream Y/N had. She spent many nights thinking about that moment and what could have come next. It was driving her to the point of insanity.

But now, seeing John in that hat, she knew that he was suffering just as much as she was.

“I guess a deal is a deal, Cap.” Y/N said into the coms quietly.

Price looked up at her direction, smirked, nodded and gave her a quick wink causing her core to clench.

“Eyes on the prize here folks.” Ghost said in the coms. ”I want to get this over and done with.”

“Roger that.” The rest of the team replied.

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

Alright let me know what you think. I live off feedback. Should I continue? This is my first fic up so I’m going to need a little encouragement to start posting again.

#COD #captain john price #john price #task force 141 #john price x y/n #captain john price x reader #john price angst #john price pining #captain john price angst #john price slow burn

37 notes · View notes

tinfoil-jones · 2 days ago

Text

For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities.

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned.

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

29 notes · View notes

gigireece16 · 2 months ago

Text

“how do you plot / plan your book?” very bold of you to assume i do that.

8K notes · View notes

eastons-creations · 4 months ago

Text

My ultimate fic recs

Made a poll and a lot of people said they would want this sooo here we are! These are the best fics I’ve read (: The og post

Top 3

1- To Be Alone With You By Shay_Fae

In the summer of their sixth year, Remus Lupin tried to kill himself.

2- Something Just Like This By shadow_prince

a fake dating modern AU where Sirius has been telling Mrs. Potter he's dating someone for 9 months and she demands his "boyfriend" comes on their family vacation. Queue: shenanigans between wolfstar and jily as they lie their asses off.

3- Text Talk By merlywhirls

Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

Other recs bellow break (in no order)

Wading in waist high water By colgatebluemintygel

Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off host

Beneath a big blue sky by @eyra

The four-by-four heaves its way down long, twisting lanes, little more than dirt tracks scuffed into the surrounding fields and hemmed in by serpentine walls of flat, grey stone. They truly are in the middle of nowhere: the countryside rushes past, all rolling green hills and vast, endless skies, and it's odious. Sirius wants to murder James with his bare hands. Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

A brief history of dragons by @eyra

It's lovely up here; all meadows dotted with wildflowers, wind-beaten tracks criss-crossing this way and that through the fields, weaving inland to the pinewoods. The sun's hot on his back as he passes ramshackle stone walls, long since crumbled to piles of ancient rubble and scree, and then the path winds downwards, still following the line of the coast until Sirius finds himself outside an old white cottage, tucked away behind the hill with a rose garden that faces out to the sea. Sirius moves to Cornwall for the summer and meets a rude, beautiful boy who is writing a book that may or may not be about dragons

Let’s play pretend by MsAlexWP

After James and Lily died, Sirius Black's therapist told him not to date for a year. And that's just as well. He's got a 13-month-old baby now and quite enough to deal with, thanks. But the nosy neighbors in his building keep trying to set him up and won't take no for an answer. Enter Remus Lupin, another single dad who pretends to be Sirius's boyfriend, just to get the old lady brigade off his back and nothing more. Nothing more at all.

Forever in a state of mind by orphan_account

Deaf Dance Choreographer, Remus Lupin, has a simple life. Working, taking care of his son, and running his YouTube sign channel. When he unwittingly becomes involved with Deaf Pride Activist, Fleamont Potter, he doesn't realise how much his life will change. Especially after he meets YouTube star and makeup artist, Sirius Black.

Sugar rush by Stricklymarauders

James, Sirius, Peter, and Dorcas have been best friends for years and are starting their senior year of highschool. To Sirius' dismay he doesn't have any friends in his history class, but after eventually showing up, he finds he sits next to a tall curly hair boy who takes his breath away, Remus Lupin. He decided right then and there that he must make this boy fall in love with him and recruits James to be his wingman, until James is distracted by Remus' best friend with a personality as fiery has her hair, Lily Evans.

Dating Remus lupin by Children_of_the_Shadow

Remus Lupin is a mystery to the whole school; the boy who's quiet, aloof, and cold. He also happens to be queer, which is enough to gain Sirius's interest. What Sirius never realised that dating Remus Lupin wasn't quite as easy as it looked.

Blends by rvltn909

Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say. Another coffee shop au.

Camp Casanova by Farquad

All lonely 11 years old Remus Lupin wants is a friend. But when he arrives at Slughorn's summer camp for teenage boys his world turns upside down since he finds himself sharing a cabin with three other boys; James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black. As the years pass by Remus finds himself birthing friendships, fighting bullies, but above all battling his own feelings which soon gets out of control. He struggles to keep his biggest secret, and he wonders how he could've fallen so deeply in love.

