#my contribution for when I can’t think of writing prompts or will myself to write

[thegrinningghost]

“Affliction is enamored of thy parts . . . ”

“ . . . and thou art wedded to calamity.”

— Act III, Scene III, The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

[joelalorian]

Fevered Flame

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature. This is my first time writing Marcus Pike and I hope I did him justice. I learned a few things about myself during this process, the most important being that I am incapable of writing porn without plot, or a romantic angle, apparently. This story turned out waaaaay different than intended because of that. I apologize now for the plot heaviness between sexy bits.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

Warnings: Explicit 18+, too much plot, heat making people cray cray, sexy sweatiness, lots of cursing (I’m from New Jersey, I can’t help it), nonsensical crime stuff, a plot that came straight outta left field, protected and unprotected sex (p in v), pussy eating and cock sucking, inappropriate use of an ice cube and hot springs. No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname and boobs, otherwise, I tried to keep her a blank slate. Some terms of endearment. IDK, there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this utter ridiculousness. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by me.

Masterlist

Still reeling from the aftermath of Theresa Lisbon choosing that pontificating windbag Patrick Jane over him nearly a year ago, Marcus Pike buried himself in work. The transition from Texas to DC and adapting to leading a whole new team took his mind of his misery. However, the lonely nights in his new home, the one purchased with hopes of building a life with Theresa in mind, were untenable and he took on more fieldwork than someone at the director level typically would. Hence why Marcus found himself driving through the desert to some quirky small town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.

What the fuck kind of name was that for a town, he wondered idly as his right hand pumped the rental car’s AC to full blast. Having already stripped off his suit jacket and tie, Marcus sweat clear through his lavender dress shirt within minutes. The heat was ungodly. Surely it couldn’t be normal. How could people live like that?

Eyes scanning the dashboard display of the mid-size SUV the agency rented for him, they nearly bugged out of his head at the temperature reading. Lit up in glaring red, the numbers 121°F taunted him as sweat dripped down his temples.

Jesus Christ. Death Valley had nothing on this place.

Marcus steered the vehicle toward his hotel, opting to change into something a little more suitable for the local climate before checking in with the agent representing the local field office. The FBI put him up in a supposedly nice hotel, though he didn’t have high expectations of what that meant in a town like this. As long as the AC worked, he’d survive.

Thirty minutes later, Marcus took his second shower of the day, this one much colder than the last, and jumped back into the SUV in an outfit more typical of a golf outing than an FBI investigation. It was the best he could do with what he packed. The local agent texted him the address of an art gallery, the first in a series of apparent crime scenes, and he plugged the address into the GPS.

Normally, you didn’t mind the heat, preferring that to cold winters, but this current heatwave was beyond ridiculous. You sweat just by simply existing. You never experienced anything like it in the five years you’d been stationed in Albuquerque, and you suddenly found yourself longing for the bone-deep cold of a northeastern winter as you waited for the DC agent to arrive.

The chilling sea breeze of a New Jersey winter sounded like heaven right now.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up next to your government-issued sedan and you watched with an assessing gaze from the driver’s seat as Director Marcus Pike exited the vehicle clad in khaki shorts and a turquoise polo, trendy aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun. His dark brown hair was short and styled back off his forehead, and a neatly trimmed scruff lined his top lip and jaw.

You knew from a quick glance at his FBI profile that he was a decorated agent, but his government photo did not do him justice. The man was fucking gorgeous in person. Exiting your own vehicle before he caught you staring, you introduced yourself.

He flashed you a smile full of boyish charm when you gave him your name, causing your heart to thump double time. “You can just call me Jersey, everyone else does,” you finished, holding your hand out to shake his.

“Marcus Pike, Director of the Art Crimes Squad in DC,” he replied, his larger hand engulfing yours in a firm, yet not overbearing, shake. “Just call me Marcus.”

The two of you gazed at each other, the sun beating down on you both like laser beams. Holy fuck, Marcus was even hotter up close. Yeah, his FBI file photo did not do him any justice at all. Not wanting to make things uncomfortable by staring too long, you gestured toward the door to the gallery.

“Shall we?”

Marcus cleared his throat and nodded, following behind you as you strolled casually through the entrance. “Wanna give me a rundown of what we know so far?”

“Sure,” you replied. “We’ve had paintings stolen from several galleries in town. Despite its odd name and small-town status, Truth or Consequences has a rather robust art scene. Lots of expensive art showcased in these galleries.”

Marcus nodded as you gave him some background. He likely read most of this in the file on his flight out here, but you could appreciate the necessity of running over it again verbally. Repetition was the mother of… whatever the fuck that saying was. Your brain was already too fried from the heat.

“The thefts started almost a week ago, not too long after the start of the extreme heatwave this area is currently experiencing. There has been one painting taken every other day so far, always at the peak heat of the day when the townsfolk are too overheated and tired to pay much attention. No eyewitnesses and the thief artfully avoided any surveillance or security cameras so far.”

You watched Marcus jot down some notes, tapping the end of his pen against the small notepad as he reviewed the information.

“So, three paintings taken so far, and it’s still early in the day. I’m guessing we can expect another theft today?” You nodded and Marcus tapped the pen against his bottom lip this time, causing you to avert your gaze before he caught you ogling the plump flesh.

“Have there been any patterns identified?”

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Just in the types of paintings taken so far. They all depict scenes of cool, serene landscapes.”

Dark brown eyes held your gaze. “So, the exact opposite of the current weather situation.”

Again, you nodded. “That’s the only pattern so far. We haven’t been able to determine any order to the galleries hit and, unfortunately, this town doesn’t have the law enforcement manpower to guard all of the galleries and still attend to their normal duties. We do have unis posted at the galleries that haven’t been hit yet, just in case. That’s the best the townies could do though.”

Humming in thought, Marcus walked around the gallery, causing you to scramble to keep up. It was fascinating watching his mind work, his big, brown eyes taking in every minute detail around him. When he stopped in front of the empty spot marking the first stolen painting’s former home, you paused next to him, debating on sharing the only other piece of information you had so far.

“There’s, uh, something strange that may or may not be related to this case.” That got Marcus’ attention and his eyes shot to you once again, brow arched curiously.

“Do tell,” he replied with an encouraging smile. You blinked slowly, trying in vain to maintain your concentration in front of such a handsome man.

“I will on the way to the other galleries. Just… just promise to hold judgment until I finish telling you everything. It’s a little… unorthodox compared to what we’re used, I’d say.” You led the way back to your car, gesturing for Marcus to get in on the passenger side. It made more sense to ride together. Thankfully, you left it running while inside the gallery, making the interior still nice and cool.

Once seated, his head cocked to the side endearingly, the tilt of his lips bordering on an indulgent smile. “Ok, I promise.” The cadence and depth of his soft-spoken voice set you aflame and you had to practically shake yourself to not fall to your knees in praise of this man.

Jesus Christ, Jersey, have a modicum of professionalism and self-respect, will ya, your inner monologue chided. Your libido hyperfixated on the veritable stud before you whether you wanted it to or not. It’d been too long since your last tumble in the sheets, apparently. Recentering your focus, you pulled out onto the main road heading to the next crime scene.

“Good,” you croaked. Feeling the heat creep up your already overheated flesh, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you can tell, the weather here is ungodly hot – hard to miss it. This is not entirely normal, from what I understand. It’s tempting to chalk it up to climate change, except for one strange thing. Drive twenty or thirty minutes outside of town and the temps are far lower, though still hot by some standards. The temps within the surrounding towns are in line with the more normal averages.”

Brows furrowed, Marcus’ dark eyes searched your face, clearly looking for more context clues. “The heat certainly seemed excessive on the ride over from the municipal airport. I had to stop at the hotel and change or I would have melted to the pavement in my suit.”

You chuckled. “I know the feeling. The average temperature here is supposed to be in the low 90s this time of year, not thirty degrees higher. And the usually cooler desert nights haven’t existed for the past couple of weeks. It’s very strange.”

“And it’s just this town, you say?”

Pulling to a stop in front of the next gallery, you nodded. “Strange, right?”

“Very,” Marcus replied, deep in thought as he followed you inside.

It carried on like that the rest of the afternoon until the heat became just too much after checking out the last crime scene. Like everyone else in town, you sought refuge in the coolest place you could find, which happened to be a hole-in-the-wall pub just off the main street.

Just when Marcus thought things couldn’t get weirder with this town, you led him into a dark and dingy little pub, settling right up to the aged bar. If you weren’t a certified agency employee, he would be terrified that you were luring him to his untimely death.

As it was, the scraggly old barkeep gave him the creeps when he shuffled over, eyeing the pair of you with the same attention he would three-headed aliens. “Coldest beer in town. Two pints?” The man’s voice as rough as he looked, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marcus shot you a look, eyes wide and uncertain, but you merely shrugged in return. He didn’t normally drink on the job, but between the heat and the early start for traveling, Marcus decided his day was finished. He chugged at the frosty draft when the barkeep placed it in front of him. The old man was right, the pint glass was frozen and small chunks of ice floated in the foamy beer.

“Damn, that’s good,” he nearly moaned, feeling refreshed.

“I know, right?” you replied, nearly half done with your own pint. “I don’t normally like beer, but I could drink it all day long when it’s ice cold like this. Especially in this heat, you know?”

The first round went down easily, and quickly, and the old barkeep, whose name turned out to be Harry, placed another round down before Marcus even thought to ask. The pair of you settled into easy conversation, getting to know each other outside of the job. The more you drank, the more your Jersey accent started to peak through. He found it cute and kept asking you questions just to keep hearing you talk.

Soon enough, any thought left in his mind about Theresa evaporated. How could he still think about his ex-fiancé when a hot, smart, sweet little thing like you sat before him, chatting, and flirting away the evening. Theresa had nothing on you.

It took exactly a fraction of a second to be struck by your beauty that morning. Confident and intelligent, not mention damn good at your job, he quickly realized your natural beauty served as icing on the cake. You were the entire package, and he was trying his damnedest to not charge ahead trying to get you into bed.

Turned out you both had similar relationship history, married too young and divorced, no kids, longed for a dog if only your job didn’t call you away so often. You were practically the female version of him, Marcus thought. It made him all the more curious about you.

Before long, you both ordered some bar grub and went back to talking about the case. Neither of you could make sense of what you had so far. There were vital pieces of the puzzle missing, that much was apparent.

Harry unceremoniously dropped plates full of burgers and fries in front of you, not even trying to hide the fact that he eavesdropped on your conversation.

“You think your case has something to do with the heat?” the old man questioned, leaning heavily on the bar top.

You and Marcus shared a look before you nodded.

“There’s some local lore you might find interesting, then,” Harry said, pausing for dramatic effect and you gestured for him to continue. “Well, as the legends go, the Flame of Quetzalcoatl was hidden somewhere in town centuries ago. They say it was a gem gifted by the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl himself, but who the recipient was no one knows. The gem is said to hold the power of the sun and the wielder of it has the ability to control heat.”

You and Marcus sat there in silence, absorbing the tale Harry just shared. After a few minutes, Marcus glanced at you, doubt clear in his expression.

“This town just gets fuckin’ weirder by the minute, I swear,” he said, sipping at his pint once again. “I might actually believe that little story if I was a few more beers in.”

You laughed, but your face didn’t hold the same doubt as his. “I don’t know, Marcus. If living out here for the past few years has taught me anything, it’s that these Aztec legends are often too close to the truth to blow off.”

Harry harrumphed. “I’d say so, little lady.”

“Besides, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” you said, nudging Marcus’ shoulder with yours. “Couldn’t hurt to play that angle until a better lead pops up.”

Marcus found himself agreeing, much to his surprise.

Over the next few days, you and Marcus researched as much as possible about local lore related to Aztecs, searching for any hint of what Harry told you. In that time, three more paintings were stolen. The thief started leaving little clues as if to goad law enforcement.

The first cryptic clue further convinced you of the potential voracity of the Aztec legend. Written in drip red paint in the spot where the fourth painting had been located, Marcus suspected the thief meant it to look like blood.

When the feathered serpent sheds its skin, the heat will rise.

“Holy shit,” you gasped when you first read it. Turning to Marcus, you declared, “Quetzalcoatl was known as the Feathered Serpent.”

His dark brown eyes widened, meeting yours in shock. “No way.”

You nodded, flipping through your notepad to find your most recent notes on the case. “Yes way. That book we borrowed from the Historical Society talked about it. Remember?”

Marcus nodded slowly as the information came back to him, his eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of this completely bizarre case. “Didn’t the book say something about Quetzalcoatl being a signal of transformation? Think the clue has something to do with that?”

“Yeah, could be.”

The pattern continued the next day with another clue left behind.

Where the earth boils and the water steams, the gem of the sun awaits.

The pair of you debated the meaning of the second clue over cold beer at Harry’s pub. As the case evolved, so did the connection between you and Marcus. You both flirted unashamedly when you weren’t talking about the case. It turned out the agency put you both up at the same hotel – your rooms on the same floor even. You were beginning to hope that he would make a move, yet completely terrified of that happening at the same time.

Despite your best efforts, the thief remained one step ahead of law enforcement, somehow managing to steal from galleries you had actively guarded. How in the world was this guy doing it?

Things were slowly coming together once a third clue was discovered.

Seek the place where fire and water dance, and there you will find the sun’s heart.

Without a local FBI office to work out of – the Albuquerque one you worked out of was over two hours away – you’d decided to setup camp in a quiet booth at Harry’s. He kept you full on pub grub and refreshments – soda and water during work hours, of course – and chipped in with his local knowledge whenever he thought it needed.

In fact, it was Harry who guided you toward understanding the latest clues.

“Have you two heard about the hot springs? This town is famous for them.” The old man dropped the nugget of knowledge along with a plate of fries and shuffled away, leaving the two of you to stare after him.

Marcus turned to you; his lips pursed in thought. You ached to nibble on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to feel the gentle scratch of his facial hair against your soft skin as you did so.

“Where the earth boils and the water streams,” Marcus recalled the second clue in that delicious, soft-spoken voice of his, sending a wave of gooseflesh over your skin. “Seek the place where fire and water dance.”

Shaking your head free of naughty thoughts, you focused on the clues and the knowledge bomb Harry dropped, picking right up on Marcus’ thought process. “Fire, heat, and water... The hot springs!”

Marcus beamed at you; eyes sparkling as he came to the same realization. “It has to be. Makes sense, right?”

“Sure does,” you agreed, grinning back at him. “But there must be a ton of them. How would we ever find the right one?”

Sitting back in his seat, Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to keep digging. Do you still have that book from the Historical Society? Maybe there’s something else in there to help us.”

“It’s back in my room,” you reply. “Fancy ordering room service at the hotel while we go over the clues again?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was he thinking, agreeing to go back to your room to continue working on the case.

An unwitting temptress already, how was he supposed to control himself when you invited him into your room for dinner, drinks, and after-hours casework?

In the already excessive desert heat, Marcus was sweating bullets as he followed you into your room, conveniently located only a few doors down from his own.

“I have a bottle of cab, is that good?” you questioned, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before reaching for the screw cap bottle.

Audibly gulping, Marcus squeaked out an assent and wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. He glanced around the room to distract himself, noting happily that you were a tidy traveler, much like himself.

“I have bottled water as well. Would you like one?” Marcus nodded. With an indulgent smile, you held out the small ice bucket. “I like mine over ice. Would you mind?”

Eager for a moment to clear his head, Marcus grabbed the bucket. “No problem.” The echo of your chuckle followed him as he rushed out the door.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” he whispered to himself as he strolled down the hall to the ice machine. “You don’t even know if this woman wants anything more than just reviewing the case. Calm the fuck down.”

Feeling a little calmer and more under control after his private pep talk, Marcus knocked on your door with the full ice bucket in hand. You let him in with a broad smile that nearly made his heart stop.

“Perfect.” Plucking the bucket from his hands, you returned to the makeshift kitchenette area to fill two cups with ice and water. Two glasses of cabernet were already sitting on the tiny table in the small designated sitting area of the hotel room.

Marcus joined you on the couch, case file in hand, seated close due to the limited space. You dove right in to discussing the case, easing his nerves. The pair of you compared the facts of the case, debating theories and potential connections. Without any physical evidence, you still didn’t have any viable suspects, which was incredibly frustrating for both of you.

“I’ve never had a case like this,” Marcus said. “It’s hard to believe that this could all relate to a myth about an ancient god. It feels weird even saying that aloud.”

“I know. It’s giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

With the lack of viable suspects serving as a brick wall in furthering the investigation, conversation switched to other topics.

“You’re from New Jersey?” Marcus asked. “What brought you out here?”

“Yep, born and raised at the Jersey Shore,” you replied, that northeastern accent peeking through as you drank more wine. “Classic reason for relocating – I followed a guy, the one I told you a little about. We got married young and one day he woke up and decided he wanted a change of scenery. I followed along without argument, and we wound up out here. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ahh,” he said with a nod. “That asshole.”

“Yeah, that asshole.”

From what you told Marcus about your ex-husband, he knew the guy was a real piece of work. Classic narcissist who beat you down emotionally the entire time you were together. Marcus was happy that you kicked the guy to the curb two years ago and the divorce finalized last year. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially you.

“Are you going to stick around here now that’s all over with?” He found himself curious about your future plans.

Shaking your head, you laughed. “Hell no. I put in for a transfer already, for anywhere on the east coast closer to home. I’m no picky.”

Marcus perked up at that. The DC headquarters always had openings. He’d get to see you again if you were transferred there. “I could put in a good word for you, if you’d like. You’re a great agent from what I’ve seen so far.”

Ducking your head bashfully, you peeked at him through your lashes. “That’s pretty high praise coming from a director,” you deflected.

“I mean it, Jersey.” He kept his voice low, using your nickname for the first time, and watched in delight as you shuddered.

The air in the room shifted, sexual tension thick and nearly overpowering. Marcus watched as your pupils dilated, lust overtaking the previous sparkle. He gulped when your tongue darted out to lick your lips tantalizingly.

Shifting ever so closer, your scent washed over him. You smelled fucking delicious, hints of cocoa butter and salty sweat, reminding him of the beach. His shorts suddenly became tighter, his cock twitching to life. He wanted to devour you.

The next thing Marcus knew, your lips were pressed to his as you basically ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies, the now empty bottle of wine knocked from the table to the carpeted floor in the process. Despite the cool air pumping from the air conditioning, your skin felt hot to his touch.

Licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of you mixed with the bite of wine on your tongue, Marcus steered you backwards until your hamstrings bumped against the mattress. He eased you down onto the bed, detaching his lips from yours to take in the electrifying sight of your naked body splayed before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing down your smooth skin slowly, teasingly from your neck to your toes.

Your eyes, blown wide with need, burned into his before dipping down to take in his naked body with a gasp. His cock bobbed eagerly as you stared.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Marcus said, his soft voice filled with awe, matching the wonder in his eyes.

“Me either,” you replied, “but I’m happy it is. You are so fucking gorgeous, Marcus.”

Marcus couldn’t help the blush that pinkened his cheeks. Reaching behind him to the bucket, he plucked a large ice cube from the slowly melting pile. His eyes remained locked on yours as he popped the frozen cube into his mouth, sucking lightly before his tongue pushed forward and his lips puckered as a portion of the ice cube stuck out.

The breath left you when he dipped his head down to run the cube along your clavicle and down across your breasts. Your nipples pebbled beneath the chilly wetness as Marcus directed the ice cube back and forth a few times. He watched delightedly as goosebumps peppered your skin when he moved the cube down your belly in a zigzag pattern.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaved and fingers tightened their grip on the bedsheets when Marcus dipped further down, running the quickly melting cube over your mound and through your slit. The cold nearly shocking to the overwhelming heat of your labia.

Using his tongue to increase the pressure, Marcus circled the ice cube over your clit until you cried out, one hand loosening its grip on the sheets to tangle your fingers in his thick hair. He shifted, plunging the cube into your entrance, pushing as far as his tongue would extend, then leant back to watch your pussy suck the cube further until in melted into mere dribbles of water.

You laid there panting, eyes hooded and wanting, as Marcus dove back in, using his tongue to continue the work he started with the ice cube. He lapped and sucked at your clit, two thick fingers slipping inside you, until you became a blubbering mess, blurting out unintelligible words and moans, finally falling apart beneath his ministrations.

Marcus slurped at the evidence of your long overdue release, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you. His hips thrust against the mattress of their own accord, his body seeking any sort of friction against his aching cock it could find.

“Your mouth is a lethal weapon, Marcus,” you said breathlessly, hands reaching under his shoulders to drag him up your body. “Now let’s see what you can do with your cock.”

His hair flopped forward over his forehead from your fingers tangling in it and he grinned in satisfaction at your comment. His boyish charm proved too much to handle, and you yanked his face down to yours, tongues tangling in a scorching kiss. You nibbled on his plump bottom lip between fervent kisses, savoring the plushness between your teeth.

