#i set deadlines for it. i obsess over it and plan for it. and yet im too scared.

[ribbonzregretz]

posting so much rn bc im losing my grip on reality but i stay sillyyyyy

[lifeofpriya]

plsss can you do another autumnal Jack one where reader is obsessed with Halloween / autumn and he loves making her happy so plans a horror movie marathon and he’s just annoying the entire time saying stuff like “that just wouldn’t happen” dndjnf but it’s also v cuddly and cute ☺️🍂

you got it, anon! 🤭🫡🫶🏼 requests for jack week are now closed, so i am going through the requests i've received prior to the deadline

The Horror of Love

wc: 2.8k

You, a young soul with a penchant for the chilly embrace of fall, find yourself nestled in the comfort of your boyfriend's apartment. Your heart swells with anticipation as the aroma of pumpkin spice wafts through the air, a delightful scent that seems to whisper tales of the macabre holiday approaching. Halloween isn't merely a single night for you; it's a season that saturates your very essence with warmth and excitement. The rustle of dried leaves outside, the soft glow of the setting sun, and the crispness of the autumnal air are your symphony, setting the stage for a festival of fear that you cherish with every fiber of your being.

Jack, the love of your life, knows this all too well. He's the yang to your yin, the light to your dark, and today, he's decided to indulge your passion with an unexpected gesture. As you both sit on the plush velvet sofa, the room dims and the TV flickers to life, revealing a playlist titled "Jack's Horror Fest." Your heart skips a beat as you recognize the artwork for your favorite spooky classics.

He glances over at you with a mischievous grin, dimming the lights further to reveal the flicker of candles scattered across the coffee table. "I know how much you love this time of year, so I figured we'd kick off the season with a bang," he says, popping a handful of caramel corn into his mouth. The room is a cocoon of coziness, with the only sound being the crackling of the fireplace and the distant echo of children's laughter from the street below.

You watch as Jack, in his usual casual attire of a well-worn sweatshirt and joggers, moves with purposeful grace. His athletic frame, a testament to countless hours on the tennis court, is silhouetted by the dancing flames. He's always been thoughtful, but this…this is next level.

The first film starts, and it's a classic—one that you've seen so many times you can recite the lines. Yet, with Jack by your side, it feels fresh and new. His playful elbow nudges and mock screams punctuate the suspenseful moments, making you laugh despite the horror on the screen. Each time a jump scare looms, he leans closer, feigned terror in his eyes, only to tickle you right as the monster jumps out. You squirm and giggle, both irritated and delighted by his antics.

"Jack, seriously," you protest through your laughter, trying to sound stern. "I'm trying to watch this."

"Oh, come on," he says with a cheeky smile, noticing your playful glower. "Where's your spirit of Halloween?"

Jack, ever the charmer, knows precisely how to push your buttons. As the night deepens, the horror flicks become more intense, the shadows stretching menacingly across the walls. Yet, with each shiver down your spine, his warmth beside you becomes more comforting. He's a beacon in the storm of screams and suspense.

The second film rolls on, a tale of vengeful spirits that you've seen a hundred times, but it's Jack's commentary that keeps you on edge. He whispers fictional backstories for the characters, making you feel as though you're part of the narrative. His deep, British accent lends a certain flair to his storytelling, making even the most predictable plot twists seem like revelations.

As the witching hour approaches, Jack surprises you with a tray of steaming mulled cider, the scent of cloves and oranges mingling with the pumpkin spice. He hands you a cup with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "A little something to keep you warm," he says, his voice dropping an octave, attempting a spooky tone.

You roll your eyes, but a smile plays on your lips as you take a sip, the warmth spreading through your chest like a comforting embrace. The flickering candlelight casts shadows on his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and the glint in his eyes. You can't help but find his efforts endearing, even as he pretends to be the monster hiding in the shadows.

The evening unfolds in a delightful dance of horror and humor. As each film reaches its climax, Jack's teasing intensifies, his hands creeping closer to give you a good scare. Yet, every time you flinch, he pulls back, his laughter the sweetest sound in the room. It's a playful game of cat and mouse that somehow makes the horror more palatable, the suspense less daunting.

The third film, a modern twist on an old campfire ghost story, starts with a jolting opening scene. You clutch the cushion tighter, anticipating the dread that's about to unfold. Jack notices your tension and decides it's the perfect moment to up the ante. He drapes a blanket over you, tucking you in like a child, but not before placing a cold, plastic spider on your neck. You scream, throwing the blanket off, only to find him doubled over with laughter.

"Jack, that's not funny!" you exclaim, trying to sound upset, but the corners of your eyes crinkle with amusement.

"Oh, come on, you've got to admit that was a good one," he says, wiping a tear from his eye.

You can't help but chuckle, the tension in your shoulders dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "Fine," you concede, "but I'm watching you now."

Jack just winks, his hazel eyes gleaming with challenge. "Bring it on," he says, his voice a playful taunt that sends a thrill down your spine. You settle back into the cocoon of blankets, the warmth of the cider spreading through your body. The candles cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, creating an ambiance that's both eerie and inviting.

As the night progresses, the movies grow more intense, their plots weaving a tapestry of fear and suspense. Yet, amidst the horror, you find comfort in the familiar rhythm of Jack's laughter, his gentle teasing a stark contrast to the screams echoing from the TV. You're aware of the way he watches you, not just the screen, his eyes flickering with concern when you jump at a particularly gruesome scene.

The fourth film is a psychological thriller, one that you've been eager to see but too nervous to watch alone. As the tension builds, Jack's hand finds its way to your knee, squeezing reassuringly. His thumb traces small circles, grounding you in reality, a gentle reminder that the terror is confined to the screen.

"You okay?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

You nod, sipping the cider that's now gone lukewarm. "Yeah, just… intense."

Jack squeezes your knee again, a silent promise that he's there. The film reaches its climax, and just as the main character makes the most bone-chilling discovery, the lights flicker. You gasp, but Jack laughs it off, getting up to check the fuse box.

While he's gone, you can't shake the feeling that the horror has bled into reality. The shadows seem to shift and breathe, and the distant sound of a breeze rustling through the trees outside feels eerily close. The TV's glow is the only light source, casting a pallor over everything.

You're about to call out for Jack when you hear a creak. You freeze, your heart racing, expecting a monster to leap out from the darkness. But instead, Jack emerges from the hallway, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Got it," he says, flipping the switch. The lights flood the room, and the shadows retreat to their corners like shy ghosts at dawn. You let out a sigh of relief, your heart thumping wildly.

Jack chuckles, saunters over to you, and says, "You're so easy to scare." His grin is infectious, and you can't help but laugh at yourself.

"You love this, don't you?" you accuse playfully, poking his ribs.

Jack feigns innocence, his eyes wide. "What? I just want to make sure you're enjoying your Halloween marathon."

You roll your eyes but can't hide the smile spreading across your face. "You're terrible," you say, but the warmth in your voice betrays the affection behind your words.

Jack just grins wider, his dimples deepening. "But you love me for it," he teases, and you know he's right. There's something about the way he's able to balance the line between horror and humor that makes the night feel magical.

The fifth film is a cult classic, one you've been dying to introduce him to. You snuggle closer, eager to see his reaction to the twisted plot. His arm drapes around your shoulders, and you lean into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. The film begins, and as the tension builds, you notice Jack's grip tighten slightly, a silent admission of his own nerves.

You whisper the storyline to him, filling in the blanks of the film's lore, and his eyes widen in shock and horror at the twists and turns. His laughter turns genuine, punctuating the film's quieter moments, and you find yourself enjoying his reactions almost as much as the film itself.

As the night wears on, the movies begin to blend together into a delightful montage of fear and fun. The candles burn lower, casting long, dramatic shadows that Jack uses to his advantage, contorting his fingers into monstrous shapes that make you giggle even as you shiver. The bowl of candy slowly empties, leaving a sticky ring of sugar on the table as evidence of your indulgence.

The sixth film is a campy B-horror, the kind that's so bad it's good. You've picked this one specifically because you know it won't keep Jack on edge. You need a breather from the intensity of the earlier films, and you suspect he does too. He groans theatrically as the film starts, but the twinkle in his eye gives away his secret delight.

As the film progresses, you both start to quote the cheesy lines and mimic the over-the-top acting. You laugh so hard your stomach aches, and Jack throws popcorn at the screen every time the heroine makes a dumb decision. The horror is replaced with light-hearted fun, and you find yourself more engaged with him than the film.

In the quiet moments, when the laughter subsides, you steal glances at Jack. His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression a mix of amusement and concentration. You realize that this—the simple act of sharing a Halloween tradition—is what love looks like. It's not grand gestures or expensive gifts; it's the effort to understand what makes someone's heart sing and the joy in being a part of that.

Jack senses your gaze and turns to you, a question in his eyes. "What?" he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing," you reply, your voice soft. "Just… I'm happy."

Jack's smile widens, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Me too," he murmurs, his hand finding yours under the blanket. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, sending warmth spiraling up your arm.

The final film of the marathon begins, a silent horror masterpiece accompanied by the haunting melody of a vintage film score. The flickering candles cast an eerie glow on the screen, and even Jack seems to be in awe of the film's timeless terror. You're snuggled into the crook of his arm, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. His warmth is a comforting counterbalance to the chilling scenes that unfold before you.

As the film reaches its climax, the tension in the room is palpable. You feel Jack's muscles tense, and his hand grips yours tighter. The screen is filled with the frantic chase of a terrified protagonist, and you can't help but lean in, your heart racing. Just when you think you can't take the suspense anymore, Jack jumps up with a roar, fists in the air. You scream, your heart in your throat, only to find him doubled over with laughter, the movie's villain caught in a humorous gaffe.

"Jack, you absolute…!" you exclaim, your voice a mix of fear and mirth.

"What? Didn't see that coming?" he asks, his laughter subsiding into a grin as he sits back down, pulling you closer. "I couldn't resist. You looked so into it."

You swat at him, but your own laughter bubbles up, the tension broken. "You're terrible," you repeat, but the warmth in your voice is unmistakable.

As the final credits roll on the last film, the room is bathed in the soft glow of the dying embers in the fireplace and the flickering candles, casting a warm, cozy light over the two of you. The horror marathon has turned into a night of bonding, laughter, and a little bit of fear, all wrapped up in the blanket of your shared love for the macabre.

Jack stretches his long legs out in front of him and yawns, the tension of the evening's scares giving way to the comfort of the moment. "So," he says, his voice a little hoarse from his earlier shenanigans, "what did you think of the lineup?"

You lean your head on his shoulder, the weight of your body feeling like a contented cat. "It was perfect," you reply, your voice a lazy purr. "Even the terrible ones."

Jack's eyes crinkle in amusement. "I'm starting to think you enjoy the terrible ones more than the good ones."

"Maybe," you admit, a smirk playing on your lips. "They're just so…bad they're good."

Jack nods in agreement. "Like the kind of candy you love to hate."

You laugh, the sound muffled against his shoulder. "Exactly."

As the night wears on, the candles burn down to stubs, leaving only the fireplace to cast its warm embers across the room. The TV screensaver kicks in, a digital fireplace that seems to mock the real one's dwindling flames. The silence is filled with the quiet pops of the fire and the distant sounds of the city winding down for the night.

Jack stretches, his arms reaching out in a yawn that makes his sweatshirt ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned stomach. He looks over at you, his eyes drooping slightly with the weight of the late hour. "Ready for bed?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble.

You nod, feeling the warmth of his body beside you as you stand. The chill of the room is a stark contrast to the heat of the blankets, and you shiver slightly. He notices and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "Let's get you warmed up," he murmurs, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

Together, you navigate the darkened apartment, the glow from the embers painting the walls with an otherworldly hue. As you enter the bedroom, the smell of pumpkin spice lingers, a soft reminder of the festive evening you've shared. You climb into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, and Jack follows, pulling the duvet over both of you like a protective cocoon.

He wraps his arms around you, his warmth seeping into your bones, and whispers, "I'm sorry if I was too much tonight."

You laugh sleepily, turning to face him. "Jack, you know I love it when you're 'too much'." His eyes, those pools of hazel, stare into yours, a silent promise that no matter how much you pretend to be annoyed, his playful antics are a part of what makes you fall for him all over again every single day.

He kisses the tip of your nose, his grin fading into a tender smile. "Good," he whispers, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Because I can't help but want to make every moment with you unforgettable."

You lean in, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet his. It's a soft kiss, filled with the sweetness of your favorite candy and the warmth of mulled cider, a promise of comfort and companionship in the face of the darkest nights.

"You do," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. "Every moment with you is… it's just perfect."

Jack's smile widens, his eyes shining with affection as he pulls you closer. "And you make every moment worth living," he responds, his voice low and earnest.

The room is now a sanctuary of warmth and love, the horrors of the night confined to the glowing screen in the living room. His arms around you feel like home, and you know that no matter what the world throws at you, you'll always find refuge in the strength of his embrace.

"Jack," you whisper, your voice a soft caress against the quiet of the night. "Thank you for this."

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's nothing, really. Just wanted to make your favorite season even more special."

You snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat against your back. The room is a cocoon of warmth and comfort, a stark contrast to the horror that had played out on the TV. "It's not nothing," you reply, your voice muffled by the pillow. "It's everything."

Jack's grip tightens around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Everything, huh?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble in the darkness.

You nod, feeling the warmth of his chest against your back. "Every single bit of it."

Jack's chuckle rumbles through his chest, his breath tickling your neck as he says, "Well, I'm just getting started."

[supernaturalworldsofsecondlife]

Roleplay Standards; Reasons to use them.