Turn on my charm by Bethanlovescoffee

Sirius Black is a YouTube phenomenon. A YouTube phenomenon who develops a crush on his video editor.

#I don’t know if any of these people have a tumblr #if any one could help tag the og authors #that’d be awesome❤️#I just couldn’t find em #and I am gonna keep this updated #everything is linked btw #wolfstar fic #Wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfic rec #wolfstar fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauders fanfiction #fanfiction #marauders fanfic rec #marauders fanfic

58 notes · View notes

sayingyournames · 1 year ago

Note

speaking of devouring fics where sirius' gender has been trans-ed, do you have any recs?? i know some people don't like to recommend fics so feel free to ignore if that's your vibe!

yes, i do have recs for this! here are a few off the top of my head, in no particular order:

honey sweet by @vajazzly

explicit - ft. city boy sirus who is down bad for the beekeeper with horrible fashion sense (but he’s good with this hands)

gathering home by @quietlemonhush

explicit - sirius raising regulus & harry after literally burning down his family home, remus is reg’s teacher. heavy themes but overall very funny & sweet & tender.

suffer for the people - orphan account

remus is regulus’s camp counselor, has lil bit of a meltdown and asks for his brother who comes to visit to calm him down. feelings occur. sooo cute & comforting, very fluffy.

our destiny in the stars - orphan account

explicit - remus is insecure about his (plus size, disabled) body and decides to try online dating where matches can’t see what the other person looks like. he meets sirius (trans, a teacher) and they uh - hit it off. this fic makes me smile so damn big. it’s just - it’s a classic, i’ve read it a million times.

whatever words i say - orphan account

sirius can’t stop acting out and it’s stressing out the rest of his band, so lily hires remus to keep an eye on him. obviously, they fall in love. a sweet lil band au.

a fool and his money - orphan account

explicit - chronically ill remus is roommates with regulus, meets his rich older brother and agrees to an arrangement: pretend to date sirius, show up with him to events - in exchange for money. y’all can guess where this is going and it’s so good. love a good sugar daddy/fake dating fic.

abyss by @titstraction

explicit - highschool au, remus & sirius are both on the track team and can’t seem to the same page. this fic is - so good. it’s very much a comfort read for me, but there are some heavy themes and transphobic jokes. this fic will hurt your feelings but it will also make you giggle and kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

have time to grow by queer_and_trashy

explicit - queer professor & amateur poet remus meets trans professional poet sirius - they try to get their shit together. hot & sweet and just, deeply deeply gay.

the entire rock n’ pole verse by @jennandblitz and fivepips

explicit - ace rock climber remus meets genderfluid dancer (mainly pole) sirius. this ‘verse is huge, there’s literally millions of words of it and y’all - i’ve read all of it. incredible ace representation, and overall just very sweet and sappy. mild angst, but everyone is in love & has a happy ending so don’t worry!

living like we’re renegades - orphan account

explicit - cheerleader sirius + journalist remus = everything i’ve ever wanted. i loooove this sirius so much they’re so gender.

the prettiest star ‘verse by raging_queer

tattoo artist sirius meets single dad remus - actually, sirius meets his child, teddy. sweet bonding with teddy looking up to Elder Queer sirius. very fluffy and comforting.

staying strangers by 3amandcounting

the texting fic, my fave of all-time. genderfluid sirius & demisexual remus. if there is one fic out there that will just make you want to open a window and yell about it to the other townsfolk - it’s this one. idek how to explain it, it’s just - it’s perfect.

also most of my fic features trans sirius, my masterlist is pinned!

disclaimer: this list is non-exhaustive, i know i’ve forgotten some, and i will be updating this tomorrow when i’m not half-asleep. and y’all, please reply with your fave trans sirius fics bc i want to read them all!!

