#anyway hi jess i know you read all of these. did you miss last chapter? ignore if you didnt!! just making sure

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, the Ladies say their farewells. But--

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,764. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 44: Not Over Yet

The Ladies rose before the sun.

Despite their late night, they were duty-bound to wake early. Lady Samient was to leave before dawn came. They all had to be there to see her off.

They gathered in the courtyard, the first rays of light creeping over the mountains. It would be that light which would guide her retinue—no more than a dozen troops, for small was discreet—to the Free Marches.

“Do you think Vichy will be glad to see me, looking like this?” Samient asked, of the Inquisition armour she wore—identical to that of the soldiers who lingered nearby.

“I think it shan’t matter what you wear,” said Trevelyan, “he will simply be happy to see you.”

“And at least you shall be matching,” Lady Erridge teased.

Samient laughed, the joke causing her to settle somewhat. “That is true.”

Trevelyan had never seen her Ladyship quite so nervous as this. It was a shame she would miss the reunion. She so wished to know what Samient was like in the presence of her lover. What a happy, silly mess she might be!

“Do not worry about your father,” the Baroness reassured her. “Lady Montilyet and I shall deal with all that. You focus upon the journey home.”

“Thank you,” said Samient.

She glanced back to the retinue, all in rows, receiving orders from their Captain. The time was nigh. Lady Samient brought her hair up, and tied it into a bun atop her head. Her ears entirely exposed, she ran a finger over the very tips—pointed and proud.

“Shame they’ll have to go straight back under a helm,” she muttered.

Trevelyan smiled. “Though not for much longer.”

“And never again after that.”

Her ritual of readiness must not have gone unnoticed, for her Dalish liaison—a young Elven man called Loranil—took the opportunity to run up, and report in:

“Your Ladyship, we’re ready to march.”

She thanked him, and away he went. Now was the time to follow. Reluctant, she took a step back.

“Well… I suppose I should make my way, then,” she mumbled. “I, um, well—”

“Oh, come here!” Lady Erridge cried, rushing forward. She threw her arms around Samient—soon followed by both Trevelyan and the Baroness. Tangled together, warmth shared. One last time.

“We love you, you know,” said Lady Erridge.

“I know,” Samient replied, sniffling back tears. “I love you too.”

“Have a safe journey,” Trevelyan wished her.

“And write as soon as you can,” the Baroness added. “Tell us everything of your Clan.”

Samient nodded. “I will. I will.”

Each woman held on tight, unflinching in her devotion. It was the sort of embrace that could anchor a ship in a storm. The sort of embrace that could melt the deepest winter. The sort of embrace that could outshine the very sun, and sear even a dragon’s tongue.

Yet, like all good things, it would have to come to an end. One last squeeze, and they parted. Taking a deep breath, Lady Samient took another step back.

“Farewell. All of you. And be happy. Please.”

Though holding tight onto one another, the Ladies began to wave. And they would not stop until Lady Samient was truly gone.

No, Giles. She wished to be remembered as Giles.

Giles found her place within the regiment. A few words were said between her and the soldiers, which seemed to make her smile. She placed her helm upon her head—at least it concealed the tears—and, with one final look back, marched out of Skyhold.

May Ghila’nain guide her home.

***

No sooner than the remaining Ladies had recovered from this, than it was Lady Erridge’s turn.

Her carriage had arrived. They all had gathered. Her things were packed. Orroat’s horse was hitched. It was time.

Naturally, Lady Erridge was inconsolable. Whimpering, tear-stained, and red, she threw herself into Orroat’s arms, and begged: “Can’t we stay just one week more?”

But Lady Orroat shook her head. “I would agree to your every request, my love, but I am afraid if I say yes, you shall never leave.” She tapped Erridge lovingly upon the nose. “And I do not know how the Bann will continue to survive without you. Your poor mother had to sew a dozen more handkerchiefs for him, last time I visited.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Don’t worry”—Orroat dabbed her eyes, ineffective as it was—“we managed to see each other as children, so this will be done as well—and we’ll pass through here plenty, I imagine.” She turned to Trevelyan and Touledy. “You are always welcome in Coldon, of course.”

“I would be glad to visit,” said the Baroness.

“As would I,” Trevelyan agreed.

Lady Erridge whirled, and took hold of their hands. “Oh, please do! I do not wish this to be our last meeting!”

Trevelyan feigned shock. “Why, are we uninvited from your wedding!?”

“Oh, no, no! Of course you are invited. What a wonderful day that shall be. No—a week! It shall be an entire week of festivities! I promise you.” She looked to Orroat. “Don’t you think?”

“If you so wish, my love.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Their saccharine nature was the only thing, at that moment, keeping Trevelyan from crying. Although, she had to admit, a tear did well upon her eye.

“I’m afraid the carriage is ready, Tam,” said Orroat, solemnly. “We’ll need to clear the mountain range before sundown, so we’ll have to be gone soon.”

“Oh, dear!” cried Erridge.

She looked to the Ladies, frozen in place. Hesitation held her back, the knowledge that the next moments with them would be her last—at least for now.

Yet those moments were not to be squandered. Lady Erridge surged forward, swaddling both Trevelyan and Touledy within her embrace. The loveliest, warmest, kindest hug yet.

Trevelyan savoured the feeling.

“You know,” murmured Erridge, “were it not for you, I would have never known myself in love with dear Hul. It was only in befriending you that I realised my feelings for her were different.” She snuggled in closer. “Though just as precious.”

“We love you,” whispered Trevelyan.

“We do,” agreed Touledy.

“I love you both,” said Erridge.

It was this sentiment that seemed to provide her the strength to step away, for nothing could be so enduring. But even as her fingers slipped from Trevelyan’s arm, she whispered to her:

“I’ll miss you terribly, Wicky.”

Trevelyan smiled. “And I you.”

But missing her would have to do—the carriage was loaded, the drivers seated. Lady Orroat opened the door.

“Are you ready, my love?”

“I think so,” Erridge replied.

She offered her hand. Lady Orroat took it, and kissed it, and guided Lady Erridge into the carriage—but did not follow. Not yet. Instead, she looked to the Ladies.

“Thank you for caring for my dear Tam so well,” she told them. “I cannot express how much it means, to know she is loved. I hope to make her even half as happy as you have.”

Trevelyan nodded. “Good. For if you break her heart, we shall kill you.”

“Painfully,” the Baroness added.

Lady Orroat smiled. “I would expect no more and deserve no less.”

She clambered into the carriage, setting beside her dear Lady. Trevelyan watched, quite satisfied that their message had been heard, and that Lady Erridge was in good hands.

And those good hands kept her stable, as Erridge fumbled over Orroat’s lap, to poke her head out of the window.

“Farewell!” she called. “We shall meet again! I love you!”

The signal was given, the reins taken up. The carriage began to trundle away.

“We shall meet again!” repeated Erridge, as it slipped into the gatehouse. Her voice echoed off the stone. “Farewell!”

“Farewell!” the Ladies cried. “Safe journey! Farewell!”

And then it was off, the carriage rumbling over the old stone bridge. Trevelyan imagined that, within it, at that very moment, Lady Orroat had taken Lady Erridge’s hand, and held it tight. It was not so hard to believe.

Good. The sooner they were married, the sooner they would all see each other again.

For now, though, sadness remained a most stalwart companion.

Trevelyan pulled her napkin from a pocket—the poor little cloth only just having dried from its use earlier in the morning—and dabbed at her eyes. It was a wonder she had any tears left. The Baroness, similarly, dried her own. She looked to Lady Trevelyan, and, wordlessly, linked their arms together. Just two Ladies left.

“Come,” she said, “my carriage will not be ready for another hour. Let us pass the time. May I see your new quarters, before I go?”

A good distraction. Trevelyan nodded.

Together, they wandered, back towards the keep. Up, into the Great Hall. Calmer now, than yesterday. The normal sort of hubbub and ambience.

They turned not towards the rotunda door and its guest corridor above, but towards the door to Montilyet’s parlour. Tucked within, they knew well enough, was the little landing that preceded her lounge. And off this landing, were two sets of stairs.

They took the ascending route, to an entirely new corridor. Stretching out above the parlour, snaking into the Inquisitor’s tower, this corridor housed the rooms of some of the Inquisition’s innermost circle.

“I couldn’t quite believe it, when she told me where it was,” Trevelyan admitted.

“It is a privilege to be amongst them,” mused Touledy.

They turned into the tower, ascended a little way up… and soon enough, came across a door.

“This is it,” Trevelyan said, turning the key. “Though I warn you—it’s not mightily impressive.”

She opened up, and wandered in. The Baroness followed, and put on a good show of admiration—but Trevelyan knew it was merely politeness.

This room she’d been given was a touch smaller than that of her guest room. Understandable—guests were to be impressed with comfort; residents simply needed somewhere to sleep. The furnishings were more basic, too—but better than the ones she’d had in the Circle, by far.

The bed, though not four-poster, was of a sufficient size. “Though you’ll not test this one,” she teased the Baroness.

“I believe that is someone else’s duty.”

Trevelyan laughed. “And here is my desk!” she quickly continued, proudly showing the little bureau. “I’m truly glad to have this. I’ll be able to work here, should the Undercroft be too busy. Oh, and look!”

She pointed to the window just above it, that allowed the morning’s light into the room. The Baroness peered out, and gasped at what she saw.

“Oh! Are these not the same mountains we saw from your stargazing spot?”

Trevelyan nodded. “Yes! I can sit here, on a night, and look out—without having to get so cold!”

Touledy grinned. “But how then will you secretly rendezvous with the Commander, hm?”

“I believe you’ve already suggested a method!”

They laughed, and Touledy regarded the room once more. There was little else of note—a trunk and drawers, for storage, and a pair of chairs—but she nodded approvingly nevertheless.

“It may not be much, but I think it is lovely.”

Trevelyan smiled. “I know. So do I. And—”

There was a rapid knock at the door. Trevelyan perked. The Baroness’ carriage could not have been ready so soon? She rushed over, and opened up. A scout stood on the other side.

“Morning, your Ladyship. This just arrived for you—urgent.”

They handed over a small piece of vellum. She could tell by the writing it was a bird-message, transcribed.

“Thank you,” she said, letting them hurry on their way. She shut the door, and wandered back toward Touledy.

“Who is it from?” her Ladyship asked.

Trevelyan steeled herself. “I think I know.”

Though her soul screamed not to, her eyes began to scan the words:

Daughter,

If there is no engagment, there is no reason for you to stay. We shall be travelling to Val Royeaux. Meet us there, or we shall have you fetched.

Bann Trevelyan

Trevelyan’s lungs stopped. The paper fell from her hand, spinning to the ground. They couldn’t—she gasped—they couldn’t just come for her? They couldn’t take her away. No, no—

Touledy, leaning hard on her cane, managed to collect the message from the floor, and read it for herself. Her eyes widened.

“Stay calm, Lady Trevelyan. Everything will be all right.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “But they—but they… I didn’t think they would come get me! I thought they would just leave me be. Why won’t they leave me be?”

Shaking, she found the arm of a chair. The Baroness guided her into it.

“Shh, stay calm. It is all right. You are of the Inquisition now. You have protection. They cannot simply pluck you from Skyhold. We should tell Lady Montilyet of this. She still owes you a debt.”

The Baroness rose, and hurried to the door, sticking her head out. Grunting, she rushed back.

“The scout is gone,” she explained, “so I shall find Montilyet myself. You remain here. Stay calm, all right? Breathe. All right? Breathe.”

Trevelyan did as instructed, taking breaths in, and pushing them forcefully back out.

“Good,” cooed Touledy, stroking her arm, “very good. I will be a moment. Just a moment. We will have this sorted, I promise you.”

Trevelyan nodded. Seeing that permission, Touledy gathered herself, and left the room. Her cane tapped away with a heightened rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

But when it vanished, Trevelyan was left with only the sound of her own breathing. She clasped her hands together, till her knuckles turned white, and held them against her chest. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

A knock at the door. Touledy was faster than promised.

“Come in!” she cried.

“Arcanist?” came the reply.

Trevelyan turned. The Commander stood in her door. She lost her breath again.

“Are you all right?” he said, abandoning what he carried upon her dresser, and pulling a chair up beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, unable to say it without crying. “My parents…”

No use. She passed him the message, instead. He read it. His face fell. His head shook.

“No,” he breathed. “They cannot take you from Skyhold.”

“They’ll try.”

“Then what if…” He tried to catch her eye. “What if you told them we were engaged? Would that settle them?”

“No!” Trevelyan stood, tears falling anew. “I don’t want to do what they want! I want to do what I want! I wanted to be done with them! I just…” She bowed her head, and wept. “I wanted to be free.”

She felt her body buckle—but no sooner than it had, than it was held upright. The Commander enveloped her in his arms, held her tight against his chest. She clung to him in turn, buried her head within the fur of his mantle. It was all him, keeping her together.

“No one can take you from Skyhold without your consent,” he murmured. “I promised to you. You are safe within these walls. They could send an army. They will not take you from—here.”

Trevelyan nodded. Her breathing slowed. She believed him. She believed him.

Footsteps—hurried, heeled footsteps—neared.

“Lady Trevelyan!” came Montilyet’s voice, as she rounded into the room. “The Baroness has just told me! Are you well?”

Trevelyan shook her head. The Commander, slowly, gently released her into Lady Montilyet’s arms.

“It’s all right, Lady Trevelyan,” she told her. “I will go to Val Royeaux myself if I have to! You are an Arcanist of the Inquisition, and you belong here.”

Trevelyan sighed. “I want to stay.”

“I know. You will.”

Further footsteps. Trevelyan glanced toward the door, and saw the Baroness had arrived as well. But—the Commander was gone.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“He slipped away,” the Baroness revealed. She wandered over to the dresser, and admired the bouquet of flowers that had appeared upon it. “But it seems he left you a gift... I shall find someone who can fetch a vase of water.”

The Baroness withdrew. Lady Montilyet sat Trevelyan down, and brought the flowers to her. Trevelyan accepted the arrangement, gladly. Such a beautiful little bouquet. Poppies, and spinwort, crystal grace and daisies. Put together by one with no knowledge of flowers. Ever more beautiful for it.

“Trust me,” said Lady Montilyet, sitting beside her. “I can deal with the Bann and Lady Trevelyan. Easily.”

But Trevelyan shook her head. “No,” she said. “I want to deal with them. Myself.”

[sadesluvr]

CAT AND MOUSE. (V)

Miguel O'Hara x Black Cat! F! Reader Warnings: Physical violence (restraints, blood, gunshots) and hospitals A/N: Almost there! Shorter chapter, but I swear the finale will be worth it... Not completely proofread! PREVIOUS CHAPTER | READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

CURRENT DAY 

Your body was limp. It ached. 

At least that’s what you thought initially.  

After the ache came a consuming numbness; like you could feel your bones and ligaments move about in your skin, but it wasn’t yours. You couldn’t talk, breathe even, only watch; watch as some familiar and some contorted faces surrounded you, staring at the spectacle you’d made of yourself.  

The last thing you remembered was being held down, thick metal tentacles pressing you against the wall as the man in a lab coat and goggles demanded of his goons that they take aim at you. You were trapped; physically, mentally, quite literally fighting a losing battle as you squirmed and writhed under his grip, trying to muster the last of your energy to fight back. You were usually someone who was good at remaining calm under pressure, years of escaping situations within an inch hairs of your life  

As cliche as it sounded, curiosity was going to kill the cat. 

The first gunshot struck you, the metal bullet ploughing into your arm and tearing through ligaments, emitting a burning feeling from your neck right onto your fingertips. Truly, you didn’t know how someone had missed, but you wished he hadn’t, solely because you couldn’t endure the current throb that was pulsating on the left side of your body.  

Was this the end? Was this how you were going to go, dying at the hands of one of the city’s worst criminals, all because you wanted a little bit of attention? Even if you’d done the right thing, it’d all been over a man – a Spider-Man of all people. How you longed to return to the days when you were bad, focused on doing everything for your personal gain and no-one else...it was all so much simpler.  

A swift gust of air blew over you, and you’d thought you were in the midst of an Asencion. Peace washed over you, only to be met with the sensation of your soul, once again, leaving your body.  

This time at 100MPH at 50 foot in the air. 

Clung to a chest. A very strong chest. 

The last thing you remembered was glancing up, your vision blurry, but just enough to make out the concerned brown eyes of Miguel O’Hara. 