So, it's been a bit with some insanity behind the scenes, but I'm able to actually sit down and form some thoughts and feelings surrounding these things. But first; a scenario! You're going around and you're roleplaying in groups, you're making connections and plans. Things are going good! But then you start to notice some little things that seem off. One of them seems very possessive of your time. Yet another tends to ignore plans they've made as well as hooks. What do you do? Here's where the standards come in. But before I go further, I should note; YOU ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO ROLEPLAY WITH OTHERS. But I will also stress that if you give dates, or tell someone you're 'going to', that implies that said obligation will be met. I'm someone who doesn't expect much out of others aside from the bare minimum. Being good to one another, open communication in regards to potential triggers so I know what to stay away from, etc. Very basic things that help us gauge whether or not we're a 'fit' in terms of collaborative writing and how well our energy bounces. But then you run into two types of people who abuse that. You have the person who will demand EVERY ounce of your time, which is bad... Then you have people who will set a time and day, flake, then set another time and day. When you find yourself the object of obsession to the point they want you to have a certain face credit/claim, or that your character in a video game isn't to their expectations all the while obsessing over scenes that have yet to happen? Drop, block, and run. This is one of the very few instances where I find ghosting absolutely necessary. These are the type of people that you should have standards against because 1) they're suck the energy right out of you and 2) use narcissistic or dark empath traits to keep you there. More times than not, these people are why BadRPerStories exist. Likewise, when you find yourself being flaked out on over and over on specific dates with frequent communication over an obligation? Don't waste your time on them, especially if they're very active in other circles. Hold your standards and quietly drop them. If they ask why -- be honest if you tell them, but don't be a jerk about it. Though, this is another situation where I feel ghosting is very valid because they're not valuing your time enough. And sure, there's nuance to every situation. Maybe IRL came up or the muse isn't there -- in which case it's easier to be honest, that way time isn't invested unnecessarily. Speaking from personal experience, it takes a while to rebuild that momentum back if you're an avid storyteller and you let people walk all over you. Have reasonable standards. Communicate them often. If they cannot meet expectations of either posting cadence deadlines, or just meet a very simple obligation after they said they would? Get rid of them. They're not worth it. If they're obsessing over you, your character to the point you're drained? Get rid of them. If you're in a group RP (discord or video games) and they're always needing to know who you're roleplaying with? Get rid of them. These are, and should be if they aren't, red flags. Block them, block their alts. Having standards will help protect your mental health, help you garner the right people that fit your writing styles best, and generally it helps keep you safe on the internet. We live in a time where this hobby has often turned into a different form of escapism. Where instead it was just a fun thing that we could do, people are using it to completely substitute things in real life and will try to use you to do that. Don't fall for it. If you've found yourself in situations like these, or even going through them currently and you stumble onto this -- it doesn't hurt to re-evaluate your standards. If you feel trapped or stuck? Maybe raise the bar of entry just a little bit. <3

[licensedqueerio]

hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Fred Benson x gender neutral reader? Maybe something like he’s stressed out from some of the stuff going on with the paper and deadlines and the reader takes notice and then they cuddle. I just need that pure tooth rotting fluff 🤞

Fred would 100% be a perfectionist when it came to the paper, change my mind

---

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Fred Benson x Reader

Warnings: Potential Stranger Things season 4 spoilers

Request Here

---

Today was meant to be just for you and Fred. You'd both agreed that today would be a stress free day, where you didn't have to worry about any of your problems and simply enjoy each other's company. It had been far too long before the two of you had a day like this.

Yet here Fred was, hunched over your desk and obsessively going over the articles set to appear in next week's paper. He'd been assigning and reassigning topics for the better part of the week, but was never satisfied with the articles.

Selfishly, you wished he'd just leave the articles as is and call it a day. But you knew he wasn't like that. He was never one to half ass things. Especially not the school paper, which was what he was most passionate about.

You sighed from your bed, laying propped up on your side, watching him work. You'd been in the same position for about an hour now. You were trying to be patient and let him work without you distracting him.

"You know, you sighing really isn't helping anyone here," Fred snarked, glancing over his shoulder to frown at you.

You rolled your eyes, taking no offense to the remark. He was stressed out, and you understood that. Which is why you planned this day in the first place!

You sat up, punctuating the movement with another exaggerated sigh.

"Y/N—" Fred began.

You pushed yourself off the bed and crossed the room to where he was working. You rested your forearms on his shoulders, leaning your head atop of his, peering at the paper marked with red pen. Your eyes scanned over the article.

"I think it's good," You said honestly.

"Yeah, sure. It's great if you ignore how no one will read it because it’s so boring," he dryly responded, pushing his glasses up. "I have to get this done before anything else. The editor-in-chief has been bothering me nonstop about making this 'the best' paper of the month. He said my work hasn't been the best. As if it's my fault the journalists are picking boring topics to write about." He aggressively made a clean line through the whole paper.

You reached down and gently took the pen from his hand.

"Hey!" Fred protested, jerking forward with the intent to take the pen back.

You stepped back away from him, capping the pen and tucking it into your pocket. "You're stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed!" He exclaimed, standing up and facing you. "You stole my pen! Give it back." He held his hand out expectantly, his sweater sleeve half covering his palm. You resisted the urge to smile at that.

"No," you responded simply, taking his hand in yours and squeezing. "That poor journalist has rewritten that article at least four times, babe. I think it's good now. You can relax," you tried to soothe, keeping your voice gentle.

"I can't relax. I can't, I could totally lose my job as managing editor if this paper isn't the best. Do you have any idea how many managing editors they’ve gone through? I have to assign better topics and just scratch this whole—"

You pulled him in for a hug, because usually that calmed him down when he worked himself up like this. You learned that after the crash. He found touch to be soothing, and it helped to ground him.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in close against you. You said nothing for a while as silence befell him. The tension in his body released as he went pretty much limp, resting his head against your shoulder.

"...I'm sorry," Fred said eventually, pulling away to look at you.

"Don't apologize," you responded, your hands gently cupping his cheeks, fingertips brushing against his scar. "I understand you're stressed. But this? Now you're just looking for problems in these articles. Problems that aren't there and you're running yourself to the ground," you murmured. "Why don't you come lay down with me. Get a clear head and then we'll come back to making sure all the articles are good for the paper," you suggested.

Fred nodded, pulling away. He adjusted his glasses and immediately went to flop on the bed, adjusting himself until he was on his back, head propped up on the pillow.

You joined him soon after, taking the pen from your pocket and tossing it back on the desk.

You crawled into bed, hovering over him for a moment. You smiled fondly down at him, leaning down to kiss him before settling in bed with him; your head on his chest and a leg hooked over one of his.

You listened to his breathing slow down the longer the two of you laid together in silence. A beautiful thing about your relationship; you could spend the entire day in silence and it would never turn awkward. You both were content to lay together without meaningless conversations filling the air.

But you knew his silence had changed to sleep when the arms around you loosened and went limp against your back. And his breathing went completely even, no longer hitching.

Despite this, you held off on moving for a good while longer lest you ran the risk of waking him from his well deserved nap.

But once you were sure it was safe, you pushed yourself up, enough to reach up and take his glasses off. You folded them and set them on the bedside table.

You looked down at his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful. And so beautiful. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, "I love you," against his skin before sliding back to your earlier position.

You joined him in sleep soon after that.

[novamirmirsblog]

My clothes smell of you

Genre: Fluff

Request: no

Word count: 1311

Warnings: None

LOOSELY BASED ON THIS PROMPT: you’re a seamstress at the place I took my clothes to get fixed and when I got it back it smelled like you so now I’m looking for clothes at the thrift store that have holes in them so that I can go back and see you again

Part 2 here 

A/n: there is absolutely no need to read part two. In fact I encourage you not to do so. It’s sad and why have sad when you can finish with this cute happy ending. Part two was the sadistic part of me coming out 😂

It was no secret that avenging was dangerous work. It was also no secret that Tony Stark sucked at sewing. Perhaps that was a little harsh on Tony. It's not like anyone else in the avengers compound could sew. Natasha remembered one particularly painful memory where Steve had ended up in the hospital because he had sewn his suit to his hand.

Tony had offered to have a bulk of different suits made for each person but after earth's mightiest heroes had seen how all of Clint's suits turned up fluorescent pink, it was a hard pass. Natasha also had another reason for wanting to get her suit's repaired rather than just buying a new one.

The first time she had her suit sent to be repaired it had been after Peter's suit had come back with absolutely no burn marks. It was surprising considering he had jumped into the fireplace after Bucky dared him too. She was shocked that the suit looked almost brand new and when he waved his hand into the flames again, it was completely crazy that the suit hand came away with no burn marks.

Whoever had fixed his suit had also made their own improvements.

Peter had eagerly told Natasha that he often went to 'Y/n's Splendid Sewing' after Aunt May got fed up of repairing his mask one too many times. While Natasha wasn't a fan of the name of the shop, she couldn't deny she was eager to see how you would fix a suit with more holes than Swiss cheese.

Peter had offered to bring her suit with him the next time he went but her suit needed fixing now and turning on the charm a little to skip ahead of any queues was her plan.

~~~~~

Walking into the store, the little bell on the doorframe rang out, letting you know someone had entered. You looked up to see a pretty redhead walk in.

"Hi, I'm hoping you could help me out." Natasha's low voice dripped with flirtatious intentions.

"Sure. What do you need sewing?" You answered back, busing yourself with the computer. You had convinced yourself that if you didn't have to look at her, she would get more ugly when you turned back. You were wrong.

Natasha dumped a black bag on the counter "I was hoping you could fix this up. I kind of need it for tonight."

You glanced at the clock. It read 4:30. Reaching into the bag you pulled out the black catsuit and examined the damage

"I can have it done by 5:45. Name please." You knew you were being short with this beautiful woman but you needed to get started on this suit asap if you wanted to meet the deadline you had set yourself.

"Just put it under Natalia."

~~~~~

The bell rang out again at exactly 5:45 and you didn't even bother looking up before grabbing the catsuit that was on the hanger.

"So you know my name, when do I get to know yours?" Natalia purred out, handing you the money and letting her hand linger for a fraction longer than necessary.

"Y/n" You managed to choke out, you were sure she could feel your heart rate increase because her gaze turned predatory for a fraction of a second before flicking back to the carefully flirty facade she put on.

"Cute. See you soon y/n"

~~~~~

When Natasha made it back to the compound, she took her suit out to inspect it and the waft of you came too. That wasn't fair in her opinion because it was addicting. Your scent wasn't very prominent in your shop because of all the other chemicals you used to clean the clothes but here, with no new smells to distract her, Natasha was hooked. You smelled of comfort.

This was the reason that Natasha was suddenly a saint, taking everyone's suits to be repaired. She wasn't too keen on everyone being able to smell your coziness but this way she got to keep talking to you. You had both fallen into playful flirting and while Natasha thought she could be content with that, she wasn't. She wanted more. She wanted to be the reason you woke up with a smile. She wanted to come home and be able to breathe you in after a long day. It's why she started bringing more and more... personal... items. It was an absolute joy to see your flushed face when she gave you a very revealing bra to fix, claiming that the holes that looked like they had been cut in were, in fact, a product of moth related crimes.

Natasha had, in fact, asked you out on a date several times yet you always thought it was just a friendly meet up. The amount of times the two of you had gone out to eat, or grab coffee, or just chill at the compound were too many to count. After the first three failed attempts at asking you on a proper date, Natasha wondered if you were being wilfully ignorant, that you just didn't want to go on a date with her and this was your way of letting her down. But then she would catch your eyes roaming her body with your lip captured between your teeth and question everything all over again.

~~~~~

Natasha, who was usually so sure of herself, felt like an absolute wreck when she came to collect the clothes that day, along with a bunch of flowers.

The bell on the doorway rang out at 4:45, just as it has done every Wednesday and Friday for the past 3 months. You didn't even bother looking up to greet Natasha, just waving her in to the back so she could dump the clothes that needed repairing.

"Actually Y/n, no clothes today."

You looked up at that. Why was she coming here without clothes? Was there an order you forgot to complete? Was she here to tell you that your last job wasn't good enough? "How come?"

"Well," Natasha took a deep breath in, trying to calm her nerves "I was wondering if you would like to grab some coffee with me? Like a date?" Natasha handed you the flowers from behind her back.

You were shocked. How could someone like Natasha (You had found out during a movie night at the compound that while Natalia was her real name, people here just called her Natasha) like someone like you? Natasha took your silence as a bad thing and started to ramble.

"I know it's weird but ever since that first interaction, I just can't shake you. I am obsessed with everything about you - your hair, your eyes" Natasha let out an exasperated laugh "even your damn smell I can't get out of my head. I understand if you don't want to date me but I can't live with the thought of not knowing whether or not you would say yes..."

While Natasha was ranting away, you and taken the flowers from her and placed them on your workbench. Once she had finished her speech, you placed one hand on her hip and the other on her face

"Of course I would want to go on a date with you. When you first walked into my shop, I couldn't wait for you to come and collect your clothes. When you kept coming back - well, I thought I was the luckiest person alive because even though I thought we could never be anything more than friends, at least I got to watch you and your smile every week."

You leant in, bringing your lips closer to Natasha's, leaving a gap for her to close. When Natasha captured your lips with hers, the softness was unparalleled to anything you had ever experienced. You both broke the kiss reluctantly when you needed to breathe.

"You know that's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me, Y/n"

"Well now, we can't have that Miss Romanoff, people might think you're going soft." you gently nudged her as you both walked out of the shop hand in hand, the bell ringing for one last time before you both made your way into your new relationship.

[imagines-oneshots-galore]

For Science

A/N: Hello all, it’s been a hot fucking minute. Some things have changed in how I write/ When i write/ etc. So I have no idea when I’ll get the time to write. Which brings me to the reason for this fic. I started watching the originals, and was immediately obsessed. Personally, I’m an Elijah girl, but this popped into my head and I couldn’t get it out fast enough. Wrote this in two hours 😅 Hope it’s okay! It was my first time writing for the Mikaelsons.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 1,587

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July, Klaus isn’t home, Rebekah is oddly silent and Elijah, Hayley and Y/N decide to conduct a scientific experiment.

Warnings: Some saucy implications, swearing, Klaus, innuendos

AO3

Masterlist

Rebekah was up to something, a notion they could all agree on. Elijah, Hayley and Y/N sat on the couch in the living room of the Mansion, not hearing a sound despite knowing she was home. The one person who wasn’t present, was Klaus.

Thus, Rebekah was definitely up to something, but what it could be?

Lots of possibilities, with many different levels of peril, all designed specifically for one Niklaus Mikaelson. They knew they should probably get involved, especially Y/N, whose very boyfriend was the one at risk. But they also knew the outcome would be spectacular, so they all silently decided to do nothing. For now, Y/N would continue to write on her computer, and Hayley and Elijah would continue reading the same book together.

It may be a national holiday, but they had other things that required their attention at the moment.

A loud crash came from above them, followed by a curse only heard by the ones with supernatural hearing. They all looked up to the ceiling, right where they knew that Klaus and Y/N’s room was located. Simultaneously, they looked back to each other, one more silent conversation later, and they returned to their activities.

Hayley felt a buzz against her hip, and she knew it was Elijah’s. She reached between them to grab the phone, opening the notification.

“Klaus just texted saying he was on his way, based on the colorful vocabulary, I’d say the negotiation with Marcel didn’t go as planned,” Hayley said quietly to the group, not loud enough for Rebekah to hear as she showed the text to Elijah.

“He said he’ll be here in a few minutes. I wonder, should we tell her of her expedited deadline?” He muttered, thumbs poised working as he replied to his brother.

“Hell no,” Y/N laughed, and soon as it happened, the three paused, making sure Rebekah wasn’t listening into the conversation now. When nothing was heard yet, they all let out a collective breath.

“I want to see this play out, without interference” She said, softer this time as a wicked smirk came upon all of their faces.

“A scientific experiment, if you will,” Hayley said, suppressing the urge to laugh.

“Yes, for science.” Elijah said, and without another word, they all resumed what they were doing moments ago.

As promised, minutes later, Hayley and Elijah heard the faint hum of Niklaus’s vehicle. Apparently, Rebekah did as well, judging by the way they all heard another curse, followed by a frantic shuffling, and then she ran down the stairs and into the foyer.

She was slightly out of breath, and her eyes looked wild. The most damning piece of evidence was the lone feather sitting in her hair.