Whining when he pulled away suddenly, your fingers grasping for purchase to pull him back, Marcus winked at you when he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right back.”

Digging in his shorts to find his wallet, Marcus pulled out a long-forgotten condom from the tri-fold leather and checked the date on the foil packaging to make sure it hadn’t expired. Content with the remaining half-life, he ripped the package open with his teeth and slid the latex material over his cock.

You beamed at him when he climbed back onto the bed. “I knew you were a smart man.”

Marcus slid up beside your body, turning you so your back pressed snug against his chest. “Safety first, baby. Wrap it before you tap it, right?”

Your laughter became strangled when he slid inside you, splitting you open on his cock. “Oh my god. You feel so good!” you cried when he began to move inside you after a long pause to let you adjust to the sheer size of him.

Marcus started at a slow pace, getting a feel for the way your walls tightened around him. Gripping the bed covers with your right hand, you reached your left hand up and around to tangle in his hair behind you. He picked up the pace as you tugged gently on his locks, his lips peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses.

When, at last, Marcus began pounding into you, you reached between your legs with your right hand to rub your clit. Despite the cool air blowing over your bodies, the heat between you had your skin glistening with sweat. You cried as Marcus hit a particularly pleasurable spot deep within you, his own moans morphing into grunts as you clamped down on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight around me. I can feel you clench every time I hit this spot.” His words were murmured into your ear, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Marcus plunged forward to hit your g-spot, proving his point when you clenched tightly around him once again. “Yeah, just like that.”

You plunged clear over the precipice then, crying out his name and any number of praises as an orgasm overtook you. Marcus talked you through it, his voice like sugary syrup, while he never once let up on his thrusts. Minutes, hours later, he followed you into the overwhelming bliss with a shout of your name followed by a string of curses.

“That was amazing.” Marcus nuzzled your neck as his hips slowed, the last shots of his cum dribbling into the condom. “You are amazing.”

Lost for words, you just hummed in agreement. Knackered from the excessive heat, long day of investigative work, the alcohol, and the mind-blowing sex, you hovered on the edge of sleep while Marcus got up to dispose of the condom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned you up with tender dedication. Tossing the cloth aside, he paused, standing naked and uncertain next to the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you replied sleepily, tossing the covers down so you could both slide under them. “I hope you like to cuddle, Mister.”

Grinning at you, Marcus wrapped his arm around you, curving his body around yours. “You bet your ass I do.”

You both fell into an exhausted sleep feeling hopeful and satiated for the first time in a long time.

Waking up in Director Pike’s arms was not something you expected would happen on this case. You fantasized. You hoped. Sure, all of that. But you never, ever expected it would actually happen. But it did and it felt fucking incredible.

You already knew he was damn good at his job. It was impressive to see that his single-minded focus and massive talent carried over to his skills in the bedroom as well. You replayed the night before in your head as you showered, remembering with fondness all the ways Marcus surprised you, how cherished he made you feel, the sheer pleasure he brought you.

How were you supposed to focus on the case now when your mind was completely overcome with thoughts of Marcus. You were almost relieved when he slipped out of the room after sharing a cup of hotel room coffee with you. You weren’t sure you could keep your hands to yourself if he stayed much longer, the rumbled, sleepy look proving almost too adorable to resist.

Marcus met you in the hotel lobby, two large cups of iced coffee and a brown paper bag clutched in his hands an hour after waking up together. “Good morning, Jersey girl,” he greeted you with a wink, dark brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You chuckled at the variation of your nickname, already knowing that would become his signature endearment for you. “Good morning, handsome. Long time, no see.”

His grin grew wider. “Come on. Let’s ride together. No sense in taking two cars anymore.” He handed you one of the iced coffees and the paper bag, pulling the keys to his SUV out of his pocket.

Clad in gray cargo shorts, blush polo shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, Marcus looked ready for a day spent on the water rather than investigating art theft. The sight made your mouth water and you gulped at the iced coffee. As he drove, you both munched on the bagels he picked up along with the coffees while waiting for you.

“I figured we’d start taking a look at some of these hot springs to get a feel for them and see if anything else in the clues pops out at us,” Marcus explained between bites. He always chewed with his mouth closed and waited until after he swallowed to speak. You loved a man with impeccably manners.

“Great idea. I put a list of them in the file.”

“I know,” he beamed at you. “I saw it last night, before… It’s what gave me the idea. Thought we’d start with La Paloma and work our way down the list. What do you think?”

You nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat contentedly. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two after last night’s surprising turn of events. Everything felt natural, like it was meant to turn out this way and you basked in the effortless interactions between you and Marcus.

Marcus spoke to the manager upon your arrival at La Paloma Hot Springs & Spa and the gentleman gave you a quick tour of the facility before allowing the two of you to investigate on your own. You split up to cover more ground, the scent of mineral-rich water tickling your nose as you worked your way through the facility.

Searching the private soaking tubs, you ran your hands along the edges looking for evidence of hidden compartments that might contain the artifact. Still uncertain if that was what you were actually looking for, it didn’t hurt to search. When you found nothing, your focus shifted to the vintage décor including the old photographs hanging on the walls, looking for any signs or symbols that might be a clue.

An hour later, you and Marcus reconvened at the front desk, disappointed that you both came up empty, yet undeterred in your drive to figure out this case.

You visited a number of other hot springs, conducting the same kind of searches yet never finding additional clues or evidence.

“It’s like we’re missing something,” Marcus said as you both climbed into the SUV, burnt out and sweaty, after your latest search came up empty. You’d spent the entire day running from hot spring to hot spring across the small town to no avail.

“Yeah, but what could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just any old hot spring? We need more to go on.”

Just then, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from the TCPD. Another painting stolen right under their noses – or rather, right behind the officer’s back as he turned around while patrolling one of the galleries. The thief had lightning-fast reflexes, apparently.

“Alright, thanks Chief. We’ll head over there now.” You ended the call and relayed the information to Marcus.

“This guy sure is brazen. I’ll give him that,” he lamented, carefully spinning the SUV around to head toward the latest crime scene.

“He’s got some balls, nicking a painting while an officer is standing right there. It’s like he’s begging to be caught.”

“That or he’s just a fucking lunatic.” Marcus met your gaze for a long moment after parking the vehicle. “Is it wrong that part of me hopes we don’t catch him too soon?”

Your heart thumped in your chest, lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. “No, not after last night…” you admitted. “We could always stay a few days after solving the case and explore this.” You gestured between the two of you.

Shutting off the car, Marcus bobbed his head. His previously styled hair fell across his forehead, the heat having worn away the product he used this morning. “I’d really like that.”

The TCPD officer met you at the door and led the way to the scene of the latest theft, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I never saw him; he was there and gone in seconds. Managed to leave this behind though, taped where the painting had been.”

Marcus accepted the paper, holding it up so you could read it.

Where the serpent bathes in earth’s warm embrace, beneath the soothing waters, the heart of the sun lies hidden.

“This message is different. Different, but the same. I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” you sighed frustratedly.

Marcus patted your shoulder in a manner appropriate for a professional audience. “No. I get what you mean. It’s tying the clues together in a different way. Giving us more hints at once.”

Heaving a sigh of your own, you nodded. What a great relief to feel understood. “Exactly.”

Conferring with the forensics team first, you and Marcus departed when they confirmed the thief left no trace evidence behind. No fibers, fingerprints, or hair. Nothing to clue you in on who the thief could be. Nothing, not even on the adhesive used to tape the clue to the wall or the paper itself. The perp was either lucky or extremely tidy.

Seated once again in the corner booth at Harry’s dingy pub, Marcus devoured his burger while you daintily nibbled at your fries. The extremely high temperature ruined your appetite. The case file sat open on the table as you placed sticky notes on a photocopy of the latest clue.

“’Where the serpent bathes’… that has to refer to the hot springs, right? And the serpent would symbolize this Quintessential guy?”

“Quetzalcoatl. The god’s name is Quetzalcoatl, for Christ’s sake,” Harry chimed in as he dropped off a fresh round of cold draft beers.

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, pointing a fry at Harry in thanks. Marcus laughed at your adorable ridiculousness. You made investigating this mind-boggling case fun.

“Right. And ‘in the earth’s warm embrace’ refers to the warm waters of the hot springs as well. That’s caused by geothermal activity, is that correct, Harry?” Marcus questioned.

The grizzled old barkeep lingered by your table, too caught up in his own curiosity to return to his duties. “Mmhmm, that’s what they say. I’m no rock scientist, mind.”

“You mean a geologist?” you chirped, a shit-eating grin gracing your pretty face.

“Yes, you mouthy little shit. Don’t sass me or I won’t help solve this case,” Harry grumbled. For a moment, Marcus worried you would be offended by the old man, but your tinkling laughter convinced him otherwise.

Marcus stifled a laugh when you rolled your eyes playfully and re-focused his attention on the clue. “That could be the earth’s warm embrace part, then. And ‘beneath the soothing waters’ refers again to the hot springs.”

“Uh huh,” Harry chimed in again, pulling the case file closer to him, aged eyes squinting to read your notes. Neither of you would normally let a civilian get so involved in a case, but Harry proved himself integral to solving this particularly challenging and unusual case. Pointing an arthritic finger to the final line of today’s clue, beneath the soothing waters, he added, “It refers to the artifact being hidden there, beneath one of the hot springs.”

Harry slipped into the booth on your side, and you flashed Marcus a smile. The old man was fully invested now. Thankfully the bar was empty but for a few regulars who could help themselves as far as Harry was concerned.

“Ok, so to summarize, we know the hot springs are involved,” you stated, processing the facts aloud as well as in your head. “And we know that the artifact is hidden beneath one of them. The question we’ve been chasing all day is which one, right? So, do any of the known hot springs have a serpent symbol or painting or something along those lines associated with it?”

Marcus shook his head as you flipped through pages of notes. “Definitely didn’t see any in the ones we checked out today.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, you two idiots will be my age by the time you figure this out,” Harry stood from the booth, his voice gruff with annoyance, though whether that was from dealing with the two of you or the effort it took to stand with aged, arthritic bones was anyone’s guess. “You’ll want to check out Riverbend Hot Springs in the morning. You’re welcome.”

Mouths agape, you both watched the cantankerous old man shuffle back to the bar, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Did he just solve the case for us?” Marcus asked when his gaze shifted back to you.

“I think so,” you laughed. “Thank fucking goodness. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at this file so much.”

Looking it up on his phone, Marcus confirmed that the Riverbend Hot Springs were closed until morning. Knowing their work was done for the day, he flashed you a heated look. “Want to go back to my room? Maybe cool off in the shower?”

Marcus had a nicer room than yours, the walk-in shower encased in glass and large enough to fit a few people. The perks of being a director, you guessed.

You barely glimpsed at the room before Marcus backed you against the already deadbolted door. His mouth pressed against yours, tongue dancing along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in eagerly, tongues tangling and teeth clashing with urgency. His hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes and sliding against already bare skin in turn.

Once you both gave into the spark, stoking the fire into flames last night, the want turned into a blazing inferno that neither of you could extinguish. Not that you wanted to, anyway. No, you were content to burn to a crisp as the fire raged.

Marcus had you stripped naked within minutes, his mouth having never left your own in the process. Eager to return the favor from last night, you sunk to your knees, undoing his belt and shorts as you stared up at him. Marcus tore off his shirt while you shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down his slim hips to pool at his feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus moaned as you wrapped your hand around his hardened length, testing the girth and weight of it in your grip. You tugged playfully a few times, getting to know the feel of him. Still staring into his lust blown eyes, you slowly leaned forward to glide the head of his cock around your plump lips before slipping him inside your mouth. A delicious whine fell from his lips when your tongue lapped at the little droplet of precum without breaking eye contact.

Not wanting to torture him unnecessarily, you began to move, taking more of his cock into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat. Bobbing your head, you soaked his cock with your saliva, sucking every now and then to increase the sensation. Your left hand tugged the base of him where your mouth couldn’t quite reach, twisting with each upward stroke to further enhance his pleasure, as your right hand massaged his balls.

Panting heavily above you, Marcus slapped his palms against the door to support himself as you continued sucking his cock. Experimenting with how far you could take him, you hollowed your cheeks, easing farther down his length and breathed through your nose.

“Jersey girl… ungh. Please, I’m gonna come down that pretty little throat if you don’t stop.” You could feel his thigh muscles flex and twitch with the effort of not blowing his load down your throat as he stuttered out the words.

Taking pity on the man, you eased back until his cock audibly popped out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you until Marcus severed the link by stepping backwards on shaky legs.

“You are too good at that, my little minx. Come here.” Marcus helped you up, leading you into the shower once you regained your balance. He kissed you deeply as the cool water from the shower head cascaded over you both.

The water felt good on your overheated skin and Marcus pressed you backwards against the sturdy glass. Hiking a leg up around his waist with one hand, he gently cradled the side of your face in the other. Your gazes locked as he reached around your thigh and teased your clit.

“So wet for me, my Jersey girl.” Already on edge from sucking his cock, you were drenched and ready for him. “Did sucking my cock turn you on that much, my Jersey girl?” You mewled and, with the slightest shift of his hips, Marcus notched his cock at your entrance, feeding you inch by inch until your walls gripped his entire length tightly. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

Droplets of water rained down your bodies as he thrusted into you, your lips pressed open-mouthed against each other, noses bumping, exchanging breaths and moans without actually kissing. The stretch was intense but pleasurable, and you could feel every ridge of him inside you.

You suddenly realized why that was.

“Shit, we forgot a condom,” you said in between moans, your hands grasping his plump ass to make certain he didn’t stop.

Marcus showed no signs of stopping, his hips almost seemed to pick up the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no!” you gasped; eyes fluttering shut as he nudged that spot inside you just right. “Please don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Ok,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m clean and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Same,” you replied. “And I’m on birth control, so please, come inside me.”

Marcus groaned deeply at that, his head shifting so he could nip at your neck, soothing the sting with little kitten licks of his tongue. Pulling back, he murmured, “Turn around.”

You did so, whining as he slipped out of you. With a gentle hand, Marcus pushed your upper body against the glass and pulled your hips closer to him so your back arched perfectly. Your tits were pressed up against the glass wall of the shower and, just beyond it, you could see your reflections in the mirror. Only a slight mist of steam swirled in the air from the temperature of the water, and it didn’t hinder your view at all as Marcus closed in behind you, slipping his cock back where it belonged.

You watched your reflections, mesmerized, as he fucked into you, his wet hair flopping over his forehead when he bent forward to kiss along your shoulders and neck. Your hands came up on either side of your head to brace yourself against the glass, hoping that the strength of his thrusts wouldn’t cause it to shatter.

Marcus reached a hand around your thigh, slipping between your legs to pluck at your clit as you fucked you. Every single cell in your body felt aflame, ready to burst at the pleasure racing through you. It didn’t take long for you to explode, eyes squinted shut as you keened.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Come on my cock, my little Jersey girl. I can feel your cum gushing around me. Fuck, baby.” Once again, Marcus talked you through it in the soft voice of his. He continued thrusting as your walls trembled around him, driving him right over the edge after you, rope and rope of cum splashed your walls as he made the loveliest sex sounds in your ear.

You stayed like that, pressed up against the glass with the weight of Marcus leaning against you, chests heaving, until you both came back down from the high. Taking a few minutes to actually wash the day off each other, you settled on the bed wrapped in towels afterwards.

The two of you talked long into the night and, unable to keep your hands or mouths off each other, you had sex twice more before falling asleep.

Unable to come to an agreement on whether backup would be necessary at this point, you and Marcus finally decided to bring one officer to investigate the Riverbend Hot Springs with you. An extra pair of eyes could be useful, on that you both agreed.

Known for its scenic outdoor pools on the banks of the Rio Grande, visitors usually flocked to Riverbend. The facility not only had the hot springs, but hotel rooms and spaces for recreational vehicles as well. The manager was less than pleased when Marcus informed him that any guests present would have to stay in their rooms and out of both the common and private pools during the search. The last thing the investigation needed was public interference or contaminated evidence.

Searching the private pools first to appease the guests and resort manager, Marcus swiped his hand over his sweaty face when you found nothing.

“Let’s check the common pools now,” he sighed, wondering if it would be another fruitless adventure.

Another two hours of searching – lifting stones, moving decorative displays, going inside the pools themselves, even going so far as to request a shovel from the grounds crew to poke around in the landscaping – turned up nothing.

“At least there’s only one pool to go,” you said, trying to stay positive about finding something. “This has gotta be the one, right?”

“Let’s hope,” Marcus replied. Drenched in a mixed of sweat and mineral water, he wanted nothing more than to slip between cool sheets with you and an ice-cold drink. This case sucked.

Located at the far end of the property, overlooking the Rio Grande, a rock wall encased the final pool for support given the topography on the side along the river dipped lower. Marcus directed the officer to start at one end while he joined you in working your way up from the riverbank. Thorough in your search, you left literally left no stone unturned. One particular large slab placed in the landscaping next to the pool like a decorative display required your and Marcus’ strength combined to lift, and you gasped when you saw what sat in hiding beneath it.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” Marcus asked with a grunt as he glanced down and pushed the rock slab to the side.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Bending down to open it, Marcus stopped you.

“Wait a second, Jersey girl. We don’t want to just go rushing down there.” He called the officer over for a quick chat, asking him to find the manager and see if anyone knew anything about where the trapdoor led.

Minutes later, the manager and resort engineer joined the group. No one knew a damn thing about what they found. It wasn’t depicted on the as-built drawings or any other schematics the engineer had on file. That did not bode well. Turning to the officer, you asked him to call for back up.

“We’ll head down to scope it out. Come down once backup gets here. In the meantime, please keep the guests away from this area,” Marcus directed the officer and manager before turning to you. “Ready, Jersey girl?”

Pulling your service weapon from its holster, you nodded confidently. “With you at my side, I’m ready for anything.”

Marcus flashed that boyish grin before wrenching the trapdoor open. As suspected, narrow steps carved into the stone descended down into darkness. Before Marcus could ask for one, the facility engineer handed him a flashlight.

Stepping carefully down the steps with the flashlight held high in one hand and his service weapon in the other, Marcus descended into the dark unknown with you right on his heels. At the bottom, a pathway led through more rock, dim light visible in the distance. You reach out while walking along the pathway to find the rock is surprisingly warm.

“I expected it to be cool to the touch,” you murmured, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone or something waited in the shadows.

“Hmm?”

“The walls,” you pointed when Marcus turned around. “They’re warm.”

Directing the beam of light in the direction you pointed, Marcus touched the back of his hand to the wall and looked back at you with a questioning brow. “How?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrugged.

“Latent heat from the surface?” he took a guess.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re below ground deep enough that it shouldn’t be this warm.”

Marcus continued on down the path, the rock walls growing warmer the farther you progressed. Finally, you turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, the air filled with oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. You both scanned the room for threats, finding none. The chamber was oddly free of spider webs or bugs or people, aside from the two of you, but a pool of water bubbled inside a ring in the stone floor. Above the pool, an abnormally large, fiery opal appeared to float in the air, the glow from it the only source of light in the chamber aside from the flashlight in Marcus’ hand.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, confused as all hell why the gem just floated in air. “I’m getting some real X-Files type vibes and I DO NOT like it.”

Marcus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips even though he was just as confused as you. “This must be the Flame of Quetzalcoatl.”

“Ya think?” Your nerves made you snarky, a trait Marcus found profoundly adorable and endearing.

Stepping closer to the artifact, Marcus shielded his eyes from the fiery glow. He reached out with one long finger, nearly touching the object when the grinding sound of rock against rock reverberated through the chamber. Jerking back instinctually, both you and Marcus drew your pistols on the sudden intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?” you blurted at the man, your nerves shot to shit, your FBI training the only thing holding you together at that point.

Wild-haired, with oddly composed attire, the man practically vibrated with energy, a glint of insanity in his eerily green eyes. Under one arm, he carried another landscape painting, likely just stolen from another gallery. As if by magic or something equally befitting the utterly odd nature of this entire case, the other stolen paintings appeared, strategically placed along the rock walls rounding the chamber.

“I really don’t like this, Marcus,” you said through gritted teeth. His concerned gaze met yours briefly. “Me either, Jersey.”

It happened, as these things tend to do, suddenly and unexpectedly. The man lunged forward, dropping the painting without thought, and reached a trembling, emaciated hand toward the artifact. Marcus matched the man’s movement, reaching for him rather than the floating, glowing gem. In the process, a glass pedestal you didn’t even know was there, nearly invisible but surely the reason the artifact appeared to be floating in air, toppled over, sending the artifact flying.

You watched, awestruck and frozen in shock, as Marcus tackled the crazy man to the hard ground and the artifact shattered against the rock wall, simultaneously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged until a damp coolness filled the formerly stuffy chamber, and the man shrieked in despair.

“No! No! No! You’ve ruined everything!” The man continued screeching. Moments later, TCPD officers rushed into the stone room, a few assisting Marcus with securing the thief in cuffs.