Miguel couldn’t remember the last time he’d punched someone so hard. Once he’d made the careful arrangement of placing your limp body between the handlebars and Jess’ chest, he’d watched as someone took control of his body. He never usually went too far when doing villains damage; they were going to be locked up for eternity and didn’t feel like dealing with a dead body – but something about the way Doc Ock had held you down had made him feral.  

Punches had reigned down like a fury, blood spilling onto his suit as he did. It didn’t matter anyway, his suit wasn’t made of fabric after all, and so the crimson liquid shed meant virtually nothing. A suit could be replaced; coded and upgraded, but you couldn’t. And so, he’d gone crazy, pupils shrunk as he withdrew his teeth from the man's neck, still finding the energy within him to give him a final few throttles as Jess yelled at him to calm down. 

Not that he could hear her that well, though. 

All he could think about was you; just how pathetic and angered he was to watch yet another person he loved be stripped away from him so callously. Losing Gabi may have been entirely his own doing, but this was different. This was all you – or was it? – or the ‘canon’ - in truth he didn’t truly know anymore, but he knew he had a chance to save you, to keep you alive even though you mightn’t have been the same.  

And yet, with all the worry in his heart, he still found himself completely frustrated with you. Why were you so stubborn? Why had you deliberately put yourself into harm's way? Was it just for attention? Just for him? 

“It’s a detonator,” Jess hummed as she logged something in her watch. “That baby has enough horsepower to blow up the entire city.” 

“What does the Black Cat need with a detonator? Was she working with Doc?” he replied, side eyeing Jess. He wasn’t naive, but the idea of you liaising with someone like Doc Ock made him sick. 

Jess drew in a breath.  

“Doubt it, but you can never really tell with her...” she began before cocking her head. “But I think you know her much better.”  

He didn’t answer. 

“She’s at the General Hospital on 7th Avenue,” Jess continued, placing a supportive hand on his back. “I can call on Ben to help us clean up. You go and look after her.” 

“Váyase a casa, Jess. Necesita pasar tiempo con su familia.” [Go home, Jess. You need to spend time with your family.] He replied. “I’ll take it from here.” 

She let out a heavy sigh, her bottom lip catching between the gap of her teeth. “Miguel, you don’t -- Nevermind.” she finished abruptly, standing down. Jess had given him that sympathetic look far too many times before, and at this point he was more than aware of what it meant. None of this was your fault. It wasn’t your responsibility to pick up the pieces. 

But it was. You’d done this for him, all because in a fucked up way, he’d inspired you to be better.  

He watched with bated breath as he stood over you, observing your drowsy form as he watched you stir; your forearm wrapped in a tourniquet. That side of your suit had been ripped to treat the wound, and Miguel couldn’t help but feel himself run hot (it really wasn’t the time for it) at the sight of the soft, exposed skin between your armpit and breast. It was as if you were revealing yourself to him completely. 

Hurriedly, he tried to find the words before he anticipated you’d wake. A ‘hello’ would simply not cut it, and in truth he’d never been great at the witty punchline thing. Where was Peter when he needed him? 

A soft groan came from below him, and he glanced down to look at you. Your lips were parted, albeit slightly dry, and your eyes took a while to adjust as they fluttered open, wide ring as they locked onto the towering form above. 

“Oh shit…” you mumbled. “Am I dead?” 

“No.” 

“Why are you here?” You said, cocking your head. “ Where am I? My head hurts…” 

“The hospital. You were in a fight.” Miguel replied bluntly, swiping his tongue over his lips before breaking his gaze once again. 

“I was?” 

“Ay, coño! The detonator. You stole it from Otto…” He sighed. “He tried to kill you.” 

Miguel could see you visibly shrink, but you were so pumped full with anaesthetics that he couldn’t tell if you were fully comprehending all he was saying. He was half expecting a snarky comment, perhaps even something blatantly suggestive, but didn’t receive the latter nor the former.  

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said in a raspy cadence. 

“Don’t be,” Miguel began, shifting his gaze as he looked down at you; his brown eyes softening. “It was stupid to do it alone, but had you not intervened, a canon event could’ve been broken.” 

“Look at that...” you chuckled with a sniff. “I’m a hero...B-But where is he now?” 

“Don’t worry,” Miguel replied. “He’s taken care of. You need to focus on getting better, I’ll be back again tomorrow to check up on you.” 

“What?” 

“Our medics are more advanced,” he said flippantly. “It’s not safe here. You’re still wanted, Otto has more friends than you’d imagine.” 

You hummed, your head feeling light and yet somehow bulging, as if you’d retained enough information for the day. You were sure it would make sense in due time. Briefly, Miguel opened his mouth to speak, shifted his feet but decided not to say anything, instead pursing his lips and giving you a small nod. 

Even through your high, you could tell that you were in love with him. And he loved you. 

“Thank you...” you said softly, body feeling weak as you began to drift off to sleep.  

“No me agradezca, I’m not a hero,” [Don’t thank me] he sighed, taking one last glance at you. “Pero lo hice porque te amo.” [But I did it because I love you.] 

Taglist: @fries11 @honeyluvsatj @saturnknows @vancehopper1987 @youngestxhearts

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week in Review IV

It has been a really weird week this week. One of those weeks where you don’t feel right but you’re not unwell, but you know you’re not yourself. That’s been me the entire week. As a result, I didn’t read or really do much - but I’m hoping this long weekend will get me out of my funk and back to some sense of normality - whatever that is these days lol 🙃

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Sick Day (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Plans for Gold Rush: I recently had a re-read and got to have a really good conversation with @gnpwdrnwhiskey about Charlotte and Joel this week, and it really made me realize how much I miss them. So, my plan is to go back and have a good edit of what’s posted - (both my writing and editing style have changed and Gold Rush is wordy in places it has no business being). Going to take the next week or so to do that and get back to the story that brought me to this community and even if it’s me and three other people reading it, I don’t mind - because I love these characters and want to see it through ❤️ 

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading I think I’m up to chapter six on this now, as of this week, complete fanfic! It’s a cute read of Frankie enrolling his daughter into Readers school and two having a magnetic back and forth that they can’t act upon until Frankie’s daughter is no longer in Readers class (boo school rules) and I can’t wait to see what happens when they’re finally able to be together! 

The Layover by @goodwithcheese How are we all doing? Have we all recovered from this chapter? Are we prepared for the epilogue that’s coming? This story has been a joy to read and I will honestly be revisiting this one with a permanent place on my fanfics to recommend list! 🙌

Talk Tonight  by @darkroastjoel Joel Miller. Delayed flight. One night in Paris. Did I mention Joel Miller and one night in Paris? This was a delight to get stuck into the opening chapter this week and I’m a suck for an OC. I’m really excited to see how the night plays out for Camila and Joel on the backdrop of Paris.

Late Night Texts by @mvtthewmurdvck Another series that had its last chapter this week and an epilogue on the way. This has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com and another that will be a re-read in the near future. I had an inkling of how this last chapter would play out, but rather than be predictable it keeps you on your toes to a very toe-curlingly sweet ending that will make you want to hug the screen.

Hungry Hearts | Independence Day by @atinylittlepain This is another that will always be on my permanent fanfic recommendation list. Things are reaching a peak between Cherry and Joel and I can't wait to see how things are going to come to heads between the two in the present day.

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 4 by @rhoorl Just realized I keep thinking this is chapter three and it’s chapter 4 (told you it’s one of those weeks 🤦🏻‍♀️) - anyway, another delight of a chapter from Jess and there’s so much to unpack here with the residents of Mulefall Court - so do yourself a favour and go take a read… or two! 

Supply & Demand by @wildemaven Between this fanfic, @rhoorl’s portrayal of Benny and the influx of Garrett Hedlund posts on my feed this week - I think I’m slowly being converted to the Benny side! This is a truly sweet one-shot that I don’t want to get too into here as it deserves a read to find out yourself how it plays out and how endearing Heidi’s Benny really is. Because even if you’re not a fan, you’re going to want to read more of him! Trust me 🥰

20/20 by @ladamedusoif This popped up on my feed this week and it’s always an instant re-read when it does as it has a place on my favourites list! Joel needs to get his eyes tested and the man needs glasses. However, he really doesn’t want them.

Fics I’m Looking Forward to Reading... My TBR List is still a work in progress, will share it when it’s done 💕

These two I was hoping to get stuck into this week, but mental headspace got away with me and wanted to make sure I gave them the attention they deserve because peep the premises for both! 🙌

Tempered in the Fire by @ladamedusoif Okay, so it’s a Blacksmith Din AU set some time after the Irish Rebellion of 1798 - the creativity in this synopsis alone is enough to have me mentally carving out some time this weekend to devour the first chapter.

Let’s Call this a Win Win by @jomiddlemarch Joel. OFC. No Outbreak AU. Sarah and Ellie at summer camp. Sign me up! Joel is dropping Sarah off at summer camp where he meets camp nurse Meghan. Did I mention that Joel is going to be working maintenance there too? I cannot wait to give this one the attention it deserves and find out what happens! 

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

Pedro living his best life at a Beyoncé concert this week and everyone living for the pure joy of it. 

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Marry Me - I am a sucker for a rom-com, and I’m a sucker for a JLo rom-com. Throw in Owen Wilson with a batshit plot line that is absolutely unbelievable and you can just shut up and take my money (which Apple did because I bought it)

Something from Tiffany’s - this was on paper a ‘meh’ kinda concept, but I’m glad I gave it a chance as I adored every second of it and now have all the feels and ideas for seasonal one-shots and mini-series that are way above my ability to pull off lol

Discussing WIP’s and OC’s - got to indulge with both this week with some awesome mutuals about not only my own, but theirs too! It's always oo much fun hearing other people’s thought processes and bouncing ideas around. Highly recommend it!

This Week’s Song…

What's a rom-com without a good pop song? This was the bop of the week as I made my way through the week.

Hope everyone had a great week! Let me know if you have any good fanfic recs or your own lists to share! 💕 xx

[jotunheimsaga]

Sigyn Chapter 9

Jess tossed and turned across the cool hotel mattress, her legs tangled in the sheets. The last thing her body wanted was sleep. In the quiet darkness, she threw on some clothes over her pj's and crept out of her room. Elizabeth and her friends were fast asleep on the bed, huddled together in front of the glow of a TV screen.

The main hall of the lodge was quiet. Jess found a lonely table to sit at with her phone and notebook spread out in front of her. On the screen was a photo she had captured earlier in the day of a symbol carved into the bark. She scrolled through a list of runes from ancient Scandinavia, but nothing quite matched her photo.

Stumped by the mystery, she did what she did best, and turned to her writing journal.

A voice made her hand flinch, drawing a sharp line down the page.

"My apologies, Miss Mikkelson!" Kark said from over her shoulder. "I wanted to check if you needed anything."

When Jess politely declined, Kark was about to continue with his cleaning when he noticed the picture on her phone. "What's this?"

"I found it on the trail. I was trying to figure out what it meant."

Kark stared at the photo, eyes slightly wide with recognition.

"You know what it is?" Jess asked.

"Nope!" Kark said with more emphasis then necessary. "I have no idea what that symbol means."

"So, you think it's a symbol and not just a random mark on a tree?"

The color left Kark's face. "You...you thought it was a symbol first, I was just going along with it!"

"You know something." Jess' eyes were kind, but unrelenting. "Please, tell me."

As much as he wanted to flee the room, Kark couldn't resist her pleading eyes. "I...if I had to guess, because I don't know for sure....it reads as a warning."

"A warning for what?"

"Well, I'd like to think you know how warnings work! You see one, you turn and go the other way. Rather than sticking around searching for the danger."

"What kind of danger would be in the middle of the woods that would make someone carve an obscure symbol into a tree?"

Kark narrowed his eyes. "You ask a lot of questions."

"My mother was a scientist," Jess answered with a shrug.

"Curiosity is a good thing, until it isn't." Kark pulled up a chair to sit across from her at the table. "You are so invested in this little picture that you are here alone, awake past midnight."

"Ever since I got here, this feeling's been nagging me. I can't explain it, but I can't think about anything else. It's like I'm caught in the middle of a big mystery I have to solve. I've never felt anything like this. It's exciting, and I keep worrying it will end out of nowhere."

"I know this story." Kark leaned back in his chair. "Long ago, a human fell in love with a Jotun. Do you know who the Jotun are?"

Jess nodded, remembering the name from the stories her mother used to read to her.

"Both the human and the Jotun came from well-off families and were destined to inherit land and wealth. But once they found each other, they could think of nothing but being together. And the more time passed, the further they drifted from their old lives. They ignored one simple fact: a human and Jotun cannot be together."

Jess rolled her eyes. "So this is all a Romeo and Juliette thing?"

Kark blinked. "Oh...um...maybe? I haven't heard of that one."

"You don't know Romeo and Juliette? The Shakespeare story?"

Kark's confusion did not go away. In fact, it worsened. Jess couldn't help laugh.

"You don't know who Shakespeare is? One of the most famous playwriters in history?"

"I...don't get out much. Anyway, the Jotun and human spent so much time together that they neglected their duties at home. One day, the Jotun had to return to Jotunheim but promised they'd come back. The human waited for days, then months, growing more and more worried. They did not know that a year in Jotunheim was almost a century on Earth. By the time the Jotun returned, the human had died, believing the Jotun had abandoned them. Both of them lost their family, their friends, their land, and everything in their name, for a love that could never be."

"Why didn't the human just go live in Jotunheim? If that were me I wouldn't hesitate."

"Jotunheim is a dangerous place for humans."

Jess leaned forward in her chair, fighting to keep a straight face. "Because of the dragons?"

"Amongst other things." Kark's voice was as steady as ever, making Jess wonder if he was either a master of sarcasm or completely insane. "My point, Miss Mikkelson, is sometimes it's better to leave things a mystery."

"That's easy for you to say. My sister and father think I'm a disappointment and my life's going nowhere. I'm sorry if I need a distraction now and then."

"You're a clever girl. I'm sure you can find the wonder in any place you look. All you have to do is choose where. There are so many mysteries in this world. Don't lose yourself to one that can never be answered."

As Kark returned to cleaning, Jess studied him as if waiting for another clue to drop. It was obvious he was hiding something, and she was ready to uncover it. She had begun climbing a mountain. She didn't know its name or exactly how tall it was, but the view at the top must be spectacular. All she had to do was find the next foothold to pull herself a little closer to the top.

And there it was.

Outside, on the dark mountain, a shape floated past the window. She waited for Kark to disappear into the kitchen before she ran over to peer through the glass.

A figure glided towards the supply shed. The slopes were closed for the night - no one was supposed to be out skiing. By the way her pulse quickened, and an uneasy feeling grew in her gut, Jess knew exactly who the skier was without ever seeing her face. Without hesitation, she hurried outside into the cold.

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

GX Month- “Soul Mates”

The desert world has everyone on edge, but it’s nice to find a bright spot in the darkest of times.

For @gxmonth

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41403294/chapters/104400630

No warnings; you should read this prompt title as ‘Best Friends’ because I Do Not write romance and I Do Not Like Soul Mates as a concept. No amatonormativity allowed here. If you desperately *need* it to be soul mates, then think of it as a pun: Jim sees souls and he says ‘mate’ a lot. To emphasise: nothing this month is romantic, including today.

The doors remained locked, just as they had been when he’d checked an hour ago, but ensuring everything was where he’d left it the last time he’d done his rounds helped soothe his anxieties a little. He liked everything in its place, everything running as it should be, no-one out of line. Just like a soldier.

Axel stepped away from the doors, and did another headcount of the sleeping students. There had been one hundred gathered up when they first arrived, and they slept mostly in rows, which sped up the counting process. Some friends had decided to try and huddle for extra warmth, sharing blankets against the biting chill of the desert they’d found themselves in, but counting heads was simple enough, even if he couldn’t just count the bodies laid out so easily. He reached the last student at the count of ninety eight… that wasn’t right. It should be ninety-nine plus him, who was missing? Axel quickly scanned over the sleeping students once more.

“Evening, mate,” came a familiar voice from nearby, which almost made Axel jump in surprise. Of course. One hundred humans, and a crocodile. He’d missed two in his count. “Still up at this hour?”

“Just keeping the night watch in case something tries to attack in the night, and to make sure no-one in here tries to go for a late night stroll. Speaking of which, why are you awake?”