It didn’t take a conversation to know they would keep that information to themselves. Letting the cards fall where they may, in the name of knowledge. Rebekah smoothed out her shirt, letting out a breath as she walked over to sit next to Y/N on the adjoining couch. She picked up a random book as the car drew closer.

“I hope that I can trust you all to agree that I was here the whole time,” Rebekah said sweetly, an underlying threat laced in her words as she kept her gaze on the book.

“As long as my room isn’t destroyed,” Y/N said just as sweetly, and Rebekah paled slightly. Y/N may still be human, but she was still able to make Rebekah gulp.

“Rebekah…” She began to warn, right as they heard Klaus make it to the driveway. Only moments now.

“I will fix it myself but please say nothing,” She whispered, speaking fast, pleadingly, and before Y/N could agree or deny, Klaus sped into the mansion. His posture was tense, and his brow was furrowed. They all knew Hayley’s suspicion was correct.

“Marcellus Gerard is a conniving twit and I will be glad when we finally dethrone the treacherous bastard,” He huffed, as his gaze shifted to his girlfriend, and he softened in front of their eyes. He plopped down behind her, pulling her body closer to his chest. His hands traced down her arms as he whispered loud enough for only her to hear. Not that any of them would want to hear whatever it was. Based on their facial expressions, it wasn’t hard to guess what was being said.

“I rather think a long relaxing wash in my multi-headed shower sounds rather spectacular before the upcoming night of festivities” Klaus grinned into her skin. She shivered as she felt his warm breath on her neck, and she began to nod her head. But then she opened her eyes and gazed back upon Rebekah, with the damn feather in her hair.

She quickly thought of an excuse.

“I’ll be up in a moment, I have a couple more things I need to write down before I forget them.” She said, a little breathy. Both at the thought of what was promised, and her being put on the spot. Then another thought crossed her mind, as Klaus nodded, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

If she didn’t say anything, she would surely not get to experience whatever Klaus was cooking up in his gorgeous head. But if she told him. He might forgive Rebekah’s attempted prank in favor of private time with his girlfriend. She locked eyes with Rebekah, and saw that she knew what Y/N had on the line.

After a tense millisecond, Y/N rolled her eyes, and let Klaus get up without another word. Rebekah breathed out imperceptibly, and Hayley rested her mouth against Elijah’s shoulder to conceal her smile.

Right before he left, Klaus turned and looked at Rebekah.

“There’s a feather in your hair sister,” He said, before turning back around, as Rebekah frantically pulled the feather from her blonde curls.

Klaus finally left with a pleased smile on his face, and suddenly they all felt a bit guilty.

Only for a moment though, he had staked and tortured (except for Y/N and Hayley of course, though Hayley was not immune to his taunts and quips) them many times over the centuries.

“Thanks for telling me,” She growled quietly, and Elijah casually looked up at his sister.

“For the results to be as accurate as possible, we could not interfere” He said matter of factly, as Hayley nearly snorted, her hand gripping his button up shirt. He reached up to grab hers, and brought it to his lips.

Before Rebekah had the chance to ask what the hell he was talking about, they collectively heard Klaus open his door, and then a mechanical grinding. Something that sounded like a liquid fell to the floor as Klaus cried out in clear surprise. Moments later, and a loud wooshing sound was heard.

It was silent for a few moments, and everyone waited in bated breaths for what was to come next.

“REBEKAHHH!” Klaus screamed dramatically, and before the name was even finished, she was out of the door, running away like her life depended on it. Probably because it did.

The group busted out laughing, and Hayley and Y/N looked to each other. Another wooshing sound and there he was.

Covered in thick chocolate syrup and a shit ton of feathers stood a murderous Klaus Mikaelson. Even the stoic Elijah couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips at the clever prank.

“First, Marcellus turns down a perfectly good exchange of power, then my sister proverbially tars and feathers me, and now I begin to realize that my sweet Y/N let her devoted boyfriend walk right into a trap,” He said, continuing the dramatics as always.

“Happy American Independence Day brother” Elijah sighed, as fireworks started up outside. Hayley turned excitedly to the window, and his gaze turned to her, adoration clear on his face. Without another word, he stood up, Hayley cradled in his arms as she yelped at the sudden movement.

“If you’ll excuse us, I will be going to take my partner to watch the fireworks,” And he ran out of the room before Klaus had the chance to argue, Hayley’s giggle echoing in the wind.

Klaus huffed indignantly, getting himself all worked up again. Y/N lifted the laptop from her lap, setting it to the side so she could make her way to her whining boyfriend.

“I’m going to find Rebekah, and when I do I’ll…” He ranted, Y/N wrapping her arms around his neck, not caring about the sticky transfer of chocolate sauce and feathers onto her clothes. His arms wound around her waist as she quietly interrupted his threats.

“Pretend to laugh it off, to lull her into a false sense of security. Then you’ll come back to me to plan your revenge,” Her lips ghosted over the skin of his neck as she spoke, before her tongue darted up to lick a bit of the dark syrup.

“For now, I promised you a nice long shower,” She said as she pulled away, and met his signature smirk.

“You are truly wicked my dear,” He all but growled, pulling her harder against his body as she giggled. “I believe you are correct, I will most definitely be needing your assistance, love,” And as soon as the words left his lips, he picked her up and ran them to the washroom, the need for revenge forgotten for now.

A solid day's work in the name of Science.

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hi Em! If you have time would you mind helping me out with finding my MBTI type? I think I use Fe/Ti and Si/Ne but not sure what order. 22 y/o grad student, don’t have a solid career plan, I’m just doing what I’m passionate about & hoping it gets me somewhere. Into lots of different creative hobbies & I feel worthless if I can’t produce things for too long. That being said, I rarely finish projects if they can’t be completed in a few days, I lose motivation to do things if I don’t get immediate results

I’m easily influenced by people around me, don’t have great emotional boundaries. I end up mirroring people a lot even if I don’t feel the same way about a situation. I’m not afraid to be weird or say something shocking if I think it’ll get a good reaction, I’m just scared to come across as annoying. Also bad at trusting myself, I like to get outside opinions on pretty much everything. I don’t think abt my own emotions very often and have a hard time articulating what exactly I feel

I could be accused of not taking anything seriously. I don’t like confronting difficult topics and tend to ignore things that bother me. I’m def not the emotional support friend, I have no idea how to comfort people besides just being like “oh no that sucks.” I feel like I need instructions for how to perform different categories of social interaction, it doesn’t come naturally to me. Approaching new people makes me anxious, but I love having roommates and doing things with others, I hate living alone. I never get caught up in drama bc I’m pretty deferential. I enjoy public speaking and acting, but only when I have a memorized script and have practiced beforehand. I’m not comfortable with impromptu stuff because my thoughts stop when my mouth opens and I don’t want to look like a fool.

Big on conscientiousness when it comes to deadlines and punctuality, I absolutely never turn things in late. I work comfortably within the structure of academia and I like knowing what to expect, but it has me constantly craving new experiences and feeling like I’m missing out on life. But it’s easy for me to ignore my feelings to get a job done. And I always try to produce the best quality work I can even if I hate the assignment. But I’m bad at doing important yet boring/unpleasant things just for ME. No one is affected by me not making doctor’s appts or not getting my drivers license, so I just don’t

I set high standards for myself and I don’t feel worthy of the kind of love I want unless I fix all of my perceived flaws. I’m physically uncoordinated/oblivious and very self-conscious about it. I obsess over my appearance but honestly I don’t put a lot of effort into how I look because it’s all so overwhelming, time consuming, and expensive. If there’s no quick and easy fix I just stew over the problem until I can convince myself I don’t care

My real life living space is a mess but I rly enjoy organizing intangible information, I’m good at synthesizing ideas, making mind maps, etc. Also good at coming up with tons of ideas for projects/stories/papers, but I’m limited to things I already know about. I don’t think I’m very original, I just have a good memory and an associative mind. Terrible at math tho, numbers & equations just don’t stick in my mind because they seem so abstract and impersonal. The rules of spelling/grammar/linguistics make more sense to me because they’re directly applicable to my own life and have more obvious meaning behind them idk

Hi anon, my guess is ISFJ; I think you are right about your functions. The simultaneous focus on always getting other people's opinions/not having a great sense of what you necessarily want and some lower Ti peeking through with the willingness to occasionally try to shock indicates high Fe; the obsessions and organization and punctuality seem like Si. In particular, a very strong dedication to obligations other than those that only affect yourself is VERY ISFJ to me.

[destielharlequinchallenge]

The Destiel Harlequin Challenge Master Post: 2020 Mega Bang

Participants in the 2020 Destiel Harlequin Challenge completed an amazing 20 fics and 3 sets of artwork! You can learn all about those here!

Spectre (fic by a_dusky_gold, art by aceriee)

This whole thing… this was supposed to be a fucking farce. A way to keep Nicholas Vaught occupied until the deadline he’d given Dean would run out, and he’d still get the money to send Dad to the Town Hall rehabilitation for alcoholism, because that was the goddamned deal.

There were no such things as ghosts or magic or a Book of Life. Dean knows, okay? He wasn’t the Army’s goddamned Mystery Raider for nothin’; he knows history, he knows artifacts, and he knows that the Book of Life is an ancient myth that is about as real as werewolves or vampires.

And yet.

“The Book of Life,” the man had said. Dean can’t even remember his name.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dangerous Ground by Amethystaris

Special Agents for the Department of Diplomatic Security, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have been partners and best friends for three years, but everything changed the night Cas admitted the truth about his feelings for Dean. And when Cas was shot a few hours later, Dean felt his reluctance to get involved was vindicated.

Can a camping trip in the High Sierras save their partnership?

Honour Undressed by andimeantittosting

Among his friends, Castiel, Lord Milton is everyone’s confidant and, along with his trusted valet, the fixer of problems. But there is one secret Castiel has never shared: he is in love with his valet and has been for years.

Born in the gutters, Dean Winchester was assigned as Castiel’s batman in the war, and when Castiel travelled home to take up his title, Dean followed him as his valet. To assist Castiel, Dean is not above a little burglary or blackmail. But the one thing he wants for himself is Castiel’s heart.

When Castiel’s closest friends become the target of a blackmailer, certain truths come out. But while Dean determines to seduce Castiel, Castiel is adamant that he must resist, for if there is one rule a gentleman must follow, it is never to dally with his servant.

Havenport by BlueMasquerade

Castiel cleared space on his desk by the expedience of sweeping the previous contents to the side. He set the bundle down in the center of the surface and studied the knots in the rope before expertly untying them.

The book was old, its leather bindings cracked and crumbling. He carefully opened the cover to reveal the pages within, each hand cut, the edges beautifully deckled, the text written in pen and ink.

“This is written in ancient Enochian.” Castiel looked up, gaze narrowed. “Where did you obtain a book written in ancient Enochian?”

“Is that what it is? All I could tell is that it sure as hell isn’t English.” Mr. Winchester grinned, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

an aching in my heart by contemplativepancakes

When Dean’s best friend dies, leaving behind her daughter, Dean knows he has what it takes to give Claire the life she deserves. The problem is, they’re not related by blood, and Claire’s long lost uncle gets called to take her in. Castiel Novak was bad news when he was in highschool with Dean, and judging by his blue hair and tattoo sleeves, nothing’s changed. Castiel ran out on his family once before, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let that happen to Claire without putting up a fight.

Fools and Fate by Danica_Dust

Castiel Novak fled his coven to escape the rigid, predetermined Fate laid out for him within its confines. Desperate and alone, he took shelter in the city of Sacriloga, forsaking all magic and living off whatever he could steal. There, witches like Cas are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.

When Jack, a young witch also on the run from his own coven, seeks out Cas’ aid, however, Cas finds that he cannot reject the boy, leaving him to his sure destruction. Especially after the newest visitor to Sacriloga makes his presence known: the legendary Hunter, Dean Winchester, who has been following Jack’s trail.

Sworn to the Men of Letters, Hunters live by one principle: thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Dean’s path was never meant to cross with Cas', but a desperate stunt and a single mistake forces them into an impossible union—holy matrimony.

The war between the witches and the Men of Letters is an ancient one and Cas' most dangerous enemies bring a Fate worse than fire. Unable to ignore his growing feelings, yet powerless to change what he is, a choice must be made.

A suffocating Fate on one hand. A precarious freedom on the other. And in between, the kind of love that makes fools of us all.

Ozone by Deancebra

A young magic user who wants desperately to live. A jaded recluse who has forgotten what living means. They’re each other’s only chance.

Dean’s wild magic is killing him. The mage guilds have given up on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he dies in a spectacular, catastrophic bang. His only hope is an exiled wizard who lives in seclusion—and is rumored to have lost his mind.

The years alone on his hilltop estate have not been good for Castiel Novak. After the magical accident that disfigured him and nearly destroyed the village, he drifts through his days, a wraith trapped in memories and depression. Until a stricken young man collapses on his driveway, one who claims Castiel is his last chance. For the first time in fifteen years, Castiel must make a choice—leave this wild mage to his fate or take him in and try to teach him, which may kill them both. The old Castiel, brash and commanding, wouldn’t have hesitated. Castiel the exile isn’t sure he can find the energy to try.

A Demon Like Him by EllenOfOz

Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition.

His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects.

Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks.

Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.

A Working Relationship by fangirlingtodeath513

The homes that Castiel Novak designs for Angelic Houses are to die for. They’re pristine, perfectly designed and organized, and they’ve caused more than a few bidding wars. It’s the perfect job—he’s organized, good with math, and he’s able to pick up on design trends relatively quickly. The only thing that isn’t perfect? His obnoxious older brother, Luke. Castiel’s been vying for a position on a flipping team for years now, but Luke has never even considered it. When a lecherous gossip reporter overhears an argument, they receive an offer they can’t refuse.

They’re invited to compete on Flip Off, a competition where two people flip houses and compete for the highest profit. Castiel wants the leverage a win would bring him, but he also wants to prove himself. Enter Dean Winchester, a contractor with his own team and one that’s blissfully unconnected to Angelic Houses, allowing Castiel to prove himself without any help from the family company.

The undeniable attraction between them certainly doesn’t help matters, but Castiel is resolute in his decision to make a move only after they’ve finished working together. At least, that had been his plan until Dean made him an offer he simply couldn’t refuse.

Crashing In by followyourenergy

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Make Me Believe by GhoulsnHalos

Ten years ago, Castiel Novak’s stepfather disowned him, taking from him his place as hereditary heir to the head of the Hunter and Warrior Guild. Now, he’s a self-made, and celebrated, master gem and metal smith. Castiel doesn’t believe that the God’s decide your soulmate. Until he designs what can only be a gift fit for his soul mate, who in contradiction to the etiquette, if not the laws of Neffroen, must be a man.

Dean Winchester is convinced that he is a lowly, dumbass, no magic hunter who couldn’t possibly be on the same social scale as a Novak. So, why is it when he spots the jewelled torc in Castiel’s shop, Dean develops an obsession over the neckpiece and its creator? It can't be anything to do with the will of the Gods, no matter what anyone says, because that's baloney and Dean's not into men.