Among the backup that just arrived, the police chief stepped up to your side as you gave Marcus a hand in getting back on his feet. “Strangest thing,” the thick-bearded, squat man in uniform said, “the temperature dropped at least twenty-five degrees out of nowhere, just as we started making our way down here. Am I to believe it had something to do with whatever happened down here?”

You and Marcus shared a look before shrugging at the police chief. “I have no clue what even happened down here,” Marcus admitted. Tilting his chin in the crazy man’s direction, he added, “Your boys will bring him in for questioning? We’d like a shot at him, too.”

“Of course. We’ll get him processed. Come by the station whenever you’re finished up here.” The chief followed the officers escorting the man from the chamber, leaving behind a forensics team to gather evidence.

Standing above the shattered artifact, you sighed. “How the hell do I write this up in a report?”

“Very carefully and creatively,” Marcus replied with a smirk.

The interrogation didn’t take long, the man caving like a deck of cards in the wind. His name was Edmund Fawkes, a local starving artist driven mad by the excessive heat. Already obsessed with ancient mythology and local lore, he discovered the hidden chamber containing Quetzalcoatl’s Flame and, seeking the power and prosperity described in the legends, decided to take possession of it by appeasing the ancient god with landscape paintings.

It didn’t work, clearly, but Edmund was relentless in his insanity, continuing his thievery until you and Marcus caught him.

None of it made sense and there were so many things that could be attributed to entirely coincidental circumstances that you didn’t really care how the pieces fit together. The thief had been caught, the paintings returned to the appropriate galleries largely undamaged, and the town was no longer in the clutches of a deadly heat wave. That was all that really mattered.  

On your way out of the police station, the case solved as far as the bureau was concerned, you turned to Marcus. “How long are you sticking around?”

Gazing at you with those chocolate puppy eyes, his lips twitched into a grin. “I have several weeks of PTO saved up. Figured I’d use some of that. Maybe all of it if I have a reason to.”

You grinned back at him. “I’m sure we could find a reason for that.”

An hour later, the sun dipping past the desert horizon, you found yourselves naked and neck deep in the soothing mineral water of a private hot springs pool. Given that business was completed, you checked out of the hotel the bureau set you both up in and reserved a room at the best resort in town for a couple days of relaxation.

“I’m going to miss this odd little town, especially Harry and his dingy pub,” Marcus said, pulling you closed to his side as you soaked in the soothing water.

“Me, too. I’m going to miss you most, though. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, both professionally and otherwise,” you admitted, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

Marcus stilled for a moment before tightening his hold on you. “Why don’t you come back to DC with me?”

“What?” Your head tilted back to meet his eyes.

“You said you put in for a transfer back to the east coast, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Well, come back with me and we’ll have that transfer fast tracked. I’m certain there’s a position for you in DC. We won’t be on the same team, but that’s probably a good thing.”

You giggled at the boyish grin he flashed you. “If you’re sure, I’m game. I just don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing into anything.”

“Pssh, rushing, smushing. I’ve waited long enough to find someone like you. Now that I have, I’m not letting you go,” Marcus insisted. Gesturing between you, he added, “I mean it. There’s something amazing here, I know it. We can leave in a few days, spend a week or two exploring the city and each other before getting back to work.”

At a loss for a worthy response, you pressed your lips against his. The soft kiss quickly turned heated as you spun, straddling his lap, with your hands gripping the stone edge of the pool. Marcus ran his fingertips down the slick skin of your bare back as you squirmed into place, his cock swelling to life at the feel of you above, against, around him.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ride you yet,” you murmured against his lips, grinding your bare pussy down on him.

“Now’s your chance, Jersey girl,” Marcus gasped through a moan. “Take me and use me, baby.”

Overheated despite the contrasting bite of cool air on your damp skin and warm water engulfing half your body, you eased yourself down onto his cock. You’d never get used to the exquisite stretch as he split you open. Drawing out the anticipation, you slid down his length with agonizing slowness, eliciting delicious whines from Marcus.

“Don’t torture me, baby. Please,” he begged to no avail. Peppering his handsome face with kisses, you kept the pace slow and torturous until he writhed beneath you.

At last, you took his full length inside you and started to move, bouncing eagerly on his cock with your head thrown back in pleasure. Marcus’ eyes stared at your breasts, bobbing along the water line and glistening from splashes of the mineral water as you moved on him. Mesmerized, he could look nowhere else, and his fingers shifted to pluck at the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The air temperature continued to drop as night set in, steam rising up from the warm water of the pool, dancing along your skin in beautiful swirls of water vapor. The clear, starry sky the perfect backdrop to your love making – for that’s what it was now, so much more than sex this time as you gave your whole self over to this wonderful, unexpected man who changed your life in a matter of days.

Overwhelmed with feelings, you keened as his cock nudged at all the right placing, your clit stimulated by grinding on his lap. “Fuck, Marcus. I’m gonna cum.”

Marcus thrust his hips upward at that statement, eager to drive you straight over the cliff into that beautiful abyss. “Do it, baby. Come all over my cock, my beautiful Jersey girl.”

Always good at following instructions, you did just that. Your eyelids slipped closed as you spasmed around him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, just like that,” Marcus crooned, pressing soothing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re strangling my cock, baby. Gonna make me come too, sexy girl.”

A few more erratic thrusts upward and Marcus came with a fury, cock pulsing with rope after rope of his spend deep inside you. Breathless and exhausted, you clung to each other until shivers settled in from the plunging temperature.

“Let’s get inside, my Jersey girl. We’ll clean up, climb under the covers, and cuddle while we make plans for the future.”

fin

[divine-knight-hand]

Now, You’re Mine

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary: A competitive sparring session leads to spicy times with Loki.

Content Warnings: Little bits of fluff, Loki does a fair amount of mind reading, Soft Dom!Loki, Sub!Reader, oral (f. receiving), p in v (missionary), unprotected sex, a touch of cockwarming, and explicit consent

Notes: I originally wrote this for sarahscribbles’s Birthday Celebration before I went in a completely different direction and decided to write and contribute Worshiping the Masterpiece instead. Even though this didn’t end up as my official contribution, I figured I’d still finish it and post it for you all.

It was honestly a little daunting. This was definitely a difficult write for me, and there were times where I thought I wouldn’t finish it. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Since this was originally for the Birthday Celebration, I had used some of the listed prompts for this work. The prompt that sparked the writing of this was "Is that a threat or a promise?", but I also snuck in the fluff prompt “Are you really so oblivious?”. What can I say? I’m an overachiever in all things where writing is concerned. Hehehe!

Word Count: 3,781

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Umph!” With a flick of his wrist, Loki sent me tumbling to the floor once again.

Once every week, Loki and I sparred in the training room of the tower so I could practice fighting more powerful opponents. I figured that I would eventually sharpen my skills and prove useful on more intense missions. Unfortunately, I typically did more falling on my own ass than actual sparring, so I haven’t improved much since we first started.

Against my better judgment, I slammed my fists on the padded floor. “Son of a bitch!”

“Is that frustration I sense, agent?” Loki stood across the room from me, clearly entertained by my lack of temper. He didn’t even break a sweat, seeing as he barely had to move a muscle to defeat me. He just stood there, folding his arms behind his back as the corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement.

I heavily sighed and slowly rose back to my feet. “No, no. I’m fine.” I dusted off my behind as I returned to where I stood right before getting knocked off my feet. “Let’s just start from the beginning… again.”

“How do you not tire of repeatedly falling before me?” He began to close the gap between us in large strides. “Though I find it rather amusing, I can’t help but wonder why you remain so persistent in the face of failure.” He stopped a few feet away from me. Too close and too far at the same time.

I scoffed. “You can condescend to me all you like, but I don’t plan on quitting until I at least manage to reach you.”

That was when it hit me. I hadn’t given much thought to my battle plan. I haven’t had the time before being thrown off balance every time. What exactly would I have done if I managed to reach him? How could I best someone who towered over me, even as I stood upright? Would I sweep him off his feet? Would I aim an attack at his perfectly chiseled face to disorient him? Would I wrap my arms around him and fall into the feel of his body against mine, desperate to never let go? Or would I just be too drunk on the air around him to even make it all the way, stuck in the stupor of my own attraction?

Get a grip! I chided myself. This is Loki, you’re thinking about! Do you honestly think he would feel the same way about you? He’s a god, for crying out loud! But I knew that. I was drawn to the danger of that feeling like a moth to a flame. There was nothing sensical about the way I felt for him, but regardless of how risky my feelings were for him, I would indulge in them.

“Condescend to you?” Loki held a hand over his heart in a show of mock hurt. “I would never. Honestly, the way you fell to the floor just now was truly remarkable. The Avengers are lucky to have you.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I enunciated each dry laugh. “Very funny. Now, are we talking or training?”

Loki was unmoving, instead staring at me with an intensity that made me wonder if he could see straight through me. “You seem eager to return to our little session. Why is that?”

Wow! He’s intuitive. I thought, anxiety buzzing under my skin. But there’s no way I can answer that.

And why not? I jumped at the sound of Loki’s voice in my mind.

Too surprised to muster my own voice to speak, I formed the words in my mind. Loki? Are you in my head right now?

No, agent. I could hear him chuckle aloud as he responded. I’m right in front of you.

I physically shuddered. That is so creepy…

It’s natural to fear what you don’t understand. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Can you cut that out?” I finally spoke up, shaking my head as if I could shake him out. “I don’t appreciate these mind games.” Nor did I appreciate the possibility that he could have heard me mentally rambling about how he truly made me feel. The thought of him having access to the secret I worked so hard to keep from him made me nauseous, so I focused on the part of me that was annoyed.

“I appear to have struck a nerve.” Loki commented matter-of-factly. “How odd. That wasn’t even my intention.”

Damnit! I thought. Why is he so good at pissing me off?

I appreciate your acknowledgment of my prowess, agent. Loki’s voice sounded in my head again. But, as I’ve said, my goal isn’t to infuriate you. I’m truly curious as to why you’re so passionate about our sessions.

“Ugh!” I threw my hands in the air. “Fine, we don’t have to spar if you’re going to ask a million questions. Just forget it. I’m done.” I turned away and began to storm off, eager to get away from the situation, and pausing only to call back, “And stop doing that talking-to-me-in-my-mind thing! It’s extremely invasive!” before continuing away.

I only took a few more steps before freezing again at the sound of Loki’s voice. “What exactly are you chasing, agent?”

Even as I faced away, standing across the room from him, I felt cornered. “What do you mean?”

“Our weekly arrangement seems to matter to you so much.” He began again. “Anyone would walk away in utter surrender after being so easily defeated the first few times. You differ. There’s a spark in your eye, and though it flickers and threatens to fade, it doesn’t extinguish. Why is that? What are you seeking to gain from facing off with me every week? What are you chasing?”

That was it. I had nowhere to run. I was completely vulnerable. I couldn’t get out of this situation without at least explaining myself to him. I just wouldn’t reveal too much.

I turned back to him, giving myself time to steel my nerves before responding. “My potential.” He cocked his head in curiosity, prompting me to continue. “Lately at work I felt… stuck.” I slowly began to make my way back over to him. “I know I can still improve, so I figured that sparring with you would make me stronger. But, now I just feel stuck fighting with you. I mean, I couldn’t even land a single hit on you. At all. I couldn’t even reach you!”

I stopped a few feet away from him and looked down at my feet in shame. “So, yes, I am a little frustrated that I’m not improving. I can’t help but feel like I’m on my way to being a failure.”

I suddenly saw a familiar pair of leather boots settle in front of my tattered sneakers before Loki tilted my chin up to face him. “I’ll hear none of that. You are not a failure. Far from it.”

My heart leapt up to my throat. Our faces were mere inches apart. Loki’s bright blue eyes kept mine glued to them like those of a hypnotizing serpent. I could almost feel our breaths intermingle between our mouths. His raven hair fell forward ever so slightly to frame his angular face as he tilted it down to focus on mine. For the first time, I saw Loki wear an expression of concern, and it was for me.

When I didn’t immediately respond, he continued, “You are more formidable than you know, agent. I never anticipated your persistence to be so drawn out, but as long as you believe you can grow, then it shall be. I will admit, I haven’t been very fair to your pursuits. Do forgive my hindering of your goals. I simply didn’t wish to let you go once you felt satisfied with what resulted from our sessions.”

My voice wavered more than I would have liked it to. “I- I don’t understand…”

“The only reason you felt stuck here was simply because I made it so.” Loki explained. “I knew that once you received the training you were working toward, you wouldn’t require my assistance anymore.”

“So, you weren’t just trying to make me look stupid?” I was genuinely surprised, especially considering the smile that graced his lips each time I hit the floor. I thought he enjoyed seeing me make a fool out of myself. I didn’t exactly hate the idea, either, if it meant I got the chance to see him smile down at me.

“Gods no!” His lips slowly spread into a grin. “Although seeing that little vein in your temple pop each time you grew agitated was quite amusing, that wasn’t my intention at all.”

“Jerk.” I breathlessly laughed, still struggling to keep my composure. I gulped, feeling his hand still on my chin. Sparks ignited under my skin where he touched me. I wanted him more and more with each passing second.

“I simply couldn’t resist.” Loki chuckled. “There’s something rather endearing within your vexation.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I dryly laughed again. “But, besides you enjoying my annoyance… Why did you want me around so much? You put in a lot of effort just to keep me here.”

His voice lowered as his gaze grew intense. “Are you really so oblivious?”

My breath hitched as he seemed to grow closer to me, despite having not moved an inch. “I- I- I-”

“Darling,” He cut off my useless stuttering. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure you remain by my side. Your presence is invaluable to me.”

Is this really happening? I felt myself growing redder by the second. I couldn’t believe it. Was this Loki’s way of telling me that he loved me?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided that making my own confession would help me know for sure. “Loki… I feel the same way. That’s why I asked you specifically for help. I did really want help, but I also wanted to see you more often. Work doesn’t really let us cross paths as much as it used to. Now that I know what it’s like to exist with you, I can’t imagine a life without you.”

His lip twitched up into another smile. “I’m glad we can agree.”

Then, he leaned in and kissed me. It was a short and sweet kiss, but once I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, he deepened the kiss, slipping his dexterous tongue into my eager mouth. Oh my god! Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

No, darling. Loki’s voice sounded in my mind, and I happily welcomed it this time. This is as real as you are.

I felt my stomach flutter with excitement. This was real! I loved him and he loved me. I was so excited, I gained enough confidence to slide my hands into his hair, holding his face to mine. I felt that if he let me go, I would have nothing left to anchor my soul to my body. I willed our kiss to last as long as possible.

When we finally broke for air, I breathlessly giggled. “I guess it’s safe to say we don’t need to spar to spend time with each other anymore.”

“Oh, my darling pet.” He purred, sending a tremor down my spine. “I don’t need a training session to indulge in the luxury of seeing you fall before me.”

I instantly felt arousal pooling between my thighs at his comment. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“It’s a guarantee.” He growled before effortlessly sweeping me off my feet—no magic required—and speeding out of the training room with me in his arms. I lightly giggled all the way, allowing myself to fall into in the feel of his touch and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

We practically crashed through the door of his bedroom as we were locked in a mess of kissing and touching. We stumbled into the room as Loki just barely managed to slam the door behind him. He finally pulled me away from him and tossed me onto his bed. I fell onto my back with a very unflattering “Umph!” before propping myself up on my forearms to look back at him.

“There you are.” His mouth curved up into a sly smirk. “Fallen before me, just as I knew you would be.” I felt the beating of my heart quicken at his words.

There was something new about the look in his eyes. Something ravenous. His hair was ruffled from the way I ran my hands in it as we kissed, and his pupils were blown with lust, just barely rimmed by the usual electric blue color of his eyes.

“I must have you now.” His voice grew husky as he spoke to me. “Are you willing to give yourself to me tonight?”

“Loki,” My words were just barely over a whisper. “I’m willing to give myself to you, always.”

Then, a charged silence hung between us, and I felt Loki’s eyes possessively scour over my body. My skin was aflame and I felt my panties growing wet with my dripping arousal as the time passed.

I silently looked him over as well, my eyes trailing down his sharp cheekbones and jawline, and the leather draped over his towering frame, before freezing at the monstrous bulge forming between his legs. I mindlessly spread my own at the sight of it.

“You look absolutely ravishing, darling.” He finally broke the silence. “I can tell you hunger for me the same way I do for you. Let’s not waste another minute, hm?”

“Yes,” I breathlessly whispered. “Please.”

“Begging already?” Loki’s mouth cracked into a mischievous grin. “I’ve barely touched you, my dear.” He let out a low playful chuckle before he leaned in to push me back down onto his bed.

We kissed again, and even as my eyes were closed, I could see the green flash of Loki’s seidr before I felt a fresh draft over my body. He pulled away, and I opened my eyes to see that he was equally bare. My breath hitched as my eyes traveled down his body, taking in each inch of his beautifully toned figure. Between us, hung his large, throbbing cock. I wanted to reach out and trace each bulging vein with my fingers.

I let out the breath I forgot I was holding as my gaze returned to Loki’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, darling~” Loki purred before trailing kisses down my neck and breasts.

“Mmm, Loki,” I sighed. “I want you so badly.”

He settled between my legs with a devilish grin, propping them up on his shoulders. “Oh, how it excites me to hear you say that.” He began trailing kisses up my inner thigh. “You’re already so wet for me… Mmm, I can’t wait to taste you.” He lightly nipped my inner thigh, eliciting a small yelp from me before teasing his tongue at my entrance. “How divine~” His last words were a soft whisper against my cunt. I almost didn’t hear them. Almost.

I let out a soft moan as Loki continued to tease me. “Mmm, Loki… Please… More…”

“More?” He playfully tutted. “We’re needy tonight, aren’t we?”

“Only for you~” I mewled.

A deep growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “It would do you well to remember that.”

He licked an agonizingly slow stripe up my dripping cunt before deepening the work of his tongue, adding his fingers to circle my clit as he did.

“Ah- Loki! Mmm…” My back arched, and I resisted the urge to grind against the friction he was giving me. “Yes- Ohhh, that feels so good…” The transition from a little stimulation to a lot almost made me dizzy. I could have gotten drunk on that feeling.

Loki just hummed in satisfaction as he tightly gripped my hip with his free hand. I knew his fingers would bruise my skin, but I didn’t care. I was focused on the pressure mounting in my core, and how rapidly I was hurtling towards my peak. Bruises and body aches would be a tomorrow problem.

I gripped the sheets beneath me, trying to find something to anchor me to the moment as my quickly approaching finish threatened to carry me away from this plane of existence. As it would turn out, my anchor wasn’t the feel of the sheets between my fingers. It was the sight of Loki’s head bobbing between my thighs as he greedily ate me out, accompanied by the lewd slurping sounds that emanated from the act.

“Loki…” I all but squeaked. “Getting- Ah! C- close…”

He gave my hip an affectionate squeeze, keeping his pace on my aching cunt. Just a moment later, my eyes rolled back, and I came with a moan that nearly rattled the bedroom walls.

Loki slowed, but never stopped, helping me ride out my high before finally coming up to wipe his face on the back of his hand. My legs tingled as they slid off of his shoulders, and I could barely feel them as he climbed back to face-level with me.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment, pet.” He lifted a hand to cup my cheek as he kissed me, and I could taste myself on his tongue. While we kissed, he dragged the length of his throbbing cock between my folds.

When we broke for air, a string of saliva momentarily connecting our mouths, I was left panting. “Loki, please, I need you inside me.”

“Is that so?” He began to slowly stroke his length as he lined himself up with my entrance. “Tell me how much you need me. I want to hear it from you.”

“Loki, I-” I instinctively bucked my hips, desperate for more friction, as his tip teased my folds. “Please… Please, I need you so much. Ah- I’ve been dying for you!”

He pulled me into another kiss, our mouths crashing together as he finally began to slide inside. We moaned into each other’s mouths, and my hands found their way to his back. When I bucked my hips, he tightly gripped them, stopping me from rushing into bottoming out.

I was wet enough for him to slide in easily, but the excruciatingly slow pace he took nearly brought me to tears of frustration. He finally bottomed out, and I felt my walls clench around him as the full sensation registered in my core.

He pulled away from our kiss, cheeks glowing pink under a light sheen of sweat. “Mmm, you take me so well.” I felt my cheeks lightly blush at his praise. “Are you ready, love?”

“More than ready.” I breathed. I wasn’t sure how I was managing to speak as pleasure seemed to be slowly taking over each of my senses.

Loki buried his face in my neck, softly groaning as he began to trail kisses down my neck. “You are more formidable than you know, agent.” He sucked on the sweet spot on my neck, leaving another mark on my body before continuing. “You managed to penetrate the innermost walls of a god’s heart.” His voice was laced with both the most innocent love and filthy seduction. “Now, I shall never have my fill of you, but I will always return to you for more.”

He slowly slid out of me, leaving just the tip of his cock inside of me before ramming his hips back into mine, setting a brutal pace. I let out a loud moan, my voice clipping with each snap of his hips as my back arched off of the bed.