“Just wanted to stretch my legs, although I can take over the night watch if you want to get some sleep,” Jim offered. Axel was silent for a moment, closing his eyes and considering the offer. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get some sleep, after all…

“No offence Jim, but I trust myself better than anyone else. I don’t think I’d sleep well anyway, I might as well keep watch.”

“I hear ya, but we need you awake and alert in the morning too. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and you’re one of our best duellists. It’d be better for all of us if you get some sleep now,” Jim countered. There wasn’t much of an argument to be had for that.

“You’re right,” Axel agreed. “A soldier needs to know his limits, and I may have forgotten mine. Are you sure you’re okay taking over the watch?”

“’Course. Jesse offered to take a watch too, remember? I’ll wake him if I start getting tired,” Jim assured him. Axel gave a small smile at that.

“It must be nice, having friends you can rely on like that.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your friend too,” Jim asked, a frown settling across his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just- I’ve hardly been the most friendly person since we arrived,” Axel explained. “I guess I still feel a little awkward, with how pally-pally you all are together.”

“You saved us all back in that abandoned lab, Axel. When it mattered, you did the right thing, and that’s what’s important,” Jim nodded to himself, giving Axel a smile. “Not that I ever doubted it, I knew you’d be a great person from the moment we met.”

“Really? I don’t think we even spoke before the abandoned lab.”

“I’ve got a real knack for knowing if someone’s worth knowing or not from a glance,” Jim explained, raising a hand to his bandaged eye. “I had a feeling you’d be more reserved than the others, but that you’d do anything to help a friend. And I don’t know about the others, but Shirley and I sleep better knowing we have you here with us, with all your skill.”

A warmth rose to Axel’s cheeks that he tried to cough away, but the compliment felt good. “Thanks Jim. I’m glad you’re here with me, you’re resilient for a civilian, and you feel like the only person in here I don’t need to keep from running out into the desert to your death.”

“That’s a big compliment coming from you,” Jim laughed awkwardly, fidgeting with his hat. “It’s awful that we’re stuck here, but I have to say, getting the chance to become friends with you almost makes it worth it. I wanted to try from the first day, but I guess I got swept up with Jaden too quickly. You’re a really great friend already.”

Axel felt a little taken-aback by Jim’s forwardness, but he couldn’t deny, he felt the same way. “I’m glad for the chance too, Jim. If I can feel safe with anyone watching my back, it’s definitely with you.” Axel agreed, trying to swallow back a yawn. Jim wasn’t fooled.

“Go get some sleep. You can take my blanket too, if you’re cold. I won’t need it for now.”

“Thanks Jim.”

“Don’t mention it. Sleep well.”

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

hi my love ☹️

it's meee!!! i'm sorry i never send asks anymore </3 i've been very busy with college and i just recently finished my last rounds of physical therapy. i also got really sick this week (still... am) and looking at a screen was making my brain all fried up. anyways, here's a lil catch up to your recent works that i wasn't able to send you an ask about, though much shorter and probably not as detailed as usual since my eyes feel like they'll pop out of my face because of this fever. 😭

anyways, absolutely LOVE the prequel series in skz!pack. it's so cute to see how everyone kinda fell into place and how their relationship developed. i'm particularly fond of the fact that hyunjin and changbin were the first with y/n. i honestly thought it'd start with chan or something but i'm digging this. it's exciting and i can't wait to see how minho gets introduced in this. i'm also quite curious about jeongin considering he's the youngest out of all of them. i bet he saw all these older wolves with sparkles in his eyes going 'i need to love all of them'.

moving on, inked petals.... JESS, YOU ENDED THE ANGST! *breakdances*. i thought this day would never come 🥲 lol jk. you have no idea the GRIP i had on my bedsheets when they finally found y/n and brought her home. their reunion got me in shambles, especially her and changbin. their super emotional moment on the way into the house where y/n apologizes and changbin just hugging the life out of her. i want to be y/n... oh and the scream that left me when she and minho had that confrontation in the shower. oh. OHHH. i can't even begin to explain the butterflies that entered my stomach when he started going on about how he could never hate her. i know it's a bittersweet moment but it did get me kicking my legs up and down my bed. i need them to kiss again ASAP. 🥹

oh and the ask the pack asks are fucking hilarious and actually are very fun to read! they're a sweet bunch. the universe you've brough to life has got me in a chokehold, jess. now you got me wondering what the skz!pack's favorite food are. 😭

anyways ily and i hope you're doing well. 🫶 i'll be back to my regularly scheduled asks soon (hopefully).

— 🤍

AHHHH HEY I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!

I hope you’re feeling a little bit better and you’re doing okay. Please don’t ever hesitate to reach out if you need anything. 💜

I love youuuuuuuu! 😘💜

Also. Hang on. Because I think Minho more than delivers in the upcoming chapter. 👀😏

[rhiawriter]

Hi!!!

Sorry I took time to respond to this, but I loved times beyond infinity the last chapter of The Writers!!! Literati, Gilmore Girls angst, Luke fangirling over Jess and Rory, did I mention Literati??? It was definitely great!!!

I have to ask a few things- will Rory use her reasons for 'Why Jess' as the basis for her next project? Also, you did say I could ask about what is the future headcanon post this chapter. So what would Jess and Rory be like in the future, say now in 2022? Another thing- what would Doula be like when she's a teen and how would she have reacted to Jess and Rory being a couple? And last but not the least, it is possible that soon (not exactly now), you'll be able to write a sequel? If you have the time???

Anyway thanks once again!!! Congrats on finishing the Writers once again!

TC! ✌️

Hi!

I'm so glad you liked it!

Rory's next project is another book that's going to come from her investigative journalism work. So no, it won't involve Jess at all, but be a serious expose type book.

I have no plans to write a sequel at this point. I'm sorry to disappoint! I put my future head cannon after the break so I don't accidentally spoil the end for anyone who hasn't read it yet.

So... the story ends in 2019. Like a lot of couples I know, I think Jess and Rory get super serious during the pandemic because they're kind of thrust into it. South Street does get greenlit by HBO, so Jess makes some good money from that project. When the NYC housing market plummets, Jess buys an apartment in Washington Heights (near The Cloisters), and Rory gives up her apartment and moves in with him. (Lol, I imagine them spending a couple of months in Stars Hollow at the beginning of the pandemic too, but them both going so crazy, they move back to NYC pretty quickly.)

After a couple of years of living together, they start talking about having a kid. Rory's in her mid-30's and is worried that she might miss her shot to have one. Rory gets pregnant, and while it's not unplanned (come on, Rory definitely uses two type of bc all the time. It's her personality plus she's got all the trauma from being the daughter of a teen mom), it happens more quickly than they were expecting so they both still feel a little shocked by it. They have a daughter, and they love her, but decide to keep to the 1 kid. They also eventually get married, but after being together for years and already having a kid together, lol. Eventually they decide it's just worth it for financial reasons.

They live in Washington Heights and adore their daughter but also both remain very focused on their careers. Eventually, I think they buy a summer home in Stars Hollow, that Lorelai runs as an AirBnB when they're not in town. So they spend some of the summer in SH, and their kid spends a lot of time with Luke and Lorelai, but the bulk of their life is spent in NYC where they continue to work as writers and be immersed in the NYC writing world.

I don't know what their daughters name is. I need to restrain myself from trying to figure that out. 🤣

I really haven't thought much about Doula. I just know that she's conservative and she and Jess never become close. Also, probably at some point she legally changes her first name. 🤷‍♀️

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 4

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here and chapter 3 here

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

The following week, Azriel read Elain’s messages too many times to admit. He had answered her that “meat banjo” was, indeed, a vile word, and after that, they hadn’t really talked or texted.

He had saved her number as “Elain”, which had felt weirdly private. As if they were friends, which they were not. He was just her friendly helper, and she was his remedy for nightmares.

However, even though they didn’t know each other, Azriel felt an odd sensation in his chest when he thought about her. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was missing her, which was absurd. But the tight little knot in his chest felt very much like longing. He tried to tell himself that this was weird and stupid. He knew that he had a crush on her (even though he hated to admit it), but he could also see that it was a pointless crush. She was an internet sensation, he was a boring IT guy. She was light and happiness and flowers, he was dark and brooding. She made people smile, he made people uncomfortable. And then there was the practical side of things. They had met on the internet. She probably lived on the other side of the country. Hell, she could even live in a different country for all he knew. She might have a partner already - it’s not like he asked. And, last but not least, she probably didn’t have a crush on him.

Before talking to her on the phone, he had just thought that she was a pretty girl that deserved kindness. But after their phone call, he had definitely developed a crush. Which was another reason why he hadn’t texted her. He didn’t want to bother her and he didn’t want to have this crush. He wanted to stop feeling like this for a girl he would never see in real life. Yet, every night before bed, he found himself on her youtube page, watching one of her many videos.

She uploaded a new video to Youtube every Friday, so when Friday came around, Azriel was itching to get home so he could go to sleep (he told himself that he was looking forward to sleeping and not to seeing her face).

However, he had an entire workday to get through first. The office was mostly an open landscape and Azriel’s desk was next to Cassian’s. The only person with his own office was Rhysand, which was fair since he was the owner of the company. At two in the afternoon, Rhys poked his head out of his office.

“You guys are still coming for dinner this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Azriel and Cassian answered in unison.

“I told Feyre that I would help her with the food,” Azriel continued.

Rhys looked like he was going to kiss Azriel. “Oh, god. Thank you, man. I was scared that we would have to repeat the Christmas dinner,” he said and shuddered.

Feyre hated to cook and Rhys did most of the cooking at home, but for some inexplicable reason, she always wanted to cook for holidays or family dinners. To everyone’s dismay. Christmas had been no exception. She had burned the turkey, added salt instead of sugar to the dessert and somehow managed to buy the wrong berries for her cranberry sauce. Luckily, Rhys had been prepared and bought a few frozen pizzas and some ice cream, so the day wasn’t that much of a disaster, but nobody wanted to brave Feyre’s cooking again.

“Why don’t you just cook?” Cassian asked without looking up from his screen.

“You know that she kicks me out if I so much as go near the kitchen when we have these family dinners. And since she started the hormone treatment, she has been a bit bitchy when she gets mad, so I’ll just do whatever she says.”

Azriel chuckled. He could tell from Rhysand’s tone that Feyre had been more than “a bit” bitchy.

“I don’t understand why she lets Azriel help, though…”

“Maybe because she knows that I’ll tell her to sit down with a glass of wine and a magazine, and then she can take all of the credit for the food?”

“Fair enough.” Rhys shrugged. “Just burn the food a little bit, or it won’t be believable.”

Cassian snorted. “No one would believe that something edible was made by your wife. Sorry.”

“She does make a great green smoothie, though,” Rhys grinned and held up his glass.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other and had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. The smoothie looked vile and smelled even worse.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Rhys went back to his office for an important phone call. “See you on Saturday,” he reminded them before closing the door.

Azriel and Cassian worked in silence for the remainder of the day.

When Azriel came home that evening, he made a quick pasta carbonara to eat in front of the TV. He was re-watching New Girl. It was his comfort show and absolutely nobody knew that he watched it (and had watched it multiple times). He would take that information with him to the grave. But it was fun and cute and sometimes he liked to imagine his friends as characters in the show. Cassian was probably Schmidt, because Nesta was one hundred percent Cece. Feyre was Jess, which meant that Rhys was Nick. And then there was Azriel. He wanted to say that he was a very cool character, but most characters on this show weren’t cool, and also, he was definitely Winston. Alone with a cat - sounds about right , Azriel thought to himself as he finished his bowl of pasta.

When the episode ended he just waited for the next to start. He didn’t have any plans for the night and nowhere to be. His phone vibrated where he had left it on the kitchen counter. He ignored it, feeling too lazy to get up. But then it vibrated again. With a sigh, he got up. He expected to see a text from Mor telling him to bring wine tomorrow, or maybe a strange meme from Cassian. What he didn’t expect was to see Elain’s name on his screen.

He could feel his heart in his throat as he read her messages.

Elain Hey, Shadowsinger. I’m uploading a new video soon. You should watch it!

Elain I hope that message didn’t sound creepy? I just meant that I think you might like it.

Azriel’s hands were sweaty.

Azriel You didn’t sound creepy at all. Of course, I’ll watch your video. May I ask what I can expect from it?

Just seconds later, Elain answered.

Elain You can ask, but I might not tell ;)

Azriel Should I be worried?

Elain Haha, no! I think it turned out great. You were my inspiration :)

Azriel could feel himself blush. He had never been someone’s inspiration before.

Azriel So, I’m your muse? ;)

Oh god, was that too flirty? Was the winky-face too much? He wished that he could take back the message.

Elain For tonight, yes!

Azriel stared at his phone, unsure of what to answer. Luckily, Elain wrote to him again.

Elain What are you doing tonight?

Azriel Nothing. Just eating pasta and watching TV. How about you?

Elain That sounds amazing. I have been editing this video for hours so I’m just tired and cranky, haha. I have just ordered a pizza and I think I’ll just eat it in bed as soon as this video has finished uploading. What did you watch?

Azriel If I told you, I would have to kill you.

Elain Oh, intriguing! Is it trashy drama? I bet it’s Grey’s anatomy! Or maybe… Love Island?

Azriel stared at his phone. Did she really think that he would watch something like Love Island?

Azriel I watched New Girl, okay. Don’t tell anyone.

Elain Your secret is safe with me! Also, I love New Girl! Especially Winston!

It felt as if someone was squeezing Azriel’s heart.

Azriel Really? Which character would you be?

Elain My pizza is here so I am going to put all of my electronics in a different room and eat my pizza while reading a good book. It was great talking to you, Azriel! Please tell me what you thought of the video when you have watched it.

Elain Oh, and I would probably be Winston’s cat. lol

Azriel almost dropped his phone. If he had to be alone with a cat for the rest of his life, he would definitely want Elain to be his cat , he thought to himself. Which was a weird thing to think about someone you didn’t know. Azriel dropped his head to his kitchen counter and took a deep breath before replying.

Azriel It was great talking to you too, Elain. Enjoy your dinner and your book :)

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Azriel was going to be thinking about her for the rest of the night anyway.

30 minutes later, he got a notification telling him that Flower Girl ASMR had uploaded a new video. The video was called “ASMR for IT-guys”, which made him chuckle. He clicked the video and Elain’s beautiful face filled his screen again.

“Hello, my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered in her microphone. “This week’s video will be a bit different,” she continued, slowly moving her hands in front of the camera. “This video was inspired by my friend who recently helped me with some computer-related issues, issues, issues.”

Azriel loved it when she repeated words like that. And he liked that he somehow was a part of this video. It was something that connected them. Azriel paused the video and got into bed, knowing fully well that he would probably fall asleep soon if he kept watching this.

He pressed play again. “So, today, I thought that we would try a few computer-related triggers. I have a keyboard here,” she said and started typing on a keyboard that was out of view. “I thought that I would say a few trigger words while typing them.”

She smiled at the camera and pressed a few more keys. “I just wrote my friend’s name, but you won’t get to know who he is. But you know who you are. Thank you for your help!”

Azriel felt all warm inside.

She continued the video. “The first trigger word is IP address ”. Azriel laughed as she repeated the word multiple times while typing quickly.

“And then we have, laptop, laptop, laptop,” she continued, and Azriel felt shivers go down his spine when she popped the p’s.

Azriel had never thought that he would fall asleep to someone whispering “HTML coding” in his ears, but here he was. Relaxed and ready to sleep.

All thanks to Flower Girl ASMR.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

The next day, Azriel texted Elain that he had loved the video. He waited for hours, but no reply came. Maybe she just wanted to repay me for helping her? Azriel thought. Maybe she would stop talking to him now that he had seen the video.

The thought of never talking to Elain again made him feel a new kind of ache in his chest. An ache he didn’t want to feel. This stupid crush needs to end, he muttered to himself as he started to scrub his kitchen counter. He tried to ignore the feeling by keeping busy. He cleaned his apartment and did some laundry before heading over to his friends’ house.

Rhys greeted him by the door and ushered him inside.

“She started cooking like 15 minutes ago, please save whatever can be saved,” he whispered to Azriel. Azriel chuckled and made his way to the kitchen. On the way there, he passed the living room and stopped to greet his friends. He saw most of them on a daily basis because of work, but he was still happy to see them. Cassian and his fiancée Nesta sat close together on one of the green velvet couches. On the opposite couch sat Mor and Amren. Mor was one of the journalists at Velaris News, and Amren was an editor. They had known each other for years. Amren and Rhys had studied together at university, and Mor was Rhysand’s cousin. Once upon a time, Azriel had a crush on Mor. One night after one too many glasses at Rita’s he confessed his feelings to her and she had looked horrified. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t fancy him and leave it at that, but instead, she had blurted “I like girls!”

