#by 'making' i mean i brought the idea up as a joke this afternoon and then we got really really into it and wrote a bunch of concepts up

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I'm going to force you to play the joke FNAF dating sim my friend and I are making

[novulen]

⋆ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 — K.N.

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : you ‘successfully’ manage to keep your husband from going to work.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ & ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : smut (mdni!!) nsfw, creampie, mean!nanami, multiple orgasms, mentions passing out, reader lowk has attachment issues but same , and a brief mention of ‘staying in ur place’ but u can’t blame me😞. (also kinda proofread but not)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : ~1.3k

Looking back at it now, you’ve never been good at letting people go. You could even state that the idea seemed nearly foreign in a strange way–it felt wrong not to desire people or their presence. 

However, that realization didn’t come to you until you were in highschool, a freshman, still craving your middle school friendships. You yearned, day in and day out, reminiscing on the past and, in turn, sullying the present. 

And, it was only fair for not only your mind to be attached to a person, but your body also. Want tethered you to friends, lovers and family. 

Perhaps it was your attachment issues, or the lack of friends you'd had growing up, but it had managed to stick with you until now. 

The fear and burden of losing your lover plagued your mind even as you slept, and accordingly, your limbs wrapped around his torso protectively. Nanami could have protested, removed your body atop of his effortlessly, tossed you to the side even, but he didn't. It brought a certain softness to his heart seeing the extent of your love go beyond consciousness itself. 

Although, as much as he wanted–desperately so–to stay in your arms until noon, time was running thin. He had work in about an hour, and he had to be on the road by 40. 

“Sweetheart?” Nanami whispered, hands smoothly running up and down the expanse of your back as a means to wake you. Deep inside he didn’t want you to wake up; at least then he’d have an excuse not to go to work. 

But as if reading his mind and deciding to do the opposite of what he really desired, you awoke with a small whine, and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. 

From that position Nanami was essentially face first with you, which allowed him to see you clearly, his chest swelling passionately at the small pout that took place on your lips. 

“Ken..stay,” you had mumbled in a sleepy grumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. By now you both were a jumble of interlocked limbs, yet that didn’t stop you from attempting to mesh further into him–that earned you a chuckle. 

“‘M not joking, Kento. Want you to stay,” you were hoping that had got to him, knowing Nanami, he would give into your desires without so much as a second thought, though today was different. He had a meeting he needed to attend, which proved persuading him to be difficult. 

“Today’s an important day, darling. I can’t stay,” he sighed, journeying his hands up to your waist and apologetically squeezing the flesh there before he began to lift your form off him, but you retaliated and only hugged him tighter. 

“Please,” You mouthed to him, repositioning your head from his shoulder simply to gaze into his eyes pleadingly. It tugged at his heartstrings, the exhausted, begging look you gave him, although he couldn’t give in just yet. 

He wanted to understand why he should stay, although he knew why you wanted him to stay. 

You were emotionally and sexually neglected–he personally could confirm that. And he fully blamed himself for leaving such a beautiful woman in bed all by herself until afternoon, all for a job he despised, but today was simply not the day. 

He had to get to this meeting. 

Nanami was just about to protest when you began grinding on him, which effectively caught him off guard. “W-what’re you doing?” He practically rasped out, jaw clenching as he tried to resist the effect that your ministrations had on him–but he failed. Horribly so.

You whimpered at the friction rubbing against him provided, and took in a breath. “I-If you don’t wanna stay, i’ll make you.” 

Looking back at that now, you should’ve known better–known your place. 

Because, with the way Nanami’s pounding ruthlessly into your pussy, you're positive you’ll be sore days after. 

“K-ken,” you moan, almost too loud for comfort. “‘M sorry–please–” 

A particularly sharp thrust cuts off your choked-up sentence.

“Sorry?” Nanami practically laughs at the sorry excuse of an apology. How could he possibly  forgive you after you pulled off something like that? Now, he was sure to get a mouthful from his colleagues about ditching the meeting tomorrow. That thought alone makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“This little stunt you pulled won’t go unpunished, I'll have you know that.” He grunts, a hand slivering up your back to tug harshly at your hair, and even when he’s mean he’s still somehow soft, his lips planting a kiss to your temple. But, a little too late into it, you realize that that act of passion wasn't out of passion alone, it was some sort of warning, something to notify you of his upcoming actions. As if he was telling you he would no longer be soft and slow, but a contrast of rough and mean. 

“Greedy little thing,” he huffs out. “Can’t even–” Nanami cuts off his own sentence with a groan, eyes shut and head thrown back when you tighten around him. 

You know your husband, and can verify that he’s not usually vocal during intimacy. But something about today was different–as if everything wasn’t. This change of course had something to do with the simple fact that you showed him–told him yourself that you wanted him to stay with you.

Seeing you so desperate for his presence brought out a side he never knew existed within him, and paired with the half-hearted annoyance he felt after your little show, Nanami can’t help but let himself go. 

“I-I am,” you mewl, limp and you would have fallen face first if it weren’t for the vice-lip grip holding you up. “Please, I can't take it.” 

“Oh, but you can.” He hums, almost monotonically. “I’m not pulling out until you’ve had your fair share of orgasms, seeing that’s what you wanted, no?” He can’t help but smile at the little whimper that leaves your lips following the end of his sentence, but he knows; as much as you whine and beg for a break, this is what you truly want. 

And Nanami can’t deny how that makes him feel. 

Hungry, depraved, wild. 

A guttural groan fills the space as loads upon loads of his seed pill into you. He cums still thrusting into your sensitive cunt without any restraint. 

After the countless orgasms he’s given you, and the countless to come, you can tell that this one’s the most intense. 

Your body shakes as you convulse around Nanami’s thick shaft, waves of ecstasy thrumming through you, translucent cum seeping out of your battered sex onto your thighs. Breath shallow and shaky, you reach your weak arms back to try and push him away. 

You practically sob as you beg for a break, a second even, where you can catch your breath and the overwhelming fullness coursing through you can cease, but those pleas fall to deaf ears as he begins to move again. 

Four orgasms in and fucked-out of your mind, you can barely speak. 

Five and you’re on the brink of passing out. 

Nanami’s not having it though. His stamina’s unwavering and his thrusts are relentless–that is, until he’s finally satisfied on your sixth 

Any more friction feels like torture at this point, and tears almost escape your eyes once you feel Nanami pull out. You barely even have the energy to open your eyes, let alone move any part of your body, so you’re left laying on your stomach, ass up and pussy seeping with fluids. 

With an exhale, he plants a kiss to your shoulder blade, big hand smoothing over your supple skin adoringly.

 He was back to normal. 

[seaslugfanclub]

Hello! I just wanna say I really like your Disney Villain writings, they are funny and really cute! Can I request where the Disney villains are fighting over who is Y/N’s favorite villain? I thought it would be funny

Oooh great idea! This one was so much fun to write! (Can you tell that Honest John’s my favorite?)

No, I’m their favorite!!

————————————

No one knows how the conversation subject was brought up, but it more than ruined the villians weekly poker night. Curses filled the air and sidekicks where used as meat shields.

“I’m easily (Y/N)’s favorite person out of all of us, no- this entire park!! No one is better friends than Gaston!!” The Frenchman boasted, loose hair’s flying around his face. “They regularly compliment my physique, and they sneak me in special hair products!! There’s no room for argument!”

“Oh please frenchie, (Y/N) isn’t as daft as the other cast members. They have taste for more refined gentlemen. Like yours truly.” Captain Hook scoffed, ignoring the glares from the other villians. “Might I remind you how they gifted me the entire trilogy of ‘The History of Piracy’? Or how much they enjoy my culinary skills? They have supper with me every Tuesday.” Hook affirmed, more than confident he had bested the competition.

That was quickly interrupted by a swift *bonk* on Hooks head, Jafar looming over the ex- pirate with his staff in hand.

“While I agree with (Y/N)’s taste, it surely isn’t a cowardly captain.”

“Why you-” Hook started, only to be bonked on the head again.

“Why me? Well that’s easy, I’m a very persuasive individual. I’m able to… ‘charm’ those in upper management to give (Y/N) longer breaks, or keep any unsavory park guests from harassing our dear caretaker. (Y/N) obviously favors someone who makes their job easier.”

“Your joking right? Didn’t I see (Y/N) yell at you for 30 minutes straight because you were eyeing that princess Jasmine?” Hades chimes in, finally deciding to butt into the conversation after watching the other villians argue from the sidelines. Jafar stopped speaking, averting his eyes and mumbling.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. But c’mon guys, you know it’s ya boy here who’s (Y/N)’s number one pal.” Hades points his thumbs towards himself.

“I was one of the first people here who (Y/N) met, we knew each from day uno. I can’t count the amount of times that they’ve kept my shit-ass sun god of a brother from bugging me. And they even made the most adorable altar for me, with pomegranates and the whole works!!”

“Oh, so gauche. If it wasn’t for my expertise (Y/N) wouldn’t be half as stylish as they are. Not to mention our ‘girls nights’. I’ve opened an entire new world of skincare for them!” Cruella hissed. (Actually remembering she had to pick up (Y/N) that special cream made from horseshoe crabs)

A threadbare glove raised amidst the crowd, Honest John appearing from seemingly nowhere

“Im sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s myself who’s won (Y/N) heart. They’ve fallen for my effortless charm lock, stock, and barrel! I mean, I’ve been their nap partner countless a times, they quite enjoy cozying up to my fur.” John preened, smiling back at the memories of warm afternoons snuggled up next to (Y/N).