In response to his beautiful declaration, I could only manage to speak one word. “Pr- Promise?”

Loki dragged his warm tongue up my face, stopping by my ear to murmur. “I guarantee it.” The brush of his lips against my ear sent a shiver down my spine, adding to the immense amounts of pleasure I was experiencing.

I squeezed my eyes shut and raked my fingernails down his back, earning a deep growl from the god on top of me.

“How could you be the death of me- Mmm… and my whole life- Ah- at the same time?” I hesitantly opened my eyes to see Loki’s wildly looking into mine.

His hair dropped to surround both of our faces in dark curtains. Loki was all I could see, all I could smell, and all I could feel. The fire burning under my skin served, not as a distraction, but a reminder of the sensations he was able to create in me. As his calculated thrusts grew just the littlest bit sloppy, I could tell he was getting close, and that fact only brought me to my own peak faster.

“Loki…” I whimpered, struggling to voice my warning.

“I know, darling.” He breathed. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Suddenly, I was seeing white as Loki helped me ride out my second orgasm of the night. As the waves of pleasure coursed through me, I was faintly aware of his cock twitching as its seed spilled inside me. We both let out moans that bordered on screams before coming down from our shared high.

As we both took a moment to catch our breaths, I wrapped my arms around Loki, holding his body against mine. I could feel him still inside me, our combined spent slowly dripping out, and I didn’t want him to move just yet.

“Mmm, darling…” Loki hummed as he buried his face in my neck. “You’re truly remarkable.”

I breathlessly chuckled. “You flatter me with that silver tongue of yours.”

“Really?” I felt Loki’s impish smile as it formed against my neck. “I seem to recall doing something else with it merely moments ago.”

“Alright, alright.” I couldn’t help smiling at his filthy comment. “I’ll give you that one.”

“Allow me to clean you up.” He offered.

Before I could form the words to protest anything that involved me having to move apart from him, he waved his hand, and his seidr once again bathed us in green light.

Rather than the sweat we worked up in bed, we smelled like fresh lavender soap. Though Loki’s cock was still inside me, I no longer felt our cum dripping out.

“Wow,” I reached up and gave his head an appreciative scratch. “You’re just full of surprises.”

Loki just hummed in content, softly kissing my neck until I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. Just before I fell to the lull of sleep, I heard his voice, low and sultry, in my mind.

Now, you’re mine.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Out of This World

A/N: This is my contribution to the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May server challenge. Was it supposed to be a 1k word drabble? Yes. Did I intend to keep it at that length? Truly, I did. Did I absolutely play myself like a fucking fiddle? Again, yes. Am I sorry? Fuck no, I am not. This story single-handedly pulled me out of a month-long slump, so I was not about to clip it's wings. I had a flippin' blast writing this one, and I hope you will have a flippin' blast reading it!

Prompt: Meet Cute + "Do you believe in aliens?"

Warnings: a bunch of F bombs and other swears if anyone cares about that, mentions of past drug use and addiction but nothing current or detailed, Dieter's wild finger-combed curls

Word Count: 5.7k

Fun Fact: The Rancho Mirage Observatory is a real place, linked with the city's library, which means that it is open to the public. How frickin' cool is that? Learn more here.

I can’t believe this is happening. 

Fifteen years ago, if someone would have told you that double majoring in physics and engineering would eventually lead to you sharing a scene with an Oscar winning actor in a big budget Hollywood film, you would have laughed directly in their face. 

Which was pretty much what you did when Sharon, the executive director at the Rancho Mirage Observatory where you worked, told you that the facility was going to be used as a filming location for an upcoming summer blockbuster. 

“Sure, Sharon,” you smirked and playfully rolled your eyes without looking away from your computer. “And we’re all gonna be big stars, right?” 

Sharon had a proclivity for puns. Cheesy, obvious, predictable puns, at that, but it was sort of endearing. You were certain that the “news” she was sharing was just a set up for wordplay that you could see coming from lightyears away. Sharon’s puns were rubbing off on you just a little. 

You, though, as scientists sometimes are when testing theories, were wrong. 

“Well, no, not all of us,” Sharon responded, a somewhat mischievous grin on her face. “Just you.” 

That got your full attention, your eyes going satellite- wide as you snapped your head up to look at your boss. “What?”

She went on to explain that the casting director for the film - a sci-fi thriller called The Goldilocks Zone - preferred to cast actual professionals for small parts when applicable. Doing so meant that there was far less of a chance of an actor fumbling technical jargon or performing a job-specific task incorrectly, meaning that there was less of a chance that something that didn’t make sense would make the final cut. Like an astronomer adjusting the telescope lens the wrong way, for example. 

Right away, you thought of every medical drama you’d ever watched with your mom. She’d been an x-ray technician for thirty years, and she always noticed when an actor on screen was looking at a diagnostic image backwards or had hung a film upside down on the lightboard. It happened often. Like, once an episode, often. 

From that perspective, what this casting director was doing was smart. 

But from the perspective of you not having a lick of acting experience, you weren’t sure it was the best call. 

When you pointed that out, it was Sharon’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You basically put on a live one-woman show every time you lead a tour or host a stargazing night. And you answer the most out there questions imaginable from kids without missing a beat. You can absolutely handle a few scripted lines about your area of expertise. Unless, I mean…” She shook her head and dropped the borderline giddy excitement. “If you don’t want to do it you obviously don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you.” 

You stared at her over the top of your computer screen, face frozen in an expression of utter shock. After a few seconds had passed and you realized you hadn’t said anything, you blinked and cleared your throat. “Um… Can I think about it? And do you know like, what I’d have to do or say or…” You trailed off, circling your wrist in a so on and so forth gesture. 

Sharon nodded. “Of course! The casting director just needs to know by Friday whether you’re in or if he needs to start reaching out to other astronomers in the area. He sent me some notes about the scene you’d be in. I’ll forward them to you so you can look ‘em over.” She spoke your name then, your eyebrows raising in response. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do it.” She smiled, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not everyday someone offers you a shot to showcase the thing you’re most passionate about in front of so many people.” 

You’d opened her email as soon as she got back to her office to send it, and when you saw the name of the lead actor in the brief scene description, you nearly fell out of your chair. 

Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter fucking Bravo. 

You had to read it three times before the rest of the information sunk in. 

The scene you were being tapped for was one of the opening ones of the movie. In it, Dieter’s character, Thiago, is trying to connect with his on screen love interest’s space-obsessed kid, Jae, by bringing them to the observatory for a tour. The purpose of the scene is to drop hints at the movie’s main plot without diving straight into the action, as well as to establish the nature of the relationship between Thiago and Jae - which, from the sound of it, is the classic “this guy isn’t good enough for my mom” to “actually he’s not that bad” to “he risked his life to save mine and now he’s my family” pipeline. It involves both actors asking you questions during the Q&A portion of your scripted tour, and the whole scene is scheduled to be shot in two days, with two additional days blocked off for B-roll footage and wide shots. 

It seemed simple enough. As long as you could get over the fact that you’d be working with Dieter fucking Bravo. You let Sharon know that you were in on Wednesday of that week, two days before the director’s deadline. 

And then three months went by, the buzz of excitement growing around the observatory as the filming dates grew closer, but there was still plenty of work to keep you busy in the meantime.

But now you’re standing in front of the RMO with Sharon, watching as trailers and trucks carting everything from costumes to cameras roll into the small parking lot. It seems like an overwhelming amount of equipment and personnel for just a few days, but then again you have no idea of what is necessary to pull off a production like this one. 

Guess I’m about to find out. 

“This is so friggin’ exciting!” Sharon checks her name badge for the sixth time in half as many minutes, making sure it’s on straight. She’s beaming but trying not to explode, and you can’t help but smile. Because, yeah. It’s really friggin’ exciting. 

“I truly can’t believe this is happening, Shar.” You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head slowly as two black SUVs pull in behind where the trailers have finished setting up. “This is batshit.” 

Before Sharon can click her tongue over your choice of vocabulary, the latest arrivals emerge from their vehicles. From one comes a young actor you’ve seen in several TV shows, their face instantly lighting up at the sight of the observatory’s twin domes set against the backdrop of the hills. They turn excitedly to the two women who arrived with them - one you can tell is the kid’s mom, the other you assume is a tutor since filming is taking place during the school year - and when they turn back towards the building, their smile has nearly tripled in width and brightness, and you wonder if they don’t share the same enthusiasm for all things space-related that the character they’re portraying has. 

If so, this has got to be a dream role. Hell, they’re what, thirteen? It’s a dream role regardless.

The trio make their way up to where you and Sharon are waiting to greet them, and hands are shaken and names exchanged -  River Harmon, playing Jae and confirming your suspicion about their love of science and the stars, Marla Harmon, River’s mom who is just as eager to get inside and have a look around, and Addison Wright, River’s tutor , who reminds everyone that three hours need to be set aside each day for schoolwork. You chat for a few minutes, just small talk about the weather - hot and sunny before the clock has even hit 9 am - and River mentions the In-And-Out Burger that they passed on the way in, which you tell them is your favorite guilty pleasure in the area. 

You’re all laughing at some ridiculous pun Sharon makes regarding the term “animal style” when two more people make their way up the path. You suck in a breath and feel your stomach flip when you register Dieter standing only a few feet from you, accompanied by a petite woman carrying what appears to be a toolbox but upon closer inspection you realize is actually a bag full of hair products and grooming tools. Which makes sense - those wild and wavy curls definitely don’t tame themselves, and from the looks of it, Dieter’s go-to grooming method is just to rake his fingers through his hair. 

Not that that’s not working for him, honestly. Fuck. 

You let your eyes wash over the man in front of you for a second before the introductions are made. He’s wearing loose-fitting light green linen pants that are tied with a drawstring at the waist, paired with a peachy orange tie-dye tee and a white short sleeved button down left open. You can easily see his two signature  triangular tattoos, as well as a few hemp and thread bracelets around his wrist and several chunky rings adorning his hands. Despite the fact that summer has yet to officially start, his skin glows a sunkissed bronze hue like he’s been laying on a beach for weeks. To say he looks good is a friggin’ understatement, in Sharon’s words. 

In your own, he looks fucking incredible. A far cry from the tabloid shots that came out a few years ago, paparazzi taking terrible advantage of the fact that Dieter’s struggles with addiction were threatening his health and appearance. He looks healthier and happier than you ever remember seeing him look in interviews or on red carpets, and despite the fact that he’s still for all intents and purposes a stranger to you, you feel a sudden swell of happiness for him for working through those difficult times. 

He doesn’t remain a stranger for long, though. 

Plucking one wired earbud from his right ear, he winds the cord up and shoves it into his pocket with his phone, and then steps up next to River, his full attention on you as he slides the sunglasses he’s wearing up to sit on top of his head amidst the finger-combed curls. 

“Hi,” he says in a manner that seems far too casual when paired with the way his deep brown eyes cut right into your own. He gives you a lopsided smile and extends one bear-paw sized hand, and then he speaks your name, which catches you off guard since you haven’t given it to him yet. “I’ve seen some of the videos of your programs on YouTube,” he says as an explanation to why someone as vastly well-known as he is would know anything about you before you’d even spoken a word. “I’m Dieter.” 

You certainly are. 

He chuckles and so does River and you can feel Sharon’s second-hand embarrassment as you realize that you just said that out loud. Oh, fuck. “I mean,” you let out a huff of laughter as you wince at yourself. “It’s great to meet you, Dieter.” You meet his waiting palm with yours, his skin warm as his fingers wrap around it and give a light squeeze. “We’re all very excited to have you both -” You look pointedly at River, who smiles widely. “- here at the Rancho Mirage Observatory.” 

“Not as excited as we are to be here,” River pipes up, elbowing the man playing their on screen step-dad. “Right Dieter?” 

Dieter looks beyond you at the impressive building housing the massive telescope, and you’re struck by the look of awe on his face. “Yeah,” he states, nodding. “Sure beats the hell out of a sound stage.” 

River rolls their eyes and shoots you a look that’s brimming with adolescent snark as they throw a thumb in Dieter’s direction. “Don’t let him downplay it. He’s been going on and on about shooting at this place since we got the greenlight to come here. He’s more stoked than I am, and that’s saying something.” 

You’re not sure, it could just be the sun, but you think you catch a hint of color climbing his cheeks as Dieter spins one of his rings around his finger. “Yeah, well…” He shrugs, expression returning to neutral. “I’ve always had a thing for space.” 

River nods sagely up at him. “Because you’re from Pluto. Right. I get it.” 

That makes everyone laugh, even Dieter, who pulls River into a joke headlock and ruffles their hair, yanking their hood up over their head for good measure. “Earthlings these days,” he mutters to you, making the same thumb gesture at River that they used at him. “Can’t take ‘em anywhere.” 

You laugh, and you’re surprised at just how easily it comes in the presence of one of the most in demand actors on this or any planet. “Ah, don’t worry. We get lots of Earthlings here.” You shoot River a wink as Dieter finally lets go of their hood, and then you look back up at him. “We know how to handle their kind.” 

“Good, because I have nooooo idea.” He raises his eyebrows and swings his hands out to the sides and you’re not sure why you thought you knew what he would be like before you met him, but he’s smashing your expectations with how real he seems.And how different he is from the man depicted in the tabloids. 

Before you have a chance to respond, a man holding a clipboard and wearing a headset comes bustling over to remind Sharon about the schedule - A quick tour of the facility for the actors and crew, then time for the crew to get set while River completes their schoolwork for the day, hair and makeup for the actors, which you’re reminded includes you, and then filming - and you’re grateful for the PA whirlwind, because it gives you a chance to process the way being two feet away from Dieter’s smile is making your stomach flip. 

Get your shit together, this is work… Just work, with an insanely attractive actor who keeps smiling like that when the cameras aren’t even rolling yet. I cannot fucking believe this is happening right now. 

Thankfully you’re able to keep your inner monologue where it belongs this time, your thoughts only interrupted by the sound of Sharon clearing her throat and saying your name. “Shall we take the stars to space?”  

Oh, Sharon, you really can’t help yourself, can you?

You nod once, grinning. “Absolutely.” You’re still extraordinarily nervous about being in front of the camera. But this part? Showing earnestly interested guests around the observatory and sharing the wonders of science and space? This part you are entirely confident about. Beckoning with one arm, you cock your head toward the door. “Right this way.” 

–  –  –  

Dieter can’t remember the last time he was this excited to be on location for a job. 

Partially because it had been a long time since his dramatic roles intersected with his personal interests, and partially because there was a time period of about five years - with the Cliff Beasts debacle coming at the tail end - where remembering anything at all was almost as big a challenge as was finding enjoyment anywhere. The triple threat of cocaine addiction, isolation and depression was a hell of a hole to dig himself out of. If six feet is the depth of a grave, he was basically five and a half feet down. 

Crazy how a brush with mortality paired with the realization that his life was still worth saving can make a person want to claw their way back to the surface. And even though things with Anika hadn’t worked out long term, not a day goes by that Dieter doesn’t acknowledge that there was no way he was climbing those five and a half feet without her help. The fact that they remain friends is constant reinforcement that his worth goes well beyond his work on the screen or his talents in the bedroom or the number of zeros in his bank account. He provides her with nothing but his friendship. Nothing but himself, and it’s shown him that just himself is good enough. 

He’s even been invited to her upcoming wedding, and he has every intention of going. But that’s not for a few months still. Luckily the date is sandwiched between the end of filming for The Goldilocks Zone and the film’s premier. And with this being the only project he’s working on currently, he’s able to focus entirely on the film and then entirely on his personal life. 

First though, he’s going to focus entirely on this tour. For three reasons: One being that like he told you, he’s always had an interest in the great unknown vastness of space. The second, that he always tries to immerse himself in the world of the characters he portrays. And the last? The instant interest he’s taken in you. 

She’s fucking incredible. 

He’s already familiar with you from the videos that the RMO posted to their YouTube account. As soon as he heard that you’d agreed to take the small role, Dieter watched every single one of them, completely enthralled. Your enthusiasm was so tangibly genuine, your knowledge of astrophysics so deeply complex and your ability to explain things in ways that anyone could understand unmatched. He watched your presentation on Kepler-22b four times for crying out loud, and not because he needed that many times to absorb and digest the information. He’d watched and rewatched because it was simply that enjoyable. You made it that enjoyable. 

It didn’t hurt at all that he also happened to find you stunning. 

The five and a half feet down version of him would have tried to make a move on you before you’d even finished the tour. Hell, before you’d even started it. And though there was still a part of him that was screaming with how badly he wanted to drag you off into the domed viewing room and fuck you until you were the one seeing stars, an even bigger part was steering him in a different direction - one where he actually got to know you. 

Not just the you that was “on” for a presentation. Not just the you that engaged with River as they asked a thousand questions about the telescope and it’s range. Not just the you that worked at the RMO. From the moment he saw you standing there, from the moment his hand closed around yours and your smile widened so that it reached your eyes, Dieter found himself wanting to know the you that lay beneath your work. 

And then maybe the you that lay beneath your clothes. But that was secondary. A close secondary, sure, but secondary nonetheless. 

I wanna know more about her. 

That’s why when the tour ends and River reluctantly heads off with their mom and Addison, Dieter doesn’t retreat to his trailer like he normally would when he has downtime on set. Kylie, his stylist, does head back so she can call home and check on her wife and kids, and Sharon, flits off to her office. But you remain in the large circular room watching with interest as the crew starts rigging up the lighting and blocking off marks for the actors with different colored tape, giving him the perfect opportunity to start on that mission. 

“So, you ready for your silver screen debut?” You must have assumed that he’d gone with the rest of the group, because when he speaks, you spin to face him with a look of surprise on your face that only makes you more attractive to him. Dieter laughs, the sound a gentle one without ridicule, lifting his hands with his palms facing you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”  

You laugh at yourself, too, closing your eyes and giving a small shake of your head. “No, it’s okay, I’m just…” Another huff of almost incredulous laughter comes from your lips as you open your eyes and look straight at him. “Having a bit of a ‘pinch me’ moment, here.” 

You walk down the few steps from the base of the telescope to join him on the main level, the railing cordoning off the enormous piece of equipment between you. Dieter leans against it from his side and you do the same from yours. “Hey, I get it. I felt the same way the first time I was on set.” 

Narrowing your eyes and tilting your head, you respond with, “I think it was a little different for you, Dieter. This-” You gesture to the crew spilling in and filling up the perimeter of the room. “-isn’t exactly my wheelhouse.” 

He wants to reassure you that you’re going to do more than fine, but he’s caught up on the way his name sounds in your voice. Part of his brain jettisons off to thoughts of what it would sound like in a very different scenario. But that’s not the him in the here and now, so he clears his throat and his mind all at once. 

“Nah,” he says, bringing one hand up to scratch at his chin. “My first role had me literally shaking in my shoes. I was a little older than River. That kid is gonna be a fuckin’ star if they keep the mindset they have now, that’s for sure.” You nod, because it’s clear to anyone with eyes that the kid has their head on straight and an excellent support system to help them navigate the industry. “But me? I was a basketcase. So nervous, even though it was my dream.” He sighs. “Still get nervous sometimes.” 

That makes you widen your eyes in surprise. “Really? Mr. two-time Oscar winner gets the jitters before starting a new role?” 

“Oh yeah.” Dieter groans, shaking his head and looking down. When he lifts his chin again he finds you waiting, his own smile stretching out across his lips. “Imposter syndrome comes for us all. That bastard.” 

That pulls a laugh from the center of your chest and his first thought is how do I make that happen again? “It is a bastard, isn’t it?” You hum and Dieter nods. “Well that makes me feel a little better.” 

“Good.” He stands up straight, keeping both hands planted on the rail, and you do that same. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna be great.” 

You suck in a small breath that he might have missed if he wasn’t so keyed into your every move. “Thanks, Dieter.” 

“Of course.” He taps his fingers on the railing, one of his rings clanging against the metal. “So, can I ask you a question?” 

You raise your arms to your sides, elbows bent and fingers spread. “That’s quite literally what I’m here for.” Looking over your shoulder, you gesture towards the telescope. “If it’s about this beauty right here, I can-” 

“No, it’s…” Dieter’s tongue slips out to wet his lips, warmth splashing through his chest at the way your eyes track its movement. “Not about the telescope. Though I definitely wouldn’t say no if you were just about to offer me a chance to look through it?” 

You chuckle. “I think that can be arranged, though it’ll have to wait until all these lights are gone. Or at least off. And it would have to be after dark for the best views.” 

“Seriously?” His excitement over the prospect of getting a peek into the cosmos briefly overtakes his desire to ask the question on his mind. You confirm that it would be no big deal and he takes you up on it without hesitation. “Done. Tonight?” 

You take your lower lip between your teeth for a split second and he struggles not to stare. “Sure.” 

That would be…

“Amazing.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. Suddenly his belly fills with the flap of a thousand monarch wings like he hasn’t felt in over a decade. It’s unusual, but refreshing, and he finds that he kind of likes it. 