Azriel was the first person she ever came out to, and he had felt honored. He also knew now that they wouldn’t have worked out together in the long run (even if Mor had been straight). They were just too different. She was energetic and outgoing and fun, he needed peace and quiet. But she was still one of his very best friends.

Amren on the other hand, he didn’t know as well. She had always been very private, but she was damn good at her job.

“Where’s Varian tonight?” Azriel asked Amren, trying to make small talk.

“How should I know?” she answered quickly. “I’m not his mother.”

Cassian stared at her. “But you are his girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like to label things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. Amren had lived with Varian for the past two years, but she was still reluctant to tell anyone about their relationship.

Azriel made his way into the kitchen, and from what he could tell, he made it just in time.

“What are you making, Feyre?” he asked, because truthfully, he couldn’t tell.

Feyre turned around quickly as if he had startled her. “Oh, hi Az,” she said and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Something was burning.

“I was trying to make lamb chops with glazed carrots, roasted potatoes, and salsa verde, but…” she gestured to the stove, which looked like a disaster.

Azriel chuckled. “That’s ambitious.” He lifted the lid from one of the pots and could clearly see that she had overcooked the lamb 10 minutes ago. Also, why had she made them in a pot, and not a frying pan? It would be inedible.

The potatoes were still in the sink, unpeeled.

She gave him a strained smile. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Azriel put the grocery bag he had brought with him on the kitchen island. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” She sounded desperate.

“Please, for the love of god, let Rhys cook when we come over. You really don’t have to show off. You are good at many things, Feyre. But cooking is unfortunately not one of them.”

She nodded. “I know,” she sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and buried her face in her hand. “I just...I need to be able to cook when I become a mother.”

Azriel took her hand in his. “You really don’t. Nobody expect fathers to be good at cooking, so why should every mother be good at it? Honestly, just let Rhys cook while you play with the kids.”

She smiled at him. “That actually sounds amazing,” she sighed.

“Right?”

Azriel started to pull out some ingredients from the bag on the kitchen island. He held up the tomatoes and the spaghetti, “How about some pasta arrabbiata with burrata?”

“Sounds fancy.”

He shrugged. “Everything sounds fancier in a different language. It’s just pasta with a spicy tomato sauce, and burrata on top.”

“Whatever you make will probably be better than that mess,” she said and glanced towards the stove. Azriel couldn’t disagree.

“Probably,” he laughed and got to work. Azriel placed all the pots and pans in the sink and started chopping the vegetables for the sauce, and in just 30 minutes, dinner was served.

“You are my hero,” Feyre said and kissed his cheek as she carried the big bowl of pasta to the dining room.

Everyone had already gathered around the table, wine glasses in hand. As Azriel sat down, Mor poured him some wine.

“This looks amazing,” Nesta said and Cassian nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Az helped a little,” Feyre said and winked at Azriel.

“Just a bit,” Azriel said and took a sip of wine.

The conversation (and wine) flowed freely, as it always did. Cassian and Nesta told them about their wedding plans, Mor gushed about Emerie, a girl she was dating, and Feyre told them about life as a high school art teacher. Azriel would never understand how anyone could choose to spend their days with teenagers, but Feyre loved it.

After two bottles of wine, Nesta and Mor were in an argument about which animal was the cutest.

“No, I am telling you, Sloths are cuter than any animal ever,” Mor exclaimed. “Have you seen their dopey little faces?”

“Sloths? Really?” Nesta looked at her as if she had suggested that the sky was green. “Red pandas are way cuter! They are cute and cuddly, Sloths just look like every single stoner I went to high school with.”

They had been at it for 10 minutes, which Azriel found to be quite impressive.

“Can you both just shut up?” Amren gritted out. “The cutest animals are koalas. They’re even cute when they fight. I am right, you are wrong. Please stop this meaningless discussion before I die from boredom.”

Nesta and Mor looked at Amren, and then at each other.

“We obviously have to see Koalas fight if you want us to end this conversation,” Mor said.

Nesta nodded. “Obviously. Give me your phone, Az,” she said and reached for his phone.

“Why do you need my phone?”

“Because mine is dead and yours is right there on the table. Also, your screen is big and we need to watch this in full HD, for obvious reasons.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, unlocked his phone, and handed it to Nesta.

She clicked the Youtube app, and then her face fell. She looked at Azriel as if he was an alien, and then she showed the phone to Cassian who looked at him with the same facial expression.

What the hell had they found?

He didn’t have anything weird on his phone. And he sure as hell didn’t watch porn on it.

“What?” Azriel asked, and Nesta turned the phone.

Fuck. The last video he had watched was still loaded on Youtube, and of course, it was Elain’s latest video.

“What the hell is this?” Nesta asked, almost looking angry.

Azriel didn’t understand why she found ASMR so wrong, but he desperately wanted to explain himself.

“Well, it’s ASMR. It’s kind of… well, it’s hard to explain, but it helps me sleep and– “

Nesta interrupted him before he could finish. “I know what ASMR is. I am wondering why you are watching Elain?”

Azriel stared at Nesta in shock. Did she also like Elain’s videos? But that wouldn’t explain the anger and confusion.

“Do you...know her?” Azriel asked.

“Yes, we went to university together. She’s our florist for the wedding. She was the florist at their wedding, too,” Nesta answered and gestured towards Rhys and Feyre. “Surely you have met her?”

Azriel could do nothing but shake his head in confusion. If he had ever met Elain, he would have known. You didn’t forget a face like hers.

“Please tell me you’re not stalking her like some creep, Az. Honestly, her last boyfriend was the world’s biggest asshat.”

“I’m not stalking her,” Azriel blurted out. “I’m just watching her videos to fall asleep, I promise. I– I didn’t know that you knew her.”

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “So, is this just a coincidence?”

He nodded. “Weirder things have happened,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta glanced at Cassian, and then back at Azriel. “Fine,” she said after a small eternity. “You would probably be cute together anyway. Sorry for insinuating that you would be a stalker.” She really did look remorseful. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just very protective of her. She’s the nicest girl, but she has horrendous taste in men.”

Azriel couldn’t answer, because his mind was still stuck on the fact that Nesta said that they would be cute together. He wanted to ask Nesta why she thought that. He kind of also wanted to ask her if Elain lived here in Velaris, and what her favorite movie was, and if she, by any chance, had a boyfriend. But he refrained, he didn’t want to sound like a stalker.

“So, what the fuck is ASMR?” Cassian asked. “Is it like porn?”

Before Azriel could answer, Rhys said “It’s like porn for your ears, I guess,” and then the entire table was laughing.

“Nesta,” Feyre said when the laughter had died down. “Does Elain still have that cute, little shop on River Street?”

“Mhm,” Nesta answered and took a sip of her wine.

Azriel could kiss Feyre for asking. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could see her wink in his direction before raising her water glass to her lips.

Azriel walked home that evening with a million thoughts in his head.

He made a list in his head:

Elain lived in Velaris

River Street was literally a 10-minute walk from his home.

Nesta thought that they would be cute together

This meant nothing

She probably didn’t even like him back

Just because they were in the same city, it didn’t mean that they would ever meet.

This was still just a crush

And it was probably one-sided

She hadn’t even answered his latest text message.

And as if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Elain I’m sorry that I didn’t answer you earlier. I’ve been at work all day. We had a leak in the basement and everything was just chaos. I haven’t even checked my phone until now.

He mentally scratched number 9 from his list.

Azriel No worries! Did you fix the leak?

Azriel checked the time on his phone: 23.30

Had she dealt with this leak until now?

Elain Yes! But so many flowers were ruined (I’m a florist) and I had to remake a few arrangements for a wedding that’s coming up.

Elain I’m sorry. You probably don’t care. I’m happy that you liked the video :)

Azriel wanted to tell her that he did care. That everything she said was interesting to him. He would probably even find her Starbucks order fascinating. But that bordered on stalker behavior.

Azriel Again, no worries! Sometimes when you’ve had a bad day, you just need someone to vent to.

Elain Exactly! Thank you for letting me vent :) This day is finally over!

There was a selfie attached to the last message.

Elain was standing in front of a big window surrounded by flowers. She was wearing a white, oversized shirt and her hair was in a messy bun. She looked tired but happy. She was giving him ‘thumbs up’ in the photo and through the window, he could see the Sidra. They were indeed in the same city. It made him both happy and nervous.

Elain Sweaty but happy to be heading home :)

Azriel received that last message when he walked through the door to his apartment. What the hell was he supposed to answer?

But then he thought back to Nesta’s words.

You would probably be cute together.

So he took a deep breath and gathered all his courage.

Azriel You still look beautiful though

He stared at his phone. Would she answer? Would she block him? Would she tell him to stop being a creep?

Elain Thank you :) What do you look like? I might have forgotten ;)

Okay. That was flirty. Even Azriel could tell that that was a flirty text message, and he was usually oblivious to such things. He quickly walked to his bathroom (it was the room with the best lighting). He checked his shirt (no stains) and mussed with his hair.

“Good enough,” he muttered, and snapped a selfie.

Before he could chicken out, he sent it to her.

Within seconds, he received a reply.

Elain Beautiful!

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Three: “Your Obedient Servant”

“You’ve kept me from the room where it happens for the last time.”

Word count: ~2450 words

Warnings: Shitty parent, verbal abuse from mother, language, bullying, brief mention of alcohol, mention of guns, implied murder, typical Criminal Minds-esque details towards the murder but nothing graphic.

Characters mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Aaron Hotchner

Original characters: Reader’s mother and father, Este and her family, Lara, Andrew Walker, and Abby. 

Mentions of: David Rossi, Erin Strauss, and Penelope Garcia

A/N: And here we are! Chapter three! I think I have marked all warnings but if there are any I’ve missed, please feel free to let me know! As always, feedback is always appreciated. This chapter is kind of background of reader focused and I’m so sorry for that. I hope y’all can enjoy anyways and enjoy the turn made towards bringing everyone in. Next chapter will fully bring the team in and I’m excited! That’s enough out of me, enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Eight years old…

“What in fresh hell are you doing?” A voice came from your doorway, one that belonged to your mother. You didn’t look up from where you laid on the floor, a colored pencil in your hand and a coloring book was spread out in front of you. Your room was illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table, it being well past your bedtime.

“Coloring. Couldn’t sleep.” Footsteps got louder as your mother approached and you flinched as she snatched the book up.

“What time is your bedtime?”

“Eight-thirty.” She cleared her throat. “Ma’am.”

“And it’s midnight. So your ass should be where?”

“But I wasn’t making any noise.” Your eyes met your mother’s and her harsh glare made you look back down. “In bed.”

“That’s right.” She grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, and you tried not to wince. “If I come check on you and catch you out of this bed again, you’re gonna be in so much trouble, kid.”

“But what if I can’t sleep?” You asked as you climbed back into your bed.

“You’ll fall asleep eventually.” Your mother turned off your lamp, the warm glow of the room now being replaced by total darkness. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Your mother walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You listened for a minute to make sure she was really in bed before you pulled your stuffed animal to your chest and screwed your eyes shut.

“Unfortunately.”

Sixteen years old…

“Happy birthday, kiddo. The big sixteen.” You smiled as you held your phone, sat on the bench outside of school as you waited for your mom to pick you up. Your dad was on the other end of the phone, and you had to admit you missed him. “Still up for your visit this weekend?”

“Are you? You pulled a Mom and bailed on me last time.” Your words could sound harsh to anyone passing by, but there was no malice behind them, just a teasing smile. And you could practically hear your dad rolling his eyes.

“Brat.”

“Yours truly.”

“I promise, nothing will stop me from seeing you this weekend. It’s not every day your only child turns sixteen.” A sigh from the other end makes your heart clench. “I miss you, kid.”

“I miss you too, Dad. I can’t wait to see you.” “Ditto.” Muffled voices were heard in the background before your dad spoke again. “I have to go, but I expect to hear all about your birthday extravaganza Saturday.”

“You mean my trip to the bookstore with Este and dinner with her family? Mom’s too busy with her new fu-”

“Uh uh. It may be true, but don’t finish that sentence.” You could hear the smile in your dad’s voice, mixed with irritation. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, Dad. See you Saturday.”

“See you then.” You hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket, opening the book that sat in your lap to read as you waited for your mom to pick you up from school.

You were delved deep into your book, the sound of the athletes practicing in the nearby fields fading into silence as you let yourself become entranced in your book. You didn’t notice the looming shadow of Lara standing over you.

“Well, thanks, Y/L/N! I’ve been looking for a new book.” You jumped when you heard her voice. She snatched the book from your hands and you reached for it, but she was quicker.

“Give it back!”

“Really? David Rossi?” Lara scoffed and tossed the book over her shoulder where it landed in a pile of mud by the sidewalk we were on. “Whoops.” Lara walked past you, her shoulder knocking harshly into yours. “It’s too easy with them.” Lara said to herself and you ran to your book, and your eyes watered as you knelt down to pick it up, the book being covered in mud.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” You whispered to yourself as you held the book and tried your best to wipe the mud off it. You sighed in resignation and walked to the trash can a few feet away and set the book in. You were going to the bookstore tomorrow, you could replace it then.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a car honked and you looked up, noticing your mother’s car. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.” Your mother yelled from the open window and you nodded.

“Coming.” You called out and jogged over to the car, throwing your backpack into the backseat before you got into the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” She gestured to your red eyes before she noticed your dirty hands. “Gross, how old are you?” She slapped the back of your head and you digged for napkins in the glove compartment while apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m sorry. Lara threw my book in the mud and I tried to save it.”

“Those were weird books anyways. She did you a favor.”

Twenty-two years old…

“Look at our college graduate, Jess.” Este’s father, Phil, smiled from the head of the table. “Look out, world, you’re not prepared.”

“I will not be taking over the world until Y/N is. They still have one year to finish their master’s degree. So I’m taking a gap year. Maybe I’ll go husband hunting.”

“Or, you know, do something that’ll look better on your job applications.” Este’s sister deadpanned.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You nudged Este with your foot and gave her a playful warning look. Este stuck her tongue out at you and you mirrored her expression.

“I wish Y/N would have majored in the same thing as you, Este.” Not even fifteen words out of your mother and the whole atmosphere was brought down. Why couldn’t she be with Joe? Jonah? J-something. “Instead of aiming for the FBI, where you’re not even guaranteed a job.”

“Which is why I majored in criminology. Minored in digital forensics. And I’m earning my masters in forensic psychology.” You responded, not sparing her a glance.

“And if you still don’t-”

“I think my credentials will be impressive regardless.” You paused as the waitress stopped by, setting everyone’s plates down. You thanked her as she left, before looking at your mother. “Even if I don’t immediately get offered a job, I don’t mind. I can work my way to the FBI. I don’t get bored of something within a month.” Bella’s eyes widened and Este smirked to herself as she took a sip of her drink.

“I would sure hope not! College would have been a bad idea if you couldn’t work at something for a month.” Jessica, Este’s mother, tried to joke but your mother was relentless.

“I hope you fix your personality before you apply or they’ll never let you in through the door.”

“You don’t like it? I learned from you.” Your mother stood from her chair, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“I’m done.”

“Drive safe.” You called out to your mother’s retreating form and rolled your eyes as you turned to Este. “Drinks?”

“Drinks.”

Twenty-five years old…

“So, you’re about halfway done with your training at the Academy.” You sat across from your field counselor, Abby. “How have things been?”

“Andrew and I had some… creative differences with firearms training.”

“Creative differences?” Abby asked and you thought back to the day.

You had missed the vital shots multiple times, and you and Andrew both were getting irritated at each other. What was meant to be motivating turned snarky, which had started to turn condescending. You started off getting close to your vitals, and with each negative comment, your concentration turned to frustration which led to further off shots.

“If you could make these three shots so I can leave, that would be great. Come on, how are you going to ace rifle training but not handgun? I might as well talk to our program director and tell her your future in the Academy and FBI is a deadend. But if she ever needs a sharp-shooter…” And something snapped inside you, and you shot the five targets in front of you perfectly. Alternating between head and chest shots, straight in the middle. Bullseyes. You turned to face Andrew, walked towards him and set your gun in his hand.