“Fur!? Why you little- I’ll skin you-”

“Just wait till (Y/N)-”

The poker room devolved into full out brawl, nearby cast members rushing into the room in attempt to break up the crowd. All the while, in an empty back room (Y/N) was sharing a sandwich with their guest.

“Y’know what, Ratigan?” They said between bites. “Your my best friend.”

The rat stared up at them, finishing his bite,

“…. Ew.”

[the-record]

COWBOYS LIKE ME

SYNOPSIS: youll never stop letting her in.

PAIRING: cowboy!abby x reader

WARNINGS: none??

A/N: yall remember when i wrote some fics and made a ton of ideas and series and then disappeared??? WOOPS!! heres a little holiday present!! maybe there will be more, idk

after that last night, abby hadnt shown at your door again. she knew she was wrong for it, for everything. all you had done was love and care for her, treating her with sweet southern kindness. she hated herself for leaving you.

you couldn’t find it within your heart to hate her. she didn’t lie when she said it wasn’t safe for the two of you beyond the farm. it still didn’t make it hurt any less when she left without a word.

you gave up after three months and she didnt come by even once. you fell back into your regular routine. afternoon tea, church, chores. you even found a bookstore that would fill the quiet hours between tasks.

abby didn’t forget about you though, how could she? she had people all around town keeping an eye on you, ensuring you were never around danger. subtle misdirections and such. just because she couldn’t be there didn’t mean she doesn’t care.

you’d attempted to forget her, and almost had.

but it was cold and snowy out, just days before christmas, and abby found herself close to the only place she could call home.

you werent shocked to hear a knock ok your door so late in the evening, figuring one of the ladies had stopped by with news and a gift. but seeing her at your door stopped your heart.

“can i come in?” you ushered her in, taking in her shivering frame. “im really sorry if im putting you out, but could i stay here? just for a night if thats all you please.”

you nodded, just enough to see, still starstruck. she smiled softly and knocked you out of your state. you grabbed the snowy coat off her shoulders, helping her take off those boots you knew didnt do much in this cold. you pulled her to the fire place, setting her beside it and finding a blanket to wrap around her body.

she laughed as you sat beside her, just staring. “gotta love southern hospitality.” she joked, but you barely laughed. abby sighed and picked at her fingers, “i really am sorry. i feel i cant stop hurting you.”

you merely nodded before getting up. heading to the kitchen, your head clouded as you fell into routine. as you put the kettle on, you couldnt help but wonder why she was back on your doorstep. you didnt stop wondering even as you watched the tea steep, when you brought it back to the now warmer blonde.

but when you held it out to her, you didnt let go. “are you gonna leave again?” her silence was answer enough. your hand dropped and you turned, leaving for your room.

abby flinched when your door slammed.

her boots still sat beneath your bed, gathering dust, fingerprints still visible from the last time you missed her. you listened to her footsteps as your fingers brushed all over the shoes.

she roamed the kitchen, cleaning it the best she could before she made her way upstairs. abby didnt want to hurt you. she loved you, even if she struggled to say it. when she knocked she heard a quiet ‘come in’, yet she still hesitated at the door.

the door opened for her. you staring up at her blank face, a tear stain she wanted to wash away and never see again.

“i love you.”

when the sun streamed in the next morning, it didnt fall on just you. a weight slung over your stomach, one of abby’s arms dead weight across you. you couldn’t help but smile.

when it snowed again the next day, the bed was cold, but the house wasn’t. downstairs, abby had the fire going and breakfast on the stove for the both of you.

and when the sun shown and the birds sang months later, she laid in bed watching your peaceful sleep.

her cuts and bruises had long disappeared. that chill she had that made her shake, warmed. the emptiness she had felt for all those years, had been filled with love and care she yearned for her whole life.

she felt it when she saw you.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

"Things they do to apologize after an argument" A/n: I had this idea in my head for some time and seeing these three in a situation like this made me think🤔 The three scenarios below are 100% canon, I swear😅

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

Kenpachi :

It's not difficult to get this man out of his mind, but it's also not difficult for him to get someone out of their mind with his personality, especially you, if you two get upset about something. He undoubtedly doesn't act with you in the same way as with others, but if for some reason you argue, he may loosen up a little and say more than he should, something he will regret later when give him the silent treatment. Believe me, he will be a shadow, following you even without knowing how to reach you. He wanted so badly to grab you and take you to his room for just an hour just to "apologize himself"but he had already realized that he was the one in the wrong, so he waited until you "softened up". He looks at you every time you pass by him and it was one of those times when you passed by him that he couldn't contain himself and slapped your ass, the habit he had before you two were upset. You gave him a deadly look back but just continued on your way and he gave a small smile. The fact that you even looked at him was a glimmer of hope for him. He loves a good fight and won't give up until he has you. When the things calm down and he feels it's time to apologize and when you walked past him while he was sitting on the couch in the living room, he pulls you onto his lap, catching you helplessly and hugs you with his strong arms. You didn't react for a moment, seeing that he just wants closeness and your warmth. You interpreted that as an apology from him. "Hey big man! I accept your apology if that's what you're trying to know"You said holding his arms around you "Does this also mean that you won't be pacing around ignoring me?" "Actually, I'm also mad at you for being so big and hard to ignore but yeah, I'll talk to you again" You say and he looks at you sideways making you smile mischievously He can't stay away from you. Even with that size, the softer side of his heart is still calling for you.

Jushiro :

I can't imagine him arguing for some reason, he's a sweetheart and would do anything but argue with you, because he knows you might be offended by something he said. Something he would avoid at all costs. When he sees that you are upset with him and that you are avoiding him, he chooses to give you some space even though it is difficult to do so. Shunsui could relate it, he had to convince him and almost begged him on his knees to give you space for a few days. The friend knew he loved you and that's why he acted like that. He couldn't help but at least exchange glances with you when you two passed each other in the corridors of his division or even inside the house. When things start to calm down a little more, he starts greeting you and even tends to bring sweets and hide them under the blanket on your side of the bed accompanied by flowers. "A true romantic man" You think to yourself after encountering all that. You see this as his apology and that very night, you can be sure, when he turns to your side while you're lying next to him and hugs you from behind and brings you closer to him. When you look back with your eyes still barely open but you can see him looking at you with an innocent and soft expression. "Do you accept my apology? Please Y/n, I'm so sorry" He whispers against the skin of your neck "But only because you brought me flowers and sweets this afternoon" You said and he chuckled placing more kisses on your neck "I will bring it whenever you want" Help, I don't write to him anymore, my heart is melting😫

Shunsui :

Another gentleman who doesn't like to argue with his loved one just like his friend above, but the only difference is that Shunsui is shameless and his sarcasm and jokes can ruin everything sometimes. What he doesn't know is that they also leave him sleeping on the couch for a few days. However, he can't help but keep a silly smile on his face when he sees you leaving the bedroom with a blanket and his pillow. He tries to stop you but you just push him away. "Aren't you overreacting? Y/n, come on ! The bed is big for both of us, you don't need to---" "Fuck you !" You stick out your middle finger and show it to him, returning to the bedroom afterwards and slamming the door with a bang "Yeah, Shunsui... it's your fault again for being an idiot" He muttered after seeing the way you left He can't bear to see you walk past him without saying a word to him, his eyes follow you everywhere in the house and even at work. He wanted so much to come closer to you and hug you and apologize and humiliate himself if he had to just to hear your beautiful voice again. This is no longer the silent treatment but torture for him. He, like Jushiro, also leaves flowers everywhere, especially rose petals scattered across the floor. In the living room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom and even in the bathroom he wants you to see the flowers. When you enter the house you can't help but sigh when you see it, you know immediately that the flowers and petals on the floor speak for themselves. "That idiot" You thought. You went to the bedroom and he was there leaning against the headboard with his bottle of drink in his hand and looking like he wasn't quite sober anymore. "I told you to stay on the couch, didn't I?" You said, approaching the bed and crossing your arms, pretending to still be upset "It's too cold to sleep on the living room and especially without my beautiful Y/n-chan who warms my heart"He said, bringing the bottle to his lips You sat next to him and took the bottle from his hands, placing it on the bedside table. "I accept your apology but first you're going to have to clean up the mess of petals you made all over the house, you hear?" You said and he laughed "I will, but now I just want to hug you" Even with the smell of booze you hugged him and he almost cried hugging you. I will have to write a complete scenario like this later...

[wheels-of-despair]

The Long Con Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman brings Eddie a thoughtful gift... but there are some springs attached. Contains: A can of pretzels, a practical joke, a Wayne cameo. Words: 900ish

"Heads up!"

You tossed a can of pretzels toward Eddie when you stepped into his room. Instead of catching them, he ducked, and they fell into the gap between his bed and the wall. The Black Hole. Where things go to die.

He tossed his magazine to the side and rolled over, head disappearing into the abyss as he dug for the pretzels. He held the can up triumphantly when he found it, then twisted his body back around to lie on his back. He placed the pretzel can on his stomach and twisted the label to face him.

"Name brand? Is it my birthday?"

"Buy one, get one free at the grocery store. Mom got one for me and one for you," you explained, dropping onto the bed to lie on your back beside him. "Well, one for you at each of your dwellings, more like."