I can’t get ahead of myself, though. 

Clearing your throat, you tap your fingers against the railing. “But, um, if that wasn’t your question -” You shrug one shoulder. “What is?”

Kylie comes through the door at that exact moment, calling Dieter’s name before he can answer. “Dieter? You in he- Oh. There you are.” She glances at you, and then back at him, her sharp green eyes measuring and analyzing the small amount of space between the two of you, and he sees her do her best to keep a knowing grin erupt. It doesn’t, and Dieter shoots her a look of gratitude which he knows she catches. “Sorry, but Tyler decided that we should do some promo stills while we’re here, and he wants to make use of River’s school time, so that means you need to get to hair and makeup earlier than planned. Like, now, earlier.” She adds that last part with a roll of her eyes. 

Dieter sighs. “Alright, Ky, I’ll meet you there in a minute.” 

She nods and turns to leave, sidestepping the sound engineer who is bringing in his equipment to get set up, and Dieter faces you. “Raincheck on that question?” 

You laugh. “Yeah. No problem. Ask me tonight.” 

“Oh, I will,” Dieter promises with a wink. “See you on set.” 

–  –  –

Your face hurts from smiling by the time Tyler, the director, calls a wrap on the day. 

For as nervous as you were going into your first - and likely only - acting endeavor, you end up having a fucking blast. And you know that it has a lot to do with Dieter and River being completely amazing to work with. They’re both somehow absolute professionals and class clowns, deliberately making each other laugh or flub lines a few times, but also delivering serious and convincing performances that you’re sure Tyler will have no problem selecting from. You only end up fumbling your words once, and it’s only because you’re trying to hold in a sneeze, which ultimately wins out as sneezes do. But you take Sharon’s advice and treat this like you would any other tour or presentation you’ve ever given, and since the scripted questions that Dieter and River’s characters - along with one or two of the extras in their on screen tour group - ask are right in line with the ones that you get all the time, the answers roll off your tongue easily. 

“I told you you were nervous for nothing,” Sharon says, nudging you with her elbow as the crew starts to clear out. They leave the equipment where it is since they’ll be shooting again tomorrow, but one by one the room starts to clear, everyone heading to the hotel that production has booked a few miles down the highway. 

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, the smile still stuck on your lips. “You did say that, didn’t you?” 

Sharon laughs. “I did. Hey, you want to get dinner or something to celebrate? My treat. Kevin’s home all week so he’s got the kids and I wouldn’t mind a night out.” 

Shit, I forgot to tell her about Dieter. 

“Um…” You lick your lips and return a wave to the last crew member who heads out into the main foyer. “Actually, Shar, Dieter asked if I would let him take a swing at stargazing, and I said yes. So… I mean, as long as you’re okay with it?” 

If she was beaming before she’s glowing now. “Say no more! Absolutely! You’ll lock up when you’re done?” You confirm that you will and she nods once. “Great. I’ll see if Margo from the library side is free. She’s always fun.” She shoots you a mischievous glance akin to the one she gave you when she first told you about the filming opportunity. “You have fun.” 

You try to tell her it’s not like it’s a date, he’s just genuinely curious and interested. That it’s just better for someone like him to do these sorts of things one on one because otherwise people won’t let him enjoy it. But all she does is hum an “Uh huh,” while she’s halfway out the door. 

And you’re left to wonder if you’re right. 

But you aren’t left wondering for too long, because only minutes after Sharon leaves, Dieter, looking exactly as he did when you met him earlier that day, strolls into the room. 

–  –  –  

You tell him that it will take you a few minutes to get everything set up. “Hope you don’t mind,” you add, as you start the process. 

“Mind?” He blows out a puff of air and watches your every move. “This is awesome.” 

As if to punctuate his point, the domed ceiling begins to open at that exact moment, the two sides sliding apart to reveal the night sky beyond. He tilts his head back as far as it goes to take in the sea of twinkling stars. Even without the magnifying power of the telescope, it’s a hell of a view. 

“If you think that’s awesome…” You begin adjusting the viewing lens, a small, smiling sound coming from you as you look through it. “Just wait until you get a load of…” You turn a knob, clarifying the view. “This.” 

You beckon him with one hand and he nearly trips over his feet to get there fast enough. He steps up next to you, closer than he was when the railing was between you, and that mass of butterfly wings goes fluttering through him again. And fuck if it doesn’t feel great. You move away from the scope but stay close as he bends down to take your place. “What am I looking at- Oh, shit!” 

In his field of vision floats a swirling, purplish looking galaxy with a similar shape to the Milky Way. For all the things he’s seen and places he’s traveled and experiences - both bad and good - that he’s had, this takes the cake and the cookies and the ice cream, too. It leaves him speechless and breathless and fills him with an emotion he doesn’t know how to name. 

And she gave this to me. 

You give him a few seconds to absorb it in silence, and then your voice fills his ear, his eye still pressed to the lens. “That is NGC 3031, AKA Messier 81, AKA Bode’s Galaxy.” 

You explain that the different names for it come from the three different times it was discovered and reclassified. You tell him how far away it is - approximately 11.8 million light years away from Earth - and that it can be found tucked into the constellation Ursa Major. And then you tell him it’s your favorite galaxy to show people, because it’s the clearest one that the RMO telescope can view. 

“Can you believe that it was first discovered in the 1700s?” 

He still doesn’t look away, answering you from his bent position. “I can’t believe I’m seeing it now in 20-fucking-24.” 

That pulls a laugh from you and he finally looks up, wanting to see the way that laugh changes your eyes. Tugs at your lips. Pushes your cheeks up. 

Beautiful. 

You sigh. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He hadn’t meant to speak that thought out loud but you think he’s talking about the galaxy so he lets it slide. “Gorgeous,” he confirms, about you and the view you’ve shown him. “Anything else you can show me?” 

That laugh he’s starting to crave slips out again as you answer. “Yeah, Dieter, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve, hang on.” You motion for him to step aside so you can reposition the scope. As you’re doing that, you bring up your conversation from earlier. 

“Hey, um, what was that question you wanted to ask me?” You shake your head, still making your adjustments. 

“Oh, it’s just…” He shrugs even though you’re not looking at him. “Something I ask people sometimes when I meet them. Kind of like an ice breaker I guess?” 

You step back and let him take another look - this time a gaseous nebula in hues of gold and green - giving him some time to soak it in before expecting him to continue. 

“I uh - fuck, this is cool! I…” He looks up briefly, finding your face. “Do you believe in aliens?” 

It’s clearly not what you were expecting him to ask based on the expression you wear, but much to his delight this time, you don’t laugh. “I do.” 

His heart flips like a gold medalist at the admission. Smart, sexy, and believes in aliens, holy shit. “You do?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” Shrugging, you go on, stepping in to readjust the scope again. “Everything I’ve studied or seen suggests that the universe is far too big for us to ever really understand. And we already know that there are planets that theoretically could support life.” You gesture for him to look again, this time it’s the stormy, reddish orange patterns of Jupiter. “And as special as Earth is, I just don’t believe we’re so special that we’re the only ones out there. I mean, that’s what the movie is about, right?” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s about aliens looking for other habitable planets and finding Earth, so sort of the reverse of what NASA and whoever are doing. But… Yeah.” 

You smile. “So, do you?” 

“Believe in aliens?” He leans back against the railing. “Yeah.” He smiles. “Same reason as you. We’re not that special.” She is, though. She’s out of this fucking world special.

You hum. “Cool. Good to know we agree.” 

“Yeah,” Dieter takes a breath, filling his chest and letting the dizzy happiness you’ve given him take over. “This might be a long shot, I know it’s getting kind of late, but… Do you want to go get dinner or something?” 

You press your lips together like you’re trying to suppress a smile. It doesn’t work, and it’s the best sight he’s seen all night. “Okay.” You start shutting things down, pressing the button that closes the ceiling and shuts the sky away. “How do you feel about In-And-Out? I’ve been craving it since River brought it up and-” 

This woman is what dreams are fucking made of. 

Thankfully - at least for now - he keeps that part in his head. 

“I feel like you just read my mind. Let’s go.” 

--- --- ---

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[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {V}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: This chapter is slightly NSFW. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this story. Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and/or reblogs! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and hope you continue to do so! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Emerie,

I hope you’re enjoying your time away. Just know that we miss you here in the city, but I hope your travels are everything you want them to be. I cannot wait for you to return and tell Gwyn and I all about your thrilling endeavors. She is convinced that you have found someone in which your soul cannot live without, but I have assured her that it is nothing more than a foreign fling.

I cannot wait to see who is right!

To answer your very thoughtful questions, I am doing just fine. You know how Tomas is, but he is busy with his business and I find peace in the distance that brings between us. I have found myself wondering one thing — what is it like to attend a ball as an unmarried lady? We used to have little get-togethers in my village, of course, but nothing as grand as the balls in Velaris. I used to love to dance and each time I attend one of these gatherings I cannot help but daydream of dancing once again. Of course, it is not common for a married lady to dance, and Tomas would never. It is a lovely thought though, isn’t it? I know you are content with your life as a spinster (which I admire), but even you love a good turn about the dancefloor. 

Perhaps one day I will be privileged enough to just get a tease of what it is like.

Write back soon. Be safe. We miss you!

With Love,

Nesta 

Nesta

I hate luncheons. Especially women-only luncheons. The only perk is that I don’t have to attend them with Tomas, but that is by far the only perk. All of these women think they’re better than me and each other. Every one of them has something shoved so far up their asses that I’m surprised they can still walk. 

They’re all talking about their husbands, how amazing they are, how perfect their lives are, but I can’t seem to contribute to the conversation. I may be forced to be here by my husband but I’m not about to praise his name. 

As I sip my lemonade, I let my mind drift back to where it’s been, repeatedly, constantly, for the past week. Ever since he left my home, ever since I ran into him outside just after midnight, the image of him has been branded into my mind. It doesn’t matter if I’m awake or asleep, I can see his face, his smile, the intense look in his eyes as he looks at me. I can hear him saying my name, voice low and rough, like no man has ever said it before. 

I’ve dreamt of him, fell asleep every night to these fantasies that I can’t control. 

They started off seemingly innocent, the two of us dancing, touching tentatively, doing nothing more than following the same steps that everyone knows, getting lost in the music as we stare into one another’s eyes. That innocence didn’t last long; it quickly escalated. 

Last night had me writhing in my bed, needing friction, needing release, needing something far greater than what my fingers could offer. I worked myself roughly, imagining my fingers were his, imagining his cock was hard and inside me, pounding into me again and again, recklessly. 

I was no virgin when I married Tomas, and although he would claim otherwise, my husband in full denial, that means I know what I like. Laying with Tomas is a chore, one that I have never enjoyed, one that never lasts long or gives me any sort of satisfaction. I know what I like in bed, what I like from a man, and I have no doubt that a man like Lord Cassian can give me just that.

Not that it would ever happen.

Of course. I am a lady, the wife of a renowned lord, and a woman of high society would never act so immorally. 

I can dream, though. I can let those unholy thoughts fill my mind, imagine a man like Lord Cassian exploring every inch of my bare body while I fall into a state of utter ecstasy. 

“Lady Nesta?”

My eyes snap up and meet the Lady Cresseida’s from across from me. Her smile is sly and I’m tempted to match it with one of my own, but I don’t.

“Are you well? You look a little flush,” she continues, mockingly. 

“I am feeling a little under the weather,” I confess. A complete lie, but if they’re asking, I may as well take advantage of it. “Perhaps I’ll take my leave.” 

They all nod in farewell, but I know that none of them care. I, however, am overjoyed at the excuse to leave. I make haste, wasting no time as I rise to my feet and stride out of the home in which the luncheon is being held. 

The second I’m in my carriage, I call for my driver to take me home.

The long way.

But, it’s always the long way. I stopped asking a long time ago. Now, they just take me home the long way when I’m by myself. They just think I enjoy the scenery, find peace in a ride by myself in the quiet. Or, perhaps they know the truth, that I loathe my husband and hate being in his presence, in his home, our home, and they just keep quiet about it.

I wonder what the help talks about when they’re alone, when they’re in their own quarters, far away from us. I wonder if they truly hate me, if they hate Tomas. I wonder what they think of our marriage, if they know it’s as awful as it truly is.

I’ll never know. I’ll never ask. Either way, I’m grateful that they drive me the long way home.

As soon as the wheels begin wobbling down the cobblestone, I lean back against the bench and close my eyes. The velvet lined seats are soft enough to relax on, and the moment I’m comfortable, I let my mind wander. 

Back to him.

His hands.

His cock.

I know I’m pitiful, know that these fantasies mean absolutely nothing and the reality of my life, my marriage, is still in shambles. But they’re a small reprieve, because if I cannot control my reality, at least I can control my thoughts to a certain extent. 

Those thoughts drift to Lord Cassian.

We don’t know each other and we surely never will. Perhaps that’s what makes him the perfect candidate for these fantasies, for these wandering thoughts. He’s a stranger, one that I’ve gotten a feel for, certainly, but still a stranger. 

I wonder what he looks like nude. I’ve tried to imagine it many times, have pictured what I thought, but I imagine it doesn’t compare to the reality of his body. He’s muscular, of that I have no doubt, and the part that matters most is long, thick, and wielded like a weapon. 

I don’t even realize that I’m inching up my skirts until my hand has made its way into my undergarment and the tip of my finger grazes my throbbing clit. I circle it slowly, biting my lip to keep myself silent. I’ve touched myself more in the last week than I have in the last decade but I have no shame. 

It’s hard to feel shame when your senses are alive and thriving. 

Sex is not bad. It is not a sin to feel desire, although my husband would claim otherwise. In fact, he claims that women should find no pleasure whatsoever when it comes to sex, which seems to be the reason why the focus is never on me when he visits my room. No, he does what he likes until he gets off, having no idea how to truly please a woman.

Lord Cassian — the man I have made up in my mind this last week?

He knows how to please a woman.

He knows how to leave her gasping, screaming, how to make the eyes roll back in her head. He knows how to make her back arch, how to make her toes curl, how to make her cry out for the gods, the Mother, the Cauldron. He knows how to make that little feeling, wild and unruly, go mad in the pit of a woman’s stomach until she can no longer contain herself, until her heart is bursting out of her chest and she’s seeing stars. 

He knows how to make a woman find release and he doesn’t stop until she’s found it. 

I grip the plush velvet seat cushion as I squeeze my legs together, trapping my hand within. We hit a bump in the road and I jolt, but it only adds to the madness that I’m currently drowning myself in. 

My other hand joins my first and I pump two fingers deep inside of me, working in tandem with the one still making joyous circles over that sensitive bundle of nerves. A long string of words falls from my mouth in a devout whisper, words that would bring shame to my husband and his name, words that no lady should voice but I cannot help it.

His face is in my mind, his smile unfurling behind my closed lids. His body is bare and his hands are roaming my body, every stripped inch of me. I call out his name and he urges me on, thriving on my indecent vocalization. 

Within the confines of my coach, I throw a hand over my mouth to muffle what I cannot control while I find my release with those loyal, fervent fingers of mine. I keep moving until my body grows limp, that intensity that makes me feel alive fading into nothingness yet again. I smooth out my skirts and lean back against the bench, fighting to catch my breath. 

I wonder if my driver suspects anything but find that I don’t care. No one would ever dare tell Tomas, would not dare anger the Lord Mandray. 

No one would be that idiotic. It would be a death sentence, the messenger every bit at fault as I.

I can’t help myself. I laugh.

I break into such a fit of laughter that I fear I’m going insane, but oh, it feels so good to laugh! 

I laugh until tears are rolling down my cheeks and my sides begin to hurt, and it’s only when I collect myself that I realize it was the first time I had laughed in a long, long while. It feels good to laugh, as mad as I may seem. There is something utterly triumphant about feeling pure, demented joy. 

Staring out the window, I watch Velaris pass by as we make our way back to House Mandray. By the time we arrive, all of my wonderful, demented joy has faded.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Cassian

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

We’re sitting around Azriel’s dining room table, feasting on roasted chicken, when my brothers decide to insert themselves into my personal business, yet again.

“I’ve been to two balls this season.” I sigh, stabbing a carrot. “I don’t need to attend another.”

Azriel and Rhys look at one another, concern written plainly on their faces, but I pretend I don’t see it.

“Besides,” I continue, “none of the ladies have caught my eye this season. It is a waste of time.”

“But you love to dance,” Azriel says, the same time Rhys says, “but you love to drink.” 

It’s true. I adore both of those things, but I know where the next ball is being held, and even I am not courageous enough to step foot into the Mandray’s house again.

Nothing untoward happened with Nesta and I in the garden, but it was inappropriate, nonetheless. I was a little tipsy after my closed door meeting with Tomas, but I still had my wits about me. I know that I should not have been alone with Nesta, but I couldn’t stop myself.

From the moment I saw her under the starlight, I was gone. 

“I thought your meeting with Tomas went well,” Rhys pushes, buttering his roll. The same roll that he’d already been buttering for over a minute.

“It did,” I say, and leave it at that.

They, however, will not leave it at that.

“Then this has to do with the wife,” Azriel says, mouth full of potatoes.

It’s only the three of us.

Manners be damned.

Across from him, Rhys’ eyes light up and swivel back in my direction. “Ah, the wife. Lady Mandray. Did you come on to her again?”

I drop my knife and fork with a clatter and rub my temples. “No, I did not flirt with Nesta.”

“Nesta?” They both repeat in unison, and I instantly realize my mistake.

“Lady Mandray,” I correct myself using her formal title, “and I simply do not see what she has to do with my absence.”

“You have always been a terrible liar,” Rhys quips, clearing his plate. “But, if you wish to live in a state of deception, so be it.” 

“I’m not—” I take a deep breath before I can let my frustration take control. I’ve always been prone to anger, as much as I loathe the fact. “I’m not lying. I simply do not wish to attend a party when I can be home, working.”

Drinking in solitude is more like it, but that’s beside the point. 

“Work is all well and good but you must allow yourself to have fun every now and again,” Azriel says, his tone as skeptical as Rhysand’s. “Besides, haven’t we established that it’s about time you marry?”

“If it’s time I marry, it’s time we all marry,” I grumble. 

Azriel suddenly looks horrified while Rhys chokes on his wine. I know that neither of them are ready to be a husband, although we are all quickly approaching our third decade of life. Rhys sometimes pretends that he is, but when it comes down to it, I cannot even imagine him with any of the women of the ton. 

No young lady could handle Rhysand.

Azriel is different. I cannot tell if he’ll ever marry. It’s not that he has never been in a relationship or that he is incapable of love. He loves stronger than perhaps anyone I have ever known. I’ve always felt that is the very reason why he keeps himself so guarded. The only people he’s ever truly let get to know him are me, Rhys, Mor, and Amren. There was a time when he pined after Mor, but that was so long ago. 

“I am perfectly content as I am,” I go on, trying to convince them or myself I am not certain. I pick up my silverware yet again and make another attempt at finishing my supper. My carrots have gone cold. I hate cold carrots. 

“Back to the ball,” Rhys says, sitting back in his chair and stretching out his legs. “You’re going.”

“I am not going.”

“If you’re not going, then we do not go. If we do not go, we will be sad.”

“Your sadness is none of my concern.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Rhys pours himself another glass of wine while Azriel’s eyes swivel between us. “If this is about Lady—”

“Lady Mandray is none of my concern.” Perhaps I should have waited for his sentence to end before mine began, but I have never been good at holding my tongue. 

“If she is none of your concern, then you will join us,” he says, smoothly, and he knows he’s already won before I even begin to resign. “We will drink their champagne and dance across their perfectly polished floors until sunrise while we are still young enough to do so.” 

Azriel finally finishes his third plate of food and sits back with a groan as I sigh. “You’re intolerable.” 

“He takes that as a compliment, you know,” Azriel murmurs, and I’m afraid he’s correct. There’s always been a darkness to Rhysand. Not an evilness, never evil, but a certain…edge. A certain slyness, a manipulation of sorts. In another life, I’m convinced he ruled his own kingdom. 

Kingdoms.

“I will join you,” I say, at last, and Rhys grins as he dwells in his victory.

I, however, feel nothing but unease. The thought of seeing Lady Nesta again so soon both excites and revolts me. I haven’t been able to get her face out of my mind, haven’t been able to shake that feeling that I had when I spoke to her.

Even though I was lost and she surely thinks me a fool.

No matter. She can think me a fool as long as she’s thinking of me.

The Mother knows I’ve been thinking about her. 

[yujo-nishimura]

Day 25 (After a break) - The first thing in the morning

When I wake up, writing is the first thing on my mind. Even though I haven’t felt like writing lately—I’ve been tired and uninspired, my work draining me—I recognize that I’ve allowed this to happen. My sleep during the week is poor; I rest well on weekends when I don’t have to wake up early or worry about work. I wonder if the pressure I put on myself to write every morning contributes to my restless nights.