#gonna reblog this tomorrow and add all my fave trans remus fics too!#@mutuals if i forgot ur fic i’m so sorry i’m on my phone and don’t have my full bookmark list i LOVE u #please add ur own recs!#trans sirius black #fic recs #wolfstar #ALSO i’m sure some of these authors do have tumblrs i just don’t know their urls or whatever so lemme know if i need to update my tags

352 notes · View notes

knawing-at-my-enclosure · 23 days ago

Text

Hello! i’m not dead!

i have been working on developing my very own human Bill! AU….

basically i thought ‘hey wouldn’t it be funny if human Bill Cipher got like really into lepidopterology?’ and it kinda spiraled from there

(aka i have like 5 entire pages of handwritten lore that needs to go somewhere other than my brain).

lots more to come (hopefully) but check under the break for some character concept art

oh also this takes place 4 years post Weirdmageddon

33 notes · View notes

buddiedaydreamer911 · 7 months ago

Text

isn’t there an interview somewhere where Ryan says that Buck and Eddie helping Christopher date is like “The blind leading the blind.” ????

and now we KNOW both Oliver and Ryan has read fanfiction.

what if Ryan read this one and used that saying based off this fic???

#i don’t know if the author is on tumblr otherwise i would’ve tagged them #and if someone asked me if i love you (i’d lie)#forget my name #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on abc #911 buddie #buck and eddie #oliver stark #ryan guzman #ryliver #ryliver reading buddie fiction

38 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 4 months ago

Note

girl your hanahaki au is absolutely wrecking my shit i--- I don't ever read ongoing fics and this is why. I just cannot wait?!? But the waiting somehow makes it better too?!? I'm literally dead bro I can't I love it so much

hahah omg thank you !! I’m really happy to hear you took a chance on this wip and that you like it so much!

not to get on my soapbox or anything but you have given me a great corner to shout from

as a disclaimer I totally understand why people will choose not to read wips and I truly think you know your mental health and what you can stand to wonder about/think about/obsess over/NEED to know a conclusion for better than anyone else

BUT as a writer who almost exclusively posts in wips, people reading them before they’re finished is my life blood and I am so grateful and it makes the writing process so much more fun for me because I know at least someone else is invested in my brainworm of a story?? someone else is enjoying it and thinking about it and I’m putting a small amount of good into the world??

the best analogy I’ve been able to come up with is like:

when you read a finished fic you’re eating a whole meal and that’s great that’s so amazing (especially if you tell the cook you liked it after you’re done). and you’re literally always welcome to eat that meal whenever you want. finished fics are like standing dinner invitations: I am always happy to have you and I mean that very genuinely

but if you read a wip, you’re keeping me company in the kitchen while I cook. and that’s sort of priceless. in some instances, you can even tell me the food needs more spice and I’ll think about it and listen!!! you’re sitting on my kitchen counter as I bustle around my space and we’re talking about what I’m doing and also how I’m feeling and maybe how you’re feeling and it just feels like community more than anything else I’ve experienced in any fandom. like you’re with me in my space as I’m creating food I hope you like. we’re both invested and it’s amazing

and I think in general that’s why wips are a lot of fun and also maybe why the waiting between chapters is fun for you - you’ve suggested that I add paprika to the pot and you’re waiting and wondering if I will, and I’m laughing and hoping you like the soup either way but also wondering if paprika will work with the recipe, and if I can add a bit to it just for you while staying true to the dish I envisioned at the get go.

#asks #(stepping off my soapbox) very sorry for that I didn’t know I cared so much #but the truth is I want everyone to read wips all the time and I DO get why people don’t #because a story that remains unfinished haunts you sometimes and people enjoy that on different scales #but wips are amazing #as an author with many #but also as an author with more completed stories than wips but who also is apparently #known for having wips which like make it make sense I guess whatever #wips are amazing because my #favorite part of stories is talking with you about them #I cut out answering ao3 comments a few years ago so I could focus on writing stories #but I always try to answer asks on tumblr #about a chapter before I post the next one #I love it it’s my conversation space where I feel most comfortable #comfortable *#and I’m so sorry #this ask answer has ballooned way past what your very kind ask warranted #I just have emotions about this lately #waiting can mAke it better I promise - you make a potato salad and you don’t immediately eat it. you put it in the fridge #so the flavors meld #sometimes fics are the same way tbh if you can experience them like #that.#sometimes you read a wip and you’re like wow that could be a motif and then you watch I #that motif develop over a year and you get this satisfaction of being right and also being proud of the writer??#idk I could be talknin #out of my ass but I just. love Wips. all the time and always

39 notes · View notes

bloodstainsontengensfloor · 8 months ago

Text

This fanfiction.

God tier. And that’s not a pun. It sadly is incomplete and hasn’t been completed since December 25th 2022, but it doesn’t end on a crazy cliff hanger that makes you scream and shout and let it all out. However, ofc, it does leave you wanting more.