"That was nice of her," he smiled, watching the can rise and fall on his stomach with each breath.

"She's a very nice lady. Where do you think I get it from?"

"HA!"

You reached over and smacked the can off of him, and he turned his head toward you with a pout.

"Watch it, Munson. You couldn't handle my mean side."

"You mean this is ni--" A pillow found its way to his face, muffling the mistake he was about to make. You flipped over and swung a leg over him, straddling him for pillow-holding leverage. His hands tickled your sides in retaliation, and somehow, by the time the struggle was over, he was on top of you on his bedroom floor and your sides were aching from laughter.

That's alright, Munson. This is a long con.

Eddie ate his fancy name-brand pretzels slower than the massive value-sized bags he usually devoured by the pound. Personally, you couldn't taste much of a difference. It was all dry and salty to you.

But Eddie quite enjoyed them.

And you quite enjoyed planning the next step of your evil plan.

They really were on sale. Your mom really had bought them for him. But you'd been looking through a catalog of creative gifts the day she brought them home, and it had given you… ideas.

Every time he left his bedroom in the week that followed, you checked his pretzel progress.

When he got down to about a fifth of the can, you decided to make your move.

You waited until the phone rang. You were enjoying a lazy afternoon together; laying around and listening to music and maybe making out a little, sure to keep both volumes down while Wayne slept in the living room. Eddie rolled out of bed with a groan and went to answer the phone.

You darted toward your bag as soon as he stepped into the hallway, grabbing the twin to his treasured pretzel can and swapping it with the one on his bedside table.

You shoved his can into the bottom of your bag and returned to the bed, trying to remember how you'd been lying when he left.

"Telemarketer," he grumbled when he stepped back into the room. He closed the door quietly and reclaimed his place in bed, lying on his side next to you. "Now, where were we?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you laughed.

"Right about…" you inched closer and kissed the tip of his nose, "here."

The events that followed made you forget about your master plan for a while.

Until the phone rang at your house that night, while you were making dinner.

"Hello?" you answered, cradling the phone on your shoulder while you stirred a pot of noodles.

"I'll get you for this."

"Who's calling, please?" you asked with a wicked grin, knowing exactly who was calling and why.

"You are so not funny."

You heard laughter in the background. Is that… Wayne? You'd never heard Eddie's uncle laugh like that before.

"Really? 'Cause it kinda sounds like I am."

Eddie growls, and you cover your mouth so a giggle doesn't escape.

"When did you do it?"

"When did I do what?" you asked innocently.

"When did you rig it."

"I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about."

It's getting harder and harder to keep the laughter out of your voice.

"I nearly pissed myself!"

That's when you cracked.

You'd found a spring in a pile of stuff you'd cleaned out of the garage, sewed a piece of fabric around it, and attached a tiny plush teddy bear to the end. You shoved it down your matching pretzel can, waited until the time was right, and made the swap. Eddie had just discovered his custom-made snake-in-a-can prank. The entire project cost you about $1. It was worth every penny.

You heard Wayne's laughter get louder, too.

"I did not!" Eddie insisted.

"Did not what?" you asked.

"He screamed like a girl!" Wayne howled in the background.

"Did not!"

You roared with laughter.

When you finally composed yourself, Eddie was waiting patiently.

"You know it's on, right? I'm gonna get you back for this." You can hear the smile in his voice cutting through his angry façade.

"I'd expect nothing less, Munson."

"See you in the morning?"

"See you in the morning," you confirmed. "I'll bring snacks."

[rafayelsss]

Heyo! I love your Rafie fics! I was wondering if you would like to write a fanfic where S/I doesn't like rain. Like she jokes about them feeling like "watery knives", but even if she doesn't like rain too much... She plays in it just to see fish boyo happy even though she is grumbling.

Idk just wanna see Rafayel be a tease more. Lol thank you for your hard work!

my first official request on this blog!! tysm for requesting! i had fun with this one bc i love him

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

content: rafayel x gn!reader (was meant to be fem but in the end no gendered terms were used), no y/n, raf gets a cold at the end

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rafayel somehow convinces you into the rain with him.

The streetlamps scattered around glowed in contrast to the dimly lit afternoon sky, hues of indigo and rouge signaling the beginning of a cold, familiar night in Linkon City.

And what would be a familiar night without Rafayel at your side?

He’s slowly and surely weaseled his way into your routine strolls, in which he now accompanies you whenever he has the time to. Strangely, he always has free space in his schedule for you, which he insists is a coincidence, or that it was simply fate that brought you two together once more.

“So what’s our next stop? The bakery downtown for the third time this week?” Rafayel asked, balancing himself on the curbs of the sidewalk.

“Second, actually.” You corrected quickly with a glare. “Besides, you didn’t have to come along today either… Stop complaining.”

Rafayel feigned mock offense, bringing a hand to his chest as he shook his head. “And leave you all alone in this vast, wide, big and scary city? No way. How could you ever live without me?”

You actually could very well live without him. But he’s too cute to leave, unfortunately.

“I can handle myself just fine, Rafie… You can leave if you don’t want to be he-”

Rafayel cuts through your sentence swiftly. “No thanks.”

Before you could even open your mouth to raise more questions as to what he exactly means by that plain and final answer, your words are diluted by the sudden downpour of rain above.

You watch as most people around you run for shelter from the rain, some more prepared ones opening their umbrellas and calmly carrying on with their day. Being a part of the unlucky few that didn’t bring one, you drag Rafayel to a nearby bus stop.

“Weird… They said it’d be cloudy at most today.” You muttered under your breath, the top of your head already wet, water dripping off the strands of hair.

Rafayel chuckles at you drenched state. “When were weather forecasts ever 100%? This is why you have to think of every possibility.”

“Oh? Does this mean you brought an umbrella?” You raised a brow at him expectantly. If he was so confident, then surely…–

“Nope.”

You stared at him in sheer, unbridled disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“I was going to bring an umbrella,” Rafayel paused for effect to tap on his chin to ponder for half a second. “but it looks like I forgot. I was so excited to see you again that it completely slipped out of my mind.”

“You…” You inhaled sharply and exhaled back out deeply to keep your blood pressure steady.

He flashes you a grin in an attempt to be a little apologetic, but it was obvious he wasn’t one bit.

“How am I supposed to go home with the weather this bad?” You looked up at the sky, the rain still unrelenting in its showers. You didn’t know how long it would last, and it was getting rather late into the day already.

Rafayel tilts his head at you and grabs a hold of your wrist, stepping forward from under the cover of the bus stop and into the drizzling skies. “We make a run for it, duh.”

He says it as if it’s such an obvious solution, one you should have thought of much sooner.

“We could get a cold, and I don’t look forward to walking past the front door soaked from head to toe!” You argue, disapproving of such a reckless idea. But then again, you’d be lying if his suggestion didn’t pique some sort of interest within you. “And it feels like a bunch of watery knives raining down from up above.”

“Don’t worry, if you flap your limbs, dance and doge around enough, and run as fast as you can, you’ll be able to deflect its attacks. And… A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Rafayel eagerly awaits your answer, but you both knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him down if he kept looking at you with those sparkling purple eyes, practically begging for you to accept and loose a little.

His hand slid down from your wrist to your hand, intertwining your fingers together lightly. You return his gesture with a smile.

“Okay, fine.”

—

The next morning, you receive a text message from Rafayel.

Rafayel poked you

Rafayel: [im dying]

You: [Told you you’d get sick.]

Rafayel: [dun u want me to get better? come here and nurse me back to health urself]

—

[ssahotchnerr]

So I’ve been daydreaming about missing Aaron, but, perks of being married to the boss, you make the office your home for the afternoon. Special privileges. Penelope will - without a doubt - bring you tea, and you’ll fall asleep on the couch across from Aaron’s desk to the sound of him quietly working and the ghost sensation of him gently tucking his suit jacket around you

I don’t know why, but the idea of falling asleep on Hotch’s office couch is so??? dear?? to?? me??? and that even while he’s working, one eye is keeping watch over you 🥹😭

this 🥹🥹🥹 taking a snooze on aaron's couch 😣 yes please. and yet again i am promising to make this into a full fic <3

cw; mentions of food

AH you're like the bau's own personal celebrity hehe 🫶🏻 everyone, and i mean everyone, knows who you are.

the team obviously already knew who you were, but all the other people who work there? it didn't take them very long to figure it out with how frequently you visit. but it did all start when you brought aaron lunch one day. he and the rest of the team had just been in the roundtable room, and as they were exiting, you were just entering the bullpen with lunch in hand. aaron's eyes instantly lit up when he saw you <3 he gave you that sweet smile of his, kisses you on the cheek and greets you "hi honey" 🥹🥹 before grabbing your hand and escorting you to his office.