Perhaps I need a vacation. I might be stuck in a routine where even writing doesn’t provide the relief I seek. I’ve been considering going to the gym today and doing yoga tomorrow, hoping that movement will help improve my sleep and boost my creativity. Yet, every morning, writing is still my priority. Waking up at 5 AM to write doesn’t feel difficult for me; it’s just part of my routine, driven by discipline. I often tell others that anyone can adopt this habit with consistency over a week, leading them to expect early mornings and think about writing first.

Maybe this routine isn’t healthy. My sleep might not be sufficient, and I haven’t had time to reflect on my writing journey this month, overwhelmed by various prompts. Recently, I’ve been journaling instead of sharing my thoughts online. There’s something satisfying about writing by hand; it feels less pressured than typing on my computer, where I often feel the need to meet certain expectations.

Physically, I’m feeling off—my stomach is unsettled, my neck aches, and my eyes are tired. I can’t take time off work with the holiday season approaching, and I feel uneasy when I’m not in the office during the week. Not writing before work adds to this discomfort.

The one thing I always believe in is my writing—not because I think I'm exceptionally talented, but because I’m consistent. I’ve been writing since childhood. I admire Upton Sinclair, not just for his writing, but for his incredible discipline and productivity. He was like a machine, constantly producing articles and books. While some writers excel and take their time, I aspire to be the productive one—average but consistently creating.

[ladylucksrogue]

20 Fic Writer Questions

Thank you for tagging me @lonewolflupe!

This was fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

91

2. What's your A03 word count?

534, 651 (!!)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars currently. I've written for others like DBZ, One Piece and Lucifer in the past.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Stars We Can’t See (Riyo/Fox)

Unexpected (Wolffe/Liri (my OC)

Whumptober 2022

All is Fair (Fox/Riyo)

Spontaneous (set in the Unexpected Universe, my fix-it universe Rex/Ahsoka)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I wrote a Bly centric, post order 66 story called The Ghost of You.  It’s probably the darkest most tragic thing I’ve ever written.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably the drabble A kiss when both parties are crying, done for the kiss roulette prompts, where Wolffe meets his daughter Mira for the first time.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven’t.  I have gotten a couple passive aggressive comments, but thankfully no outright hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yup.  I like to write smut.  Usually smut with feelings, though I’ve done a couple of casual fling type one shots and a dark raunchy one time thing between Wolffe and Ventress.

10. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven’t.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not sure if it counts, but I did contribute to @aknightreaderr's amazing ask Fives universe with a letter from Sinker and Boost.

And, there may be plans for the future in the Unexpected-verse.   I am not opposed to this sort of thing, I think it’s so fun to dabble in each other’s universes.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I can’t just choose one. I love foxiyo, codywan, blyla and of course, I adore the little world I’ve built with my OC Liri and Wolffe.  I’ve just fallen for her as much as Wolffe has, I find her amazing.

And of course, as much as that occasionally bothers people and gets me blacklisted, I love rexsoka.  

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

I do intend to finish all stories that I write, or I have the best of intentions…

I did start an obitine fic a while back, and while I had fun writing it at the time, the fandom toxicity just really got to me and I think I just burned myself out on it and needed a change. I suppose I lost the will to write there.  I’m not sure if I ever will get back to writing it.

I also have a Wolffe-centric post order 66 story I will eventually be continuing.  It is on temporary hiatus.  It’s very personal and near and dear to my heart and I guess I just got into a bit of a funk writing it.  It got very little attention, which I figured, as it is so niche, but…sometimes it’s hard to pour your heart and soul out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Probably emotion.  I’m pretty good at getting into character’s heads.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ha.  I’d say everything but the truth is I have no clue.  I just know I edit and edit and edit until I’m happy with something and hope for the best.  Sometimes I can get too wordy with stuff, sometimes I feel like my tone is really boring. 

Oh and summaries. I am the absolute worst at summaries. I can write a 5000 word super intense, emotional one-shot but then I go to post and I'm like...I got nothing...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I like to throw a mando’a word in here and there.  Or I’ll worldbuild with Pantoran and Wroonian.  I don’t like to write whole lines of dialogue in other languages, because unless it is fandom-known, I think it distracts?  Like having to flip flop between the notes and the dialogue to understand the scene?  It’s like when you are watching a movie, and it switches to Chinese or something.  Sure it is accurate that they’d be speaking in their native language, but I’m scrambling to keep up with the subtitles.

My other language is German…and well…I don’t really write in it, at all.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Dragonball Z.  I wrote a lot of Bulma/Vegeta fics, as well as a lot of Vegeta centric stuff that will never see the light of day.  I was an angsty youth.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Probably a toss-up between Unexpected and The Stars We Can’t See.  I just love writing the progression of the relationships there.  Home Sweet Home holds a special place in my heart because it was the first rexsoka fic I ever wrote and it’s just a hot mess in the best of ways.

On a personal, need to get these headcanons out before I explode level?  I love the twin week stuff I wrote, Fight or Flight and Balance, specifically.

Tagging: @whyamismall @tealmisthams @snips2112 @sendpseuds @palfriendpatine66 @impossibleprincess35 and anyone else who would like to do this.

[alitaar]

Hi so this is my very first time writing anything so please bare with me and be kind, also this isn’t my first language so there’s also that.

Anyway here’s my contribution to #FourthWingBirthdayBash hosted by @skyfallscotland and @justallihere

Mt writing prompt was “I can’t believe you remembered that” by @deity-prompts and without further ado here you have it hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is always welcome!

I jump, suddenly awake in my bed I look around for any sign, most probably of danger in this college, of what has startled me so. But i find nothing and looking outside tells me is still night so I should try to fall asleep again while I can, and so I do, except the moment my head finally touches my pillow i hear a low knock from the door, probably the reason I’m awake right now, and with a sigh I get up to check who it is disturbing me right now.

“Who is it?” I say quietly when I reach my door but without opening it, after all you can never be too safe.

“It’s me” Says with excitement a voice I can instantly recognize. With a groan that really hasn’t much effect given that I’m smiling I finally open the door.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of being woken in the middle of the night by you Bodhi? I’m gonna warn you right now that I’m not in the mood for a booty call so you can just go and bother someone else alright?”

“Damn baby you wound me” He says mockingly clutching his chest which inevitably makes me smile, I just can’t help it when it comes to him, there’s something unexplainable about his presence that just puts me at ease and makes me want to smile.

“Okey… so to answer my question?”

“Oh, right!” He chuckles while getting exited again “Come with me I have a surprise for you”

I can’t help but startle at that, a surprise? For me?

“Yeah, but we’re wasting time so hurry up getting ready I’ll wait here but I seriously don’t want to get caught” And the way he says it with pleading eyes has me rushing so much that I almost trip a couple of times but manage to make it out in a minute. Before I can really think about it we are already out the dorms corridor and out in the grounds, and that is when I finally gather myself enough to ask.

“Where are we going exactly?”

“Oh” And he blushes, he actually Blushes! “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask and I could just show you” He says it more like a question than a statement and I decide to have some mercy on him and just nod with a smile even though I’m getting more curious by the second, especially after that answer.

We keep on walking for twenty minutes in companiable silence even after we entered a forest and he grabbed my hand to guide me, and thank the Gods it was dark and he wasn’t looking because my cheeks started heating up and I don’t think I could’ve taken it if he would’ve made a joke about it. Finally he stops and turns to me instructing me to close my eyes and trust him and when I go to answer that I’m not going to make it that easy for him to kill me he just interrupts me by putting a knife in my free hand, I hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t let go of the other, and saying that that should be enough to defend myself should he try something funny, and for some reason I feel reassured enough that I do just as he instructed. Closing my eres he guides me just a few more meters forward.

“Open your eyes” He gently says, never letting go of me and I do once more just as he asks. And immediately I’m in awe, this place is wonderful, I’m looking at a lake littered by dragonfly’s and the gentle chirping of some frog in the distance, everything is just illuminated by moonlight and the reflection of in the lake is just magical. Astonished I look at him waiting for some kind of explanation and just find him blushing again but unapologetically looking at me.

“W- wh…” I clear my throat trying to find the words.

“I found this place a couple of weeks ago” He starts finally looking away for a second but immediately finding my eyes again “and just knew that I had to share it with you, especially once I remembered you said that first week how the lake by your home by moonlight was what you were already missing the most and then I just figured it best to show it to you as a birthday present so I just waited”it’s all said with such speed that when he finishes he has to take a deep inhale before he panics at seeing me standing still and with tears in my eyes “Wh- why are you crying? Did I fuck this up? I did didn’t I? Of course I did I’m so sorry plea-“

“No” I simply say and immediately he stops “It’s perfect I just…”

“Yes…?” Gently he prompts me.

“I can’t believe you remembered that”

“Of course I remember that, I remember everything you say to me and something this important I just had to try and give to you” Slowly he tugs my hand until I’m in his arms and before I can think better of it I gently kiss him “Oh” is all he can manage and then he adoringly smiles at me.

“Thank you” I say trying to convey just how much I mean it in those two words, I’ve been feeling especially homesick lately and alone and with this gesture, especially on my birthday he is showing me that I’m not, and so I just tell him how I’ve been feeling about him since the day I’ve met him if I’m being honest with myself “I love you”

“I love you too”

[krpgarden]

so while we would LOVE to see more of these groups, it's harder to really keep up and maintain despite loving the things we put out /// as someone who would love to open a fantasy rp and as someone who has attempted to join previous fantasy rps, i'll admit my main issue is that i struggle to find muse when the lore is overly complex! that, or if the lore is solely based off of a franchise (i find that to be pretty restricting if i'm unfamiliar with the franchise's lore). admins put so much life into fantasy roleplays and it's impressive. it's something i could have definitely handled 5-10 years ago when i was pushing out novella replies daily. that being said, i think fantasy would gain SUCH a positive resurgence if things were kept more brief and digestible! this isn't to say you should strip your roleplay from all of its story and personality; of course not. i'm saying this in a way where, for instance, if you have 3 paragraphs giving lore on a playable species... try to make it 1 paragraph! a lot of fantasy writers (myself included) pride themselves in flavor text and purple prose, and i think that's totally fine in moderation! in a changing rp world where people are busier, though, or where people want to quickly escape into rp without having to study the guidelines and premise/lore for days before applying, i think brevity would fit with the modern pace of krp. also, another important point of this is that brevity makes it more accessible for those with attention disorders and memory issues. ideally, we want to encourage everyone to try out our fantasy roleplays; not just seasoned veterans! when handled like this, it keeps new and returning muns from having to constantly cross reference your roleplay. after all, the faster you can immerse yourself completely, the faster interest and interactions will take off! my point is, i love, love, LOVE lore, but, these days, i think it's something that should grow WITH your community. giving muns a metaphorical textbook before they join is going to scare some away, and this will contribute to the low engagement you mentioned. i'll admit that (as a fellow fantasy fiend) this is the main reason i've been hesitant to join past fantasy rps. a basic story/plot alongside a basic "why are they here/what is their purpose in the rp?" question would be such a good jumping off point for most muns/muses. this, in itself, gives beginners of this genre room to learn and grow, without forcing themselves to bend to the unrealistic expectations of things they need to write out and things they need to know. on the other hand, it gives an open-ended prompt for novices and seasoned fantasy writers to expand upon what they were given. sorry for the wall of text! i'm super passionate about fantasy rp, and i truly feel it can make its comeback if we relent a little and experiment with more accessible forms of worldbuilding/storytelling. /nm /gen ♥

Hi there, thank you for your opinion 🩵

I can’t add much ~ I think sometimes lore gets complicated because on the one hand, if there is too much information members don’t read it, and on the other hand if there’s not all the information then people might send in a million questions or make characters that don’t quite fit the lore? Not sure if what I’m trying to say is clear, but I do generally agree with everything! 🩵

[unusual-ly]

🎭👏🫂 for Bill and Gabriel in the uni au?

Thanks for the prompt, anon! I haven’t had an emoji prompt that I could actually think of an idea for in ages, but it only took a few days to figure out what to do with this one!! It did take quite a while to write tho, being ill for a bit then preparing for Halloween etc, sorry about that, but here we are, the second ever uni AU fic~! I think I got a bit carried away again with the conversation but I brought it back to the emojis in the end!

Read on FFN

“You can do this,” she whispered, staring down her reflection, “You’ve made it through rehearsals, you can do this.”

There were plenty of factors contributing to her nervousness right now; she had only just started her transition, she’d only performed in English once before (and that hadn’t exactly been a great success), she didn’t have her old friends anymore, Bill had written this role specifically for her. Ian was watching. Gabrielle closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath in, and exhaled. Of course she could do this. Bill would be right beside her, and he seemed pretty confident.

Right on cue, Bill appeared in the doorway.

“You have no idea how utterly terrified I am right now.”

Her face fell. All she could manage was a weak “… Oh…?”

“I mean, I know that whole disaster last time was mostly Phil’s fault,” he hardly seemed to notice, and instead started pacing around the room, “But it was still my play. And you only get so many chances at a first play!”

When she didn’t respond, he turned to her and frowned; she was staring into space, anxiously chewing her bottom lip and fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve.

“Are you alright?”

She blinked. Her head snapped round again, “What?”

“You look nervous.”

There was a pause as Gabrielle hesitated, then nodded, “I am,” she shrugged, “I suppose,” and looked down at her hands, still toying anxiously with her sleeve, “A bit.”

“But you were fine the first time, weren’t you? And you’ve been amazing in rehearsals!”

“That was just rehearsals! And a lot has changed since the first play…”

Ah…

“Are you talking about you coming out…?” he asked, somewhat carefully.

She sighed and nodded again, “Among other things.”

Bill seemed to forget about his own fears then. Or he decided his friend’s troubles were more important. He closed the dressing room door and came to stand by the mirror with Gabrielle.

“OK, what’s up?”

He patiently listened as she spilled the contents of her mind (though she did skip over one little detail), letting her vent until she had gotten everything out, then he thought for a moment.

“Right,” he said eventually, “First off, your English is great. Nothing to worry about there. Second, and this might sound a bit harsh, but I don’t think your old friends really deserve to take up so much of your attention. You’re better off without them. I mean, they weren’t very supportive, in more than one way.”

“Hm…” He did have a point, she had to admit.

“Third, I’m sorry if I put any pressure on you writing this part, but you’ve nailed every rehearsal, I’ve seen how well you can pull it off. I’ve seen you handle mistakes,” he gave her arm a reassuring pat, “You can’t exactly disappoint me, y’know.”

She couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, “Thank you.”

“And most importantly,” he cast an exaggerated sweeping gaze around the otherwise empty room, then leaned just a little bit closer, “If anyone gives you any trouble, I can always…” he trailed off and Gabrielle cocked her head, curious. Before the following silence went on too long, he dropped his eyes to the floor awkwardly, “… Well, report it to Southampton, probably.”

Gabrielle scoffed at the obvious performance and rolled her eyes affectionately, “Of course.”

“I could absolutely take care of it myself but, you know, I do tend to… escalate drama rather than alleviate it.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Bill frowned, “Well, you could argue a little-” then she turned back to the mirror and he saw the look on her face she was trying to hide, “You’re deflecting.”

“What?” she didn’t turn back.

“You’re trying to wrap this up weirdly quick. What’s wrong?”

“We have just discussed what was wrong, haven’t we?”

“Gabs. There is clearly still something on your mind. You’ve solved the rest of it by talking, why not this?”

She went quiet for a moment.

“It’s just that… there are certain people watching whose opinions I value very highly,” she said, still facing the mirror, “I want to make a good impression…”

“Certain people…?”

“… A certain person…”

Bill quirked a curious eyebrow, “In the audience…?”

There was a slightly longer silence. Gabrielle bit her lip. Bill waited.

“No.”

“… In the cast?”

“… No.”

It only took a second or two before Bill’s face lit up.

“I knew it. It’s Ian, isn’t it?”

Gabrielle stared at him, “How could you possibly guess that?”

“Like it wasn’t obvious. You’re basically obsessed with him.”

“How so?”

“You can’t stop smiling around him, you take every chance to talk to him, you always seem to find a way to bring him up in conversation…”

“Fine,” she huffed, “But that doesn’t make me any less nervous.”

Bill just smiled and shook his head, “I don’t think Ian’s gonna judge you. If anything, he’s usually been pretty impressed with your performances.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. Now, come on,” he got up and went to open the door, “We’ve got a show to do, and it will go perfectly.”

“Perfectly?”

Bill, already striding down the corridor, called back to her over his shoulder, “I won’t accept anything less!”

Gabrielle sighed affectionately. Only Bill could be so blindly confident. Who’s to say she couldn’t do the same?

———

An hour and a half later, Gabrielle stood onstage beside Bill, along with the rest of the cast, after their final bows. The audience was on their feet, the applause ringing in her ears. As exhausted as she was, and as scared as she had been before the play, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so proud of herself, and so at home.

She couldn’t believe the cheer she had gotten when she came out at the curtain call, and the moment the curtain fell, she turned and threw her arms around Bill. He just laughed and lifted her off the ground for a moment. When he put her back down, he leaned in close to her ear.

“I saw Ian watching you at the end there. I think he might have almost missed a cue.”

[mercurial-madhouse]

Trigger Warning: Healing is painful, but there’s so much light on the other side if we’re strong enough to walk through the dark.

My hope in sharing my story is to help anyone who reads it find peace or healing, just as I always aim with my fiction. If it feels right to you to do so, I encourage you to reblog this. It is highly personal, but I choose to share it publicly.

************

This past Sunday, I received an email responding to my desire to withdraw from a fic fest. Instead of the simple “You have been removed from the fest” that I’d been expecting through an official channel from mods to a participant, this is the response I received. Please be aware, the following is painful.

***

We've removed you from the fest and will mark you down as not being welcome to participate in future fests. We show a great deal of compassion toward our writers, which is why we send reminders, answer any and all questions, and provide extensions when requested. There's a reason why our fest has one of the highest numbers of fics of any fest/challenge in the fandom - it's because we support our participating writers and do everything possible to assist them as they complete their fics.

However, once a writer has repeatedly failed to communicate and missed both a deadline and an extended deadline, it's clear that they do not have any respect for the fest, the mods, our time, or our own unique situations, as we don't have endless extra hours to track down participants in a fic fest. Several reminders on three different platforms, an extension, and requests for writers to simply let us know if they need more time does not demonstrate a lack of compassion in any capacity. We also showed a great deal of compassion by welcoming you with open arms into the [redacted] after you insulted the fest, insulted [redacted] fics, and made writers uncomfortable last year after signing up to beta their fics, all while pretending to support and uplift writers in the fandom just as you did in your email here.

Have a great week!

- [redacted] Mods

***

This email arrived right at the end of the night, just as I was lying down to sleep. I couldn’t read it all the way through. It elicited a trauma response in me. My heart started racing, my palms were sweaty, I was shaking, I felt sick to my stomach.

I went into fight/flight/freeze/fawn mode. My first response was to freeze. In order to escape the barrage of pain bombarding me, I simply dissociated and disconnected from my body. It allowed me to sleep, but barely. I deleted the email in a desperate attempt to pretend it didn’t exist.

The pain caught up with me twenty-four hours later. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs shrunk in around my heart. My whole body locked up. I couldn’t move. I knew that if I spoke, even to say ‘hello’ to someone, I’d start crying.

The moment I was alone in my room the tears came. The pain came, bursting through me. I sobbed uncontrollably, curled into myself on my bed, begging for the pain to stop, begging for a miracle, screaming internally for relief and to understand what I’d done to deserve this because I didn’t have the air for more than broken whispers.

I fell asleep whispering ‘I need a miracle’ over and over. The mantra blocked out all the disgusting thoughts that wanted to keep swirling through my head. This is it. This is the final proof that you don’t belong here. You never have. You never will. Run away, M. It’s over. You tried, you failed. You always do. You always will.

I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Grief is intense. These are the moments where we don’t think we’ll survive what we’re feeling. My love, whoever you are, if you are reading this, hear from me. The agony passed. I needed to feel that agony, to allow it to move through me and to give myself the space to feel it. Without diving off the deep end into what hurts, I wouldn’t have been able to find the inner peace to keep healing, to start to understand.

The residual pain is still there, even as I write this post. But it no longer overwhelms my senses. And by Tuesday morning, I’d been given insight into what was happening.

I experienced a trauma response because it mirrored mistreatment I first received in childhood from family and classmates alike and continued into my adult life. In full view of others, it was acknowledged as cruel even by my mother, who struggles with her own guilt because she never stood up for me. No one did.

So I internalized the mistreatment. I must deserve it if everyone else around me is ok with me being singled out like this? At first I spoke up for myself. But in the end I stopped speaking up for myself too. I had never healed this pain and here it was, coming back around again, forcing me to face it, to heal it once and for all.

I still do not know what exactly I may have said to cause these accusations that you see in the email. **I do not and will not deny them.** Even if my words were taken in a way I did not consciously intend, to deny that I said anything that caused someone else pain is to deny my own power AND to deny that everyone’s emotions are valid and worth digging into.