“You may leave now.” You walked towards the doors of the firing range and called out. “See you tomorrow.”

“I see.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face as she spoke. “You know you can’t let people get to you like he did. It may have benefitted you this time, but there will come a time where you’ll reach your breaking point and lose your temper at your superior and risk your job.”

“You know about my parents, it’s kind of genetic.” You sighed. “But I will work on it. I know I need to.”

“Good. And I’ll have a word with Andrew about his motivational methods.” You let out a laugh before your session continued.

Thirty-one years old…

You sat in Hotch’s office and your body language screamed ‘angry.’ Your arms were crossed over your chest, your foot tapped against the floor, and if that wasn’t enough, the saying if looks could kill truly applied to you right now. If looks could kill, Aaron Hotchner would be a pile of dust in his chair. But like usual, Hotch’s body language was as usual. Professional, stoic, cold. He’d warmed up to the rest of the team, surprising you that he wasn’t truly emotionless after all. But that persona never came out around you. All that came out was indifference at best. Disapproval at worst, often paired with anger. Disappointment. That’s all you’d ever be, huh?

You had been called to Hotch’s office after you got back from your latest case. You’d never seen Hotch as mad as he was then. To anyone else, it might seem like he got mad because he cared about you and your wellbeing. But that was not the case today. You didn’t follow his orders, and now you were to pay the consequences.

“I am slow to anger, but I toe the line as I think about the effects of your choices on the team. I look back on where we failed, but in every place I checked, the only common thread?”

“Let me guess, me?” You interrupted.

“Your disrespect.” Hotch narrowed his eyes at you.

“You call me inexperienced, a danger to the team.” You leaned forward as you began to speak.

“Agent, if you’ve got something to say-” You raised your hand, cutting him off.

“Name a time and place, face to face. Then we can really talk.” You rested your hands on his desk, matching the expression he was giving you.

“That is enough, Agent Y/L/N.” Hotch spoke after a minute of your stare-down, and you settled back into your seat.

“I’m just an agent, trying to do my best for our team. I don’t want to fight but I won’t apologize for doing what I believe was right.”

“Careful, Y/N, or it’ll be the end of your career at the BAU. Not mine.”

“I won’t apologize for my actions, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You shrugged.

“Then be prepared to meet with me and Strauss tomorrow morning to discuss your placement on this team.” Hotch leaned back in his chair.

“Are you fucking serious? Every agent on this team has gone against orders. Even you have given the middle finger to direct orders several times. I make one call that goes against your orders, one that allows us to save the hostage and take in the unsub, and now you’re threatening my career?” You scoffed and looked your boss in the eyes as you stood up. “Unbelievable.”

“Nine sharp, agent.” Hotch kept eye contact with you as he spoke.

“Oh, I have the honor to be your obedient servant, sir.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as you left.

Today…

You sat outside Andrew Walter’s house, lying in wait. Andrew lived in Baltimore now, having quit his job to work at a local FBI field office. You think a federal agent would have been more private about his life; it didn’t take Penelope Garcia to figure out where he worked. Where he lived. You had been waiting for the perfect moment to revisit him, and now you had it. Now was all waiting for the window of opportunity to hit. The window to open just enough for you to seize your chance and show him what all you had become since you graduated from the Academy.

The last light flickered off in his home and you looked down the street. No cars moving, no sounds of laughter or conversations could be heard from your spot. It was almost eerily silent, but there was a rush of an unknown emotion flooding through you. You tucked your gun into your waistband, snapping your gloves into place, and adjusting your hood over your hat. You got out of your car and walked up to the house, a smirk on your face.

---

“Come in.” Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, JJ standing in his doorway.

“I know we don’t typically take cases only involving one person.” JJ said as she walked over to Hotch’s desk. “The detective thinks there is a possibility it could be related to the Fairfax murder.”

“And do you?” Hotch held his hand out for the file and JJ set it in his hand before taking a seat.

“The possibility is there, but the similarities are basic. Both victims were men who died by gunshots. But our Fairfax victim was married, this guy is single. And in Baltimore. There’s a bit of distance between the two cities, but definitely a doable drive.”

“We’ve seen further.” Hotch opened the file and his brows furrowed. “And he died by gunshot?”

“There was some blunt force trauma involved, but the M.E. says the cause of death was the gunshot wound. All the other injuries were sustained antemortem.”

“Personal?”

“Or was our unsub physically incapable of subduing him before injuring him?” A beat of silence.

“Everyone else is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We have a case.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax @catherine-nelson @reids-mismatchedsocks @lieswithoutfairytales @devilswaldorf @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sassiest-politician @yoshigguk @httpeacewitch @feedthemadness-sweetie 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 2

Part 1 | AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

Thomas tried to steady himself as Alastair walked - no, more like ran - away. What was he doing here, by his bedside? In what universe would his parents allow Alastair Carstairs to sit with him while they slept? He seemed to recall many nights in his youth when his mother refused to sleep at all when he was unwell. 

His mind ran through countless possibilities, each one less likely than the last, until his parents rushed into his room. He pushed those thoughts aside as mother ran to him, cupping his face in her hands and gently kissing his forehead. “We were so worried. How are you feeling?” 

Besides blinding rage? He took a moment to actually consider the question. He’d been too distracted by the Alastair fiasco to take notice of it all. Alastair said that he had been injured. “Er, my head hurts, but other than that, I feel alright.”

She smiled. “That’s good. You were attacked on patrol about three days ago, and your injuries were quite severe. There’s a Silent Brother lingering around here somewhere, we should fetch him to check on you. I’m so glad you’re feeling alright, love.” 

“Alright is one word for not being able to remember the past six months,” Eugenia commented, appearing in the doorway. 

Both of his parents looked alarmed. “What do you mean?” his father asked. 

“That’s what-” She cut herself off abruptly. “Thomas, what month is it?” 

“Um…” He thought for a moment. Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a bit blurry. Was the engagement party last week? Two weeks ago, perhaps? “It’s August.”

His mother looked at him worriedly. 

“What?” 

“It’s February,” Eugenia answered. She was always the most blunt out of all of them.

Thomas wasn’t sure how to respond, but his mother quickly reassured, “That’s alright, dear. I’ll go find the Silent Brother now. I’m sure this will pass as your head heals.” 

She left the room and Eugenia came to the chair that Alastair had been sitting in earlier. She sighed. “I know you’re mad at him.” It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Alastair. “You should be, but also… try to keep in mind that a lot has happened over the past six months.” 

He could feel the anger rising in his bloodstream again, but there was only so much he was willing to say with his father present. “Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that…” He trailed off. What was being implied here? He had no idea what was happening at all. 

“Believe what you must, then,” Eugenia exhaled. 

“Well, what did happen in the last six months?” 

Eugenia thought for a moment. “Hm, let’s see… Well, Rosamund and Thoby got engaged. Cordelia and James got married, kind of. Matthew got a flat! And a car. And he’s trying to quit drinking now, though that’s a bit new, maybe don’t bring it up. Let’s see… There was the whole serial killer bit, we fought a couple of Princes of Hell, Lilith showed up, Lucie raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead… Oh, I’m sure I’m missing some things. Your friends can explain it better.” 

Thomas could only stare in response. 

“See? Is your relationship with Alastair Carstairs truly the most shocking thing to have happened in the past six months?” 

Thomas’ head had ached before, but now he could feel it pounding, trying to process all that his sister had just rattled off. “I- What-” He flashed his gaze towards his father, who seemed a bit concerned, but not the least bit surprised or upset. “My- I don’t-” 

“I can see now that I’ve said far too much. You know what? It’s fine. Most of that doesn’t even matter anyways. The parts that do, well, you’ll figure them out. Besides, your memories may come back soon enough anyways. And it’s all truly not as dramatic as it sounds listed out like that.” 

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to shove all of those thoughts, his sister’s words, the many questions needing answers, into some corner of his brain to be picked up later. “Perhaps we can just… avoid that as a topic of conversation.” 

“Of course,” his sister said quickly. “By ‘that’ you mean-” 

Gideon cut her off by clearing his throat. “Genie, would you please find Bridget and request some food be brought up for your brother, now that he’s awake.” 

She shot out of her seat with nervous energy. “Of course. I’ll be back.” 

Once she was out the door, he chuckled gently. “I have no idea how she still has that much energy after staying awake for nearly three straight days.” 

Thomas bit at the inside of his lip. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” 

Gideon nodded solemnly. “You’re alright now, though, and you’re awake. That’s what is important.” He paused. “I know this has all been a lot to take in, but you needn’t worry about any of it, truly. All that matters to any of us right now is that you heal. You should try to rest, if only because Eugenia is less likely to harass you if it looks like you’re sleeping.” 

He gave him a small smile and tried to relax. He attempted, unsuccessfully, to quiet the noise in his brain. Alastair, sitting by his bedside. The look on Alastair’s face as he fled the room. How his entire family had seemingly accepted Alastair as part of his life, as his… partner? Had Alastair sat with them these three long days, hoping, praying, that he would wake? 

It didn’t make sense. Alastair had spread cruel rumors, terrible lies, about Thomas’ family. Rumors that had made his mother weep. He’d hurt Matthew so badly that the scars showed even now, four years later. He’d had a crush on Alastair in school, of course. Just a silly schoolboy crush, running after the witty and mysterious older boy with cutting words and sad eyes. Thomas had thought, for a moment, that he was falling in love with him, back in Paris. He kicked himself at the thought of it now. He’d been terribly lonely and feeling alienated, of course he would fall at the feet of the first person he connected with. 

He felt it again, though, when Alastair arrived in London, in those stolen conversations at parties or in the laboratory. He knew now that the Alastair he’d shown to Thomas was not true. It was a facade he put on to please him, a trick. That Alastair would never be able to say such terrible things about his loved ones, even as some strange, sick act. This must be another trick, Thomas thought, one that he’d seemingly convinced not only Thomas of but everyone else, too. 

Thomas silently scolded himself. There were much bigger issues to worry about than Alastair Carstairs’ games, such as the fact that he’d nearly died a few days prior or that Lucie had apparently raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead. Those were the types of things that he should be worried about, or even the fact that this meant that it had been over half a year without his sister, or that he’d turned 19 last month and could not remember. And yet, his mind lingered. 

His mother returned soon after with Brother Shadrach. Thomas allowed himself a moment of silent relief that it was not Brother Zachariah. He had no issue with Jem, but he suspected that his presence would make it a bit difficult to keep his mind off of a different Carstairs. 

Brother Shadrach did a short physical evaluation. Thomas still had several wounds that had not finished healing, but they were reportedly improving nicely. His head injury was a different story. 

With these types of injuries, recent memories are typically more affected than older ones. Only time will tell whether the amnesia is temporary or not. It is likely that even if you begin to regain your older memories, some of your most recent memories will never return, even if that is merely the days or weeks leading up to the attack. 

Sophie thanked him for all of his help, and he left them with orders that Thomas be allowed light physical activity as he finished healing, though he should avoid anything that may make his headache worsen, such as reading. Or Alastair Carstairs, Thomas had wanted to add, though he did not. 

Over the next several hours, his family tapered off in shifts, finally allowing themselves much-needed rest and meals now that they were certain that Thomas was alright. 

It was Eugenia’s shift when he woke from a nap with too much restless energy to lie in bed any longer. “I’m going to walk around a bit,” he announced. 

She sat up, closing the book she was reading. “I’ll come with you, then.” 

“That’s alright, you don’t need to. Brother Shadrach said I’m allowed to walk around. I’m meant to avoid headaches, though, and I’d rather not have you talking my ears off.” 

Genie’s face fell. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t- That came out wrong. I only meant that I’d like some time alone.” 

“I know what you meant.” She looked back down at the book in her lap. “Go. You have until I finish this chapter, and then I’m coming to find you.” 

His wandering eventually led him to the library, though he was not meant to do any actual reading. In the library, however, was a man. 

“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked. 

Alastair looked up from the book he was holding. “I- Thomas! I didn’t realize that you were walking around.” 

“Yes, according to Brother Shadrach, my head injury has not affected my ability to walk.” 

“Right-” 

“You still haven’t answered my question. Go home, Carstairs. How many times do I need to tell it to you? Do you need it in a different language?” He was about to tell Alastair to leave in Farsi when he was cut off. 

“No, I’ll go.” He shut his book and stood up. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to bother you again, I simply-” 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing or how you’ve managed to convince my whole family of it, too, but it won’t work anymore.” 

“Thomas, there’s no-” 

“Cease constantly addressing me by my first name. We’re not schoolboys any longer. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” 

Alastair couldn’t seem to find the words to respond, though his expression was as unreadable as ever. 

Thomas could feel tears burning in his eyes. “I thought that you were different, but I was wrong. I will not allow myself to fall for your lies again.” 

“Very well, Mr. Lightwood. I will take my leave. I did not wish to upset you.” His face was still blank. 

“Really? Because you don’t seem to care all that much. We’re meant to be in a relationship, or something, according to my sister, but it doesn’t even seem like you care that I hate you.” 

There, just for a moment, was a flicker across Alastair’s face, though Thomas couldn’t quite catch what it was. He thought for a moment before finally responding. “You’re allowed to hate me, T- Perhaps you should. It matters not to me because as long as you hate me, you are awake and you are alive, and that is an easier reality to contend with than one where you are… not alive. I hope you feel better, Mr. Lightwood.” 

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but was too flustered to find the words. He stared as he watched Alastair walk out of the library. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he would look back at him, but he simply kept walking, turning the corner towards the front entrance of the Institute.

Thanks for all of your support! taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @lifewouldbebetteronmars @delusioneon @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Part 3

[sillyrabbit81]

Syverson & Vixen

Summary: Captain Syverson retires from the Army and takes an extended vacation. He wasn't planning on falling in love. Then he meets vix, an unlucky in love tattoo artist at a party. Do they have what it takes to make it?

Pairing: Syverson x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, smoking, drug use, violence, sexual assault (last paragraph of the chapter if you want to skip it)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy my version of Syverson. Thanks for reading.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Part 4 Part 6

Part 5

Victoria

I woke up Sunday morning with a mild hangover. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, hoping it would get the shitty taste from my mouth. It didn't work nearly as well as I had hoped.

I went to the kitchen, made a coffee and cooked a fry-up of bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans and toast. I served three plates up, covered two with foil for Jess and Peter, then went out on the back verandah and ate.

I looked at my phone. I had five missed calls from Rob and ten drunken messages about how sorry he was and how he wants to make it up to me. I sent a message telling him to apologise to Pete and leave me alone.

There was a message from my ex/boss, Macca. He just said he needed to book one of his mates in with me after hours on Wednesday. Great, there goes four hours of my afternoon having to sit with my boss and some bikie talk about all the rooting and drugs they did back in the day. At least I would get paid for having to listen to those conversations, unlike when we were dating.

No message from Sy, though. I shouldn't expect one so soon, but I was disappointed. I really liked him. He had been a lot of fun and fit in well last night. He was a fair bit older than me, but that was usually a plus. He was very confident in himself but didn't appear arrogant. He could take a joke and could flirt pretty well. Of course, his amazing body and good looks helped. And my God, he could kiss.

I sighed as I looked over the backyard. There wasn't too much cleaning up to do. Most people had used the bins I had put out. I smoked a cigarette and finished my coffee before I started cleaning the yard.

"So, tell me what happened with Sy," Jess asked after Pete went home. It was after dinner, and the two of us were watching Netflix with the air-con blasting.

"Well, not much really, we kissed, and it was really good, like hot as fuck good. I'm pretty much ready to go with him back to Pete's place, and he stops and asks me out for a date."

"What did you say?"

"I said I would, and that was it."

"Really?" Jess asked. "He didn't try and take you back to Petes?"

"Nope," I said, feeling a bit confused about it still.

"He seemed keen, though."

"I thought so too. I pretty much told Sy I'd fuck him, and he said no."

Jess raised her eyebrows. "That's weird. Has he messaged you today?"

"No. I'll give it a few days before I worry about it." I was lying. I was worried about it already. I really wanted to hear from him. Maybe I came on too strong. Or perhaps he was so drunk he forgot he asked me out.

Jess nodded. "What happened with Robbo? What was that about?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. He got the shits when I talked to Sy, and then he wouldn't let my hand go. Sy comes up and, get this," I start laughing already. "Sy says to Robbo, 'let go of her hand, son.'"