again, literally everyone knows who you are. if you're entering the building, walking through a hallway or the bullpen, there's people saying hello and acknowledging you. you being there has simply become a normal thing. hehe you and aaron are known as the attractive power couple <3

penelope is basically your best friend. she's always ecstatic when you visit, she'll try and steal you from aaron's office to come hang out with her in her lair instead. since she has proudly taken on the roll of bringing you tea (AH hehe some days there's a lil competition between her and aaron, to see who brings you a cup first <333), she always make sure your favorite kind is in the bau's pantry. hehe and derek constantly teases you about being married to aaron🙄🥰 he'll joke around with you, asking you if there's a way you can get aaron to give them more vacation time, less paperwork, things like that. if you live in aaron's office??? - that's one of his favorites. he's always asking you if they're going to replace aaron's nameplate on the wall with your name instead🙄🥰

but the naps <333 hehe it makes aaron's heart flutter when he peeks up from paperwork and sees you, whether you're napping, working, reading, etc.. it helps him put his mind at ease. plus he's able to steal kisses from you whenever he likes 😌 while you get to be near him because missing him throughout the day just hurts too much. it's a win-win situation for you both <3 and the quiet small talk 🥹 of course you don't want to distract him, but there's just something so <3333 about aaron working, you lounging on the couch, and talking about everything and anything. hehe he gets so 🥹 when you're going on about something, but you're beginning to doze off. hehe your words are incoherent and mumbly and you're trying so so hard to stay awake but can't. when you finally fall silent, he'll get up from his chair, place his jacket or the spare blanket (kept in his office for instances like this) on you gently, and gives you a kiss on the head before going back to work.

in addition to the blanket, aaron keeps other things in his office for you as well 🥹 there's an extra copy of your favorite book, he has a drawer of snacks just for you, just different things you might randomly need while you're there.

plus!!! occasionally there's some after hours action <3333;) if no one else is around, and it just makes you love that couch even more hehe🥰

[reasonsmandy]

I'm addicted to you

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — So my idea was maybe with Warren or even Billy (if you want to write for him of course), the reader is super shy (maybe she's friends with Daisy, who dragged her along one day you know) and Warren/Billy just took an interest in her and flirts to make her blush, but at first she thinks he's joking or just being nice because "no one actually likes the shy girl". Hope you like it, sorry if it's too specific 😅

✧.* summary — From the first time you met The Six's drummer he was always around you praising you, and picking up on you. And one day you put your shyness aside and return it in kind.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 3.7k

✧.* 🥁 — Warren's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I apologize for the delay in answering your asks, college has been making me crazy lately, but I promise that soon everything will be back to normal, also this isn't revised so there might be some mistakes. Hope you like it 🫶🏾

"Come on Y/N we need your help." Daisy repeats it for the fourth time that morning. "I mean, I can write good songs but you're going to add something to the mix, you know? I already talked to Teddy, he loved the idea."

"Of course he loved it, he loves any opportunity to bring me to the label." You laugh, stirring the food in the pot. "I would love to help you Daisy, but you know I prefer the backstage."

"I promise you it's just going to be the people in the band, no one else." She lifts her pinky for you to intertwine yours. "Come on Y/N, please."

You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut tightly, sure you'd regret it. "Alright, when do we start?"

Your passion for music was no secret to anyone, you always loved portraying your emotions, your feelings, frustrations through music and that's what you've been doing since you were 14 years old, obviously you didn't start professionally at first, it was just you your guitar a paper and a pen in the afternoons after class for a long time before you get the courage to show anyone your lyrics. You knew Daisy from school, and it was to her that you first presented your songs, after that your passion for the musical world brought you two together.

Daisy had the courage that you would never have, and you admired her so much for it, the fact that you were backstage writing the songs, without the public attention, without the fame was never something that bothered you, in fact it was something you preferred. There was something about attention that activated the most intense peak of your anxiety.

Whenever you found yourself in the spotlight, your heart would start to race, pounding in your chest like a wild animal trying to break free. Your palms would become slick with sweat, and your fingers would twitch nervously as if trying to escape the situation. Your breaths would come in short, shallow gasps, as if your lungs were struggling to get enough air. Your stomach would churn with nausea, and you would feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten into knots. You could feel your whole body trembling with tension, every nerve ending on high alert as if waiting for the next attack.

So yeah, you were much better off stage.

Daisy had great difficulty understanding this position of yours, and when she joined The Six she was sure that what they needed was your help to improve those lyrics. She knew that with you, they were going to make the best album in the whole world. She had spent a few weeks preparing the territory, Daisy knew if she wanted you to agree she had to go slowly implanting the ideas in your head little by little until in the end, you agreed.

You didn't have the courage to open your eyes as you felt the wind hit your face, you knew that if you noticed the paths Daisy's car took you would feel butterflies in your stomach. As you approached the label, Daisy glanced at you from time to time, smiling as she found your reaction amusing.

"You're gonna be fine Y/N" You feel the car stop, opening your eyes slowly you notice they had stopped at a light, relieved you let out a sight. "They're nice people, I swear to you… well, except for Billy but don't worry I'll handle him."

"I knew I was going to regret this Daisy." Your voice was weak. "I work much better at home, I might as well work on my parts and hand them to you later."

Daisy looks at you with arched eyebrows. "Without listening to the instruments?"

You shrug, trying to convince yourself you could handle it. Daisy just laughs, and you roll your eyes. "What?"

"Are you serious?" The redhead questions. "You urgently need more social activities."

…

As you stepped out of Daisy's car, your heart began to race. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but your anxiety only seemed to intensify with each passing second. You followed Daisy into the label building, feeling like a fish out of water among all the bright lights and bustling activity.

Daisy leads you to the studio they used to record, Teddy says hello from across the sound booth, you wave back at him then turn back to the band members watching you curiously. Immediately you regret it and take your eyes to the ground trying little by little to hide behind Daisy.

"Well, well, well," he said, sauntering over to you. "Who's this pretty little thing that Daisy's brought us?"

You felt your face heat up as you tried to hide behind Daisy, who just rolled her eyes at Warren's flirting.

"This is Y/N," she said, introducing you. "She's a songwriter, and she's been helping me out with the album."

Warren's eyes lit up with interest. "A songwriter, huh? Well, we could always use more talent around here."

He extended his hand towards you, and you hesitated for a moment before shaking it tentatively. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your cheeks turning pink.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he said, still holding onto your hand. "I'm Warren."

You pulled your hand back, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too."

…

Warren's flirty mood had become a pattern, he loved the way your cheeks flushed in his presence, or how you widen your eyes at every flirtation he gave you, and he thought it was adorable the way you never knew how to handle his compliments, so he always made an effort to come up with something new.

You never knew what to expect, he always took you by surprise at the most unexpected moments, and you just loved that attention coming from him.

The band was sitting on the studio floor, you were further away from the group, in the corner of the room with your notebook, your pen and some crumpled sheets of paper around you. You hummed the tune Graham had created, trying to match your ideas to it, your pen hanging from your lips as you picked it up every now and then to make some adjustments.

Warren tapped some cans while watching you from afar. He loved how you seemed to shut out the world around you when you started writing, how you smiled when you got the lyrics right. He even thought it was really cute when you hated something and dropped your notebook on the floor to take a break.

He smiles at the idea that is born in his mind, he opens his notebook on a random sheet of paper writing something and then making a paper airplane with it. He takes aim in your direction, tongue sticking out as if that will help him concentrate more, and when he feels ready he throws it towards you.

You are snapped out of your concentration by the piece of paper that hits your eye. "Ouch." you exclaim, closing your eyes and rubbing them.

"Shit!" Warren exclaims, moving closer to you. "I'm sorry cariño."

"What was that for?" You struggle to get used to the light in the room again.

"It was supposed to be something cute, now it seems like I wanted to make you blind." He says running his hands through his curls. "Is it rude of me to ask you to read it?"

You can't contain your laughter, he laughs along with you and you shake your head. "I can try."

You undo the paper plane, a little nervous to have the man's gaze centered on you, his handwriting wasn't difficult to understand but with your eye "damaged" by the little accident it took you a while. It read "You must be tired, right?"

You arch your eyebrows in question, looking at him blankly. Rojas had a smirk on his face and soon you knew something curious was coming, he had a smile on his face waiting for you to question him why. So you do so.

"Why?" You ask quietly, he smiles wider.

"Because you've been running through my mind all day long mi amor." He finishes the sentence almost in a whisper, the Spanish nickname sends a chill down your spine that almost immediately brings the blush to your cheeks. "You know something mamita, you're so fucking pretty when you're shy."

He winks at you before standing up, leaving you with a flushed face, a racing heart, and a goofy smile on your face.

…

The smell of fresh coffee invaded their noses, that morning contained a fresh climate and yet the sun was shining brightly in the Los Angeles sky. It's been a few hours since they've been locked in the label's studio trying to improve the pre-chorus of "Aurora". Daisy, Billy and you had been working on this song for the past few days but knew there was something missing right there. Daisy once again stated that she didn't know how to work with empty stomach, so together with The Six they went to the nearest bakery for a more elaborate breakfast.

"You know what? I think it turned out cool that way." Graham states, pointing to the chord Eddie had just written in his notebook. "Maybe you could add longer notes, so as not to overshadow Warren's solo and still show the bass..."

"Great idea dude." Eddie says writing it down, taking a bite of his toast next.

Warren looked uneasy, he had noticed since leaving the studio that you hadn't accompanied them, which left him a little disappointed, as he liked to spend as much time as possible by your side, he eats his order quickly while tapping his feet nonstop, after drinking his juice he turns to Daisy, lighting a cigarette.

"Hey Daisy." He calls for her, catching her attention. "Do you know why she didn't come?"

Daisy smiles, she arches an eyebrow enjoying seeing the drummer's interest in her friend. "It's like you don't know her, any chance to spend some time alone she accepts."