I have the power to inflict pain, just as I have the power to spread and share love and joy.

Whatever I said came from a place of pain, of believing I did not belong in this community. That I am not good enough or worthy enough to be here. A series of unfortunate but necessary events when I first entered this fandom completely disintegrated my core beliefs in my abilities as a writer, something I have always kept so close to my heart, and my belief that I had a place in this fandom.

I expect, as I look into my past patterns, that what I did was try to logic why I wasn’t allowed to belong. At the time, this fest was the only subset of the fandom I knew, I was so brand new. So I looked through all the prompts in the fest. I brought a scientific method view to answering the question: “What is it about the fics people write in this fandom am I unable/incapable of doing?”

This process allowed me to generalize everything I saw that I perceived as ‘I can’t do that, this is why I don’t belong here’. Consumed in my own doubt that I could measure up and write something worth reading, I dropped from the fest last year too. If I can’t contribute writing that’s worth reading, I could at least stick with what I do best, which is helping others be their best selves. I had signed up to beta, and I chose to cling to the only grasp of belonging I had, which was through beta’ing. I ended up beta’ing four fics last year for the fest. And, of course, each of them were (and still are) incredible fics. At the time, it was further proof to me of exactly what I can’t accomplish.

In all likelihood, these generalizations, stemming from a place of pain and jealousy because I wanted to write good fics too, came out in a personal conversation with someone, which they translated as a personal attack. It is valid. Whoever you are, your emotions are valid. It does not matter how I meant whatever I said, pain is what you felt. This person did not feel comfortable sharing that pain with me, so instead they turned to others and shared. My moment of vulnerability and pain then spread more pain.

Pain only comes from pain.

The response was to shadow ban me. In fact, I was never meant to find out about any of this. The pain this person shared was simply taken at face value and that was that.

So on my end, this decision showed up in the physical world this way: Suddenly all my asks went unanswered, people I tagged to share snippets and last lines and get to know more through ‘about me’ posts or who had once talked to me through DMs simply stopped speaking to me in a way that is only noticeable to the person being ignored. I thought I was going crazy. But there it was, right in front of me: absolute proof that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of this fandom.

Is anyone else beginning to see the cycle of pain?

I expect I continued this cycle right back, because the pain turned to bitterness. I’d been doing everything I could to support every author the best way I knew how, and this was what I got? The exact opposite?

I found out about this shadow ban and actual blocking around June of this year. An ask sent in by a friend for me, inquiring why I couldn’t reblog a post that’d been sent to me by someone else, finally gave me the answer that I’d been banned for the accusations you saw above.

Horrified, hurt, and unable to comprehend any of this except to know that I support every author no matter what they write, I sent an apology to the mods, trying to end this cycle the best I could without knowing any of the details of what had happened. There was nothing more I could do.

They thanked me for the apology, though as you can see from the email, it was never accepted. I do not say that as a judgement call, but simply as a statement of what happened. Everyone is entitled to accept or not accept in their own time and their own ways.

I have been healing so much since everything that occurred last year. And the more I dig in to this cycle, the more my heart goes out to the drafters of this email, to the person I hurt with my words who then turned to share it out of context with others, and to the people who shadow banned me in connection with this situation.

We attract to us what resonates with us. Like attracts like. Which means just as I’ve attracted the greatest friends to me, I have also attracted this pain, and conversely, these mods and that person attracted me to them.

Deep down, on some level we share the same core wounds. And the person who can really understand just how painful those wounds can be is someone who feels them too.

So this is my message to the mods of the above email, to those who have shadow banned me and want nothing to do with me, and to the original person I hurt with my words:

I am sorry for my part in this pain. I am sorry for causing pain and I apologize for it. You are loved. You are enough. You are doing a fantastic job. Your feelings are valid. Your hurt is valid. I don’t know what occurred that hurt you before I entered the fandom, but after finding out from others that an email like the one you sent above is ‘Oh that’s just how they are’ tells me something else happened to hurt you before I even arrived.

Your hurt then is valid too. Allow yourself to feel it and process it. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let that hurt and fear of it happening again or believing that that’s how everyone is push away from you people who in fact love just what you love. If someone has a different belief from yours, don’t let it invalidate what is true for you. Believing internalized lies about myself only caused me pain. And we spread and create what we believe to be true, whether we consciously realize it or not.

So here, now, is my truth:

I choose to perpetuate love. I choose to spread love. I choose to understand my pain and the pain of others, to transmute it, and to heal it, instead of passing that pain on.

I choose compassion. Compassion for myself in making these mistakes, and compassion for those who have hurt me. I do not condone the email that was sent to me. No one deserves to be treated that way. I choose to focus beneath the visceral anger and lashing out, to focus on the agony beneath the words, and stop this cycle of pain.

I choose to belong in this fandom. I choose to support every author in this fandom and ensure no one ever feels not good enough. I choose to own my past mistakes and learn from them.

I choose trust. To trust that those who I truly hope will see this, will see it. I have no expectations of responses or outcomes or reactions. My only hope is that whoever will benefit from seeing this post will see it.

This is not a matter of right or wrong, bad or good, just or unjust. It is a situation of two parties in pain, triggered by the same triggers.

Looking back on that email, I’ve come to realize that half of the pain I felt when I received it was not my own. I felt the pain of the attack, sure, but I also felt the immense pain beneath those words. And I wish I could hug you. I acknowledge your pain and I acknowledge how painful it is because I know that pain myself. I also know that this pain isn’t you and it isn’t who you are.

So I choose to remember the mods I first met around this same time last year in this same email chain. Mods who were so kind and offered advice to a brand new writer even when she sent an email that had nothing to do with the fest and was still struggling to find her place in the fandom. I choose to remember how beautiful that kindness felt. I choose to remember how I was so grateful for that kindness that I shared my gratitude for these same mods in an email with with another fandom friend at the time. I am still grateful for you.

You are so loved. You are loved for being exactly who you are. This fandom is built upon love. A shared love of five incredibly talented lads who have brought so much joy and light when each and every one of us has needed it the most. Shine your light through the dark and believe with all your heart that you are not alone. You have support. I support you. Shine on. Don’t let anyone dim it.

[carnationcreation]

Can you do Luke Patterson fanfic where the reader is Alex sister and is in the band who’s been in love with Luke all this time but he never noticed her. And ever since they met Julie she has seen them together has gotten jealous.So she hatches up one finally plan to make him jealous to get him to see her . And Luke realized he had been in love with her and confess to her . Sorry if it’s too much this is my first time asking for a request 🥺

TITLE: Unrequited (Luke Patterson x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Requested: Yes!

Prompt/summary:  Reader does one final attempt at getting Luke to notice her.

Word Count: 1,615

Authors note: appear I just write a lot of angst. Again Where’s my Love by SYML is the vibe lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day we woke up on the floor of the garage in the year 2020 was the worst day of my life.

Or that’s what I decided at least.

Apparently we had spent the past 25 years in a dark room, with Alex crying for most of that time. The girl who found us, Julie, quickly became our only tie to the real world. We could only be seen playing if she was playing with us. We soon found out that we had unfinished business that we needed to attend to before we could properly cross over to the other side. We figured it was simple. Play the Orpheum and we were done. But getting to the Orpheum was going to be a lot harder than we thought.

Slowly we had started to build up a following on a thing called ‘YouTube’ where people share videos, I never thought such a wide library of videos could exist for free every single day. Practices became a daily thing, though I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. 

I really shouldn’t be jealous. Luke has chemistry with everyone he sings with. Alex would kill me if he found out that after all these years I was still crushing on his best friend. I couldn’t help the feeling in my throat when I saw Julie and Luke singing together though... the feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Like all the air was being sucked out of me while I tried to keep the feeling of anger from bubbling over.

Why can’t he look at me like that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I never meant to get him jealous, because I always thought making crushes jealous was unhealthy and only ever worked in the movies. But as soon as I started only talking with Reggie and Alex at practice Luke started to notice how I didn’t go out of my way to talk to him like I used to.

As time went on I started only singing with Reggie on stage for the harmonies. Every time I would look over afterwards I would see Luke staring at me with an almost blank expression.

The next few days were miserable for me.

My only desire then was to go up to him and tell him why I had been avoiding him. That I had seen every glance, smirk, smile, and laugh he and Julie had shared and say it was breaking my heart in two. I just had to watch in silence. The fear of causing drama within the band had taken precedent over my unrequited love. 

I never meant for it to be taken this far. After Caleb branded us I truly began to wonder if my place in the band really meant anything to anyone. My feelings poured out over a page as I explained everything to them in a letter. A stupid letter that I didn’t know if I actually was going to deliver or not. 

My worst fears soon became a reality after I saw their interaction outside of Luke’s house on his birthday.

Tears fell out of my eyes as I slipped the letter into his songwriting notebook and poofed out of the garage. I knew they would find it. I knew my brother would know the first place to look for me, so I avoided it.

I stood in the alleyway behind the Orpheum, tears falling down my face as I held onto my brother’s sweatshirt he had given me a few days prior. Hopefully I could still keep it.

“Are you ready?”

I turned around and saw Caleb standing in all his elaborate glory, “I guess so.”

He smirked, “Why so hesitant little dove?”

“Um,” I mumbled, a shiver went down my spine at his awkward nickname, “I’m just going to miss them.”

“Miss them? You’re going to miss them? Oh (Y/n), they haven’t even noticed you were gone. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Tears began to form in my eyes. Breathing became hard as I realized I had been sitting here for hours, and no one came yet.

“Poor (Y/n), in love with a boy who doesn’t even notice her. A brother who was rejected by even his parents, and a best friend who doesn’t even notice her feelings. You can leave all that behind, just shake my hand.”

I stood there, debating on if I really wanted to give it all up. Did I really get a choice in this? I slowly lifted my hand, still hesitating.

“(Y/n), look around. They haven’t even come for you yet, and I’m sure that rat Willie already told them what you were doing. They just don’t care-”

“That’s not true!”

I turned around and saw my band running towards me.

“(Y/n) don’t listen to him? He’s manipulating you,” Alex said.

Tears fell down my face as Caleb grabbed my shoulder, “You’re too late. (Y/n) just look at them. They didn’t even notice as you drifted further and further away.”

My eyes flickered up, Luke locked eyes with me. Tears were forming in his eyes, “(Y/n) please don’t do this.”

I looked back down at the ground.

Julie spoke up, “(Y/n), you really don’t realize how much you contribute to this band. We all care about you so much.”

“I doubt she wants to hear from you,” Caleb scoffed, “Seeing as you stole the one thing she most wanted away.”

The boys looked at each other confused but the look on Julie’s face told me that she knew exactly what Caleb meant.

“(Y/n) I promise you, Luke and I are just best friends. I’m so sorry you felt like you weren’t important to us anymore,” Julie said.

Luke looked up at me but I tried not to meet his gaze.

“(Y/n),” Alex said, “You’re my sister. I can’t lose you too. Please.”

Tears ran freely down my face as I pulled myself away from Caleb. Luke ran forward and caught me as I began to fall.

Caleb let out a frustrated yell and disappeared. I didn’t even bother to look up as I sobbed into my hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke whispered to me. Alex pulled everyone into a group hug.

“Guys I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.

“This isn’t your fault,” Reggie said.

I brought my hands down to wrap around Luke’s shoulders, “I just didn’t feel good enough. I wanted to know if you guys really cared. I’m so sorry I should have said something.”

“We’re just happy we got here in time,” Alex said, he ran a hand through my hair, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

My tears came to a slow stop, and eventually we began to walk home.

“Guys, I’m taking (Y/n) somewhere. We’ll catch up.”

The guys waved as Luke grabbed my hand and pulled me in a different direction. It soon became clear where he was taking me. 

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

“Barely,” I said. I looked around the park I had always gone to, it had changed so much since 1995, “They tore the gazebo down.”

He looked over to where the rickety white structure used to be, a bathroom area was there now.

“I remember, you used to always go there after there was a fight at your house.”

I nodded, “Quiet, secluded, free to go to. Can’t tell you how many songs I wrote here.”

He pulled me over to sit on the benches near the playground. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said. 

I looked up at the clouds, trying to get the answer straight in my head, “I just… I had seen how you looked at her. I wanted you to look at me like that. Once I started to pull away, no one seemed to notice. Caleb offered me his help, he said I’d be famous…”

“What made you hesitate?”

“I realized… I didn’t want a million admirerors, I just wanted one. Nothing could compare to that.”

I jumped as he reached over to grab my hand, bringing it over to sit in his lap as he covered it in both of his, “I want to be that person.”

“You always were.”

He smiled. He brought my hand up and placed a kiss gently on my knuckles. In a quick moment of bravery I leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly.

He placed both his hands on my cheeks before pulling me into a real kiss. The boy I thought I had lost was kissing me. The kiss I had always dreamed of but thought I could never have. 

We both pulled away breathing heavily. I looked up and giggled at his swollen lips and tousled hair knowing I probably looked the same. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to say this. I love you (Y/n). I’ve loved you since the day I met you, I loved you after we died, and I loved you every moment till now. I guess the only reason why I didn’t do anything is I was so scared of you not liking me back, or how your brother would react.”

I sighed as he rubbed his thumb across my cheek, “How do you think he’ll react?”

“He told me while we were looking for you I should’ve asked you out weeks ago. He knows,” He laughed.

The sun had started to set, the light illuminated him making him look ethereal. I pulled him into another quick kiss, “I wish I had done this sooner.”

“What? The kiss or trying to sell your soul to a dead magician?”

I laughed, “Either.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around me, “Don’t do the second one again anytime soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx  @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse  @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @ashleyleblancx @alltimekp @wcnderwoo @unipanda1006 @disgustedchild @aberette13 @dpaccione @whyworry27 @number-0-iz @musicconversedance @owlgirl1209 @angelxfics @hamdehlesmis @solophantomsmultis @marinettepotterandplagg @idkanymoremansstuff @carleywhittaker @spooky-season-bitch @sunsetcurve-h @peresphoncs @lolychu  @joshy-obx @mochamiilk @starenemy @caitsymichelle13 @kiss-themoongoodbye @noncannonships @cherrybombboom @etherealexsistence @itskindyl @heidimortensen123 @starkeysgirl @nicolewithasoul @chenellearose @voguesir 

[hercleverboy]

Congrats!!! I love your writing!! I’d like to request a blurb with #36 from the general list and #41 from fluf 💕💕💕

thank you so much! enjoy! 

I don’t really like this piece too much, so please let me know what you think! 

wc ↠ 1.7k

General #36 ↠ “Do you trust me?” “No.”

Fluff #41 ↠ “You say you hate him but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

Spencer Reid had hated her from the moment he met her.

Y/N was absolutely sure of it. When they met for the first time when she joined the BAU, he seemed polite enough. Though he just never let her in the same way he let in the other team members. She understood at first, Spencer had known the rest of the team for years at that point. She even found herself incredibly attracted to the young genius, developing somewhat of a crush on him. His reputation certainly proceeded him, particularly when it came to his issues with germs, so she kept to herself. She understood it would take him time to get used to her, but where the rest of the team warmed to Y/N and accepted her as a part of their family; Spencer never did. 

During paperwork days when Y/N would get up to make coffee in the corner of the bullpen, Spencer would already be in the kitchenette, stirring his sugar in with intent. She’d always offer him a polite smile and some light conversation. However, it seemed that as soon as she started to speak, Spencer would pick up his coffee and head back to his desk. She let that go, thinking perhaps she was getting too much in his personal space, though it hung around in the back of her mind for weeks afterwards. 

 After cases when they’d get on the jet to go back home, she would take a seat opposite him, offer him a kind smile and then pull out a book to read, wholly intent on minding her own business. But Spencer, without even looking up at her, would simply get up and move to an empty seat at the other end of the jet.

Y/N exchanged a look with JJ, who had just shrugged in response. She couldn’t understand Spencer’s dislike for the woman who’d been nothing but kind, and who the team were all already incredibly fond of. She had good initiative, was brilliant in the field and had a capability to pick up on patterns earlier than the rest of them, sometimes even before the resident genius himself. The team suspected that Spencer’s supposed hatred for her was actually his poor attempt at disguising the fact that he was madly in love with her, but he never confirmed nor denied it. 

Then somehow, as if she didn’t already think Spencer hated her enough, it got worse. Any time she made contributions to their group conversations, Spencer would cut her off. It was belittling, honestly. It made her second guess her intelligence whenever she’d pose a theory. Every time, without fail, Spencer would pipe up and say, ‘You’re wrong. It’s actually more plausible that—‘ 

One day, they were sat around the roundtable, having finished debriefing after a long case. The team exchanged murmurs of plans to head down to the bar, with Garcia smiling enthusiastically and insisting that the first round was on her. Y/N had felt pretty awful for the majority of the case, and to top it off she was sure she was coming down with a cold too. 

“How about you, Y/L/N? You coming?” Morgan piped up, his usual smirk on his lips. 

She forced a smile, scoffing. “No, I think I’m just gonna head home, but thank you.” 

Morgan shook his head, determined. “Come on. Even Reid’s coming!” 

Y/N looked over at Spencer then, who busied himself with packing away items in his satchel, although she didn’t miss the scowl that seemed to plant itself on his face. She looked back to Morgan. “Sorry Morgan, I’m just not feeling it.” 

Morgan sighed, but still tried one last time, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  “You sure? It’ll be fun, maybe you and Reid will finally start getting along after a few drinks.” 

“Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sure there’s at least a hundred other people that Reid would rather spend the evening with.”

At that comment, Spencer threw his satchel strap over his shoulder and left the room in a hurry, a look on his face that seemingly resembled hurt. 

Y/N swatted Morgan’s shoulder playfully. “Look what you’ve done now! You know how much Reid hates me.” She whined. 

Morgan chuckled. “Please, Pretty Boy doesn’t hate you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

“It’s true! Don’t tell anyone I told you, but the team has an ongoing bet on when you two will finally admit your feelings for one another.” He leaned in closer to her. “And I’ve got $20 riding on it being in the summer, if you could help a guy out?” 

Y/N groaned at that. “Well be prepared to lose your money, it’s never going to happen. Spencer Reid hates me, and do you know what? I hate him too.” She said defiantly, although it was all too obvious that she was lying through her teeth. 

Morgan smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. “You say you hate him, but your red face is telling me otherwise.” 

Y/N just waved him off, ignoring how he chuckled at how flustered she’d gotten, and that was that. 

Reid’s quite frankly petty behaviour was really winding down on Y/N mentally, and although Hotch often told him off for his snarky comments or gave him the third degree for constantly trying to one-up her, Spencer persisted.

They’d been working on a new case for a week, and Garcia had just sent the team the location of where the unsub was holding his fourth victim hostage. Hopping out of the SUV’s, the team regrouped in front of the house as Hotch ran over the plan with them. 

“JJ, Morgan and Rossi, you’re with me. Y/L/N and Reid will take the back. We take the unsub in alive if possible, understand?” He instructed, everyone nodding as they reached for their guns. 

“Can’t you switch Morgan and Y/L/N over?” Spencer began to whine but was quickly shut down by Hotch shooting him a warning look. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in defeat. “Great.”

After entering through the back of the house, the two began checking each room they passed by. As they rounded a corner, stalking towards a closed door, Spencer moved so he was in front of Y/N, in what she noticed was an almost protective manner. He leaned closer to the door, listening intently for any sign that the unsub was inside. 

“Is he in there?” She whispered, and Spencer looked back at her, nodding. 

“I think so.” 

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment in thought, running over the important details of the profile in her head. “Do you trust me?” 

Spencer scoffed quietly. “No.”

“Well, you’re not going to have a choice.” She mumbled, and before Spencer realised what was happening, Y/N had burst open the door, her gun drawn. 

*

Y/N was stood in the local police station’s conference room, collecting together files and taking down crime scene photos from the evidence board. The case had ended well. Based off of the profile, Y/N had decided that the best course of action was to confront the unsub head on- and it worked, too. Hotch had already told her that she’d done well that day, and that made her heart swell with pride. But Spencer? He hadn’t said anything on the ride back to the police station, busying himself with other things as they prepared to head back home. 

Y/N sighed at the thought, looking up from the evidence board just as Spencer entered the room. He immediately turned around, heading back out the door when she called out for him. 

“Reid!” 

He stopped, turning back around. “What, Y/L/N?” 

“What is your problem with me?” She asked, exasperated. She was so tired of just accepting his mistreatment, and she refused to do it any longer. 

“I don’t have time for this.” He shook his head, turning to leave again. 

“Spencer Reid! You’ve made my life hell since I first joined the Bureau and god help me, you are going to tell me what your problem is!”

“My problem?” He countered, his jaw clenched. “My problem is you! Putting yourself in danger like that without a second thought for the consequences.” 

“The consequences? It turned out fine! My plan worked!” She bit back, voice rising. 