When Castiel’s long-lost brother turns up and suggests he ought to challenge their stepfather and that Dean is destined to help Castiel rule the clan, Castiel takes some convincing. The real problem is Dean. Can Castiel with the help of family and friends convince Dean of his place by Castiel’s side? Can Dean play the part everyone expects of him to help Castiel regain his rightful place in society?

Shielded Heart by JuniperJones

Arthos, the Infinite City, is a place of alien wonders and indescribable beauty—and, most importantly for Dean, it’s also halfway across the universe from his abusive ex-fiancé. He came to the city desperate for a fresh start, but he finds himself downtrodden on a world of aloof alien beings with little hope of finding his place—and a good chance of being kidnapped or killed before he can even settle in.

At least until he is saved by an irresistible alien with piercing eyes and a seductive smile.

Castiel is the living embodiment of temptation, and he makes no effort to disguise his desire for Dean. But when his past threatens to drag Dean into a dangerous underworld, Dean discovers Castiel isn’t who he claims to be. After enduring so much suffering, can Dean bear to take a leap of faith with this mysterious alien? Can he trust Castiel with not only his life, but his heart?

Stumble and Fall by Kitmistry

Castiel was raised to do one thing: serve his country, whether that was fighting a war or becoming an expert spy. But when his lover is charged with treason and executed Castiel defects. He has evidence that can destroy the KGB’s entire spy ring in New Mexico, he has names of scientists involved with atomic weapons who send information to the Soviets, and he won’t stop until he has revenge.

Putting all his trust in the Americans, Castiel finds himself under the protection of U.S. Marshal Dean Winchester, who is too cocky and attractive for his own good, but at least seems to know what he’s doing.

When a routine transfer to a safehouse goes horribly wrong, Castiel and Dean narrowly escape with their lives. With the Marshals compromised and Castiel being framed for murder, he and Dean are on the run from KGB and law enforcement alike. They have no one to trust except each other, and nowhere to go that their enemies can’t reach.

The Shots We Don’t Take by MandalaRose

Still nursing the tatters of a broken heart and trying desperately to stave off the terror of his impending graduation, college senior Cas Novak decides it’s time to blow off a little steam. Not just any hook-up will do, however. The last thing Cas needs right now is a distraction. On the lookout for someone he can enjoy a steamy night of passion with before leaving them behind entirely, Cas thinks he’s found exactly what he needs in cocky university hockey star and well-known playboy Dean Winchester.

Dean is gorgeous, doesn’t date, and is the singular most infuriating person Cas has ever met. He’s the perfect one night stand...that is, until Dean decides he wants an instant replay of what was supposed to be a one-time event. Will Cas’ offer of friends, sans benefits, convince the arrogant love ’em and leave ’em hockey defenseman to find an easier score? Or will Dean wear down Cas’ defenses and lure the sexy nerd in the dorky trenchcoat back to his bed?

Bullets Over the Bayou (fic by mattzerella_sticks, art by dontbelasagnax)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Masquerade by noxsoulmate

It had begun as such a good plan; one that benefitted them both. And masquerading as Castiel Krushnic's boyfriend during the weeks of balls, galas, and charity events certainly was no hardship. With the impending end of their arrangement, though, Dean Winchester must admit that behind the mask of an aloof CEO lies a man he could fall in love with. Or maybe, he already has…

The Medium by raths_kitten

Detective Dean Winchester hates it when his Chief sends a medium to consult on his cases. But this time, the murder is closely linked to Castiel’s world and they both need to work together to solve it.

Any Semblance of Touch (fic by saltnhalo, art by c-kaeru)

1925, New York.

Dean Winchester’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric… and the only one available has sworn off the magical world altogether.

Castiel Novak’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic into museum research. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, and faced with the power of Dean’s charm and persuasion…

He can’t force himself to say no.

The Love of a Righteous Man by SargentMom573

Five years ago, Captain Dean Winchester defied his father, Senator John Winchester. With his brother Sam, and his spaceship Impala, Dean found his place among a ragtag fleet of pirates and smugglers. Their latest mission left him with a price on his head and a scar on his heart. When a surprise attack separated him from Sam and revealed a Sith weapon, he would do whatever it took to bring his brother back – even sacrifice his own happiness.

After Emperor Michael’s death broke the psychic link between them, Emperor’s Hand Castiel Novak spent years drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a barrel. Mostly sober, three years ago he found a new purpose as the Impala’s Chief Medical Officer, and Sam Winchester’s guide in the Force. And a good friend in the Impala’s gruff but kind Captain.

Dean and Castiel must work together to bring Sam home alive. But when Castiel’s last mission is exposed, will Castiel complete it and destroy any hopes Dean had for a family? Will Dean forgive Cas’ horrific purpose before it is too late? And give them both what they really want — the love of a righteous man.

SKID by spnsmile

Dean Winchester swore off love after getting dumped and fired from his job the same day. Badly drunk, he ended up balcony-hopping until a pair of hands snatched him inside a darkened room. But it's no hero, it's someone with deep voice whispering threats with a gun pointed at his back. Dean’s too drunk to deal with life but one good look at his hot assailant plus enough beer sold him to his accursed fate. The next morning, he found himself engaged to the most notorious leader of a powerful clan, Castiel Novak.

Married life in the compound for a month was not as blissful so when he could, Dean fought for that freedom. Castiel relented and as Dean tried to put the pieces of his normal life together, getting a bike messenger job and dealing with pain in the ass clients, he now also needs to deal with the dangerous presence of his very jealous and very protective husband watching over him.

Is his life ever going to get back to normal?

[yvainegelinemarie]

How The MLQC Bois React When You Do A ‘Baby/Cutesy Talk’ To Them.

🖤🦋🖤Idk if anyone has done this one yet so here it goes...

𝚨𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌: ✨ ALL my writing promts are gender inclusive and promote love, kindness and fun for all! 

✨I know that each and every one of our boys would love and support each and everyone of you and I hope that my readings portray that comforting, accepting and loving nature through and through~ 

✨And with that I hope you Spookies enjoy~~

☪ 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

☪ 𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌:18+  Has mild talk about sex, mentions drinking/alcohol. 

☪ 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙 : Quick Read, bullet points 

𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖔|10/10

He eats the baby talk up!!! And does it right back to you with so much ease!

You guys have full on conversations with just the two of you using baby talk towards one another.

And you both have no problem doing it in public and annoying all your friends with how mushy and maybe a bit cringey you two can be.

Most of your baby talk conversations is the two of you whining back and forth about wanting food.

“Aww, Kiro can I pwlese haves a snack now? It’s been a few howers pwlesee?! 🥺🥺”

“Bwut what if I want a snack moreeeee?!”

You two stare at one another intensely with large, watery, puppy dog eyes and quivered lips.

Neither one of you is going down this easily over the remaining sweet candy that you have left. 

Kiro will ALWAYS use the cute talk on you when you are trying to keep him from eating sweets as Savin ordered. But the moment he brings out the cute voice and the puppy dog eyes you have lost.

It’s just so hard to not cave in to such a cute face!!! 

But it’s okay because he can’t resist yours either.

You and Kiro’s guttonness and cutesy manipulative ways towards one another can sadly only go on for so long before the fun comes to a painful hault.

It seems that you two have indulged in a little too much of the sweet treats, leaving you both to most likely take up a very simple yet painful month of dieting. 

Which is then filled to the max with pouty expressions and W words in hopes to just get one cookie from the bakery you passed on your daily run. 

𝓥𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗|5/10

The world will NEVER know this side of Victor. 

He would probably throw himself off a bridge if anyone heard him use a cute voice towards you or anyone for that matter.

Even your future children and cute puppies will NEVER witness such a pure and child-like state with your stubborn CEO boyfriend. 

BUT surprisingly enough he has done it a few times.

You always tease him for it since he likes to make fun of you for when you try to use your cute voice to beg for pudding or a longer time for your deadlines. 

And although this tough looking CEO wouldn’t admit it, he likes seeing you pout your lip and add a W to every two words of sentence.

The one and ONLY time victor has ever used the cutesy voice on you was when you were really sick and asking for soup. 

He was caring for you for about a week now with little to no progress of your health improving. 

And aside for all the nagging you were getting from him for overworking yourself he was truly worried about you.

Now that your cold was coming to and end and with Victor in a tired state and comfortable enough to relieve himself of worry, along with being a bit flirtatious (probably from light sips of whisky he had been drinking to keep himself in motion) the cute words just kind of...slipped out...

You are in complete shock as your brain is trying to process what it just heard. 

Did Victor really just say “does my whittle dummy want some swoup?”

Trust me he is just as shocked as you are as he quickly escapes the bedroom with cheeks as red as a cherry.

He is so shocked in fact that it takes you a good three hours to get your soup so he could have some time to regain himself after the embarrassing encounter.

To this day he is still haunted by it as you taunt him every once in a while for it.

*poking his forehead lightly with playful giggles* “Aww, Come on Victor, don���t chu want to mwake me some swoup?” 

“If you have time to bother me then maybe I should consider raising your deadline to three days instead of the end of the week?” 

And with that you scurry out at lighting speed leaving Victor to wallow in his face palmed blushes. 

𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓|8/10

Lucien LOVES the shit out of your cutesy talk.

BUT is probably the only one capable of not letting you get your way with it every time.

He loves to tease you not the other way around! 

His plans would be foiled if just your cute little voice defeated him.

He will however use a cute voice in comparison to yours. 

He likes when you say little words in a cute way like tank you instead of thank you or putting a w in pretty please 

and he will repeat them back to you the same way you said it. In a mocking yet flirtatious kind of way.

After a soft chuckle Lucien looks to you. “Pweety Pwlease?” He questions as you puff your cheeks at the fact that he doesn’t seem phased by your cuteness.

His eyes however, quiver with complete delight at just how cute you are to him.

Your Scorpio boi can only hide his feelings for so long and despite his calming expression his eyes alone can only hold what is truly running through his brain. 

There are times the Professor falls victim to your cute ways but they usually end in some more...explicit moments with you. 👀

You learn rather quickly that this seems to be one of the very few things you have in control over Lucien, unlike the multiple ways he has control over you. 

Though, your ways of manipulation are nothing to take lightly either. 

Lucien seems to be really focused with work right now. Staying up all day and all night eyes glued to books or his tablet filled with words that just give you a bit of a headache.

And despite not hating Lucien’s passion and hardworking energy towards his career you are now starting to realize that it’s been almost a month since you have been close and intimate with him.

So much so that you can’t even remember what his gorgeous body looks like under all that lab coat. 

And desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Setting yourself up into cutness overdrive and plopping yourself right down and in front of your boyfriends work and onto his lap 

along with a simple tilt of your head and eyes as wide as the moon doesn’t take long for all the blood to rush to you know where for Lucien. 

And when Lucien falls victim to you he FALLS. but he’s not a man who enjoys failure. (So be prepare for one intense and intimate ride.)

His sex drive and stamina is not something to question and if you sneeze just two octaves higher than normal 

you’ll most likely be attending his lecture with wet, shaking knees. 

𝕲𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓|7/10

Also loves your baby talk and will say it back to you casually.

It is something that he only does around you though and doesn’t let anyone see.

Gavin is 100% those TikTok videos where the girls are recording their boyfriends cutesy talking to them and then instantly start talking in a deep voice the moment they see the camera. 😂

Will use it a lot when you aren’t feeling good and goes nutso bananas if you use it to reward him.( Kind of like a puppy. 😂)

“Was ywu a tood boyfwriend today? Wes. Wes you were.” *Gives Gavin happy head pats*

Gavin is also a huge sucker for your cute ways and will not hesitate to compliment you on your new hair accessory, the way you did your makeup, or how you added a new watch to match the bracelet he gave you.

He’s actually really good at paying attention to small details despite not being the romantic.

And with this you'll find him getting you cute treats and toys to cheer you up. 

And even if he truly doesn’t quite understand why you are so obsessed and squeal as loud as you can when you see pusheen he can’t say that he hates seeing how excited you get when admiring the cute and simple things of life.

One moment in particular that will always be engraved in Gavin’s head is seeing you hold the chubby grey cat plushie as much as you could in your arms

you were practically swallowed behind it, it was just as big as you were, if not more.

Seeing you walk through the store and doing your best to avoid falling over not daring to let go of the giant fluff ball of cuteness sent a pierce through Gavin’s heart.

How the hell can they be so cute?!? Was the only thought running through Gavin’s head the entire time. 

And once he regained his composure he helped guide you through the store by your arm. 

Sadly you had to part ways with the kitty plushie when a small child became just as in awe of it as you were and knowing she was the last one, handed it over kindly.

Seeing you a bit sad only put Gavin in a low mood before motivating him to an idea.

And with that; a few weeks later a new fluffy, plushie cat as big as your front door awaited the front of your apartment with a cute (is that letter blood stained???) note from Gavin. 

𝐒𝖍𝖆𝖜|-9000/10

Hatesssss! The baby talk with a passion and will not ever use it with you.

You made the mistake to use it on him once and the amount of awkwardness in his expression was overbearing.

The two of you just sat in your apartment blinking wide eyed at one another in silence.

Shaw broke the awkwardness first by just flat out saying��“yeah, no.”

And with that you sulked back into your seat realizing that he didn’t seem phased at all by how cute you were.

And for a moment a bit ticked off. I am cute Shaw?! Don’t ignore me like that! UGH! He can be so nerve racking sometimes!!

Despite not being a big fan of the voice, after dating Shaw for a while you have come to find that he doesn’t mind you doing cute things with him like cuddling up together, squishing his cheeks, or rubbing your face on his ect.

Playing with his hair when he’s strumming away on his bass or latching onto his neck when his skateboard slips from under your feet are some of his favorite moments with you.

But the big eyes and pout get him ALL the time!

He will try his best not to be swayed by them especially when the tears seem genuine.

Shaw and your relationship is like when the older sibling hits the younger one and they start crying and the older one starts to freak out. That. That’s you and Shaw. 

𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖚𝖘|𝐒𝖍𝖆𝖜

When he gets drunk he uses the baby talk on you!

Will mumble on his words but tell you just how pretty and cute you are.

But you know that if you bring it up to him he will never drink around you again so you have to keep it as a little secret between you and your friends

You even have recordings and voice messages of him drunk off his ass and calling you just to say.

“Babbbyyyy, I mwissed ywu so muchhh!! Ywu are dhe pwrettiest girl I know and I luv ywu and I just want to kiss your cute wittle face!”

He’s also a very clingy and loving drunk who can’t seem to stop from covering your face in kisses.

It is most definitely a moment in time that you will happily remember for years and years. 

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝐤 𝖄𝖔𝖚!!! Spookies for giving this a read and for giving me the opportunity to share something fun and light hearted with you guys about all our favorite Evolvers. 

✨ I am hoping that more writings are to come to you guys from me but this is all a fairly new and a bit out of my comfort zone to do haha  so please be patient with me. 

✨ But please be open to comment feedback you may have through this post and In my asks on what you thought about this and if you guys enjoy more bullet point writings like this or would like more of a story style. I would love to hear what you guys have to say!!! 