But it so good. I reccomended every reads it pls and thank you. In all my life of reading fanfiction, I’ve found that Percy Jackson AUs tend to be the absolute best, and this one is no exception

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percabeth #fanfiction #fanfic #i don’t think you understand #this fanfiction was insane.#if the author is on tumblr and sees this…. hiiiiiiiii #i don’t even want to give it away #but just know when you start you’ll never stop

25 notes · View notes

pegasister60 · 1 year ago

Text

"Toothless perches on a sea stack, and Hiccup slides to the rock beside him, staring at the chaos. As the two watch, the scene fades as an hour passes. The flames are mostly smoke now, only a few ships still burning. Almost every sail has been ripped down and dragged to the water, or has burned to nothing but the skeleton of rigging." - excerpt from Chapter 21 of run past the rivers, run past all the light by rosetta_46

This fic has gifted me so much happy chemical so expect a lot of fanart in the future. It's a "watching the movie" fic with incredible characterization, tasty canon divergences, and so many juicy bits of foreshadowing. Highly recommend consuming it whenever y'all are able.

Bonus little concept sketch below because I think the Toothless was perfect:

48 notes · View notes

life-series-losers-blog · 8 months ago

Note

yeah i can see how that gets tiring at some point

LimL!Grian: it is most certainly not fun to wake up first thing just to hear Scar mispronouncing Clockers

??: Hey! It is a very hard word to say

LimL!Pearl: Oh hey Scar

LimL!Scar: Hey hey hey

#I really don’t know tumblrs whole censoring thing #so from now on the mispronounce of Clockers is going to be #Cloakers #Imagine it’s the other one #I don’t wanna risk things I have no idea about #grian #limited life #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #author speaks #lose

23 notes · View notes

sebbyisland · 1 year ago

Text

if tumblr had polls in 2015 I know iwaoi would have never lost in round 3 of a ship poll. How easily we forget our roots

#I can’t believe anime tumblr got murdered like this in cold blood. Sorry I don’t know what a ‘Swede’ or a ‘Blackbird” is #I didn’t even ship Iwaoi but like #I read a comic about domestic iwaoi and their neighbor a clueless straight boyfriend bonding and #When he was like ‘my wife wants to get married but I’m scared we won’t love each other in the future’ and iwaoi was like well.#We choose to stay together even though it won’t be acknowledged in law or death we r married. Don’t let fear hold u back from love #This was before the adoption + partner certificate process got more widespread in Japan I think? Anyways #That comic is burned in my mind idk what the author was on when she wrote that but it fucked me up #ao3 ship poll #Seb out

26 notes · View notes

brotrustmeicanwrite · 10 months ago

Note

How do you approach the revision process in your writing

There's a lot more to revision than your middle school teachers told you.

Many writers (especially beginners) think about spell-checking, grammar and potentially fixing plot holes after finishing the first draft when the topic of revision comes up, but there's much more you can do. After all, when we write a text we want to do much more than to simply convey information to the reader. We want to evoke emotions, we want to bring our characters to life and we want to tell their story in a way that does them justice. For that reason I divide my revision process into four parts.

Behold, my overly detailed revision process that includes absolutely everything we could do which does not mean that you have to or even should do all of these, especially with this level of detail (tl;dr at the end for those who don’t need every excruciating detail):

Plot, Characters And Themes

Goals Of The Scene

Emotions Of The Reader

Grammar And Spelling

1. Revising The Pot And Characters

This part of the revision usually starts long before even the first word of the first draft sees the light of day and is technically part of the outlining process.

Before we write a first draft and then have to do it all over again because something in the story changed or because we found a plot hole, it is much much easier to refine the contents of our writing in a much less work intensive medium than a long text. There are many ways to outline a story that each fit different writers and different stories, so I won’t go deeper into that. (I personally do it through a process I call time-lining but that would be its own separate post.) Once our outline is done we can step back and analyse the following aspects of our story (in no particular order; these go hand in hand with each other):

Plot lines

Characters And Characters Arcs

Themes

1.1 Plot Lines

Revising plot lines is more than just revising the story overall but still quite simple. Besides checking the vague concept of weather or not the story goes like we want it to go, we can check isolated plot lines and if

- they start at the best point of the story

- they end or converge with other plot lines at the right moment of the timeline

- they have an end at all or were forgotten about (open ending is a valid ending!)

- the reader can follow the lines or if they get too confusing

- and if the A- and B-Plot are properly balanced.

1.2 Characters And Character Arcs

This part is essentially the same as Plot Lines, except we check the character’s

- personalities and if they stay consistent throughout the story/ change appropriately according to the character’s experiences

- character arcs with the same questions as Plot Lines.