“It was stupid and reckless, you know better than that.” He spat, making Y/N scoff. 

“Why do you care?” She shouted frustratedly. “You can barely stand to be in the same room as me, and for the life of me Spencer I cannot figure out what it is that I did to make you hate me so much!”

Spencer’s defensive stance dropped, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find appropriate words. “Y/N, I know you think I do, but I don’t hate you.” 

She gave a humourless chuckle. “Yeah, well you could’ve fooled me.” She sighed, hands running over her face as she attempted to calm herself down. “I don’t understand why me putting myself in danger bothers you so much-”

“Maybe because I love you!”

The silence that fell between them only lasted a handful of seconds. Spencer, prompted by the look of shock on Y/N’s face, scrambled to explain himself. 

“I don’t hate you. I-I don’t really think I could if I tried.” He reiterated, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. “I’ve loved you since the day I first met you.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly so dry. “I don’t understand-“

“I’m so sorry, I know how poorly I’ve treated you. The only explanation I can offer is that I was so sure you wouldn’t feel the same that I thought it would be better to push you away than face rejection.” He whispered, moving closer to her, shame in his tone. 

“You love me?” She murmured in disbelief. The words barely left her lips, so faint and shaky that Spencer nearly hadn’t heard her. 

He laughed quietly, as though he was laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Yes, yes I do. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

He’d moved to stand before her, the two of them looking at one another in absolute awe that they both felt the same way. Spencer’s eyes trailed down to her lips, moving back up to meet her eyes. 

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, looking up at him incredulously. “Spencer..”

He bit down his lip, the words leaving his lips in a whisper. “Would it- would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

She was nodding before she’d even processed his words, and when his lips met hers- it was euphoric. Like they were simply meant to be. 

Perhaps Spencer Reid wasn’t that bad after all.

[pocketfulofrecs]

Our first Author Spotlight is finally here! And the first author in the spotlight is justdoityoufucker!

They have published 31k+ words on mdzs fic on ao3 - 7 works and 1 series. You can find them on @whiteflowercrimsonparasol on tumblr and @justdoityoufucker on twitter.

Their fics:

i’ll keep on walking (our post) - [teen | 2.6k | wen qing time travels and changes things]

violent delights - [teen | 4.3k | no golden core transfer]

i had to abandon myself (you took all of me) - [mature | 10k | wip | everything changes after the staged fight]

the world wags on (our post) - [teen | 3.4k | wei changze is alive]

in payment, a hand (series) - [teen | 10k | yzy cuts off wwx’s hand]:

and there was a new voice (which you slowly recognized as your own)

moved through my heart (like the thinnest of blades)

such music (you stood stock still)

Dee’s favourite: Honestly, violent delights is just so sweet? I love all of their works, but violent delights has a special place in my heart. The sheer hilarity of WWX’s Golden Core just refusing to reside in JC’s body made me cackle. Also, it ended so sweetly. I really love it!

Ju’s favourite: This was hard, but I’m between “i’ll keep walking” because I love time travel and Wen Qing, and she is so badass on this one, and fixes everything, and in the end she has her family safe, including her new brother Wei Wuxian. And “in payment, a hand”, that is a very interesting series, and Wei Wuxian gets a family that he deserves, and the Jiangs also get what they deserve. It’s sad in the beginning, but it gets so soft at the end, and we can see wangxian intimacy, and how they love each other. It’s just really lovely, okay?

The interview:

Q. When did you start writing fics? Did you have fandoms before this one?

A. I started around 2009. My first fanfiction attempts were for the 2003 Fullmetal Alchemist anime and movie and pretty quickly petered off, but I really got into fanfiction when I reread and finished watching Naruto around 2016. It’s still the fandom I’ve produced the most published (and unpublished) fanfiction for, but I’ve also written some works in the Voltron: Legendary Defender and Bleach fandoms.

Q. What made you start writing for MDZS?

A. I actually wasn’t planning on writing for MDZS! I wanted to write SVSSS fanfiction when I first got into danmei and c-novels! But I found some really thoughtful meta posts on characterization in MDZS and the MDZS fandom, as well as some fics that I felt were really good and showed really good characterization, which made me lose most of my self-control. And then I found some prompts that were going around, and I lost the rest of my self control and now, well, here we are.

Q. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

A. For MDZS, it’s a work-in-progress, but i had to abandon myself (you took all of me). It’s allowing me to explore philosophy for the first time in a few years, and it’s given me a reason to really research what the setting of MDZS might have been like and how cultivation (in the context of xianxia novels) works and could work.

Q. What’s your favourite type of fics to read?

A. I love love love fluff fics in general! I also have been really enjoying canon-divergence fics for MDZS, there’s some writers in this fandom who do those “what if?” kind of scenarios really well. Honorary mention, also, to fics where Wei Wuxian is raised in another sect

Q. What’s your favourite comment? Or type of comment?

A. Any comment!! Honestly, the entire idea that people like my writing enough to tell me will always boggle my mind, especially if it allows for me (as the author) to engage with my readers.

Q. What motivates you to write?

A. Most of the time, just the simple need to get an idea down and tell a story. I’ve been writing fiction since I was in fourth grade and fanfiction has been a really good outlet for me in that regard. Occasionally I’ll dive back into original fiction, but fanfiction in particular already has a basis for characterization which makes it easier, for me, to write.

Q. Who’s your favorite author?

A. I honestly can’t choose a favorite fan author because there are soooooo many who are incredibly talented, but in terms of professional authors I love MXTX (of course) and Tamora Pierce! If you like historical fantasy, I highly recommend her Tortall and Emelan books.

Q. What is your favorite trope to read and/or write?

A. I loooooove soulmate AUs (as evidenced by how many of them I’ve written for other fandoms)! I also really love, in the MDZS fandom, to read and write time travel AUs. They allow for really cool exploration of what could happen and how one person’s actions could change the whole course of the story.

Q. Do you have any advice for new authors?

A. You don’t need to finish everything you start. I have folders just full of WIPs that I’m probably never going to finish, but all of those words and all of that plotting and planning still contributed to where I am today! Also, I highly recommend keeping those unfinished works because one day you might use them! I’ve reused ideas, dialogue, and even actual passages from my WIP when writing something new.

Q. What do you think is the most important element in writing? Plot, characterization, relationship?

A. Of course, all elements are important, but characterization! Characters usually drive every other aspect of the plot, the setting, and are usually make-or-break for me as a reader.

~

Check out their stories on ao3 and remember...

Comments and kudos feed the author’s soul.

[wanderinginksplot]

Hello! Um, how about Wrecker with a s/o who has severe childhood trauma, and has a hard time opening up to people other than him?

Hello! First off, thank you so much for this request! It was a good challenge. Secondly, I am so sorry this took as long as it has. I had a pretty uneventful childhood, so I ended up doing a lot of research to write this right, and then I rewrote it about a dozen times... anyway, trauma is only minimally mentioned (at least directly), but I hope you like it!

Wrecker + Traumatized Reader

How did it go today, cyare?" Wrecker asked, dropping a kiss on your cheek. He had just gotten home from a shorter mission with his squad and began stripping off his armor while he waited for your answer.

You always felt silly complaining to him. The things that troopers saw and had to deal with on a daily basis were so much worse than you saw - especially since you were permanently stationed on Coruscant. Still, from the expectant look he sent over his shoulder, Wrecker was waiting for an answer.

"Well…" you started slowly, not sure how much information he wanted, "I think it went okay? The board seemed to like the presentation. The Head Commander said the lack of internal life support in the Phase II armor is an issue they've been looking at for some time. I’m supposed to work on a follow-up. I might throw together some preliminary schematics for a Phase III armor set…"

“Sounds like it went great!” Wrecker encouraged, interrupting you before you could get too lost in your engineering thoughts. You had been known not to emerge for days once you got started. “You've been practicing this presentation forever."

You grinned at him. "Thanks again for being my test audience. I know it isn't something you're really interested in. You guys don’t even wear the Phase II."

"No, but I like listening to you talk," Wrecker told you unabashedly. 

You shook your head a bit at that. "You're such a sweetheart. How did I get so lucky?"

"There's a group of Seppies in the Guard's cells who didn't think I was sweet at all," he told you, sounding mystified. "If it wasn't for Cross, I wouldn't have gotten outta there at all."

You tensed a bit at that, and not only from the reminder of how dangerous his job could be. You knew what was coming. It was only a matter of time… 

"Have you thought any more about it?" Kriff. There it was. You wanted to snap at him, remind him that he was pushing a very firm boundary, but Wrecker sounded so hopeful…

"I- I just don't know, Wreck," you admitted miserably. "I know they're your brothers and I want to meet them, but… it's a lot."

"That's okay," Wrecker said comfortingly. He was doing his best to reassure you, but you could hear the clear note of disappointment in his voice.

Your heart plummeted to your toes. Why couldn't you do this for him? Wrecker was the best, most considerate boyfriend in the galaxy. He was willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of the galaxy, for your safety.

"Okay, let's do it," you agreed abruptly. "When do you want to have me meet them?"

"Really?" Wrecker asked, a smile like dawn warming his face.

You nodded and forced an answering smile. You weren't sure how you would handle the pressure of meeting the other members of the Bad Batch, but for Wrecker? You would figure it out.

He ran off to contact the others and your smile faded instantly. From everything Wrecker had told you, Tech was nice and Hunter was quiet, but Crosshair was rarely anything other than abrasive and rude. And that was to his brothers.

You fought a shudder. Being snipped at always reminded you of growing up - and not in a good way. Sarcastic comments were always the first step, then objective-sounding remarks, and then… You didn’t want to think about what had always come next.

But still, this was important to Wrecker, and you were determined to try.

---

The next day, you were anxiously fiddling with your sleeve as you walked to the GAR with Wrecker beside you. The height difference between you always made you feel like a child being escorted around by an adult, but Wrecker normally took your teasing complaints as the jokes that they were. 

You weren’t saying anything at all that day.

“Hey,” Wrecker said gently, grabbing your hand and stilling the fingers that were slowly unraveling your sleeve. “Are you okay?”

You blinked up at him. “What if they don’t like me?”

Wrecker made a strangled sound, like he had started to laugh but thought better of it. “Of course they’re going to like you! Why wouldn’t they like you? And even if they hated you, I like you. And I’m the important one here.”

You wanted to laugh at his exaggerated pout, but the corners of your mouth felt like they were attached to weights as you gave a tight nod and refocused on walking. Wrecker, however, wasn’t having it. Using the light grip he still had on your hands, he tugged you to a stop, forcing the rest of the foot traffic to part around his broad figure as he bent to talk to you.

“Say the word, cyare, and we’ll go home right now.”

“What? No!” you denied immediately. “I said I would meet your brothers, and I meant it. Why? Have you decided you don’t want them to meet me?”

“Of course I want you to meet them!” Wrecker told you. He brushed a hand against your face, smoothing the frown line you could feel forming between your eyebrows. “But I don’t like seeing you this way. If it’s too much, we don’t have to do this. I meant what I said: we can go home right now.”

You searched his face and found only heartwarming sincerity. He meant it. If you said you weren't up for this, he wouldn't be upset or hurt. He wouldn't sulk or find ways to punish you. Nothing would change between you. 

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," you assured him.

Wrecker was your safe space - the exact opposite of everything you had dealt with growing up. He pushed your boundaries, but he made you stronger. As you tripped through the crowd by his side, the idea soothed you more and more until you couldn't stand it.

"Wrecker, wait," you pled, pulling on his arm. 

It was a surprise he had even felt the pull, honestly, but he was so attuned to you that he stopped immediately. He looked down at you with open concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I love you," you blurted, and your face grew hot so quickly that you felt a little dizzy.

"You love me?" Wrecker asked, sounding stunned.

"…yeah…" you said slowly. You weren't really sure why you had needed to say it right that moment, but you knew that you meant it. Wrecker was everything to you, and it had been enough to prompt an admission of feelings that you had never thought you would be able to verbalize.

He was still staring at you and you were getting nervous. "Anyway, we should probably get to the GAR," you told him, striving for a casual tone.

"Forget the GAR! You love me!" The next thing you knew, Wrecker had lifted you up and spun in a quick circle that left you dizzy for sure this time. "I love you, too! We need to go celebrate!"

He set you down and had started down the street in the direction you had come from, dragging you along by your hand as you alternated between laughing and trying to get him to stop.

"Wreck, we can't just not show up to meet your brothers," you protested. "They're waiting for us!"

Wrecker paused, glanced back at you, and heaved a deep sigh. "Fine," he grumbled, walking back toward your original destination. "They get twenty minutes, then I need you all to myself."

The dark-eyed look he sent your way made your mouth go dry. "Fifteen minutes."

He laid a searing kiss on your lips. "Deal."

---

To your shock, the Bad Batch was less intimidating than you had thought they would be. Hunter even made an effort to talk to you.

“So, what is it you do for the GAR?” he asked, dark eyes startling in his half-tattooed face.

“I- uh, I’m an engineer,” you explained. “I helped design the updates implemented in the Phase II trooper armor. Joint Kamino-Coruscant effort and all of that. I didn’t have anything to do with commando armor, though.”

Hunter shrugged. “Still, I’ve heard good things about the Phase II. You did nice work.”

“Thanks!” you said, only slightly too loud. “There are a few things that got lost in translation due to budgetary issues. One of my ideas was to add in a new scope for the larger rifles, one that would acclimate to counter visual disruptions. Brightness, direct sunlight, reflections, and so on. It had a couple other features that were popular with the ARCs and commandos who tested it. Alpha-17 on Kamino said he was keeping his, even though it was just a prototype.”

“Wish I coulda seen that,” Crosshair muttered, his first contribution to the conversation.

“You kind of can,” you offered. “I have a few prototypes left. I brought one along in case you wanted to give me any feedback. I still have hopes for the Phase III…”

Crosshair eyed the scope you were holding out to him, face full of suspicion even as he accepted it from you. He examined it closely for several minutes, dialing in and out of various features as you watched. Eventually, he nodded and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Looks good,” he reluctantly praised, handing the scope back.

You didn’t take it from him. “Actually, that’s a tactical prototype. If you were interested, I would love for you to use it in the field as long as you let me know how it holds up.”

Crosshair’s eyebrows shot up and he chewed his toothpick thoughtfully as he stared at the scope. You weren’t above a little bribery, and had made a few tweaks based on Crosshair’s preferences. Granted, those preferences had been relayed by Wrecker, a man whose go-to weapon was bare hands… 

To distract yourself, you looked to Tech. He had been quiet, almost silent, for most of the meeting. From everything you had been told, that was unusual. 

“Tech, Wrecker tells me that you’ve been analyzing statistical data about your squad to maximize your effectiveness. What kind of variance are you looking at?”

Tech stared at you for a long moment. “A difficult question to answer, as the variance has increased significantly since you and Wrecker met.”

“Excuse me?” you asked politely, taken aback by his implication.

“The frequency at which Wrecker is injured has increased by roughly 2.7% since the two of you started your relationship.”

“Tech,” Hunter reprimanded sharply.

“Ease off,” Crosshair said, voice low.

You glanced at Wrecker, sitting tensely beside you. “You didn’t tell me you were getting hurt on your missions.”

“Just a little,” he admitted, glaring at Tech.

“By my calculations, this places his risk of a fatal accident at 9% and growing,” Tech finished, unbothered by Wrecker’s glare or his brothers’ words of warning. “Added to the fact that Wrecker wears less armor than a trooper of his size should, he is highly at risk.”

“What is this about your armor?” you asked Wrecker, pinching his side when he avoided looking your way.

“Hey! That hurt!” he complained, finally looking down at you.

“Not as bad as a piece of shrapnel would!” you lectured him. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to start working on a better set of armor for you. I have some leftover plates from the commando armor comparison. I can use that as a basis…”

“What about your Phase III?” Wrecker asked, a bit desperately.

“That doesn’t matter!” you snapped. “If I can’t keep you safe, none of it matters! I’m designing heavy-duty armor for you, you’ll participate in extra drills with your team until you get used to it, and I want a report on every injury, minor or not!”

“Told you,” Hunter said, sounding satisfied.

“Five credits,” Crosshair sighed.

“The deal was twenty,” Tech argued, then allowed himself a small smile. “I like them.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed.

Crosshair, studying his new scope, just nodded. You caught only bits of their conversation, though, since you were still semi-arguing with Wrecker.

“C’mon, let’s go back to your place,” Wrecker pled.

“So I can get started on your armor right away?” you asked. “Good idea!”

“But… you love me,” Wrecker pouted.

You softened and leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, ignoring the scoffs and smothered chuckles from his brothers. “I do, Wrecker. I love you so much that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Now let’s go.”

Wrecker sighed heavily, but clambered to his feet and waved goodbye to his brothers as he followed you out.

---

A/N - I don’t actually know if the Bad Batch wears Phase II clone trooper armor or Katarn-class commando armor, so I just went with commando armor and modified helmets.

Thanks for reading! You can see other works like it here or feel free to request something of your own!

[the-travelling-witch]

Okay so I started writing, HOW DO YOU WRITE?!

I am trying to think of things to write but it is literally impossible to think of things to say. I know what I wanna write, but when it comes to typing it I'm completely lost

ah yes, the eternal question which strikes both reverence and absolute terror in creators far and wide

“where do i begin?”

[everything below this cut was written in a sarcastic 2am frenzy, read at your own risk]

i guess it depends on what you already have: is it a character, a setting, a plot or a dialogue prompt; sometimes you might only have ✨a vibe✨ but none of the formerly mentioned, which is, to put it lightly, the absolute worst in that case i pray upon thee good luck my friend

i mostly start off with a line of dialogue because that’s just what usually comes to me first, everyone’s a little different in that regard though and there’s absolutely no right or wrong answer to what motivates you

from what i have i try to fill in the rest of my blanks, mainly “who could say that?” and “in what context could this line be said?”, often enough i can imagine a scenery and a rough story line around that already; if not, it’s though luck and i procrastinate until the missing puzzle piece just comes to me, forcing it wouldn’t help anyway

it can also really help to bounce your ideas off of someone else; even if they don’t contribute anything new or helpful at all, voicing and describing your thoughts to someone else can help visualise what you’re working with and often enough inspiration strikes you in the process; also every now and then, others do have a sensible thought too jsjsh /lh (to everyone who’s ever had to listen to me ramble about me fics, you’re a god-sent, i love you, mwah mwah <3)

that’s when i usually sit down and prepare to meet my arch nemesis: the first sentence

my tip: just rip the band-aid off; you have to start somewhere and contemplating the first five words for hours on end does absolutely nothing but hold you back and you can come back and edit it later anyway (i almost never actually do that bc spoiler alert: the first sentence won’t make or break your fic; a “bad” first sentence won’t make it unreadable but a neat one also can’t save what is unsavable)

then i proceed to word vomit onto the page, have a couple mental breakdowns every now and then, finish about 95% and procrastinate the ending again (same tip as before: just get it over with, not writing it is not finishing your fic either; also, believe it or not, the end is changeable as well)

i continue by promising myself i will go over and rewrite the abomination again, then i throw it at my best friend so she can tell me that a) i’m in fact not delusional and people won’t think i’m completely weird for writing that and b) yes, i have in fact used the language known to most as “english”; although, deep down, i know i mainly do it so i can further procrastinate actually posting my fic and opening myself to potential criticism from people i do not know

if i’m feeling particularly motivated, i might actually start formatting my tumblr post, putting in the tags and writing the head of the fic (summary, pairing, warnings, author’s note etc)

i receive feedback from my friend, reread my fic a bajillion times just to miss a bunch of typos and grammatical errors, proceed to break my promise and not change my fic at all, paste it into tumblr, and hover over the post button for a disgustingly long time

once i’ve actually decided to press the damn thing, i immediately close tumblr and bring a safe distance between me and the app

now all that’s left to do is wait for validation from strangers on the internet in form of tags, comments or asks

those were a lot of very sarcastic words to basically say that you should just get started and not worry about it too much; every fic is different and sometimes the words seemingly don’t stop flowing and other times it feels like you’ve never seen a word before in your life; you can also flip-flop between these two stages within the same fic

at the end of the day, we write because we like torturing ourselves visualising our ideas on a page so we can share them with others; art is hard so this is the next best medium to share the headcanons and the brain worms and the rants and the incoherentscreaming the voice in your head does when you see your favourite character

we’re no professionals, we’re just silly little people on our silly little blogs sharing our silly little stories with other silly little people on their silly little blogs who in turn share their silly little stories with us

this is my guide to how i write 90% of my stories; why only 90% you ask? because every now and then a monster comes by, takes up all your brain space, ends up being 11k+ words and you just know you would’ve gone absolutely mental writing it without some form of planning before hand

if you don’t write anything like that, the dumpster fire above might help (mainly the beginning because it just got weirder and weirder with every added paragraph)

to close this off, i’ll leave you with some wise words

roses are red,

violets are blue,

don’t ask me for advice,

i ain’t got a clue

this is your sign to never let me write a writing guide, ever