"Yeah yeah of course." He really wanted to go back there, spend more time with you, he was afraid that now that the album was almost finished he wouldn't see you anymore. "Now that I remember! I forgot my drumsticks in the studio." he exclaims, capturing the attention of everyone at the table.

"So what?" Eddie asks. "You're not going to play right now anyways, chill out." He chuckles.

"Actually I just had an inspiration, I need to go get them." Rojas stands up, adjusting the vest on his torso.

Without giving a chance to be contradicted, he leaves through the front door, leaving his friends without understanding much. Daisy smiles at the ridiculous excuse the drummer had come up with to go find you, eager to find out what it would lead to.

The record company wasn't far away, Warren only had to walk a few blocks to reach his destination. He brought you a croissant and coffee, figuring you might be hungry since you didn't join them, he enters the record label excited, wanting to see you as soon as possible but as soon as he hears something different he stops in front of the door of the studio where you record.

He doesn't move listening to the sound of a beautiful, calm, light and yet powerful voice echoing from the room, he doesn't take long to recognize Aurora's melody and without being able to contain his curiosity, open the door slowly. Coming across you sitting on the floor, some sheets spread out next to you and your notebook, pencil dangling from your ear and a guitar in your lap.

He can't contain his smile when he sees you sing, with each passing day he is more and more enchanted by you and your talent always surprises him in a good way. As soon as you finish he makes his presence known by knocking on the door, you take your gaze up to him and he holds up the bag he brought you.

"How long have you been there, uh?" You question without looking him in the eye.

"Long enough to need to ask you something." You definitely didn't expect that answer, so you just wait for him to finish. "Did it hurt when you fell from the sky? Because you have an angelic voice mi amor."

You roll your eyes smiling weakly, Rojas approaches you sitting beside you admiring your flushed face. You muster up the courage to face him, something he didn't expect and as soon as your eyes met his he felt like he was floating, or dreaming even.

"Can I ask you something Warren?" You say softly, directing your speech just for him.

Rojas arches his eyebrows curiously, he rests his head in the palm of his hand watching you closely.

"Sure, go ahead," he says, smiling warmly.

You think twice before saying something, you take a deep breath and say, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

The drummer had a surprised and yet admiring expression, he licks his lips smiling wide then, the way his eyes get tiny when he smiles makes your heart warm. But as soon as you realized what you said your gaze dropped to your hands, you felt embarrassed by what you said, it seemed ridiculous that you wanted to flirt with a man like him.

"Hey." He says bringing his hand to your chin, lifting your face to look at him. "I never knew you had it in you," he says, still chuckling. "That was actually really cute."

"It was ridiculous." You state, nervous to look him straight in the eye.

"Nothing that comes from you can be ridiculous, mamita." He stops smiling, staring into your eyes as if he's admiring the most beautiful view in the world, and maybe he is. "You're so gorgeous."

…

You were lying on the couch in your apartment, Daisy was sitting on the floor in front of you with the guitar in her lap composing. You bit the pencil and every now and then tapped it against the notebook you have in your hands, you were trying to finish the lyrics to "Regret Me", a song that Daisy had started a few days ago.

"Y/N! Are you here?" The redhead exclaims, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

"Uh? Oh yeah sorry, where were we?" You sit on the couch, your thoughts still in the air.

"What do you have?” Daisy asks, a faint smile on her face. “Want to talk about it?”

"Does Warren usually do that whole pick-up line thing with everyone?" You ask, Daisy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What pick-up line thing?" Daisy says, not understanding what you were talking about.

"It's just... It just seems ridiculous now that I'm going to tell someone." You let out a laugh, and Daisy still looks lost on the subject. "It's just that lately he's always been hitting on me, or complimenting me whenever he can…"

Daisy looked surprised, she arched her eyebrows and a smile spread across her face. You shake your head, feeling ridiculous for thinking maybe he was actually interested in you.

"Nevermind, it's ridiculous." You say, trying to focus on your notebook but the heat on your cheek wouldn't let you.

"Wait wait, so you're telling me that Warren is flirting with you?" Daisy had a look on your face that couldn't quite name, so you just nod. "Oh my God, I knew it!"

"Excuse me?" You ask, lost in her words. "What do you mean?" Your heart was pounding on your chest.

"I mean, it's obvious that he likes you," Daisy says with a smirk, strumming a few chords on her guitar. "Every time you're around, he's practically glowing."

You let out a small laugh, feeling relieved yet nervous. "I don't know, I mean, he's my coworker and I don't want to make things awkward between us."

Daisy puts down the guitar and turns to you, placing a reassuring hand on your knee. "Trust me, I've seen this before. Sometimes you just have to take a chance on someone and see where it goes."

You look at Daisy, feeling grateful for her support. "What do you suggest I do?"

Daisy thinks for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across her face. "I suggest you give him a taste of his own medicine. Flirt back a little, see how he reacts."

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a little hesitant. "I don't know if I'm good at that."

Daisy gives you a playful nudge. "Come on, it's all in good fun. And who knows, you might actually enjoy it."

You nod, feeling a little more confident. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Daisy claps her hands, looking pleased with herself. "That's what I like to hear! Now, let's get back to these lyrics."

As you both return to working on the song, you can't help but feel a little excited about the possibility of something more with Warren.

…

Warren was sitting on the other side of the room, you walked in and he took his gaze to you immediately watching you with a smile on his face. You take a deep breath, remembering Daisy's words, you let out without thinking.

You walk up to him. "Hey there, handsome," you say with a playful smile.

Warren looks up at you, surprised by your sudden flirtation. He stammers for a moment before finally responding, "Uh, hey. What's up hermosa?"

As soon as you see the blush rising on Warren's cheeks, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement. It's as if you've just won a game that you've been practicing for ages. You smile to yourself, feeling like you've finally accomplished something that you've been wanting to do for a long time.

"Nothing much, just wanted to come over and say hi," you say, trying to keep up the playful tone. "But I have to admit, I'm enjoying making you a little shy."

Warren lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not used to this, you know. Usually, it's me doing the flirting," he says, still looking a little flustered.

"Well, maybe it's time for a change," you say, feeling encouraged by his reaction. "Who knows, maybe I'll be the one making you blush all day long."

Warren looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement, but you can tell that he's enjoying the attention. You spend the rest of the day playfully flirting with him, and every time he blushes or stammers, you feel a sense of satisfaction and pride.

You couldn't believe how good it felt to flirt with Warren. All day long, you kept up your teasing and pick-up lines, enjoying the way he blushed and stumbled over his words. Each time he seemed caught off guard, your confidence grew, and you felt a newfound boldness you hadn't known before.

In the break room, you caught him staring at you as you filled up your coffee cup.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this coffee isn't the only thing that's hot around here." you said with a grin.

Warren choked on his own sip of coffee, coughing as he tried to regain his composure. You couldn't help but giggle at the effect you had on him.

Later you find him at the drums playing around with some ideas he had, realizing it was just the two of you. You see another opportunity and approach him, he watches you and already smiles, imagining what could come.

"You know pretty boy, I kinda have a thing for drummers in rock bands." You lean lightly on the drums, winking at him.

"Do you?" He says, his low voice reaching your ears like honey. "Well this drummer right here really is into you, actually…"

"Is that so?" You try to maintain your posture, but it's impossible to deny that every time he smiles your legs give way.

Warren comes out from behind the drums, approaching you, his proximity makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, he doesn't take his eyes off yours and you could spend hours looking into those eyes. When you can already feel his breathing is when he stops, his hands rest on your waist and your breathing becomes increasingly uneven.

"I mean it cariño, I really like you." He whispers, and you feel your heart give up. "I don't think I've ever met someone as unique as you and holy shit I love it. I'm addicted to you, everything that you do, every detail of your face I just can't get enough of your presence… Damn you make me want to get up early to come work in this studio, don't get me wrong, I love my job... My point is, you make everything better."

You didn't expect his words, an involuntary smile takes over your face and you take your hands to his curls, he smiles at the touch caressing your waist pulling you closer to him. He licks his lips bringing his eyes to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, you nod and he does so.

As Warren's lips meet yours, you feel a jolt of electricity surge through your body. His kiss is gentle and passionate, and it feels like he's been waiting to do this for a long time. You respond to him with equal fervor, your hands slipping up into his hair and your body pressing against his. The kiss is sweet and tender, yet full of longing and desire. You can feel your heart racing in your chest as the kiss deepens, and you wrap your arms around Warren, not wanting this moment to end. As you finally break the kiss, you look up into his eyes and see the same passion and affection that you feel reflected back at you.

"I'm addicted to you too." You manage to say, still mesmerized by his eyes.

He places several kisses on your lips, and you smile at his act. "Let me take you out? Promise you, no more cheesy pick up lines."

"I would accept this invitation even if you spend the whole time hitting on me." You say and he smiles, wasting no time closing the space between you.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

[thefrontofmymind]

ok so i don’t know if you take requests but i love your writing and i had this idea where the reader and joseph’s daughter paints her parents’ nails or gives them a piece of jewelry and they don’t take it off so when they go out to public or a gala or something everyone goes crazy and praise their daughters work just pure fluff!!

Babysitters' Club; Request (Joseph Quinn x costar!Reader)

a/n: hello nonny! thanks for the request, i changed it from daughter to niece bc i thought it would be a bit cuter but trust me, dad!joe content will be coming in the future! mwah!