1.3 Themes

Themes, too is almost the same Plot Lines. We again check for consistency and also for frequency. The themes of our story should be brought up often enough that the reader doesn’t forget about/ can quickly remember them but not so often that it annoys them. Additionally we need to keep in mind what demographic we are writing for. Depending on the age of our readers the frequency and also boldness of our themes will vary widely.

2. Goals Of The Scene

A scene itself having goals is something that will probably strike most who are reading this as odd; I personally only came across the concept around 2 years ago for the first time, despite having researched writing techniques for years as a special interest before that. But the goal of a scene being “driving the plot forward” is probably something that we all can understand. However, besides just driving the plot forward there are many other goals a scene can have. For example:

Introducing a new character

Foreshadowing a future event

Getting the reader emotionally invested with a character

Conveying knowledge to the reader that the characters don’t yet have access too

Getting the reader thinking

Giving the reader a moment of peace (pacing)

and many many many more

Every scene should have a goal, even just a small one like giving the reader a break in between action scenes, else it wouldn’t contribute anything to our story. This part can be done both before the first draft and after it, depending on what goal our scene has.

Technical goals like conveying information can often already be achieved by adding a bullet point in our outline that later gets put into writing, while emotional goals often rely on the actual text.

3. Emotions Of The Reader

Being self critical [sic] is for editing, not writing. Writing is when you throw anything at the wall and see what sticks. They are two different practices that should be practiced separately. Write first, edit later.

This is a quote from a post I’ve been seeing on here for a couple days now and it pretty much encapsulates the reason I mentally separate revising the emotions my text is supposed to evoke in the reader from revising structure, grammar, spelling and all the other things I’ve listed. When writing my first draft I try to really get in the headspace of my potential future reader and the emotions I want them to feel. But just like when we later check our spelling and grammar it’s important to step away from our writing for quite some time before we can properly revise it. We need to forget the emotions we felt while writing to be truly able to revise what a reader would feel. Once enough time has passed we can revisit our text. And since we want to focus on just the emotions it’s advisable to ignore most minor grammatical mistakes at this stage (out of experience it’s extremely easy to loose track of what you were doing when you get too hung up on grammatical details).

However we as the writers will always be biased by our own emotions and meta knowledge. For that reason a beta reader focusing on this topic would be extremely helpful. I personally only had the opportunity to work with a beta reader once (since I’m purely a hobby writer) but back then I had asked them to read my text and write down/colour code all of their emotions and related thoughts paragraph by paragraph and even sentence by sentence where it was necessary. The result of that was a document containing not only my text but also a clear depiction of my reader’s headspace, that I could analyse and use as a basis to change parts of my text, where the reaction was too far away from what I wanted it to be.

4. Grammar And Spelling

This one I’ll keep short since that part of the revision process was probably beaten into every single one of us in middle school. The most important thing when checking grammar and spelling is of course to get some distance to our text first, the same way we did with the emotions before, and a beta reader is here too extremely beneficial.

Really the only personal part I have to add here is that I prefer to do this part at the very very end of my writing process after everything else I’ve talked about so far has been done and finished. After all, what sense is there to grammar and spellchecking first drafts.

Tl;dr and to sum up and summarise

When revising a story/text there is more to it than just spellchecking and grammar. I personally divide it into these four categories:

Plot, Characters And Themes

Goals Of The Scene

Emotions Of The Reader

Grammar And Spellchecking

This list shows the rough order in which I work, not a step by step guide on how to revise! Writing can and will be chaotic, at least to some extent, so don’t force yourself into an unnecessarily strict working process. Revise these points whenever you feel is appropriate during your own writing process ,especially since they can’t even be completely separated from each other. Just make sure to focus on one or two of these things at a time as to not get too far off track.

Also please keep in mind that there is no need to go into such extreme detail as I did here with most stories. My goal with this post is to give an overview of everything you could possibly do to revise your writing (or at least everything I could think of over the course of the 3 days I’ve spend working on this.) Use the parts that are relevant to your story and don’t get too hung up on the details.

At the end of the day writing should be fun and tools like these should not get in the way of that!

Happy Writing <3

#as always ignore my grammar #English is my 3rd language #and I do NOT know how punctuation works here #don’t take this too seriously #and just have fun writing #writers on tumblr #writing #oc #writer problems #authors of tumblr #tumblr writers #writer on tumblr #original fiction #fiction #writing advice

18 notes · View notes