"Son?" Both Jess and I laugh, and it takes us a few minutes to calm down.

"Yeah, anyway, Rob gets agro about it, and then Pete came, and it was over." I shrugged. "I thought he would leave me alone after that, but I woke up to a ton of messages from him, so who knows."

"What's going on with Macca?"

"Macca is Macca. He brought his new girlfriend into the shop last week. I was relieved, actually. I don't think she's the one he cheated on me with, but he paraded her around and made sure I met her. I'm not sure if he's playing games with me or if he's really over it."

"Are you still going to get a new job?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I feel stifled there. But Macca knows so many people, and I don't know what he has said about me. I think I'm going to have to look out of the area, which means more travel which will suck balls."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jen worked on the other side of Sydney, and it could take her 45 to an hour to get to work each day.

"Maybe we could move together. I could try and find a job near the hospital if you want."

"I don't think Pete will move away from the beach."

"Did you guys talk more about getting married?" Jess shook her head and looked like she was going to cry. "Oh, Jess, sweetie. I'm sorry."

I hugged her and rubbed her back while she cried. Poor Jess. I don't know why Pete won't marry her. Jess has an old fashioned notion about not living with your partner until you're married, and its caused friction over the years. But it's getting worse. Jess wants kids too. Despite only being 27, she was worried her time is slipping away.

After Jess had a good cry and we watched Nailed It before we went to bed. I had just gotten into bed when my phone rang.

My heart jumped in my throat. It was a number I didn't recognise. I almost let it go through to voice mail, but I remembered I didn't get Sy's number.

"Hello."

"Hi, Sugar Tits." It was Macca, and he sounded speedy. Great.

"Hi, Macca. Couldn't this wait until the morning? Whose phone are you calling from."

"I got a new number, just calling to let you know."

"Again?"

"Yeah, new provider and all that."

"You could have just texted me."

"Yes, but then I wouldn't be able to hear your lovely voice. Also, I didn't know if you got my message last night about Boots."

"The mate you want me to tattoo? Yeah, I got it. Sorry I didn't reply. I was just going to tell you tomorrow it was ok."

"Well, he's here now pestering me, so I thought I'd call you and check."

"It's fine. I'm in bed, so I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

"Want to come back to my place on Wednesday after the job's done? We could get lit."

I rolled my eyes. "Macca, I've got jobs on Thursday and don't you have a girlfriend?"

"You know I'd rather have you."

"Goodnight Macca, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Why don't you come over now? You can have the week off, and we can hang out at my place."

"Sorry, Mac, I'm going to bed." I hung up, annoyed. I wasn't used to this crap. I should never have gotten involved with Macca. I knew enough not to shit where you ate, but he had been so charming when I first worked with him, and he eventually wore me down, and we dated. Then I fucked up when I found out Macca had cheated on me and got so wasted I kissed Rob. I need to get off my arse and get a new job, so I don't have to see Macca all the time.

My phone rang again. It was a number I didn't know, and I assumed it was Macca calling back.

"Look, I told you nicely. I'm not interested. Don't make me tell you to fuck off."

"Well, alright then, Darlin'." It was Syverson.

"Sy," my breath sped up. "Sorry, I didn't realise it was you."

"Was it that guy from last night?"

"No." I chewed my lip. "It was my boss."

"Strange way to talk to your boss."

"He's also my ex."

"I see." He's thinking I'm a whole lot of trouble, isn't he?

"He cheated on me," I said quickly.

"Well, he must be a few sandwiches shy of a picnic." I could hear the smile in his voice.

I smiled too. Sy wasn't worried. "What are you up to?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I'm just about to hop into bed. I wanted to hear your voice before I did."

"Aww, you miss me already?" I teased.

"I'd be a fool if I didn't, and my Momma didn't raise fools."

I blushed. Sy was good. "I'm looking forward to Friday," I said. "Where are we going?"

"I ain't telling."

"Another surprise," I said. "Do you like surprises?"

"Sometimes. I like surprising pretty little kittens like you."

I felt myself getting all hot, and I loved how he talked. He was so suggestive it made my toes curl. "At least tell me what to wear."

"Something like what you wore to the party would be appropriate."

"And under that?" I asked, teasing.

"Hmm. Why don't you surprise me."

I laughed. "Ok, I will."

"Well, I'll let you get some sleep, Darlin'. Goodnight."

I said goodnight to Sy, but I had no idea how I would sleep.

Macca didn't show for work on Monday or Tuesday. I was relieved. It meant he found some other girl to warm his bed, which meant he would leave me alone again. I thought about ignoring Maccas phone call, but I had the feeling that wasn't going to be the end of it. It's the second time since I had broken it off with him that he had gotten bored and tried to get me back.

When Macca doesn't show for work, I often have to wrangle shit at the shop. The counter girls, who are always young, pretty and straight out of high school, are always trying to slack off when he's not in, trying to get out of cleaning duties or taking too many breaks. Although I got paid pretty well, I didn't get paid enough to be a manager, but I couldn't stand the shop being dirty. It made the artists look bad. Not to mention then, I was also responsible for the money at the end of the day. Luckily, most people know enough not to steal cash from a tattoo shop and the till usually adds up.

I put out some feelers with other artists I knew to see if any jobs were going. There were a couple of places that looked interesting. I sent enquires to one shop with a link to my socials for work evidence. They replied a few hours later and wanted to meet with me next week.

I spent a lot of time thinking about Sy while I worked. So much so that I found myself drawing Syverson at the workbench on Wednesday afternoon. I drew him as I remembered him, his face in profile, standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest in his black t-shirt, jeans and boots. I added a cigarette packet peeking out of his t-shirt sleeve, and I rolled the bottom of his jeans up. I gave him a pompadour but still short hair on the sides and made his beard a bit neater. I added a 'Momma' love heart tattoo. I drew a frame around it. Now I just had to find someone to tattoo it to.

I felt someone breathing on my neck, and I turned around and saw Macca peering over my shoulder. "That's good, Vix. Who's the dude?"

"The man of my dreams, Mac," I said dismissively. "Nice of you to show up." He looked awful, deep purple bags under his red-rimmed eyes. His skin was pale and dry, his hair could do with a wash, and he appeared to have slept in his clothes.

"I was sick," Macca said without the common decency to even pretend to be apologetic. When he was like this, I don't know what possessed me to date him in the first place.

"A phone call would have been nice," I told him, slipping my drawing in my bag.

Macca shrugged. "Are you still ok to do the tattoo for Boots?"

I nodded and pulled out my iPad to draw the stencil up. "Is he here?" Macca nodded and brought him in.

A few hours after doing yet another Ned Kelly tattoo, Macca and I were closing up. He had paid me for the day, and I had packed up, so I went into Macca's room to tell him I was leaving. He was smoking meth from a glass pipe and offered me some.

"No, thanks," I told him. "That shit messes me up for days."

"I have some coke if you want," Macca offers.

I shook my head, wanting to be out of there. There were always drugs around in my line of work, and though I have been known to partake, I definitely don't want to do drugs with Macca ever again. That's how I ended up sleeping with him the first time. "I suppose you won't be in tomorrow?"

"Come back to my place, Vix," Macca said, ignoring my question. His pupils were so big his brown eyes were nearly black.

"When was the last time you slept?" I asked.

"Monday night." He replied. Only one day without sleep. That's not so bad.

"Why don't you stop now and try and get a few hours tonight, ok, Mac?"

Macca reached out and took my hand. "You were always looking out for me, Vixy. I miss you."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe next time you find a girl you like, don't stick your dick in another girl." I tore my hand away, and he was on his feet. His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me against the wall. I was scared now. He had been aggressive with me in his behaviour and words before, but never physically.

"I told you it wasn't my fault." His voice was vicious, and little flecks of spittle came out as he spoke. "I fucking love you, Vix." Then he kissed me. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and it was coarse and dry like sandpaper in my mouth. My stomach heaved. I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His hands were up my skirt, touching me, trying to get into my underwear.

I brought my hands up and pressed my thumbs into his eyes.

"Bitch!" He screamed. He let me go, clutching at his eyes.

I ran.

Part 6

[harrysgloves]

Fine Line (Chapter 9)

>>>Catch up with the Fine Line Masterlist!

word count: 

story summary: Since you were kids you and Harry had always walked that fine line of friends or something more. Now, pregnant by someone else, you find yourself staying with your long time best friend after things go sour with your boyfriend of 3 years.

Singlemom!Reader x Harry Styles

chapter summary: You and Harry revisit an old childhood game.

warnings: Language // cuddling // mutual pining but they're both dumb af // no editing

a/n: Apparently, I do still write... amazing right?? Anyway, posting this from mobile so it might be a bit weird formatting and I couldn't post the word count tonight. Sorry about that guys. Hope you enjoy anyways!

As always, likes and reblogs make my little heart sing and comments make me almost faint. So, gimme that love.

>>><<<

You settled into Harry's couch for yet another night alone. The light from Judd Nelson's match he had managed to ignite with the back of his teeth lit up the television. The 

luminescent bulbs dimly casted tints of blue and white lights across Harry's living room. Your eyes glued to the movie you'd seen a million times before as you curled in tighter into the soft blankets. 

Harry had been busy the last few days and while you tried your best to not bitch about it, you were lonely. Gemma and Abby had their own lives thousands of miles away from you. Jesse had still not answered you back. Your mother couldn't carry on a conversation with you for more than 10 minutes without forgetting who you were. Besides work, you really had no one to hangout with and even your coworkers didn't see you outside the office. 

The only glimmer of a social life you had was your unborn child that you talked to constantly and Mr. Stranger-who-hits-on-people-at-the-doctor's-office. Since your child couldn't talk back to you yet, Matt was quickly becoming your life line to a somewhat normal life. 

Your phone dinged for the millionth time that night. Matt's name flashing across the top of the screen had a smile curling on your lips. Your fingers quickly slid to open your message app.

>Can't wait for nights like these, right?

The message read, a picture of Roman passed out asleep on top of Matt's chest glared from your phone screen.

<<He looks comfortable.

You shot back, your lips rolling into your mouth as you waited for the response. There was nothing wrong with some innocent flirting, right?

>He says he highly recommends you trying it.

You could feel your cheeks heat when your eyes scanned his message. You bit the inside of your cheek as you typed back, quickly deleting your first response to write a different one. 

You were so out of practice when it came to flirting. You had no idea how to even do it. Even when you started dating Jesse he was the one who initiated everything. You didn't know he was hitting on you until your dorm mate at the time told you.

<<Sure he does.

>Swear. Cheeky little thing even said he'd share me being his pillow with you if you come to the park with us on Friday.

You let out a chuckle as you read his response, ready to shoot back a more feisty text when the door to Harry's house was thrown open. A very drunk Harry stumbled through the door. His eyes widened when he saw you sitting on the couch. That lopsided smile on his face as he used his dining room table to balance himself.

"Have a good night?" You asked, your phone and conversation with Matt long forgotten as Harry clammed up. His hand ran through his soft waves of brown curls as he let out a long breath.

"Weren’t supposed to drink but Mitch brought out the bottle and-" 

"Hazza, it's fine. I'm glad you had a good night. You've been busy lately. You probably needed it." You quickly cut him off, not wanting him to feel bad for having a life outside of you.

After all, you were his guest. He didn't need to run his itinerary through you everyday. He had his own things and you had yours.

"Missed yeh so much this week. Sorry 've been busy." He sighed as he tried to take a step down the stairs. His hand quickly pressed to the wall to balance himself.

"You need to go to bed." You mumbled as you stood up from your warm spot on the couch. Your arm instantly under his to help further balance him.

"But I miss yeh and wanna hang out." He whined. His head laid on your shoulder as he pouted.

"We can hangout all day tomorrow, promise." You said when you pushed him lightly back up the stairs. His body clung to yours. His arm around your shoulders.

"But, I wanna hang out now." He huffed like a petulant toddler. His arms stiffened at his side almost made you lose your balance.

"Fine, well hang out now as long as you help me get to your room." You rolled your eyes at him, letting out a huff when he stopped completely in his tracks.

"Promise?"

"Fuck, Haz, yes. Just get walking before I fall." You grumbled as you pulled at his waist. His feet reluctantly slid against the hardwood floors.

"Yeh can't fall right now yeh pregnant."

"I know." You sighed as you pulled him a bit more. Your doctor would have your ass if she knew you were putting this much strain on yourself. His weight was every bit of 5 times the amount you were supposed to lift or carry but it wasn't like he could make it to bed by himself. "Which is why I need you to help me here."

His feet left the ground in much better steps than he had taken before. The words you had spoken seemed to sober him up a bit as you finally pushed the door to his room open. His tall lanky body hit the bed in a second. You sighed as the pressure from your shoulders finally let up.

"Night Haz." You said with your hand on the doorknob, foot halfway out the door when he perked back up enough to turn on his bed to look at you.

"Yeh promised, so get back 'ere." He patted the bed a few times. A signal for you to join him.

"Uh, maybe tomorrow. We shouldn't-" your words were quickly cut off by his hand around your wrist as he brought you closer to the bed.

"Yeh promised, bunny." He smiled up to you that adorable dimple popped out as you nodded your head. 

Well, you did promise.

Your knees hit the plush pillow top. Your body sunk in slightly as you moved across the bed to the top. Your arms around the pillow that smelled of Harry's shampoo and cologne.

That adorable grin never left Harry's face as he watched you crawl into his bed. A shiver ran down his spine but he quickly shook that thought away. You were just his friend. Only his friend. 

He reminded himself of that many times as he mimicked your position on the bed. His head on the pillow, face towards you, both your knees touched each other.

"'Member when it'd storm durin' your sleep overs with Gem and yeh always end up curled up in my bed 'cause y'hate storms and Gem sleeps like a log?" He asked as his hands tightened around the pillow. Your head nodded as a smile crept up on your face. 

"Remember you stealing all the covers." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Won't steal 'em tonight. Promise." His pinky finger shot in the air, yours immediately wrapped around it, without even a second thought.

The street lights outside his window cast soft white lights into his room. Just enough that you could see the outline of his face, the tip of his nose, the long eyelashes against his cheek every time he blinked. You licked your lips as the silence swallowed you both. 

How much longer could you two keep up the act of being friends? You didn't know the answer to that question. Every time you were close like this to him you could feel your resolve washing away. Especially when his lips parted slightly, his steady breathing sounded like a soft lullaby. You swallowed, your eyes darted down to his chest. 

"Wanna do the thing?" He asked, his voice broke your intense stare on his lips and back to his eyes. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the sight of his smirk.

"Seems a bit stupid now." You mumbled as your eyes darted away from him.

How long had you been staring? How long did he notice you staring?

"Well too bad. I wanna do it."

"You're bloody drunk of course you wanna do it." You huffed as you tried to protest against this stupid game you two always played as children. 

"My bed, my rules." He said as the blanket encased both of you. The little amount of light that was being let in from the street lights was completely snuffed out from his duvet. The heavy duty quilt almost made it hard to breath. The air hot and sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol Harry had been drinking that night and his cashmere cologne. Suddenly, you were cursing your 12 year old self for ever coming up with this shit.

"This is dumb, Haz." You sighed.

"'S not dumb. 'S tradition!" His voice raised to a level you hadn't heard before. You could imagine the shocked look on his face, feel it forming on his features through the thick air.

His hand came to rest on the side of your face and yours reluctantly did the same. Your cool fingers touched against his warm skin. The stubble on his jaw tickled the inside of your palm. A sharp breath sucked through his teeth as your fingers traced the curves of his cheek bones. His own hand mimicking the movement, both of you studying each other's face with nothing but touch.

"Ready?" He asked, his voice playful and full of mischief. It almost made you smile, until you remembered how fucking stupid this was.His eyes closed when his hand ran over your lips. Your eyes trained on him for a second to make sure he wouldn’t cheat like he used to when you were kids. Once satisfied with the knowledge he wasn’t going to peek your own eyes slipped close, a long breath exited your lungs as you thought of all the times you did this with him.

It had merely started out as a way for you to touch him without him knowing you wanted to be close to him. Even though he quickly caught on to the fact of why you liked this so much when you were younger, he never protested when you suggested doing it. Of course, now you knew why he didn’t argue with you.

He wanted to be close to you too. 

Your lips formed into a smile as your mouth opened and closed a few times. His fingers lingering over them as they formed words silently. His eyes popped open as he glared at you. The darkness didn’t let you see his expression but your hands could feel his eyebrows pull together. Your lips rolled in your mouth to stop your obnoxious laugh.