SYNOPSIS: Reader and Joe babysit Reader's niece together for the first time, and she takes quite a liking to Joe

WARNINGS: kinda more fem!reader than i expected, brief mentions of anxiety, lmk if there's anything i missed!

Your place was a mess after just an hour of taking care of your five year-old niece with Joe. Of course, you were having fun and you don’t think you’d laughed as much as you did in that short sixty minutes than in the past week or so. It was a great way to take your mind off the current anxiety that plagued you–the looming anticipation of the Emmys was clouding your mind, it kind of felt like when a bathroom mirror gets all steamy after you have a hot shower, even after you wipe it down, you can never really get rid of all the condensation without being forced to wait for it to dry.

Joe knew you were a mess, he was a mess too. It’s not everyday that the show you both star in gets nominated for Outstanding Drama Series, meaning the entire cast becomes required to attend the ceremony, as well as the red carpet beforehand. That’s what you shared your worries over, the carpet. It was neither of your first times being absolutely bombarded by bright, flashing lights and the seemingly hundred of reporters begging to interview you, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

You were glad you didn’t have to think about it the day of–at least not until you had to begin getting ready, but before that, it was babysitting time. Your niece had brought a selection of toys for the three of you to play with that day, from a collection of dolls, to a tub of Lego, and at least a dozen other things you tried to keep track of. Though her favourite was a jewellery making kit, complete with twine, lettered beads, and countless different charms and trinkets. 

It was the early afternoon when she finally asked you and Joe to sit down with her to make some jewellery at the coffee table in your living room. You sat across from her and Joe–who she’d insisted on sitting next to–the three of you cross-legged on the floor. Some cartoon show you’d found on Netflix played on the TV, though it was mostly background noise as you organised the beads so they didn’t end up going everywhere. You couldn’t help but admire the way Joe acted around the pocket rocket. From the way he immediately knelt down to her level when he first met her, to how gently he spoke to her until she was comfortable with him–it gave you butterflies as your mind wandered to what he would be like with your kids, should you ever have them down the track, you simply couldn’t help nurture the idea.

You and Joe mostly watched her as she carefully threaded the beads onto string, only intervening when asked for help with the letters-first her name, then yours, and finally Joe’s. She was being quite secretive, not showing you exactly what she was making, and asking Joe to shield her work from your view with his hands as she focussed, saying, “it’s a surprise, Aunty! Don’t ruin it!”, making you chuckle as you were forced to be patient.

After about five minutes, she asked Joe for help tying up her work and snipping off the ends before turning to you. “Okay, close your eyes and hold out your hand!” she excitedly yelled, holding her creations behind her back.

You did as you were told, but not before protesting. “But what about Joe?”

“He’s already seen it, so I can’t surprise him!” She explained as you felt something slip over your hand and onto your wrist, hearing a joking agreement from the man sat across from you.

After that, you were instructed to open your eyes, seeing a bracelet on your wrist, complete with purple beads and lettering that spelt out your name. You looked to the pair on the other side of the table who had matching regalia–your niece’s in pink, and Joe’s in green.

You quickly enthused about how much you loved it, which pleased their maker–who was due for an afternoon nap, so after tidying and a quick bedtime story, the house was quiet once again.

“D’you really like it?” Joe asked as you both sat down to eat your lunch, which you’d missed in the scuffle of the day. “I only asked because I suggested the purple ones for you…”

You had no hope in fighting the smile on your face. “I love it, babe! You know, you’re really good with her, think I’m no longer the favourite…”

Before you knew it, your sister had come to pick up the little one, and you and Joe were getting ready for the event that you’d been dreading. Between the heels you could barely walk in, and parts of you taped up to create the perfect shape, you knew you were in for a hell of a night. In one moment of peace, yourself, Joe and the whippersnapper were all sat on the sofa right before you were due to leave. She was so enthralled by your makeup and gown–you knew she was going to be a glamorous one when she grew up–and she loved the diamonds that hung from your ears.

“Don’t forget my jewellery!” She exclaimed, handing your and Joe’s bracelets back to you. “Please wear them! And I’ll wear mine at home!”

You couldn’t say no to that face, big eyes and purposefully poked out bottom lip, and neither could Joe, so you agreed and slid them back on.

You didn’t think twice about them until you and Joe were lined up at the edge of the red carpet, hand in hand. You stood with the ‘older kids’ of the Stranger Things cast–Keery, Maya, Charlie, Nat, and Eduardo.

“Hey, what are those?” Maya asked, pointing to your wrists, right next to each other.

“Oh-” Joe gestured to your matching bling. “The niece made them. We’re matching see?”

You both held out your arms, giving the group a view of the letters, which received a chorus of ‘awwww’s and ‘so cute’s.

Without a second’s notice, you were corralled onto the carpet in a row, being blinded by flashes as upwards of twenty men yelled at you to look at their lenses. Though you’d managed to tune them all out, simply by focussing on the warmth spreading up your arm from the hand being held by Joe. You could see him out the corner of your eye as what he said replayed in your mind.

“‘The niece’, hmm? Pretty sure she doesn’t call you ‘Uncle Joe’ just yet?” you teased in a hushed tone.

“Well, maybe I’m planning on making sure she will, as long as her aunt doesn’t mind…” He all but whispered as you were directed to shuffle a bit further down the carpet, a smirk plastered across his face and he stole a quick glance at you. You felt your face getting hot, and you hoped photos didn’t catch your eyes widen as you realised what he was saying. “I think there’s another piece of jewellery I’ll need before that happens.”

[thecameronchronicles]

Happy Birthday

TW: Fluff. Language. Fluffiness. 

SUMMARY: The Pogues celebrate your birthday as one in particular makes it special…

WORD COUNT: 1300

REQUESTED

-So, my birthday is in March, so could you maybe write a birthday fic? (Pope or jj preferably) Idk if you would want to make it fluff smut or both so up to you! Although another plot idea could be he throws a surprise “party” for you but it’s just the pogues who all previously were “busy” so they asked if they could celebrate your birthday a few days later or something. And on your birthday someone asks if you can come over because they need to talk to you and you walk in and it’s the pogues. And maybe he makes your cake and he makes a joke like “I made it all myself” and then you point to the box it came in (that he left out) and he’s like “well I added the stuff and baked it AND put frosting on it”  -💎 

*NOT SURE WHAT DAY IN MARCH IS YOUR BIRTHDAY, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ONE ALL THE SAME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIAMOND BABY!*

Happy Birthday

By the time the morning of your birthday arrived, you were anything but excited. A previous mental countdown no longer a means of excitement as every single one of your friends slipped away into other obligations. Excuse after excuse having found the screen of your phone as you prepared yourself for the day. 

"Happy birthday, beautiful. Do you mind stopping by The Chateau? Pope is freaking out over some text book he left back. Thx." Sarah texted as you offered yourself a weak smile. Without any other plans, you ventured the small distance without a second thought, all while pouting. 

But the second you stepped foot on the grounds, it erupted with applause. A handmade banner stretched throughout the singular tree set just beside the hot tub, intertwined with the lights. A small table was constructed to hold libations and gifts. And each and every one of your friends that had made excuses were now standing before you now with brilliant smiles. 

"I thought you were all busy…" You confessed, wiping away the tears down your cheeks as you completed your side hug with Sarah.

"You kiddin? He wouldn't let us. He's been bugging us for weeks to make sure everything was perfect- OW!" Pope groaned as Kiara elbowed him while your eyes lifted to a blushing JJ. 

"Happy Birthday." He offered while offering you a full embrace. Of all sets of arms wrapped around you, you would be lying if you said they wouldn't have been your favorite. And the fact you were intertwined a moment too long has informed any uncertain pogue of this as well. 

"So there's games here and drinks, your favorite, of course-" JJ explained with life behind each word, truly excited for your reaction. 

The afternoon was spent with giant Jenga brought by Kie, to which John B lost due to JJ teasing him to ironically "not lose" before it then came time for gifts. A bracelet from Sarah, a book from Pope, a shell frame from John B (with a touch of Sarah again), and a dress from Kiara were all offered before the final gift was presented to you. 

"If you don't like it, I can get you something else…" JJ handed a small black box as you pulled the lid to reveal the most beautiful of necklaces before you. 

"It's a little dipper. Made in it metal shop

.. The first night you were here at The Chateau we stayed up and talked about all the stars…wasn't sure if you remembered or-" You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and allowed your care for him to be known. You didn't care about comments or approval. Not even a potential rejection in the fear you read his kindness as an amorous notion. You just needed to be held by him. But more than this, he needed to be held by you all the same. 

"Okay lovebirds…I need some cake…" Kie teased while leading everyone back into The Chateau. Set on the kitchen table wore a stunning single layer cake. 

"Made it myself." JJ announced proudly, standing like an action hero with his hands on his hips as you smirked. He followed your eyes to the trashcan where the box peeked from the head. 

"Well I put it in the oven myself…even put the icing on and everything." He exclaimed in defense. 

"As long as you didn't actually make it, I'll eat it." Kiara teased as everyone chucked as he lifted his middle fingers before Pope would cut the cake into slices. 

"Hey J?" You asked between bites. "Would you help me put it on?" He nearly threw the plate down as he graciously accepted the excuse to touch you. It was enough to make Kie and Sarah offer a look of knowing to each other as he nodded. Your body chilled to the feeling of his touch as he struggles with the clasp for only a second before it donned your clavicle. 