[catypus]

Okay I hope this isn't bothering you but I've been obsessed with this for a while now- akaashi x reader but she's dying young and she's never seen the snow and wanted to see the world and Akaashi being the compassionate person he is, he plans to take her traveling and to show her all the seasons in other places before she can't anymore-🥺😭 idk ive been obsessed with this idea since FOREVER 🥺👉👈

a | n : aww it’ll never be a bother!! thank you for sending in your request and waiting, we were really busy at that time but hope you like it <3

pairings: akaashi x dying!reader

genre: angsty huhu :”)))

warnings: implied death

© all content belongs to catypus 2020. do not modify or repost.

the four phases of grief (through the seasons)

when it’s you and me, it feels like nothing can tear us down; nothing can tear us apart

  - phase I; shock and numbness -

Time becomes a finite measure only when your days are set.

Others at your age are going out, exploring their futures, just setting foot into an unknown world and you? Get the better half of 1 year thrown at your feet and told, “here make what you will of it”

But how can you?

The words of the doctor echoes in your head, rattling your thoughts and making them dance about until nothing is coherent anymore.

It feels empty.

Like everything has lost its colour, its flavour.

But when he hugs you,

when he lets you cry it out on his shoulder,

when he cups your face and leaves a sweet kiss on your lips and whispers to you,

“my love, I'm here, I'll give you the best life”,

you can’t help but feel a miniscule tinge better.

That the love of your life, will remain a constant until the very end.

akaashi keiji, you’re one hell of a guy

The next day, he springs a surprise trip to Greece.

You could hardly believe the words as they left his lips.

“pack what you need, we leave at the end of the week”

“I’ve already called ahead to your work, you don’t have to worry about that”

And that’s how a week later you found yourselves on the windswept limestone cliffs of Santorini, gazing upon the tops of the notable blue and white architecture.

In the midst of the white-washed buildings, casted golden by the setting sun, Keiji tightens his grip on your hand.

A silent promise.

One that you treasure closest to your heart as the sun disappears beneath the horizon, bringing the day to a close.

 at the end, doesn’t everyone just want closure ?

 - phase ii; yearning and searching -

It's that time of the year where everything starts shriveling up and dying as the temperature takes a dip for the lower end of the thermostat.

And before you know it, you too will shrivel up and die

it’s a never leaving trail of negativity; one that only festers and broils as the autumn leaves scatter at the touch of the cold breeze.

That day, Keiji brings home a new beanie and shoves it snugly over your head, tightly bundling your hair until it frays out. He lets out a low chuckle.

You pout at him, attempting to uncover your eyes so you can see him properly and get your hair in place, when all you see are two plane tickets to Ontario.

He smiles softly at you, watching at your expression.

You meet his gaze quietly, staring into his eyes.

His eyes that hold hope for you.

You both know by now that the prospect of extending your deadline is out of the question. You’ve taken more sick days and the monthly reviews have slowly transitioned into fortnightly ones.

Yet he holds so much emotion for you, so many wishes that you will be happy, with him. Even until the very end.

You grasp his hand, in which he holds the tickets.

“when do we leave?”

The mist rising from the falls breaks the sunlight and forms a slender arc of a rainbow above the crest of the waterfall.

Against the backdrop of the hues of orange, red and yellow, the colours of autumn have never looked more stunning.

The two of you stand there, at the outlook over the edge of the falls, watching the miniscule silhouettes of other tourists on board the boats as they view Niagara Falls from a different perspective.

Maybe it’s about the perspective.

Maybe it’s not that you have less than a year left.

Maybe it’s that you have the rest of the year to love Keiji.

That you have the rest of the year to get your forever with him.

As you link hands and slowly tread through the park, leaves crunching at your feet, he suddenly stops.

“my love, can i get a picture of you?”

As much as he’d never forget your smile, he thought to himself, if he could capture even a shred of your beauty, he’d be forever thankful.

As you stood there, amidst the falling leaves, adjusting your beanie, he thinks you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

 and as we stand here together, in this instant, it’s as if time is standing still, bearing witness to our love

 - phase iii; disorganisation and despair -

 The beauty of a small island in the middle of winter, covered by blankets of glistening white snow.

A fleeting moment, where the frosty wind nips at your cheeks as the ferry slows to a halt, docking at the jetty.

Clasping your gloved hand in his, he gently leads the way, weaving through the crowd.

As you set foot on the ground and take in the view, you realise that no image on google can compare to seeing it in real life.

In days gone by, you fawned over the picturesque landscape and imagery of Nami Island in South Korea.

Especially in the heart of winter, where many others have taken their own recreations of photos out of a K-drama.

“keiji, baby look- “,

As you would show him a sample image of a wedding photoshoot, the couple staring lovingly in each other’s eyes with the tall Maple trees bearing witness to their love.

The same tall Maple trees that you and him now stand before.

In the subtle shadows, casted by the barren trees, he graces your lips with a kiss.

Which turned into another.

And another.

Before he pulls back slightly, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed, just basking in each other’s company.

Softly swaying with the cold wind, he pulls something out of his pocket.

That in which he links around your neck.

When you lean back and look down at your collar, there sits a simple but elegant rose gold chain, to which a pendant is attached to.

And on the pendant, is your anniversary date.

The day that you said yes to being his best friend, his confidante, the love of his life.

Suddenly, you feel very warm.

Your face heats up and tears fall from your eyes before you even notice it.

“keiji, I’m sorry.”

“what for, baby?”

“i’m sorry for whatever’s going to happen after.”

 fate fortold that we would meet, so now my love, what’s the rush?

 - phase iv; reorganisation and recovery -

 The cold winds have blown, now the warm days are returning.

Looking out the window, the green fields rush past as the Shinkansen speedily heads for Sapporo.

Clenching your fingers tighter, you look down at where Keiji’s fingers hold on to yours just as tightly.

One last time.

Slowly but surely, strolling down the pathway, watching as high school couples bask in the bright glow of the pink hues of this season.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that you and Keiji linked arms and sat under the cherry blossoms.

Youth.

As you both sat on the bench, his arms tightly wound across your shoulder, he recalls how all those years ago, as he wiped the corner of your mouth of cream from the daifuku you were eating, he first told you those three words.

“i love you.”

“until forever and the day after that”

He pulls out his phone, your ever-beautiful face smiling back at him from under those autumn leaves in Canada.

The bench beside him has never felt emptier as he places one hand over his chest, the cold metal of the pendant pressing painfully against his heart.

It’s been a year.

A flower bud drops on his shoulder.

He remembers your expressions, the amazement you gave the first time you saw him do a snow angel, the contentment when he had kissed you under the maple trees. The love in your eyes that never wavered a single time.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, before shakily letting it out.

I miss you.

 even when the seasons change, our love will forever remain the same.

[laynemorgan]

I'm sure you've already provided it, but I'd be curious to hear your road to becoming a staffed writer. What first got you interested in it? Does it go back to school days?

Man it goes back far. I mean, I guess in some ways it doesn't. Since you asked more about what got me interested in where it goes back to, I'll give you the lest technical and more biographicl explanatin. My first goal was just to become a writer. I've been writing since I was a really little kid. I actually recently found journals from like the elementary and middle school days just filled with them. And it was never small scale, I'd always be planning out the whole fucking setting, how all the characters were connected, full universes. I made a fake fantasy. land in my backyard because my parents live on a lot of land. I called it Teleterania. I remember very little about it besides that that was the name hahah but I did do it!!! Everything I read only made me want to write. Everything I watched made me want to write.

Sometime around late middle school and early high school, I started watching more TV. I found soap operas and was OBSESSSED with their flare for drama. I found BTVS, Charmed, Smallville, Veronica Mars, OTH, etc. And all of those shows really got me actually looking at TV in a way I had never before. I got obsessed with their worlds and into their fandoms. I became the liek TV guy in my high school. There was even a group of girls I never got to really hang out with that would always call me over to their table to ask about what I knew about OTH stuff hahaha and 17 year old me thought that was awesome. Before my sister passed away, she and I took a road trip down to North Carolina to tour the One Tree Hill set. OTH was like the one thing that she and I agreed on. And it was so awesome. For me it was a first look at what the industry actually looked like, to see the sets and what went into it and all of that.

But I don't think my eyes really opened to actually WORKING in tv until college. I went to school for English Lit and Creative Writing in New Hampshire. My school had a great writing program and I was right at home there. i still credit my first writing professor who was only a grad student for really teaching me what I know about writing and editing and reading my own work for error and she passed me on to her favorite professor which was a hugely flattering moment for me. AND THEN -- I fell in love with PLL. And for me, that was really where shit started. I didn't realize it at the time and it wasn't even the show that did it it was what the show showed me. Through my tumblr at the time which had very little to do with fandom, I actually wound up running into Patrick Adams and Troian Bellisario. We all were always sharing each other's posts and at the time I was working for a journalist covering random TV out of a shitty free magazine in Boston doing work for peanuts. But I was going out to LA to meet up with a friend and we all decided to meet for lunch and they let me interview them for my magazine and stayed really rad people. They also helped boost my PLL photo recaps which I was doing at the time and those got the attention of the Director, Normal Buckley who asked me out to coffee and talked to me about my goals and what I was doing. He was the person who first really helped me understand that there's an approachability to the TV world that to me had always been this like magical hollywood bubble I didn't understand.

I went home THRILLED about LA, dropped out of college and set out to go to film school. From there, I hated film school because it was too technical adjacent, dropped out again, spent all the money I had on that move twice, and went home to boston broke and lost. I spent two years after that maybe more saving money, working in fandom, and waitressing while I went back to college online. That era wasn't super writing focused but it's where I found myself. I realized I was queer, I came out, I got into tumblr rpg, I met my fandom friends, I found tumblr fandom in a way I hadn't before. And then a couple years later I found tl100.

From there, the rest is kind of wonky. I had a big fan blog for the show and talked a lot about it on my twitter which lead me to many interactions with the writers who then invited me to dinner at comic con one year. I had a long talk with Shumway abut my goals and what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be in TV somehow. I knew I wanted to be in writing somehow but I couldn't figure out how those two things aligned. I was doing a lot of journalism and critic stuff because that felt like the clsoest way to be both a fan and workin in the world I loved but it was really Kim and Shawna that opened my eyes to the ability to just .... be a TV writer. Film school had made me terrified of the wrtiing side but I think it was because film school was so much more about writing for film which I learned isn't my thing. But TV is a writers' medium, unlike film which is more fo a directors medium and suddenly I was like -- MIND BLOWN. It was everything I wanted in a career and married all of the things I loved. It was something that had previously felt like unattainable but they made it seem human and approachable.

They helped me get my first WPA job, I saved up 3 grand working and with the help of some friends and moved to LA to start that. And suddenly I was in a whirlwind of catching up on everything I felt like I had missed. I was reading scripts, learning what the process looked like, doing everything I coudl to figure out what being a TV writer looked like. After that job, I got another WPA job at Millar Gough on Into the Badlands and later Shannara.

THEN I got hired on Daybreak which I can fully credit with being a huge stepping stone for me and changing my life in a lot of ways. Aron was the best showrunner. He was educational and he taught us shit, he let us in the room, he let us write stuff, he let us pitch and try and fall on our faces and never judged us for it. My second season there he moved me up to writers assitant and patiently walked me through all the stuff I didn't know yet because he had faith in me and my voice and my ideas. He let me writ e afreelance episode that year and pitch it in the room and do all the things that real w riters get to do.

So after Daybreak season 2 got cancelled I was pretty ready to spend my next year or two just writing, finding an agent and moving forawrd. And then I got an email to go and work for Moira Walley Beckett. She was looking for an assistant with serious room experience to help develop something in a small room and stay on with her later. I took the job becuase she's MOIRA and I was stoked to learn from her and work for a woman for once. I ernded up very fortunate becuase a month later we were all surprised by the covid mess and I was fully employed that whole year while many people weren't which was a huge help. Moira was a STELLAR boss. I had thought I was ready and what she taught me was that ther's always so much more to learn. She walked me through the process of applying notes and taking notes and changing draft after draft of your story. SHe walked me through breaking a whole season of television. We had a great partnership for the year and I'm so grateful. And then that project didn't end up seeing hte light of day and we our separate ways as well.

Cut to a few months ago, I was still at home in Boston, post-covid, having been sick for most of january. My friend Rachel dared me to write a spec in a weekend for the Warner Bros fellowship deadline. So I did. It was a Legacies Spec. Given that we didn't have access to the WGA library because of the pandemic, Legacies was an easy and obvious choice. I had already seen it inside and out and didn't need as much access to learning a show from scratch. So I wrote what I loved, wrote a season 2 legacies spec that embraced my favorite things about legacies: the high school soap of one tree hill, Lizzie doing wild dialogue, buffy-esque monsters, and themes of grief and humanity.

AND THE REST you know.

Here we are. I'm still lost as fuck. I'm still running full speed through a world I don't always feel like I"m ready for. I'm still a perfectionist and an obsessive overworker. I still take notes I don't need to take and do work at 10pm and come in early and stare at the story boards. There's a whole journey in all of this about representation and coming to find myself and queer media and wanting to make more of it but that's one I don't feel like I can fully get into until I'm decades out of it and the world is truly made better. But I'm here. And it feels like the end of a journey and liek I'm standing at the edge of a brand new clif because I've only just started.

[georgemackayhey]

hi love, first off I wanted to say how much I love your writing! secondly, and idea for a blurb: breaking up with George and meeting him again after a few months/years and maybe going back together? idk I want something angsty

Much love 🤍

Hi nonny dear!!! You're much too kind! Despite having writen something like this before I'm obsessed with the idea so here, have this!

You were together for a while. Long enough to go on holiday with friends but not long enough to meet the parents or anything. During the while you and George had spent the majority of your time together, the thing that weighed so heavily on your bond that it broke, was the time you spent away from each other. With his job, and all the travel, and the way your life had been working out, neither of you had much time for each other.

When George finally got back home, he arrived to the news that he'd been cast in another role that required his presence in an all new country, far from home as ever. And just when you were all eager to tell him about the new path in life you'd been gifted the chance to take. Suddenly all the good news seemed more bitter than sweet. And during the week you and Geogre devoted to spending entirely together, you both slowly came to the realization that that week would be your last. 

It wasn't easy to decide. George kept approaching the subject, but couldn't say the words. You kept pretending to listen but would cast your gaze to the nearest corner, unable to bear the reality of the truth. And finally, after a shared bottle of wine and a long bout of quiet that settled in after the film you were watching faded to black, you cried and called it quits. 

You stayed together that night still, before you gave each other some encouraging parting words, half-heartedly hoping the best for one another. And then you went on your entirely separate ways.

Life was cruel that way. It tore you from the things you thought you wanted more than air. And after a couple of weeks of wallowing in your pity, right when you'd gotten used to being on your own again, you ran into George. He was home for the holidays, out to dinner with his family where you waited to meet friends at the bar. 

It was an utter delight to see him, and he reached to hug you like no time had passed. Just as quickly George introduced you to his folks. You gave them each pleasant and warm greeting before meeting up with your friends at the bar, while his crew shuffled to find a table. 