“Yeh a brat, know that, love?” He asked a bit irritated but you could feel his facial features softening when you let out another giggle. 

“Couldn’t help it.” You said through your laughs, his cheeks pushed back against your hand that was still pressed there, a smile on his face so big you could feel the dimple there. 

“‘M not a tosser.” He pressed his finger booping the tip of your nose before it dragged down to your cupid’s bow. The tip of his finger lightly traced the outline of your lips. 

“Your turn.” You snapped him out of his silence when your digits went to his plush lips again. The softness of them never failed to surprise you. How did he manage to have such soft lips? 

You could feel your mind slowly slip from how they felt against your fingers to how they’d feel against your own. Imagining what it’d be like to have them on you again after all this time. Wondering if they’d still send that electric shock down your body. Wondering if he still tasted the same, like home. 

You were rudely pulled out of your daydreams when you felt his lips curl and twist. Your mind searched through your vocabulary of his top phrases he always said to you. Your lips pouted, eyebrows furrowed as he silently mouthed the phrase again. The skin of your fingers took in all the information down your arm directly to your mind. A smile you knew he could feel came across your lips. 

“Love you too, Haz.” Your eyes fluttered open right as his hand left your face and went around your waist. Clearly done with visiting your old time game when he threw the blanket from over the top of your heads. The sweet crisp air being sucked into your lungs in deep breaths. 

“Wasn’t so bad.” He said as you nodded your head in agreement, a shrug from your shoulders had him rolling his eyes as he pulled you into his chest. Your head against his pillow when his hand ran small circles over your lower back, the bottom of your shirt bunched up by his hands so he could touch your skin. A sigh of relief left you at the touch you didn’t know you needed, your face buried deep into him. Your own free hand wandered under his shirt. Your skin touching against the smooth planes of his stomach up to his chest. Contentment washed over you as your body relaxed into him. Eyes closing from how good it felt to be close again. 

The soft call of sleep beckoned you to its depth. Your breath slowed as your legs entangled with his. Gently slipping into a deep sleep. Arguably, the best sleep you’d had in years. 

>>>

Harry woke up the next morning with a pounding in his head. A groan left his lips as the sunlight that danced in through his windows blinded him momentarily. His sleep filled eyes blinked at the intrusion. Hand against his face, swearing to himself he’d never ever let Mitch talk him into another night of drinking. The echoes of his friend's voice rang through his head. Promises of a light night was total bullshit. His body ached as he tried to get into a different, more comfortable, position. His arm refused to move as something heavy laid on top of it. His eyes fully snapped open to see you laid out beside him. 

A smile creeping across his mouth as he looked at you. Your soft pouty lips pushed out as you took in deep calming breaths. The sunlight touched the peaks of your hips and breast. Glowing light radiating off your silky bare thighs. He chuckled lowly, knowing your sleep pants had been abandoned some time during the middle of the night. He guessed some things never change.

His fingers ran down your arm, up the shoulder of your sleeve. He just wanted to touch you, feel your skin under his own. He couldn’t help it. He felt like a man being possessed. His own body moving to its own accord. Inching its way in to hold you like he did almost 8 years ago. 

His arm was around you, face inches away from your own. He could see your eyes fluttering back and forth behind your eyelids. Small whimpers came from you as you dreamed. 

Were you dreaming about him?

He sighed, head pressed harder into the pillow. He could have laid here watching you all day. The way your breathing made your chest rise, the way you unknowingly wiggled closer to him when his arm rested over top of you, the way the golden sunlight made you look like a fucking angel in his arms. 

Golden, golden, golden

As I open my eyes

Words formed in his mind as he memorized every inch of your skin. Every valley of your body, every high rise of your curves. His sight eventually landed on your stomach. A small bump was there, not a huge one, definitely one he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't have every part of your body mastered like the back of his hand. He supposed it made sense you'd start showing by now. All the research he'd done late at night said 12 weeks was usually the normal time frame. 

His hand slowly moved above your bump. Hovering there for what felt like hours. He would never admit it to you but he was scared, petrified, this child would somehow drive a wedge between you two. 

Chase you farther away from him when it felt like he'd just gotten you back.

It wasn't that you two weren't close when you didn't live with him, you two definitely were, but with Jesse and others around he never had you to himself. That was all he wanted, your attention. He suddenly felt like a 7 year old begging you for a moment of your time while you mindlessly played barbies for hours with his sister. 

How fucking pathetic, he thought. Was he really going to be jealous of your child having your time? Or was he just jealous that it wasn't also his child?

He knew the answer as soon as his hand hit your stomach. He inhaled a sharp breath in through his teeth. His heart melted as he thought of that little baby that jumped around on the ultrasound machine. A sense of protectiveness he'd never felt before flooded his brain.

He slid gently down the bed. He held his breath as he lifted your shirt. His eyes darted up to make sure he didn't disturb you from your sleep. 

"Good mornin' baby." He mumbled to your stomach, his large hands completely encased the bump.

"Yeh don't know it yet but yeh momma is my best friend so I guess that makes us best friends too." He said lowly, his callused hands moving softly against your skin made you hum in your sleep. Your body shifted slightly to get more comfortable on your back. 

Harry raised to rest on his elbows. His hands still on your stomach muttering soft sweet words to your baby. 

"Gonna teach yeh all kinds 'f things." 

"Gonna 'ave to let yeh listen to my music 'cause yeh mom has some bad taste."

"Gonna 'ave to teach y'football too, 'cause yeh mom's got two left feet."

"Definitely gonna 'ave to teach yeh maths she's really bad at that one. Pretty sure I did all her work fo' her. Got no idea how she passed when I left."

"You know I can hear you, right?" You asked after being insulted for what seemed like an eternity. Your head popping off the pillow to glare at your friend trash talking you to your baby.

"Oi, this is a private conversation." He said with a smirk on his face as his head shot up to you. His eyes sparkling with a glint of humor as you shook your head at him. He let out a sigh as he fell back to the bed. His chin rested on the covers as your hand ran through his hair. 

He'd stay like this with you for as long as you let him. He'd be happily content to let your fingers run through his hair all day if you wanted to. The soft scratching of your nails on his scalp soothing him as his eyes slipped closed.

Yes, he could stay like this forever.

"Wanna get breakfast?" You asked a bit later, his eyes lazily flicked open only to shut again. His arm flung around your waist, pulling you close to him. His nose nuzzled into your side making you giggle that soft sweet sound he loved more than anything else in this world.

"Wanna cuddle." He mumbled into the exposed part of your skin. Your shirt still lifted over your stomach from him talking to the baby.

"Harry…" You said gently. Your hands in his hair paused their movements.

You cherished these types of mornings with him. Locked them in a special place in your heart but you knew deep down you shouldn't be in situations like this with him. It would only make things more confusing for the both of you. You could already feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge of recklessness with your heart.

At the end of the day you were still you and he was still the great Harry Styles. 

How could you ever live up to the type of person he'd need in his life?

"Jus' a little while longer, yeah?" He said from below you. Not wanting to admit he knew being wrapped up in bed with you was wrong.

He liked Camille. Loved her, maybe, but she'd never compare to you. The love he had for you burned deep, like a forest fire wild out of control. He tried his best to tame it. Remind it that you had no interest in him anymore but it had a life of it's own at this point. Even through countless rejections and long years of yearning for you without reciprocation.

"Yeah, okay." You said, your hands going back to work running through his hair.

Both of you, unknowingly to the other, wondering the same thought as you laid in each other's embrace.

What would happen if you crossed that line?

[the-lincyclopedia]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime. 

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is. 

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute. 

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault. 

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always. 

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other. 

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad. 

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity. 

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap. 

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form. 

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story. 

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

[bellaslilpapercut]

Eclipse reread part 3 bewr bewr bewrrr! Covering the entire rest of the book in ONE post so buckle on in baybee: 

1. Absolutely everything about chapter 15 (wager) is disgusting. To a certain extent I appreciate how successfully meyer captures how frustrating assault is as a woman, how futile it feels to fight against it. But at the same time the way she handles the aftermath is unbelievably disappointing and infuriating. Charlie doesn't get up to help his own daughter, Jake trails after Bella into the house and sticks around, there's just no relief or reflection that feels satisfying. Bella can ask where the justice is when she finds out Jake isn't aging but just ignores Charlie defending her assailant? And to some extent I get it, I've shut down after assault before to the point where it took years to recognize that some of the things that happened even were assault. But when there's a pattern within the series of men being narratively rewarded for assault and abuse and women being punished for reacting to abuse it feels like the narrative is reinforcing the status quo of women<men. I'm not stupid, I understand when a book is trying to make me uncomfortable and I don't need villains to be punished to know that they're villainous. This doesn't come across that way at all. Meyers handling of misogynistic abuse and violence lack the nuance to make me believe that she sees this violence as something to be critical of rather than something that just happens to women. And again, because it's a pattern in her writing, women getting no reprieve from gendered harm, I don't believe she's making a statement. There's just no self awareness and that's the key difference between a story like Brave New World or Lolita and Twilight.

2. Also this quote that precedes the assault is just so so frustrating:

Bella is not mean for setting boundaries! She isn't stringing you along! I would love to hit meyer in the head with a rolled up newspaper. Anyway.

3. Bella keeps saying things like "this would be annoying if it weren't so scary" in regards to having her clothes stolen by vampires that want her dead and having to lie to people around her, again because dozens of vampires want her dead. And y'know after the third time she said she would be annoyed if she weren't scared I'm just left to believe she isn't scared at all. I don't feel rising tension, the newborn army feels like a minor nuisance and even after they connect it to victoria (who still hasn't shown up at all) I'm just like...okay well get on with it then! Meyer makes bella "shudder" (I'm still tempted to make a comp of every time she shudders in this fucking book lol) instead of showing us her actual fear. I don't believe she's scared, I don't care about the "threat," and I don't believe anything bad will happen to Bella. There are Literally No Stakes here. I'm not invested in this story at all.

4. Alice is a bad friend lmfao

Girl, you're psychic you know she wanted to wear red why are you just dressing her up for your brother.

5. Okay returning to point 3 because I read chapter 17 and had an epiphany: Bella says she isn't scared for herself and I get that I do. But smeyer also hasn't shown us that she's selfless- just that she doesn't care if she dies. If bella actually cared for her human friends, in any way, I would believe that the newborn army was a scary threat because the people she loves might get hurt. But I don't believe that she cares about that I only believe that she- like Edward- has a weird martyr complex.

6. The Mirror chapter also reinforces this. I can’t stop thinking about how much more impactful it would have been narratively if it had been Angela in Bree’s position (because she’s the only human friend Bella seems fond of but if Bella showed interest in any of the other humans, honestly any of them would do). Imagine the moment where the newborn vampire first lifts her head to look into Bella’s eyes and it’s someone she knows. Someone she cares for. There should have been consequences for Bella beyond “Jake got some bones broken and now I feel bad :(” which was also a shitty punishment because smeyer is inflicting physical trauma on an indigenous character just to make Bella feel bad. Okay. Anyway, it would have built the tension I was missing for- quite literally- over 300 pages of this book if Bella’s friends and classmates and Fork’s residents had been going missing the whole time. Suddenly, at the end of the battle, there’s Angela. Or Jess. Or Katie fucking Marshall. Someone Bella knew should have been there and maybe I would have cared about this book at all.

7. Going back in time to this quote which comes before the battle:

UGH!!! SHUT UP SMEYER! She literally poisoned Jake’s character from the moment she made him a main character and she has zero self reflection to see the damage that she’s causing here. I’ve said before that I don’t think Jake’s actions were a romantic deal breaker and that stands out now more than ever after reading Eclipse. THIS is the moment that Bella realizes she’s in love with Jake too. Smeyer not only sees abuse and aggression as romantic, she also lacks the braincells and reflection to see that she’s playing directly into racist stereotypes. Edward got to grow up- marginally- but Jake had to remain aggressive. I still don’t think she ever once meant to villify Jake- I think that there was no way in a hell a racist woman could ever successfully portray an indigenous character. His tenderness is tainted by the aggression she forces on his character and in the end he never had a chance because- again- he was being written by a racist woman with fucked up views of indigenous people.

8. Okay, I get it. They’re like Cathy and Heathcliff. Fine. I buy it.  

This isn’t even the last time she compares them to Cathy and Heathcliff. Kate Bush isn’t gonna write a song about you, meyer! Give it a rest! (Also lol at “like wuthering heights”)

9.  Jumping right to the end here because to be completely honest the only actual event in the entire book was the newborn battle. Jane was a bitch, fine. Edward talked at Victoria and bored her to death (presumably) and the action never felt very action heavy. I knew if from the “best friend (and werewolf)” line that this book was presumably written for idiots given how little is left to the imagination at any given time. I can’t stand when books treat the audience like dummies and I especially can’t handle YA books that do this. Teenagers aren’t stupid!! Young adults can pick up on subtlety in literature!! AND young adults can handle suspense and action. smeyer doesn’t do either well and the editors never once said “hey you know teens aren’t stupid right? like your audience will pick up on hints that you scatter you don’t have to forcefully explain everything?”  

10. Smeyer can’t stop interrupting herself even in the very last sentence of the book proper:

What, pray tell, is wrong with “Where it would stay for the rest of eternity.” Why did you have to sow doubt in the sentiment right after Bella made her For Real Final Decision???? And why the em-dash!? Again: the editors of the twilight saga are my nemeses but also my favorite conmen. What were they paid for?

11. Back to the editors real quick: if i was given a draft of eclipse I would instantly say: this story is almost 400 pages of nothing, you need to play with the structure of the story. You need to build suspense and if that means playing with POV like you randomly start doing in the epilogue, then do that. Or you can play with the plot. Nothing happens for 300 pages. It takes 300 pages to get to the newborn battle and nothing that happens before the newborn battle makes me feel worried about it. Again, kill off some humans, raise the stakes, do SOMETHING. This was so painfully slow to read because meyer tried to center this book on a love triangle that I didn’t even believe in myself. And even then, it took 14 chapters for the love triangle to get real action (as in an Event, not necessarily physical action). 

12. The epilogue. Oh man. Was the r-slur really so acceptable in 2007 that not one single editor questioned its use? I won’t type the quote in full but Jake refers to his fake arm sling as r-word. Like??? What? And THEN smeyer has him call Leah a “bitter harpy.” Shut up. 

In conclusion, nothing felt like a bigger waste of time than Eclipse. Genuinely, to be completely honest. Two (2) important things happened, at least in Bella’s narrative (I agree with Vinelle that the Volturi debacle was important from Carlisle’s perspective, it adds nothing to Bellas and Bella learns nothing important from it.): 1. Bella made a decision, she chose Edward. Who could have seen that coming? Whaaaat? 2. Rosalie told Bella her backstory. Not that Bella even used that to reflect on her decision to become a vampire but hey, at least it felt like an important moment. Jasper’s backstory only mattered for the newborn battle which didn’t matter at all (and it never informed his character and no one ever brings up that the confederacy was a terrible dark stain on US history (along with the rest of US history but that’s a full dissertation or two on its own)). I can’t imagine a way to improve this book as a standalone book. You could split up the plot (using that term loosely) so that New Moon and BD are both a little longer and BD a little more organized. But without completely changing the plot beats in Eclipse, its just pointless.

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 3

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

16 years ago

It was a slow night. Dean had been scouting out players for half an hour, but no one seemed to be in the gambling mood. Finally giving up, he walked up to the bar, ordered a beer and started to look around. If he couldn’t get money, he could at least get lucky.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean softly swore under his breath, a smirk appearing on his face as he walked towards his target, sitting in the corner of the bar. He didn’t know how he missed it, missed her. What he did know was that his night was about to get a hell of a lot better.

“If it isn’t little Sandy L/N,” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face as he walked towards her table and paused in front of her, “Always late to the party L/N.”

Sandra looked at Dean with the complete opposite expression. Her usually stoic face was pulled into a scowl as she registered what the hunter was saying.

“You got the werewolf.”

“I got the werewolf,” Dean reiterated, causing Sandra’s frown to deepen. She’d driven for over 8 hours for this hunt.

“Don’t be so mad Sandy, after all, the wolf is dead and it looks like both of us have some free time on our hands now.” Dean’s suggestion wasn’t subtle at all. He made a show of looking at her from head to toe and wriggled his eyebrows playfully.