"Beautiful…" he answered some silent question before then clearing his throat as his cheeks reddened by his confession. 

"We can't forget the annual leap off the dock!" Sarah reminded as she elbowed John B.

"Right! We'll meet you guys out there…" Before you could follow, Sarah caught your arm. 

"You should stay…" she winked as JJ clenched his jaw but smiled once you turned to face him. A nervous hand through his hair as there now developed an awkward silence between you. It was a rarity for JJ to be at a loss for words. Knowing this, you ended the quietude. 

"Did you really do all this?"

He shrugged. "I know your family doesn't really-" he stopped himself when noticing the sadness on your face. 

"What did you uh, wish for?" He asked as you recollected to when you blew out your candle. Your eyes finding him as you bowed over the flame. The wish obvious to those nearby but apparently an enigma to the handsome surfer. 

You hesitated, unsure if you were willing to interrupt your fragile friendship with expressing your feelings. 

"Well you know what they say about telling your wish…it won't come true so maybe you should have a backup wish or something because it's bad luck-" You pressed your hands softly to his shoulders and made up the difference separating you. His eyes widened the moment before your lips collided before both softened to the contact. 

"I like to make my own luck." You offered when pulling back from the kiss to take the risk of his rejection. But he only pulled you closer. His racing heart felt behind his stone torso at the very moment Kie and Sarah peeked through the window and squealed to the sight. 

"About time…" John B teased aloud as you smirked at the narrations heard. 

"Wait…" He pulled back for a moment. "Does this mean you want to get lucky? I can make that happen…" You rolled your eyes and pushed against his chest. 

"I mean do you know a guy?" You taunted back as he caught your wrist just before you joined the other pogues. 

"Happy birthday…" 

"Thank you J…" You looked over your shoulder to ensure your spectators had dissipated before reaching to him again. A soft hand to his cheek guiding him against you. But this time, he pulled you to his body and between him and the wall just beside the door. 

"Jesus…" he breathed down your jaw and to your neck as you fisted whatever fabric weakly covered his torso. Not that you were one to complain about such things…

"This is supposed to be your birthday…"

"You asked what my wish was…" You pulled him back into you, his feet stumbling as he caught himself on the wall behind you. 

"Now you have to tell me…in detail…" he teased that sultry nature before you traced his arms. 

"But then it won't come true…" his confinement now sharpened. 

"But the rules don't say anything about showing you…" You teased his lips before slipping past him and over the threshold where you were caught again. 

"I'm holding you to it, sweetheart."

"I hope so." 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel@phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK 2ND MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes.

chapter five chapter seven

Chapter Six

"Finally, the rest of the group arrived. We were starting to think you guys had lost your way to Hoseok's house." Namjoon speaks as he sets the dining table; it seems like it wasn't just you and Jungkook who brought something to eat. You smile somewhat awkwardly, still thinking about how Taehyung spoke to you and Jungkook a few minutes ago.

"Y/N was the one responsible for our delay; she insisted that we should bring something to eat and made me change my clothes as if you all deserved to see me at my best." Jungkook jokes. You remove one of the hands that were holding the pie and playfully hit his arm. The others find it amusing, and you feel a bit embarrassed.

"So, where can I leave this pie? My arm is already sore." You say, trying to shift the focus to something else.

"You came with two people, and none of them offered to help you? How ungentlemanly of both of you." Haewon says, getting up from the sofa where she was sitting. She takes the pie from your hands, gives Taehyung a kiss, and heads to the kitchen.

"So, how has it been for you two being connected to each other? Fun? Horrible? Frustrating?" Jin asks as he sits in a chair facing you and Jungkook. Taehyung takes advantage of being out of the spotlight and sits on the sofa, leaving just you and Jungkook to be interrogated.

"It's been an adventure, good and different. Like now, I know you're making her rethink if it was a good idea to come here, and I don't even need to ask her that." Jungkook replies, giving a disapproving look to Jin.

"That doesn't prove anything; I know that too, and it doesn't make me her soulmate. I mean, who would want to spend the afternoon with six idiots and Haewon?" Yoongi speaks from the dining room, and you let out a light laugh.

"Sure, I have to work while you live a romance? Nothing against you, Y/N, but that's exactly why I gave up on my soulmate." Yoongi remarks.

"Stop talking nonsense; anyone can focus on work and have a soulmate. You gave up on yours because you were afraid of how you'd feel. Meanwhile, I'm here waiting for my soulmate to come and make my days happy." Hoseok responds. Unfortunately, Yoongi gave up on his soul connection, while Hoseok has been waiting for his for years. A soulmate shaman even told our poor Hoseok that his soulmate probably gave up on the connection.

"In that, I have to agree with Hoseok. I've already found my soulmate, and I continue working." Jin adds.

"It depends on whether you can stay away from your soulmate or not, which reminds me, I have to go find mine. To the newest couple, my blessings, and to the newlyweds…" Jimin was about to continue speaking but noticed that Haewon and Taehyung hadn't gotten married.

"I'll give you a ride; I need to buy more coffee. And don't destroy my house, have fun. While I'm away, Namjoon is in charge." Hoseok says as he leaves with Jimin.

"Speaking of Namjoon, I'll help him set the table. Jungkook, can you help me take off this coat?" You ask Jungkook as you try to remove the coat on your own. He quickly comes to assist you. His cold hand touches your back, sending shivers down your spine. You murmur a "ouch" as he takes off your coat, and he notices that it's because of the coldness of his hands.

"Stop being so sensitive; I barely touched you, love." Jungkook says, taking your coat off completely and placing it on the coat rack. Before you head to the dining room, Jungkook gives you a kiss on the cheek. You then head to the dining room. Helping Namjoon will clear your mind, not to mention that you feel the need to talk to someone with experience about soulmates.

"I feel like you didn't come to help me for nothing, so go ahead and open up." Namjoon says as soon as you enter the dining room. You're surprised, but you remember that he often knows things you didn't even think to question.

"When did you discover your soulmate, and how long did it take for you to know you felt something genuine for them?" You ask, curious and a bit apprehensive. Namjoon stops what he's doing and looks at you.

"Y/N, uncertainty about your feelings and their enormity will be with you all the time. Whether it's real or not doesn't really matter. Are you happy?" Namjoon asks. Before answering, you look at Jungkook, who is in the living room talking to Yoongi. He smiles so genuinely that you feel like your heart is going to burst.

"Possibly, I feel light. As if I could share my life with someone. Sharing my life with someone, especially someone like Jungkook, feels like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Despite the uncertainties, there's a warmth in my heart that makes every moment worthwhile." You speak so unexpectedly that even you surprise yourself. Perhaps you're letting your heart do more of the talking.

"So allow yourself to feel that, without overthinking if it's the connection or just you. In life, moments where we feel complete are rare. If you feel that way, savor this moment." Namjoon says, embracing you as if he wants to comfort you.

"Even if it means letting go of something that is very dear to me?" You ask genuinely, knowing that embracing your feelings for Jungkook means leaving behind your romantic feelings for Taehyung.

"I think you know the answer to that question, but I can tell you that sometimes life closes one door so that a better one can open. I trust that you will make the right choice." Namjoon says, gently patting your head, and you feel like he kind of understands what you're talking about. You and Namjoon then call everyone to eat, and you think that maybe Namjoon is right. Life is closing one opportunity to open up a better opportunity for my future happiness.

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 8

Prev/Next

There were a couple things Scar noticed when he woke up face down on the floor. One, Mumbo was gone. Not a huge surprise. Two, everything hurt so much less! Hurray! Three; amendment to number two. His back actually hurt quite a lot, but this time, he was pretty sure that it was from sleeping funny. Exciting! Maybe he could actually get some drugs to take the edge off!

It wasn’t until he stood, gathering his things, that his mood dampened. Ah yes, today he would have to deal with the aftermath of yesterday. Well, he really didn’t have much to his name as of now, perhaps he could just pack the little he had and sail away, never to be seen again. Ah, a glory that would be. Unfortunately, nothing to his name also meant no food, water, and other necessary supplies. Plus, due to recent developments in his health , Scar wasn’t sure if he would make it alone on the sea. Too unpredictable. Although, perhaps ironically, he was feeling better today than he had in months.

Scar hadn’t had much time at all to explain to the Kestrels what was happening before his back and abdomen started spasming, quickly followed by immense discomfort in his eye and throat. Not that he intended to go into detail, but he couldn’t even stand, much less speak. He remembered saying something along the lines of ‘they’re fighting,’ which, in hindsight, was probably terrifying and cinematic.

But they knew. And now they would ask questions. Suddenly, taking his chances out in the ocean seemed like quite the appealing idea. He could put all his important stuff in a bag, maybe grab some canned food from the dining hall…

Scar opened his bedroom door, only to be nose to nose with Sausage. He screamed, falling backwards and dropping literally all of his belongings, which Sausage seemed to interpret as an invitation to come inside. The longer Scar spent here, the more threatening he found Sausage’s smile. Was that how other people felt about him? Oh, he hoped so.

“Scar! Good morning, or, rather, good afternoon! You slept in quite late today!”

“Yup! You know me..”

“Aha, yes. How about we sit, hm?”

Well, there was no escaping this afterall. Scar could fight, but he wasn’t sure he trusted his body right now, and getting supplies would be a far more difficult task. So he sat.