Back to feeling sorry yourself it was, especially when your friends shot you knowing looks on your walk to meet them as planned. 

Life moved on though. You worked and lived without fighting the flow, and only saw George if a mutual friend dared sneak a snapshot of the fella to post on social media. Years passed just like that. Months of hard work. The occasional tragedy, or miracle throwing you a bit off rhythm. Parties and funerals and holidays and stormy nights.

And then you saw him again. At a resort, in a city neither of you lived in. He shouted your name from across the lobby of a fancy hotel and you abandoned your date to go rushing to George for a hug, his arms already outstretched, welcoming as ever. 

You laughed hard about how you'd ended up in the same place, at the same time, out of all the places and times in the world. And then you floated your separate ways like always. Somehow, beaming and aching in ways you hadn't been before running into the well built, soft-haired guy.

Your date was a little pissed that you'd failed to introduce them to George in the couple of minutes he'd graced you with his presence. You spent that vacation making it up to the date that ended up ghosting you a week after you arrived home.

Life went on like that. Failed dates. Birthdays. Brunch parties, and deadlines. 

And then you saw George again. You'd actually seen him throughout the past year or so, shopping at the same markets, and going out with the same friends. He was always kind, and cared enough to ask after you. 

"You're both absolute idiots." A friend rang, after you'd run into George at the park, and shared a chat before he reluctantly continued his mid-morning run. 

"I'm sorry?" You choked on a small, fauxly offended laugh as you strolled sleepily at your friends side.

"Why don't you just date?" She exasperated. Like the sight of you and George apart personally disgruntled her.

"You know we tried." You pointed. Trying not to let too big a frown pull at your lips. "Isn't it obvious we're better as friends?"

"No." Your friend called back, shooting you a look. She scolded you a bit longer about not letting Geogre get away the next time your paths crossed. You hadn't ever seen it that way. You thought your run ins with George were small bonuses granted on account of your decision to stay apart. You feared approaching the chance of being with him again would only result much like your last and only effort.

And then you saw him again. At that same mutual friend's wedding. The worst occasion. As if you weren't already worked up by the speech your friend had given you, being in the midst of the most romantic setting wasn't going to help you start any kind of conversation with George. 

It was an intimate affair. A backyard ceremony and an in house reception. Foods and wine spread across the roomy, yet quaint ranch style home.

"Here, for you." George was at your side as one slow song faded into another. In his hand, your drink of choice. 

"You didn't have to-" You started to laugh a little at his greeting, an offer you didn’t have reason to refuse.  

"I did actually. It was the last one on the tray and you don't look like you're having any fun. So here." George gently shoved the glass to your chest and lifted his own chute of champagne to toast. You let out a sigh and gave into his very generous demands. 

"How's it you look better every time I see you? Isn't getting older supposed to turn us all grey and sad?" You joked, taking into account Georges tailored suit, the structure of his face, his smile. It hadn't been too long since last you'd seen him across traffic and lifted a hand to wave. But it had been a year or two since last you'd stood close enough to study the loose fit of his tie, and the wave of his hair. 

George rolled his eyes and let his grin grow, before lifting to sip from the drink in his hand. And for a while you stood there like that, trading small talk about life and where it had taken you. And then your dear friend, the bride, the woman of the hour, marched over to meet you and George.

"If anyone dares upstage my wedding, it'd better be you two." She declared, reaching for your wrist, and then George's. "Now get out there and dance together so none of us have to listen to you idiots complain about how you miss each other and wonder what the other one is up to."

You'd barely accounted for the song playing, or the other people pushed close together on the dance floor, as you were flung to join in. Before you could even find your footing, George was pulling you a little closer, out of the way of a great aunt who was only capable of repeating a drunken version of the charleston. 

He placed either of his hands on your waist, as yours found his shoulders, and then you looked right at George, and you realized your friend was right. 

"You still ask everyone how I'm doing?" You wondered in a whisper, peering into George's ocean eyes. He only kept his gaze fixed, and his lip between his teeth, and nodded his head. You were entirely entranced, and one thousand percent at a loss. Where did you turn now? What did you ask? What if what you wanted wasn't the same...

But you didn't have to ask. Because Geogre leaned in, and kissed you like he used too. Like you hadn't stopped sharing kisses since the short time you used too. He held you near, his fingers pressing ever closer. He still smelled like you remembered, so sweet and warm. He still let out a delighted little hum before you parted for air. And George still smiled at you like he used too, like he always did, when you gazed back up to him, unable to hide your blush. 

Maybe no one noticed the pair of you slip out of the party early. Or maybe your friend had been counting on it. Maybe you and George were always meant to be together. Or maybe that time apart wasn't wasted, between all those run in's and hello's throughout the years. Maybe life together would be just as tricky to navigate together as it used to be. But you weren't going to let George get away this time, and he'd promised the same thing, unprompted and often.

[maybedefinitely404]

Forgotten

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Logicality, familial DRLAMP

World: canon

Content: some strong language, forgotten birthday, food mentions/eating/appetite loss, overworking mention, sympathetic dark sides, self deprecation, lying, crying, fluffy sweetness, first kiss. 

Word Count: 4.7k

Comments: In my head, I pictured this as a 1k oneshot kinda deal. And then this happened. It’s still a oneshot, but like?? A big one?? Is there a size limit to a oneshot??

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have expected much. After all, he was always the one to remind everyone of their fellow side’s birthdays. He was the dad, the heart, and he loved the others with everything that he was, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that he was the one to wake up before the sun had even properly risen to set up the whole downstairs. In past years, it had been Logan who had taken charge of Patton’s birthday; it was clear by their traditional birthday banner hung in a perfectly straight line, the streamers exactly one foot apart with no wiggle room, and the balloons all blown up to the exact same size. The cake in the evening was meticulously decorated with some printed picture of the baby animal Patton was obsessed with at the time and light blue frosting flowers on the side, and whatever activity Logan had planned in The Imagination (with Roman’s help, of course) always went off flawlessly. And I mean, what could you expect? Logan always had things planned weeks in advance, the multiple calendars above his bed and desk made sure of it. 

But knowing that Logan was always in charge of Patton’s birthdays and the fact that Thomas had a huge video deadline just around the corner still didn’t properly connect in his mind as he almost sprinted down the stairs, still in his pajamas. He screeched to a halt on the last step, his giddiness fading to sad confusion at the complete lack of… well, anything. Virgil was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, ignoring Roman who was dramatically reenacting his latest adventure. They both turned as he entered, giving a two finger salute and a loud “good morning” respectively. 

“Slept in much, pops? I was worried you weren’t going to make breakfast, and I am starving!” 

“You’re always starving, Princey.”

“Well, duh, have you seen the adventures I go on? Wait, were you not even paying attention?!” The two continued to bicker as Patton mutely walked into the kitchen, ignoring the way his heart felt like it had sunk to his stomach. Of course, of course, they wouldn’t have remembered. Virgil with his constant barrage of anxious, worst-case-scenario thoughts and Roman, head filled to overflowing with creative ideas.

Patton threw together some pancakes, almost in shock. The smell must have attracted Janus, because he trotted downstairs, tongue flicking out between his teeth unwillingly. 

“It smells awful. Pancakes?” 

“Mmhm,” the hum came out a bit more strangled than he would have liked, but no one seemed to notice, “I made extra. Dig in.”

They did just that, and Patton nibbled at his slowly, watching their faces. Was this just a ploy? Surely, they hadn’t forgotten. Birthdays were always the same tradition every time, maybe they just wanted to switch it up a bit? Lure him into a false sense of sadness, and then when he came back downstairs, the whole party would be set up? That had to be it. Surely. So he should probably leave them to it, right? Didn’t want to make their plan too difficult!

He quickly excused himself to go upstairs, suddenly alive with excitement again. His usually quick routine took him double as long as he kept reminding himself to slow down, give them time to set it up! It wouldn’t be much fun if he walked in half way through. He couldn’t help smiling to himself in his reflection, toothpaste covering his lips. It was gonna be a good day.

But when he came back downstairs, now fully dressed, he was surprised to see the state of the room hadn’t changed. Well, except for the fact that Janus was now standing next to the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I think it’s ridiculous that even though poor Thomas got barely four hours of sleep, you’re still pushing him to finish this video today.”

“For the love of- we’ve been over this. He’s already past schedule, and he promised that it would be out this week! Do you want to be the reason that he disappoints over three million people? Do you really, Jan?”

“He will be able to work on it better if he at least takes a nap! The quality of his work is diminishing, and I’m quite sure his fans would rather see an amazing video two days late than whatever he’s making now, on time!”

“We have a schedule! Thomas can take a break when it’s done, and won’t it be more rewarding then?”

“He at least needs a nap!”

The two sides stopped their argument, breathing heavily as Patton took a ginger step down. “So what’s going on, guys?”

“Janus is insisting Thomas completely ignore his posting schedule!”

“Virgil isn’t letting Thomas rest, and god knows he needs it!”

“Okay, you know what?”

“What?!”

“I’m going out there, and I’m convincing Thomas to take a nap!”

“Not without me, you’re not!”

They both sunk out quickly, leaving Roman and Patton standing alone in the living room. Okay, so no surprise party after a let down. But… that’s okay, right? It’s not like he should have expected it. It’s wrong to expect something so big and then be upset when it doesn’t happen. And poor Logan, exhausted, having to keep Thomas going since he refused to rest. How dare Patton put himself first? That was wrong.

Maybe he could still have some quality time with Roman, at least.

“Hey kiddo, do you want to watch a movie with me? Your choice!”

“I would, but… shit, what time is it?” Patton checked his phone, scrunching his eyebrows together.

“Language. And just before eleven, why?”

“I need to go to the Imagination, I’m almost late!”

The moral side couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that flowed through him at the words. “Oh really? Why?” Maybe they had planned something!

“Now that Remus and I are… getting along,” he made a disgusted face, “Or trying to, at least, we figured we should try to have an adventure again. Like old times, you know?”

“Yeah…” Patton forced a smile on his face, pushing down the disappointment, “That’s great for you guys! Proud of you, ki-”

“No time, Pat! He’s probably already waiting, and I don’t want to know what he’ll do if I’m late!”

And he sunk out. 

Patton stood in the silence, his breathing seeming almost deafening in the empty room. He let the smile drop from his face but kept the rest of his bad feelings down, reprimanding himself for letting his own desire to be appreciated coming before the other’s happiness. They probably wouldn’t have wanted to be bogged down by some birthday celebrations. Helping Thomas and bonding with your brother were more important, right?

“Right,” he murmured to himself, sitting himself into the corner of the couch. It felt so big, so bare without anyone sitting with him, and he curled his legs into his torso to take up as little space as possible. Pulling the blanket down from over the top and wrapping it tightly around his shoulders, he flipped on the TV and put on the first show that was displayed, not even bothering to read the title. 

If he pulled the blanket around him tightly enough and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was someone’s arms. 

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

When Thomas was tired, it reflected on all the sides. And he must have been exhausted, because the next thing Patton knew, he was waking up. The blanket was still wrapped around him and the TV was still playing the same show as before, yet the light had begun to fade outside the window. Had he really just slept through his entire birthday? Not that it mattered anyways, it’s not like anyone had any plans.

Stop that. He reprimanded, slowly standing up and stretching his aching back. And no more falling asleep on the couch. 

He hummed quietly to himself as he got a glass of water, downing the whole thing before refilling it. What was it about naps that always made you so thirsty when you woke up? In response, his stomach growled loudly, making Patton chuckle. Guess I should eat, too.

A look in the fridge revealed no leftovers from the week, and he really wasn’t in the mood to cook right now. His eyes settled on the Crofters jar, front and center on the top shelf, and he took it without thinking twice. His tune took on a more lighthearted melody as he waited for the toaster to pop, fiddling with a butter knife. 

He kept hoping, and hoping, and hoping, that Virgil would pop into the living room with Janus in tow, or the twins would start yelling upstairs to symbolize their return. Just for someone to remember him, to just give him a hug, shoot him a smile that wasn’t in exchange for pancakes. No, he reminded himself. They’re having a good day. Let them be. You don’t matter. 

He sat down at the table with his toast, glancing at the five empty seats around him. Even though he knew they had better things to do, and it was useless to dream, he couldn’t help but imagine all of them gathered together. The twins would fight and Janus would hit his head against the table and Logan would roll his eyes and Virgil would sulk in fake annoyance even while their pinkies were intertwined under the tablecloth. Remus would throw cake at Roman who would probably draw his sword in retaliation, Janus would yell at them to chill out, and Logan would excuse himself. They’d hear him scream in the distance before coming back, unruffled as always, and rejoin them at his usual seat. It would be chaotic and painful and long and exhausting but it would be his family. They’d all be together and it… it would be good. For once, they’d all be together.

Not like now, with everyone off doing their own things, and Patton staring numbly at his now cold toast, legs swinging slightly under his chair. With the jam covered knife, he poked the plate, drawing circles and stars around the perimeter. He wasn’t really hungry anymore. 

“Breakfast food for dinner? And stealing my Crofters? This is highly unusual, Patton.” Patton jumped, dropping the knife on the table with a loud clang. Logan continued, unaffected by the noise, “However, I suppose it can be excused today, what with it being your birthday.”

Patton froze, slowly turning to meet Logan’s stoic expression with a look of pure shock. “You… you remembered?”

“Of course. You always remember our birthdays, somehow, even without a calendar or any marker to indicate the day. I am able to leave that to you, and all we have to do is remember yours. It is actually quite a load off of my shoul-” He was cut off by a pair of arms wrapping firmly around his middle as Patton flung himself off the chair. He burrowed his nose into Logan’s shoulder, mumbling a quiet “Thank you” into the material. Hands slowly found their way around his shoulders, settling on the grey cardigan hesitantly.  

“Well,” Logan began, and Patton pulled away from him, a small smile etched into his face, “I apologize for not being available to partake in the festivities I’m sure the others planned. As you know, Thomas needed my assistance in researching and experimenting with a new editing technique. But now that is done with, so I’m free to join you.”

Patton tilted his head. “Join me?”

“Yes, for your oddly timed meal. Unless you don’t want me to, of course! I’d understand if you-” 

“No, Logan,” He said quietly, reaching down to take the other’s hand, “Please. I’d love if you joined me.”

Patton grinned at the way Logan’s cheeks flushed lightly, barely hesitating before replying with a choked out, “Wonderful.” They sat, and Patton gladly gave Logan one of his slices, his appetite hardly returned. 

“So,” Logan said around a mouthful of toast, “How was the party?”

“Oh! Uhm…” Should he tell the truth? Telling Logan that the others hadn’t planned anything, that they hadn’t even remembered… what would that do besides making Logan feel bad for not being there? But lying was… well, he could sort of understand where Janus was coming from now. “It was great!”

“What did you all do?”

“We… uhm… well, they set up the banner and everything, and it was super cool! And, uh, Roman made breakfast, so we ate that, and then… we went into the Imagination?” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. 