Sandra sighed. Dean was 5 years younger than her but they always seemed to have a good time. Both parties knew that it was just sex and that was the way she preferred it, but Dean had also just ruined her hunt and she was tempted to turn him down. Looking at him again though, she reconsidered. Angry sex was tempting too.

“Buy me a drink and we’ll see.” That was basically Sandy-talk for ‘Yes, we can have sex but I’m not gonna make it easy for you, asshole’ and Dean knew it.

All in all, it was a fun night. And morning. And afternoon. She left that evening and that was the last time he’d heard from her. After that, he thought about her from time to time but she never did like giving her number to other hunters. Then John disappeared, Jess dies and the world went to shit.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about her. Until now.

 Present

Dean was too lost in his memory to realise that Sam had been calling his name for a few minutes. Y/N looked at Dean suspiciously. Dean’s reaction to her mother’s name confused her. As far as she knew, her mother didn’t know the Winchesters. She had even warned Y/N on several occasions about the dangers of mixing with the Winchesters. Sandra wasn’t one to mince words, and she didn’t have anything good to say about the infamous hunters. If she had known them, she surely would have told Y/N. The woman had loved to brag.

“Sandy’s dead?” he whispered softly.

So, needless to say she was completely blindsided with Dean’s reaction. He almost sounded … sad, which was weird because her mother wasn’t a person who usually invoked that emotion in people. Anger – yes, frustration – sure. But sadness? Because of her death?

“You knew my mother.” It wasn’t a question but Dean answered anyway.

“Yeah. We were … friends? Sort of.” Dean swore softly under his breath, processing the new information.

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Wait a minute. She didn’t have a kid the last time I saw her. She was in town alone, on a case. She stayed with me for almost a day.”

Sam’s brain started working in over drive.

“How long ago was this?” he asked his brother.

“15? 16 years ago?”

Sam looked at Y/N, jaw clenching just for a second.

“Y/N? How old are you exactly?”

Shit, Y/N thought. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

She entertained the idea of lying but discarded it immediately. Dean was now analysing her, looking for clues most likely. She sighed and reluctantly mumbled the answer.

“You’re gonna have to be louder than that sweetheart.”

“15, alright? I’m fifteen.”

The reaction was almost immediate. Both of them were looking at her incredulously and swearing like sailors.

“Jesus kid! What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” Dean was almost yelling at her, berating her for hunting at such a young age, which she thought was a little hypocritical but go off, I guess.

In the middle of all the commotion, Y/N suddenly realised that there was only one voice yelling. Sam was looking at her intensely, taking in every detail, a peculiar look on his face. Before she could ask him what the hell was wrong with him, he softly called out to Dean.

He was still yelling so Sam called out again.

“Dean!” Finally, Dean stopped, turning towards Sam. Before he could say anything, Sam started talking.

“How long ago did you say you last saw Sandra?” Sam had an urgency in his tone that confused the hell out of Y/N. She couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

Dean paused at Sam’s question.

“About 16 years, why?”

Sam just looked at his brother meaningfully, further confusing Y/N. Apparently, Dean saw where Sam was going with this.

“Oh, hell no! Fuck. No! You’re crazy,” Dean scoffed.

Sam just glared at him. “So, you’re saying you two didn’t?”

“Of course, we did Sammy! But, I’m not an idiot! We used protection.”

Protection?

“Woah, woah, woah! Rewind an-and freeze! Protection? You slept with my mother?” Y/N’s voice grew shriller towards the end of the sentence, making Dean wince and look away in embarrassment.

“That’s gross. I did not need that image in my head!”

She started pacing the small room. Suddenly she came to a stop.

“Wait, why is this relevant anyway?”

Sam glanced at Dean again, who started shaking his head fervently.

“Dude, stop it. I don’t know what is wrong with your brain, maybe you have a concussion but you need to quit this line of thinking right now. You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Dean snarled.

Realisation hit Y/N like a tonne of bricks. What Sam was insinuating, why the timing was important.

“You think Dean is my father?!” It was her turn to look at Sam incredulously. She started laughing. She couldn’t help it. The idea that Dean Winchester was her father was hilarious.

“You said you never knew your dad,” Sam pointed out, ignoring her cackling.

“So? That doesn’t automatically mean Dean is my father Sam, geez.”

“You also said that he was a hunter,” Sam was determined to at least get them to consider the possibility.

“There are a lot of hunters out there!” Y/N was almost hyperventilating at this point. It was too much. Too soon.

“Sammy, shut up,” Dean said firmly. This was not the time for this. Y/N was clearly overwhelmed. Sam noticed and a flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

“Look, all I’m saying is that there is a very real possibility that you two are related. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll back off, alright? Tell me you don’t see it,” Sam said, softly this time. Dean looked at Y/N. She did look like him, or maybe he was imagining things that weren’t there. Maybe it was just a coincidence and he was investing himself into this for no reason, but he had to know. Now that there was a seed of doubt in his head, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got a real answer.

“Y/N,” Dean called her softly, “look kid, I’m not saying I’m your father. God knows I don’t know how to be one. But I know that you see the coincidences piling up too. Why don’t we figure this out and if Sammy is wrong, we can laugh in his face about all this. And if he isn’t … well we’ll deal with that too.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, both brothers holding their breath.

“I don’t care,” she snaps, “I have survived without a family my whole life. I don’t need a father. I don’t want a father. Family is poison and I don’t want any part of it. So, I couldn’t care less about biology. I don’t want to know.”

She goes to storm out of the room, barely able to look at the hurt expression on their faces. Before she can reach the for the handle, Dean’s voice booms through the room.

“Well I do. I need to know if I have a damn daughter who I failed. I need to figure this out or I’m gonna go crazy. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get a damn paternity test and put a lid in this argument until we do. But before all that, we’re gonna come back to the fact that you’ve apparently been hunting alone for the past four years. Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is? Me and Sam, we’ve been doing this for years, but we still always take back-up! Because hunting alone is dangerous, and reckless, specially for someone who is new to the field. I’m not gonna berate you for your age, God knows I was younger than you when I first started. Its shitty but it happens. But even I was never dumb enough to hunt alone.”

Y/N was getting a whiplash from the change in the conversation. One minute they’re demanding paternity tests, and the next they’re yelling at her about her life choices.

“First of all, we aren’t getting any tests done because one, I’m in the system and you’re supposed to either be dead or are wanted by the FBI, and two, I don’t want to! And you don’t get to dictate how I live my life. You’re barely an acquaintance, not even a friend. So back the fuck off.”

She knew she was being harsh. But she needed them away from her, out of her life. They represented hope – hope for a safe haven, hope for a family, and she didn’t want any part of it. It was better to be alone than set yourself up for more pain.

Dean was quickly losing his patience.

“Look, you have 2 options. You can either come with us and we can figure all this out, at your pace, or I can give Jody a call and she can arrange for you to live with her. She’s already fostering 3 girls and she’d be happy to take you in. You won’t be able to run away from there either, which is great.”

She glared at him.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make us angry so that we abandon you. I know all the tricks in the book kiddo, you ain’t fooling me that easily. I don’t know if I’m actually your father but I’ll be damned if I let you go off on your own again. You can either come with us or go to Jody. Choice is yours.”

With that, Dean stormed off to search for a bar. It had been a long day and he needed a damn beer.

Chapter 4 

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Silver Keys - Ch. Two

JJ Maybank x oc ? Soulmate AU / Topper x oc

warnings: none, if there ever are let me know? :)

word count: 2k ish

notes: hello hello im back from the dead for one night only. This chapter is from JJ’s point of view. I promise the drama will have been worth all this wait. (hopefully) as always feedback and reposts are encouraged.

There are two other parts! Read them here - Masterlist.

JJ Maybank was never one for soulmates. Coming from a household of two broken people didn’t make him feel like there was hope for him like the universe was created so people could find their other half or their missing piece. Why isn’t a person whole to begin with?

 His parents weren’t soulmates. He didn’t need some magical musical force to tell him that. One questionable decision and nine months later, a blond boy was brought into the world, helpless. JJ tries to give them the benefit of the doubt, they didn’t mean to have a kid. But then his mom left before he could remember what her face looked like. Before he could memorize the sound of her laugh. He resented her for it, leaving him with his dad. JJ’s dad, who selfishly turned the world upside down and told him to walk through walls to make it out the other side. 

JJ never bothered to ask his dad if he had heard the music. He figured if he had ever, it was long gone now. 

Now, he leaned against the wall, a half-empty beer in his hand, surveying the crowd. He had long ago lost his friends and he was starting to wonder why he did this. Go to parties, that is. If he wanted to be drunk he could sit at John B’s and then pass out on the couch. If he wanted to listen to shitty music and watch people lose at beer pong, he could do it with people he liked. Instead, he was in a sea of kooks and faces he vaguely remembered as people he graduated high school with. They were getting too old to pretend like this was still fun like the universe hadn’t already projected the rest of their lives. But again, JJ Maybank was never one for all that universe shit.

The sunlight through the blinds shined into JJ’s eyes, making him groan and throw a pillow over his face. He had slept on the pullout last night, giving Kie the spare room. Pope was either on the floor or sprawled out on one of the recliners, JJ couldn’t remember. He went to check but was matched by a searing headache. Closing his eyes again he noticed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Not two seconds later, June was opening the door to the Chateau. She let the screen door close behind her, making a noise loud enough to make JJ want to crawl inside his own body. 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” June said when he had finally made his way to the kitchen.

“It’s too early for that shit.” He squinted. 

She had left a bottle of water and some ibuprofen on the counter and he made a mental note to thank her when he wasn’t feeling like death itself. 

“Hungry? I can do french toast, there’s bread.” 

“Please,” Pope groans (from the recliner) as he rubbed his eyes.

“Tough night?” June asks, starting to bring another water bottle and meds over to the spot next to JJ. He watched as she walked back to the refrigerator, grabbing the half-empty carton of eggs and milk jug. She placed everything on the counter before standing on her tiptoes to grab a bowl. He noticed her shirt rose when she lifted her arms, exposing her stomach. JJ blinks, hard, and then instantly groans, reminded of his headache.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

Pope had since joined them at the table. He seemed to be handling his hangover better than JJ. The two of them talked about last night while JJ tried to piece it all together. 

Just then John B stubbles into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction, “Morning” he mumbles before taking his seat at the kitchen island. Like clockwork, June sets down medicine and a bottle of water, and JB thanks her. 

“Hey, J, where’d you go last night?” John B asks.

“I just came back early,” JJ says truthfully. 

June chimes in, “What? No lucky girl?” he narrows his eyes at her and she winks in response.

JJ clears his throat, “Nah, got all summer for that. Tourons aren’t even here yet.”

“Really?” Pope questioned, “You walked back?” 

“Yeah, pretty sure I talked to Kie before I left,”

As if right on cue, Kiara comes shuffling out of the bedroom. Her eye makeup from last night is smeared and her hair is falling out of the bun on the top of her head. 

“Speak of the devil,” JJ says when she joins them in the kitchen. 

June, again, gets a bottle of water out of her bag and shakes out some ibuprofen from the jar, “Morning sleeping beauty,”

She narrows her eyes in response. No one messed with Kie in the mornings, especially when she was hungover. JJ wouldn’t be surprised if she hissed at them. There was one time they had all spent the night at the chateau and the next morning she was woken up by the rest of them doing something stupid in the yard. JJ could have sworn fire came out of her mouth. It physically hurt to be yelled at by Kiara.

Now, Kie takes the medicine from June and downs half the bottle of water, nods her appreciation, and walks over to the pullout where she rolls over, pulling the blankets over her head, falling back asleep. Safe for now, he thought.  

The five of them had spent the rest of the day at the chateau. The girls had dedicated the afternoon to watching movies in the living room, while JJ, John B, and Pope sat around on the hammocks, swapping stories from last night. John B had allegedly won at flip cup three times, but Pope called bullshit. 

The two of them had left to get some firewood to build a fire and pick up some food. JJ wandered down to the dock, took his shoes off, and stuck his feet in the water. The sun was starting to set and the reflection on the water looked like something out of a movie. He would never admit that to anyone though. He was just about to go back inside when June sat down next to him. 

“Hey,” she started.

“Hey, how’s Kie? She chill out?”

She laughed, “Yeah. You know how she is.”  JJ nodded. He knew.

“You doing okay?” June asks, bumping her shoulder against his. He could feel her eyes on his. 

“Yeah, just. Rough night like you said.” 

She must have accepted that response because she turned her gaze back to the water in front of them. 

“What about you? Survive your birthday dinner, Ju Ju?”

She rolls her eyes, “barely. My aunt pestered my mom all evening. We were seconds away from the table being flipped.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Happens every time.” 

“I’m sorry,” 

She shrugged before speaking again, “can I tell you something?” 

JJ nodded. 

“I think I heard my soulmate yesterday. Right after you dropped me off. It was the weirdest feeling.”

“Really? How do you know?” JJ’s head was spinning with questions. It’s not like he couldn’t talk to Pope or John B about this, but it was different. They weren’t quite as open as June could be. Or maybe JJ didn’t want to be as open with them. 

“I don’t know. I guess you just do. It’s not even like I knew the song or could even tell you what I thought it sounded like.” She breathed. 

He looked at her now, her face was calm but her eyes were whirling. He could see her formulating her thoughts, trying to wrap her head around what she had heard.

JJ shook his head, “that’s crazy and so fast,”

“Right? I thought so too.” She paused, “J, it was so weird.”

“Good weird?” 

“Yeah, comforting almost.” She was cracking her fingers, something she did when she was nervous. He noticed that she was still wearing the bracelet he had given her in the truck yesterday. He wondered what she thought about the whole soulmate thing. Her parents were still in love, there was no reason for her not to agree. 

“Do you think-” he started, only to be interrupted by Kie yelling at them from the backdoor, “Pizza’s here!” 

“Coming!” June yelled back, pushing herself up and slipping her shoes back on. She reached a hand out to JJ, who was still seated. He took it, even though he didn't need the help and the two of them started back to the rest of their friends.

It had been a week since the pogues had last hung out. JJ had picked up an extra project at the garage and was spending most of his time there. When he wasn’t, he was sleeping in John B’s spare room. But tonight, he was off and everyone was going to the boneyard. 

Almost instantly, JJ pulled out a blunt and his lighter. The sun was in the weird period before it set and was completely dark and the waves were almost louder than the music. Almost. John B and Kiara carried down a few chairs and beach towels to the usual spot just south of where most people congregate. While Pope and June went to get drinks, JJ leaned against a tree, surveying the crowd. It was mostly people they knew from around the island. He recognized a few people from when he used to work at the country club, but the rest were new faces. He caught a girl looking in his direction from across the party. She was short with dark brown hair. He noticed she was alone, too. With one swift nod of his head and a hand through his hair, the girl was already walking over to him.

“Yeah, I really just couldn’t stay in the house any longer, you know?”

JJ nodded his head.

“Anyway, you’re from here?”

“Born and raised,” he replied with a smirk. JJ was trying to pay attention to the conversation, but he wasn’t sure he remembered her name and he definitely couldn’t tell how old she was. Was it Jess? It starts with a J he reassured himself. 

“Are you here with anyone?” Jamie asked.

“Few friends of mine are hanging out over there,” JJ motioned, pointing Jackie in the direction of the pogues. He smiled slightly at all of his friends huddled around a fire. The moment was cut short when JJ noticed Topper and Kelce walking toward them. Almost instantly he got to his feet, muttering an apology to… Jade, and joined the others.

“JJ!” Kie sang when he walked over, clearly the drunkest of the five. She got up from where she was sitting to hug him only to stop short when she noticed the other boys.

“What the hell do you guys want?” She spits. John B stood up slowly.

“Hey, hey,” Topper starts, raising his hands in surrender, “just here to talk,”

“So talk,” Pope said. He was sitting next to June behind the rest of them.

Topper cleared his throat, “June? Can we-” He nodded toward the trees where JJ had just come from. Everyone’s eyes shoot to June who furrows her eyebrows before nodding her head and beginning to get up. Pope stands up with her.

“Look, I just want to have a conversation,” Topper states. 

“It’s fine,” June says, starting to walk off. She 

John B calls out, “You sure?” 

June just nods her head. 

“You better not fucking touch her dude or I swear to-” 

Kie grabs his arm, “JJ,” she urges. June turns her head and gives him a look before walking off with Topper.

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