“Where is everyone now? I would think now would be the ideal time to eat dinner and cake.”

“They… Virgil and Janus knew they were going to be after Thomas for a while, and Roman and Remus… something went wrong in the Imagination that they had to… had to fix. So we did a birthday lunch instead.” It wasn’t a total lie, right? 

“Something wrong with the imagination? Are they alright?”

“YUP!” Patton yelped all too quickly, “Yup, they’re all good! They just had to… ya know. Ya know how they are!”

“I…” Logan narrowed his eyes a bit, giving Patton a look that told him he wasn’t fooling anyone. Whether Logan understood what his frantic bumbling was trying to cover or not, he didn’t show. “Alright. And did you open presents already? I was hoping to give you mine at the same time.”

Patton couldn’t help the butterflies that exploded in his stomach, almost making him feel sick from pure elation. “You got me a present?”

“Yes, isn’t that customary for one’s birthday?” The slight twinkle in his eye made Patton smile. He fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a thin box wrapped in blue wrapping paper that just fit in the palm of his hand. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it-”

He cut himself off, letting Patton take the small box in almost a state of wonder. The wrapping paper was quickly thrown to the side and he pulled off the lid, letting out a small gasp involuntarily. Logan explained quickly.

“I saw a similar product online, and I tried to copy it to the best of my ability. Unfortunately my conjuring skills are not as precise as Roman’s, so it is not as detailed as the ones I attempted to imitate. But…” He took Patton’s phone from where it had been sitting on the table and turned on the flashlight, lifting the necklace from the box to shine the light through the transparent center, “I kept trying and trying, until I got this part exactly right, even if the exterior is flawed,” The necklace worked like a projector, and it took Patton a second to realize that the dots now showing on the opposite wall were stars. “It’s as accurate to the night sky as I could make it. And right there,” he gestured vaguely with his chin to a section in the middle, where a clump of stars stood brighter than the rest, “Is the Hercules constellation.”

“Logan… I…” Patton couldn’t help the tears that filled his eyes as he looked between Logan and the stars on the wall. The logical side saw the tears and immediately tensed up, placing the necklace and phone back down.

“I apologize, did I do something wrong? I can-”

“No,” He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands, laughing slightly, “No, it’s amazing. Thank you, Logan. Really.”

Patton picked up the necklace almost reverently. Logan was right, the outside was messy. The circle outline was wonky and crooked, and he couldn’t tell if the little scratches around the rim were intentional (numbers, maybe?) or accidental. But to him, it was perfect. 

“Could you put it on me?” He held it out to the man in front of him, letting the pendant dangle between his fingers. And goodness, seeing Logan give a flustered nod and take the necklace with shaking fingers was an image he never wanted out of his mind. 

Patton turned around in his chair, tilting his head down as Logan stood up behind him. The moment seemed to last forever and ended all too quickly; the ghost of Logan’s fingers against his neck that sent a shiver down his spine, the cool pendant against his collarbone, the way the taller man rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder blade when it was securely fastened. Patton swore to himself never to tell Logan about the hundreds of times he’d put on his own necklaces before. 

He took his phone, the flashlight still on, and shone it through the necklace, admiring the night sky before him.

“What did you say the constellation was, Lo?”

Logan cleared his throat roughly, now standing beside him, the very tips of his ears on fire. “Hercules.”

Patton giggled lightly. “Why that one?” 

For a moment, the other man was completely silent, and Patton feared he’d said something wrong. He looked up at Lo only to find him staring back with intensity that could challenge Remus. The taller man let out a heavy sigh before resting on the back of Patton’s chair, moving his attention to the projection. He could either say something meaningful or make eye contact; both was too much. 

“Patton, I know the way you think about yourself. That you’re not worth caring for, or that everyone around you is more important, and I know you figuratively beat yourself up when you need to put yourself first. And I’m not good with emotions, I’m frankly quite terrible with them, and I am unsure how to comfort you when these thoughts enter your head. I just want you to know that… you’re stronger than you think, Patton. You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Pat nearly dropped the phone, turning up to face Logan again. And he just couldn’t help but notice how close they were… so close their noses were almost touching, so close he could see every detail in Logan’s eyes, so close that he could feel Logan’s breath on his lips and more suddenly then he could process, he realized he wanted to kiss Logan. He wanted to kiss him so bad.

He didn’t have a second to ponder this new thought before Logan closed the space between them, connecting their lips softly and Patton’s heart exploded. How had he gone this long without realizing he had a crush on the huge space nerd he lived with? Was he that obliviously gay? The necklace slipped from his fingers as he reached up, hands tangling in Logan’s hair as a silent sign that this is okay oh god it is so much more than okay.

When they finally pulled apart, panting, Patton couldn’t help the tiny laugh that bubbled out of his chest.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“My apologies. I should have asked beforehand.”

“No, don’t be! You’re so adorable, Logie.” Patton giggled at the way Logan’s face turned even redder, finally standing up from his chair. “Do you want to watch a movie? If you don’t have to help Thomas, that is.”

That’s the way birthdays usually ended in the mindscape. After tearing through presents and doing a sad excuse for clean up, they’d all watch a movie of the birthday-side’s choice. It usually ended with a few, if not all of them, fast asleep on the couch. If Logan was still awake, he’d usher them all into bed, preaching about proper sleeping habits. If he’d also conked out, however, no one complained to a huge sleepover all over the living room. The cuddles were something Patton looked forward to more than any gift. 

Only now it was just him and Logan, which definitely was not a bad thing, but his little squeak of joy when Logan nodded mutely was not as bright as it usually was. The logic side didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he was just distracted by the way Patton cuddled into his side as soon as the movie started. He couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him as the title sequence for Hercules ran across the TV, and Patton almost leapt at the sound, delighted. 

His joy didn’t last, though. Watching the gods argue only reminded him of his own family in a way that made him want to slap himself. Couldn’t he enjoy anything anymore? But goodness, Hades just had Virgil’s essence down to a tee, and Zeus was too similar to Roman to just let it slide… He wondered what they were doing right now. He had to admit, though foolish as it was, that even while he was preparing his make-shift toast dinner and eating with Logan and turning on the movie, that maybe this was all an elaborate ploy. That any second, they’d all rise up with decorations and cake and shout “Happy Birthday!” and that they hadn’t really forgotten him.

Maybe that’s why he got so incredibly excited when Janus and Virgil popped in out of nowhere, now much more relaxed then when they’d left earlier. But that stupid stupid hope was vanquished as Virgil collapsed next to him on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Fine, you were right. Thomas needed the stupid nap. Are you happy?”

“Not at all,” Janus smirked, turning to the TV, “What are we watching? Oh, Hercules? I despise this movie.” He dropped onto the floor in a satisfied heap, leaning against Virgil’s legs. Neither of them acknowledged the tiny affectionate gesture, so Patton decided to ignore it too.

Like they ignored you.

Just as Hercules met Meg for the first time, there was a loud shriek upstairs and loud thumping as a blur of red and white tumbled down the stairs, cursing all the way. 

“You son of a bitch!”

Janus glanced at the lump of prince at the bottom of the stairs, pleased. “Ah, he took my suggestion.” 

Remus followed after him, giggling to himself. He stepped over Roman giddily, making his way over to the group and splaying himself across Janus’ lap. “You proud o’ me, Snakey?”

“Never.” 

Roman brushed himself off, joining the group with an angry grumble about “wasted bonding time”. And Patton wanted to be happy, he wanted to so badly, because he was finally in a group with his family, and that’s all he wanted, right? Then why did it feel tainted? On a normal night, watching a movie as a group wasn’t unusual, so he could just pretend that it was that. A normal, non-birthday night. That’s all it was. 

Because if it was a birthday night, he’d be in the middle of the weird cuddle pile that Virgil, Janus, and Remus had formed. Roman would be running his fingers through his hair, not Virgil’s, and they would give up their stupid bickering for one evening so they could focus on him, but no, that’s just selfish and he can’t ask for that. He didn’t even notice he was crying until Logan’s arms tightened around him and he looked up, meeting his confused eyes, and giving his head a small shake to show not now. And he really didn’t want to be held right now, he realized in shock, and gently untangled himself from Logan’s arms to sit alone, untouched, against the couch that suddenly felt it was filled with rocks instead of fluff. Logan complied with a sigh, turning his attention back to the fight at Olympus. 

Patton had never once in his life been happy that a movie night was over until now. As the credits began to roll, Logan stood stiffly, popping his back. The other sides were in varying states of sleep, exhausted from the day. 

“It’s not healthy for you all to sleep on the floor. At least try to get yourselves to your beds,” Logan bent down and gave Patton a chaste kiss on the head, letting his hand linger on his cheek for a moment. And then he uttered the words Patton hadn’t even realized he was dreading. 

“Happy birthday again, Patton. Goodnight, everyone.”

Never had Patton seen anyone wake up as fast as the other sides did as Logan froze on the steps, not expecting the commotion. Roman was the first to break the silence that followed.

“Is it-”

“Fuck.” Virgil dropped his face into his hands.

“It is. It definitely is.”

“Fuck!”

“Oh god, we’re such idiots.”

“No!” Patton interrupted, quickly putting on the biggest smile he could muster, “It’s okay, you guys! Really!”

Janus stood up slowly, as if scared moving too quickly would spook him, “Patton, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because…” Whether the sounds that were ripped from his throat were laughs or  sobs, or some weird mix in between, he’d never know, “Because you guys had other stuff to worry about! You-” He pointed to Janus and Virgil, “Had to help Thomas, and you-” To the twins, “Had that whole bonding thing planned! I wasn’t about to remind you of something you didn’t even care about in the first place!”

He slapped his hand to his mouth as soon as the words slipped out, the laugh disappearing into a horrified gasp. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” It was barely a whisper. Patton didn’t wait to see the looks on the other’s faces. He pushed past Logan and bolted up the stairs, finally letting the tears he’d held at bay the entire day stream down his cheeks. 

Usually, his “no lock on the door” invitation was meant to remind the others that he was always there for them, and they’d never meet a locked door if they needed him. However, now as he curled up facing the wall, crying freely for the first time in who knows how long, he wished there was a lock to stop whoever had just walked into his room. The side was quiet, standing in his doorway, and Patton just wished whoever it was would walk away. He didn’t want to deal with this right now, he didn’t want to look in their guilt filled eyes and listen to them apologize, because how well would that even go? He’d insist it’s okay when on the inside he feels shattered, and he wouldn’t drop it until they agreed with him, and then everyone would feel better except him and maybe a tiny, tiny, part of him was sickeningly pleased that they were upset. That realization made him want to throw up. He let out another unmuffled sob as the nausea churned in his stomach.

Patton felt the bed dip as the person sat just behind him, placing a hand hesitantly on his shoulder.

“I wish you would have told me, Patton.”

Logan.

“Th-they forgot ab-about me,” he choked out, struggling to no avail to push down the hiccupy sobs. Logan sighed. There was nothing he could say that could make the situation better. The facts were there. The sides had forgotten about Patton’s birthday, a day that Patton cherished greatly. Patton never forgot anyone, and that had not been reciprocated. 

“The whole d-day, I thou-thought that it was just… just a bi-big surprise. Or that they’d rem-remember later. But they didn’t.”

Another sigh. “Patton, can you look at me?” 

He rolled over slowly, letting go of the pillow he was curled around. Even in the dim light, Logan could make out the tear tracks curving down his cheeks, the redness of eyes, the look of complete and utter heartbreak. As gently as he could, he pulled on Patton’s hands until he got the message to sit up.  

“I’m sorry. I truly am.” 

Logan wasn’t one for emotions, or feelings, or anything of the sort. It went against all logic, afterall. But he would be lying if he said the way Patton threw himself around him and clung to him like the world was ending didn’t somehow fill in a piece of his heart that he didn’t know was missing. He’d gotten a lot of hugs from the moral side, yet this one was different. It wasn’t brought on by joy or a ‘goodnight’ or a simple need for human contact. This was so much more. It was pain and anger and raw emotion that of course Patton felt, as the heart, but never showed. Whether all of that was aimed at the others or Patton himself would be a conversation for when he wasn’t sobbing brokenly into his shoulder, in the morning when they had to face the reactions of the group. 

For now, they both relished in the feeling of whatever they had, something more than friendship but again, that was a topic for tomorrow. Tonight it was just them, Patton’s twinkling fairy lights, and the star necklace trapped between their beating hearts.

[teenageprunepatrolpurse]

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Note: This article is more about the principles of weight loss and proper mindset to get you motivated for a higher success rate.

📷 If you’re interested in learning exactly how I lost 20+ pounds in 1 month without exercise after each of my pregnancies over age 40, then read this article for further details.

1. First Key to Successful Weight Loss: Set up Practical Goals 📷 Different Aesthetic Standards Let’s take a look at the picture above. Sure you see the woman in a black dress. I believe you may not find her to be super slim but she has beautiful feminine curves which make her look just as attractive as the lady in purple on the right, who’s holding a wheel position on the ground whom I believe most people would consider being slender. I don’t know about you but they’re both just as fit and beautiful to me.A friend of mine once told me when he was younger he used to find chubby girls much more attractive than skinny girls. As you can see, human perceptions of beauty change from time to time and vary from individual to individual. What really matters is the way you see yourself. In my opinion, every woman is unique and beautiful her own way. Some might be sort of ‘big-boned’ while others are rather plump or extremely tall and skinny. Each of us is born with an inherited body type which we sometimes can do little to change. So before we even jump into any sort of diet or workout plan we need to know what our natural body type looks like and get the idea of the best version of the body we are most likely to achieve and feel comfortable with it. It’s impractical to pursue the hourglass figure when your natural body type is rather tall and “narrow-butt” if you know what I mean. It’d be nice to have a body like that of Kim Kardashian, whom I pretty much believe is born that way.Measure Your Dress Sizes instead of Weight Losing 3–4 dress sizes in a month is actually a more specific goal than losing 20 pounds in 21 days. It will make you less obsessed with the numbers on the weight scale when all you have to do is measure your waistline & hip circumference. It will give you a better idea of how close you are to your fitness goal.2. Second Key to get you started: Mindset Mindset is essential for successful weight loss in the long term. You need to truly love yourself for who you are and be willing to do whatever it takes for your well-being. You are beautiful the way you are. You are worthy of a great and healthy life and you will get your dream body once you started believing in yourself.What are the real reasons that make you want to start losing weight? Health issues? Want to fit in some fabulous outfits? Abs that will turn heads when you’re on the beach?Try to find the strongest motivations that will get you started and keep you going towards your goal.They have to be bigger than just want to look great and feel good about yourself which by the way is nothing wrong either. It’s so important that you’re doing this out of strong love for yourself and your loved ones because it will give you the power to continue and get you motivated. That’s why having your mind in the right place is crucial to successful weight loss.My 4-year-old daughter asked me a question the other day:” Mom, will you still be around when I grow up?” “Do you want me to still be around by then?” “Of course I do! I want you to always be around no matter how old I am.” “I will do my best, honey”, was the promise I made to her.That reminds me of my parents, who are already advanced in age yet still being so healthy and energetic and not suffering any kind of pain which most elderly people do(backache, rheumatism, arthritis, knee pain, etc.).My father is a wise and experienced natural therapist and herbal expert and is able to take good care of himself and my mom. I am so grateful that my parents are still so healthy and I want to follow the good example they set up for me.I’d like to quote what my father used to say to us:” Always watch what you put in your mouth. You are not a trash can! Don’t just eat anything because it tastes good.” 📷 📷 Use the Power of Mind Think of Your Body as a small universe with your mind is the most powerful thing that maintains the balance within this small universe.Or if we think of the body as some sort of hardware then your mind is like the software that actually makes the hardware works at its best.I know this metaphor might

be a little too simplistic but it’s important to fill our minds with positive thoughts. Because your mind and your words actually have the power to program your life into the way you want it to be.If we fill our minds with negative thoughts then we’re most likely not going to take any action to achieve any goal that would make us healthier or have a better life than we deserve because deep down in our hearts we think it’s impossible or just too difficult to achieve.That’s why mindset is the key to successful weight loss because it is often followed by aligned actions which naturally lead to a change of lifestyle. Now that if you know for sure you are doing this out of strong love for yourself and your loved ones and you have your mindset in the right place then we’re good to go.Seek Professional Help Now if you are having some sort of eating disorder problem like you often found yourself staring at the big empty ice-cream container after watching your favorite movies at midnight.Or maybe you are stress-eating a lot or some of you even suffer from something worse such as bulimia or anorexia. Then the last thing you need to worry about now is the way you look like.I’d suggest that you look deeper into the real reasons behind your eating disorder behavior or even seek professional help if necessary. 📷 📷 3. Third Key that is Crucial: Maintain Hormonal and Metabolic Balance Maintaining hormonal and metabolic balance is the essential key to successful weight loss especially for women who are overweight and what they’ve been doing is eat very little and move a lot while still not getting the result they want.A hormonal imbalance can greatly affect women’s beauty and the distribution of their body fat[1]. For example, the lack of estrogen can cause our skin to lose its tautness which means the wrinkled face and fine lines around the eyes. When the estrogen levels are low it could lead to excessive weight gain as well.The growth hormone, which is known to be able to help burning fat while also building your muscles and bones during your deep cycles of sleep-[2][3]. That’s why having quality sleep is so important if we want to actually lose that stubborn fat that’s stored in our trouble spots because the effective fat-burning process actually happens while we’re sleeping not when we’re exercising.The Insulin hormone, also known as the “fat-storing hormone”, is produced by our pancreas, regulates the metabolism of carbs, protein, and fat. Insulin is released when our blood sugar levels rise. It helps absorb glucose from the blood and store it for future use. If we absorb too much glucose our body converts it into fat which causes weight gain. That’s why we need to stay away from refined sugar(or refined carbs) in order to prevent a dramatic rise of blood sugar levels that spike up the secretion of insulin which results in converting excessive blood sugar into fat.Cortisol is a steroid hormone, also referred to as the “stress hormone” due to the fact that its release is increased in response to stress and low blood sugar levels. We want to keep our cortisol levels down so we can turn on that fat-burning mode which boosts our metabolisms and helps us lose the stubborn fat in our trouble spots. Basically, when our cortisol level is high our body switches from the fat-burning mode to the muscle-breaking and fat-storing mode.I don’t want to bore you with the science here but it’s important that we understand that the human body is complicated and we need to take multi-factors into consideration instead of just simplify things with the “eat less and move more” equation.

If you want to know how to “eat more exercise less” to regain hormonal and metabolic balance then read this article to learn more.

📷

4. Fourth Key: Stop Dieting In saying dieting I mean any kind of calorie restriction diets or weird/extreme diets that might cause nutrient deficiency which could be screwing up your hormonal and metabolic balance and thus make all your efforts and attempts at weight loss go in vain. The kind of dieting that’s not sustainable and practical, the kind that makes you feel listless, depressed, tired and your moods swinging from time to time you could hardly summon any energy to do what you want to do.As I have mentioned before, we do need to watch what we eat but we also need to develop a healthy relationship with our food so we won’t be afraid of having food that would actually make us healthy just because it has higher calories.The thing about counting calories is that it’s hard to be accurate. The same food seasoned and cooked in different ways could have different calorie counts. When we count the calories of a specific fruit we also need to take into account other factors such as its maturity because of the difference of sugar content in it.As for the chicken breast we have is it with skin or without skin and what’s the protein to fat ratio of it? Sounds complicated, isn’t it? Well, it is and it’s exhausting and inefficient if you have to do this on a daily basis.By the way, do you always feel like you need to remove the skin of the meat you have because it will make you fat? Well, do you know that eating meat along with its skin actually helps you digest better, and having good quality fat such as natural animal fat actually helps you burn fat in a more efficient way?What and How to Eat Matters I don’t need to tell you what you should eat to lose weight healthily because you’ve probably already gathered tons of information from different sources about it.You know how important it is to have good quality proteins to help you build muscles(boost metabolisms), that you should also include healthy fat, carbs, probiotics, fibers, vegetables in your meals as well so I guess I shouldn’t waste your time repeating what you already know.But what about the type and combination of food, what kind of protein together with what kind of carbs and vegetables, the amount of each category, what seasoning to use, which food combination or pairing of spices/flavors works better, when to eat, etc?For example, Crab is a great source of protein, and orange is also considered a good source of carbs which contains low calories and several vitamins and minerals. However, eating a great amount of crab while guzzling gallons of cold orange juice may not be a good choice for people with poor digestive systems.Drinking soup made by a certain combination of meat and vegetables is different from eating each ingredient separately. Salmon is well known for containing omega 3 fatty acids which may also help us burn body fat. However, we need to look deeper into the nutritional differences between farmed salmon and wild salmon. We also need to be careful not to have seafood as our main source of protein given the fact that the ocean is highly polluted and chemicals and pollutants can be absorbed by fish or other marine life through their environment and diet.Yes, there is a lot to take into consideration when it comes to choosing food for health and effective weight loss.Losing weight or dropping dress sizes fast is not something difficult to achieve. Eating nutrient-dense food combinations in the right way can lead to rapid weight loss without having to starve yourself or doing excessive cardio/HIIT exercises.

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[a-lil-perspective]

A Conundrum of Crimson and Confessions

A/N: Crosshair X Reader. A side of Crosshair no one asked for, but I indulged in nonetheless. :) [Warnings: Mild?Swearing—terms in-universe and out]

@shadow-hyder @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @obiorbenkenobi @karpasia @kriffingunlucky @leonidas-banana-phone @everyonehasanindividuality

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You blame the amassment of tinkering parts splayed across your desk for the reason of your immense grumblings and shouting of obscenities at 03:00 in the morning. Exhaustion riddled your body, yet obligations towards the completion of your project and the deadline speeding towards you left you currently denying intimacy with sleep.

Sighing deeply, you roll your shoulders to weed out the tensity between your shoulder blades from having been hunched over the desk-space for hours. A groan escapes your lips, a begrudged admission to no one in particular.

The harsh clang from the spillage of products off the table—several colliding metals consisting of mainly duraplast parts with the impact from the durasteel floor—had you in an absolute tizzy.

“Oh, fuck me!”

“That’s the plan.”

You whipped around to behold the sniper of Clone Force 99; poised in his most deliberately domineering posture and, unsurprisingly, equipped with his usual acerbity as an amused smile replaced the usual scowl etched into his features.

Did he just...?

How long has he been...?

”Door was unlocked.” He explained, and the way he somehow utilized an invisible scope to zero in on your headspace before addressing his findings left you unsettled, to say the least.

Right. So that just means ‘come on in’? You stifle an eye-roll.

Fatigue may be enveloping your startled frame, but at that moment you’d be damned if you were going to psychologically invite the sniper in as a front-row guest to witness any effect he has on you. Your stupefied demeanor quickly recovered in favor of mirroring his own indifference.

“Ah, Crosshair—to what do I owe the pleasure of your impudent presence?”

Pleasure—Exactly the objective.

He was so pleased you inquired.

Despite hyper-fixated with the prospect of his lips on yours, Crosshair relied on the innate perfection of his self-control to get his point across tonight.

For now, his eyes simply narrowed slightly. “What are you doing awake?”

His inquiry was absolutely frivolous; of course he knew why you were awake in the dead of night. As if the miscellaneous parts littered across your space wasn’t obvious enough, to which the sniper’s preeminent eyesight had allowed him to quickly analyze every inch of the room before even settling his eyes on your very desirable form—your very weary form, at that—Crosshair was in full remembrance of the undertaking of your current commission.

He pointedly decided your project would have to come to a standstill, for he was a man on a mission.

Something about his tone pricked a defensive nerve as you stiffen, a jolt of vex buzzing through to animate your sneering body language and sardonic tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t realize I had failed to report in to you for my curfew.”

“Charming.”

“Between the two of us? Someone has to be.” You eyed accusatorially up and down his lanky frame, thoughtfully regarding him for a moment before folding your arms across your chest to quell the growing disquietude—if you knew anything about the brusque sniper standing before you, it was that he was deliberate and methodical in every sense of the word. In that moment, all other obligations of yours became lost to the mission of wholly discerning the man’s agenda for tonight.

What are you after?

A bit of investigation. A little goading. A lot of validation. The sniper was eager to know if you reciprocated his advances with shared enthusiasm; the result of too many pent up hormones and a repressed but ever-growing attraction for the woman in front of him who plagued his thoughts constantly, who became the sole reason the other half of his sheets felt so cold at night.

Crosshair planned on taking his usual precise aim before firing right at your emotions.

And of course, the sniper won’t miss. He never does.

He wanted to know all of your secrets.

You were curious about all of his, too.

“So tell me, Crosshair,” you prompt after a brief staring contest with the man; a swirling tone sweeter than honey contrasting your underlying aura of commandeering. “Are you drunk, or are you always this aroused at 3 AM?”

“I’m not drunk in the slightest, and—“ he shrugs nonchalantly, “—I found myself missing your company.”

Your jaw sets, and a wry smile graces your features in response to his attempt at justification. “So let me get this straight: you uninvitedly waltz your ass into my quarters in the middle of the night, all turned-on and expecting me to just—“

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

“...I would’ve knocked, first.” You remain curt in your admission.

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual.” Crosshair did, in fact, feel satiated by your confirmation. A chuckle emitted from deep within his chest, for proof.

His response further perked your attentiveness, a sharp nip coursing through your body as if suddenly submerged in a freezing lake, and you felt yourself nearly choking on air as you regarded him in authentic bafflement.

Why, for the love of kriff, was this moof-milker so obsessed with his own enigma and cryptic translations?

“I don’t understand you.” Was all you could confess through your huff of exasperation.

His head cocked to this side in contemplation, approval in his own shroud of mystics discernibly written across his face. “Why don’t you come and figure me out, then?”

You scoff. The nerve of this guy. “Because I’m much too tired to play this game.”

One moment you brisk the man in passing, and the next, you find yourself caged in the sniper’s arms; your back firmly pressed to the cold durasteel wall. His lips hovered dangerously over your own before his silky voice permeated just past the shell of your ear.

“Who said anything about a game.” The purr of his voice, low and reverberating, both a question and an answer, left your knees trembling slightly against him.

“That’s all this is.” You manage to spew, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue in solidifying your trepidations.

“Are you sure about that? Think very carefully before you answer, Y/N.” Hot breaths created from his each enunciation puffed seductively into your neck and coerced the soft skin to submit with goosebumps in offering, to which Crosshair eagerly received with the greeting of his lips.

Your voice became tight and thickly coated with a festering desire that you desperately tried to swallow through the tension. Think very carefully. You forcefully willed your hand to not reach up in that instant to drag your fingers through his short hair in an indulgent reaction to his nuzzle. A strained smile tugged at your features, and you thanked the Maker your sense of humor was there to offer it’s aid.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure I don’t want to be coaxed into your bed.”

“Who said it had to be in the bed?” He retracted from the crook between your collarbone and jawline to coolly regard you.

Damn. He was good. Too abrasive for his own good; but you’re a liar if you claimed he didn’t incite an increasing clench of emotions deep in your core.

He knew all the right buttons to push.

You grit your teeth in increased frustration and your own looming arousal. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“I like to think of it is... ambitious.”

“Duly noted, but ambition will get you nowhere here. Not acting like a pompous ass.”

Is that really the way he came across?

“I’m just a man who knows what he wants.”

“That being...?” You fall uncharacteristically timid, an obscure sense of dread permeating your thoughts over the pending answer your intuition has already fully acknowledged.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and the heartbeat thrum through your chest became a deafening cacophony that momentarily overpowered your weak chuckle. “No. You’re just drunk, and you need to sleep.”

You reinstated the notion, trying to convince yourself more than him, of a truth you knew was a lie.

A brief flash of anger flickered across his dark, brooding eyes. “I told you, I’m completely sober—the only thing I’m intoxicated by, is you.” There was an edge to his voice. “And what I need, is you.”

Crosshair forced himself to not become transfixed on the way your mouth lay agape in that moment. He willed his lips to not close yours—not yet—instead opting to close the remaining space between the two of you; open space he decided that neither of you actually needed. Your entirety became firmly pressed to Crosshair. His thin frame held you tightly, but not harshly. You were caged in a determined grip. There was nowhere to go.

Nowhere else you wanted to go, if you were honest.

“I...” you faltered. Words suddenly failed you, utterly abandoning your vocal chords.

“Somethin’ wrong, cyar’ika?” His voice feigned innocence and his warm hand, previously resting at the nape of your neck, now slid with deliberation to the front, and his smirk only grew at the feeling of the quickened pulse in your neck now throbbing against his palm. The pad of his thumb trailed seductively down the soft column of your throat, stroking the words trapped within. “Don’t worry, I’ve got all night to wait.”

You forcefully clear your throat, suddenly aided in the very tangible redirecting to the muscle just below his waist now pressing against you; lacking all subtlety and completely contradicting the man’s statement, making a liar right out of him.

You’ve met your match, sniper.

“Do you, now? Sure you can handle it?” You tease, fingers ghosting over the hardened area before momentarily hovering. “Think very carefully before you answer, Crosshair.”

You unabashedly flashed your own wide smirk of satisfaction at the way his lips pulled into a tight line to muffle his grunt in a naturally sensitized response to your touch.

Gotcha.

“You’re catching on.” He praised, quickly recovering.

“I’m a fast learner.”

“Indeed.” The sniper mused, allowing his eyes to wander with deliberation over you before meeting your gaze once again. The intensity of his stare, the light scrunching of his nose and brows when he did, left you absentmindedly wondering if that was the same display of fervent concentration he portrayed under his helmet whenever about to nail his next target.

Except you were not simply his ‘next target’.

You remained undeterred by his intensity, unflinching under his perusal.

“Now what, ram’ser?”

His brow arched in consideration. The back of his nimble fingers brushed the peaking scarlet along your cheekbone, a stroke of encouragement as he shrugged.

“Your move, Darlin’.”