“Scar, I need to have an honest conversation with you, because right now, with the way you’ve been acting, the rest of us have been losing our patience. You’re a different man than you were six months ago when you joined us, and I don’t mean in a good way. You’re deteriorating. Everyone can see it, even in the other factions. Now, I can’t imagine what it’s like to live in your situation, with pain you can’t manage, and how frustrating that is, but,” Sausage sighed, sitting down beside Scar, “This has turned into something you can’t deal with alone anymore. It’s going to kill you, Scar, and by the time you’re dead, no one will care to mourn you, because you’re a fucking asshole.”

Scar wasn’t sure how to react to that. Sausage wasn’t wrong. He had been losing his grip. Quips and jokes that once came easily only soured on his tongue now. While he had never sailed quite as much as the other Kestrels, as months passed, he could leave his room less and less. This past month.. well.. when he did leave, it was safe to say he was snappy at best. He narrowed his eyes at the ground. It bothered him . He was falling apart, and everyone knew , and he didn’t have the ability to hide it anymore.

“It’s their fault,” he growled, voice low, “They came back. They were supposed to be dead.”

“No Scar, it’s your fault,” Sausage sighed, leaning back on his hands, “You never told anyone, in fact, you only got aggressive whenever the subject was brought up. You sat in your room by yourself, letting it get worse.”

“Well there’s nothing you can do.”

“You don’t know that. Listen, I don’t care what happened to you in your past; that’s your own business, but you can’t just deflect and attack everyone who offers their hand. It’s okay to be weak.”

“It’s not okay.”

Sausage paused, shooting Scar a calculating glare. Scar returned it. “Alright, Scar. Well let me skip to the point then. This is your last chance, or I’m going to ask you to leave the Kestrels. I’m extending an olive branch because I don’t want to see you die this way, so it’s your choice what you do with it. Tell me about your ghosts. They’re related to your pain, right?”

Scar closed his eyes. A choice indeed. “Do you really think you can get rid of them?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll try. We’ll all try, if you shape up.”

Scar shook his head, releasing a small, breathy laugh. “Well, why not then. Yes, they���re related to my pain. I’ve got four parts of my body that you could say are cursed, and the pain fluctuates with the corresponding ghosts’ mood. The longer I’m alive I think, the angrier they get. It must be something like that, because it’s been getting progressively worse. All you need to know is that they’d really like me to keel over.”

“Do you treat them well?”

Scar choked on his own laughter, falling back into his bed and shaking the entire frame, “Uh, no offense, but that is the dumbest question anyone has ever asked me.”

“I’m gonna take that as a no, then.”

“Well there’s a reason I got my eardrums blown out. Little bastard was trying to wreck my stuff. For the record, I did not know he could do that. Unfortunate, because he makes the best faces when you make fun of him. You know when-”

“Scar , you taunt your ghosts? When you know their moods directly correlate to your pain? What are you thinking?”

“In my defense, I don’t do that very much,” Scar shrugged.

Sausage put his head in his hands. “ Noted. Well to start, you need to be nicer to them. Even if they’re trying to kill you. You probably deserve it, anyway. But I’m also going to have you speak with Cleo.”

“Cleo? They’re a Heron, right?”

“Yes. Scott tells me they’ve got quite the affinity for ghosts. Apparently there’s this haunted island she visits often? If anyone can help you out, it’s probably her. Actually, if you want, I can ask Scott to go and grab her now.”

“Scott- is he here?” Scar bristled, turning wide eyes to his doorway.

“Hi, Scar!” Scott waved, looking mildly pleased with himself.

Scar stared, taking a deep breath before laying back down across his bed. “I guess this might as well happen.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sausage leapt to his feet, trotting to the door, “She’ll meet you in the tavern, so be ready!

“Yeah, great, I’ll be waiting then,” Scar mumbled, reaching for a pillow to crush over his face. Well. If he wanted to scrape together any amount of dignity, it was time to get it together. He washed up, ran a brush through his hair, and stared at himself for an inexplicably long time in the mirror. Surely there was something he could do about the bags under his eyes. Well, his good eye; the bad one was too far gone to be saved. Hm… but on second thought, it didn’t look as egregious as usual today… Unfortunately, before he could go and dig around for concealer in Oli’s room, he heard his name being called. Ah! But he hadn’t shaved!

Scar ran for his hats, stacking them with great care before balancing them precariously on his head and skipping downstairs.

“Well hello there! Sorry about that, I just got a little distracted, you know,” Scar waved his hand in a vague gesture, heading over to the bar where Cleo was already serving themself a drink. She turned, looking Scar up and down with a small smile.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re not so bad yourself!”

Cleo chuckled, leaning back against the bar. “It’s been a long time, I heard you’ve been sick. So it’s really ghosts that have been giving you trouble? I would have visited earlier, but I heard you were touchy, and I don’t have much patience for bullshit. Finally caved, huh?”

“I guess you could say that. And I damn well paid for it too, so no need to pry.”

“Looks like you’ve been paying for it for a long time, and not because you finally said something. You’ve had that black eye since I met you! I must say, it looks worse than I remember.”

“No need to flatter me. Can you get rid of my ghosts?”

“Oh, probably not, but I heard from Sausage that you’re hurting because they’re unhappy, and I know a place that’ll brighten them right up!”

Scar paused, staring blankly. Cleo stared back with an unassuming smile.

“You want to take my ghosts on a VACATION?”

[sirowsky-stories]

Recovery

Sirowsky's 600 & 700 Followers Celebration

Submitted by @yourstrulylightstar283 No prompts for this one, it's based on This Ask. Character: Marcus Moreno

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Marcus Moreno x Original Female Character Sarah, plus daughters Missy and Bianca. AU. Allusions to severe injuries. Flashbacks. Comfort and fluff. Word Count: 680 Masterlist of the Celebration Sirowsky's Main Masterlist

   It’s been over a month when he’s finally discharged from the hospital, and it feels so good to be back home.    Of course, his last mission with the Heroics had to have gone bad, sending him into retirement with a bang. He’s not sure why he ever expected that it would just go smoothly, because that’s almost never been the case in the past.

   Thankfully though, he is alive and well on his way back to normal, surrounded by family and friends, all of whom have been there for him every step of the way.    He still has a long way to go with months of physical therapy to get through before he’ll be considered fully recovered, but there’s no rush. He’s got everything he needs right here at home, because that’s where his girls are.

   They’re in the kitchen today, preparing a small feast to celebrate his survival and homecoming, and he happily sits in a reclining armchair in the living room, watching the three of them bustle about, helping each other with the various dishes while joking around and having fun.    God, he loves the sounds of their happiness.

   Once all the dishes are finished, they help him get to the table since he still gets winded if he exerts himself too much. The long-term effects of a busted lung.    Then Missy calls for everyone’s attention.

   “So, I know that it’s Halloween this weekend, but I thought that maybe we could look at this like a mini Thanksgiving dinner. Because I feel like we all have so much to be thankful for right now and I, for one, don’t feel like focusing on anything scary for a good long while.”

   “I think that’s a great idea, sweetheart,” Sarah agrees, and Missy smiles at her adoptive mother before turning to her adoptive sister.

   “Is that alright with you, Bianca?”

   “Of course,” her little sister agrees. “You know I don’t like spooky stuff anyway.”

   Marcus hears them agree and start to chatter happily about all the things they’re grateful for right now, but his mind is drifting.    A light sting of pain from his damaged side has brought him back to that night. To the fight and the loss. The terrible pain that he suffered as his body was broken long before he lost consciousness.    How he’d tried to keep fighting to protect his teammates.

   He remembers every punch and every cut, followed by the unyielding pavement that had broken his fall, after he’d been hurled ten feet into the air, finally leaving him unable to rise back up anymore.    And he remembers waking up but being unable to ask about his team. Not knowing if he’d failed to protect them had scared him more than his own condition had.

   “Dad?” Missy’s voice reaches him, breaking through the haze of pain and fear, and he refocuses to find all three of them staring at him with concerned expressions now.

   Clearly, they’ve been trying to get his attention more than once.

   “I’m okay,” he assures them. “I just… needed to remember.”

   They know what he means by that. How he sometimes can’t stop the images, but has to let them live and be real, because if he tries to bury or ignore them, they come back in the form of crippling nightmares or unbearable headaches.

   “Did it pass?” Bianca asks quietly, and he smiles softly at her.

   “It always does when I’m around my girls.”

   That makes them all smile, relieving all tension from the room as they dig into the delicious food that they’ve spent all afternoon making.    And Marcus thinks to himself that it doesn’t matter what he’s been through, because the network of support that surrounds him will forever protect him from any real harm. Their love shields his heart and keeps the deepest and most precious parts of his mind safe.

   Through the care that they give to his soul, he has in some ways already fully recovered. And that’s what he’s gonna tell them that he’s thankful for, every Thanksgiving for as long as he lives.

THE END

I'm sorry for the delay @yourstrulylightstar283 but all the little stories I've been writing for this celebration really helped to inspire me to write this, so I hope you like it.

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[nirikeehan]

Hap Fri!! “Forbearance - Withholding response to provocation” for Dorian and Cullen the chess-playin besties?

THANK YOU RO I love them and haven't had much of a chance to write them. I got very excited and combined this with two other prompts. From @syrupwit:

And @highwayphantoms:

Though I definitely cheated and made that thin ice figurative.

Anyway here's a few glimpses into their friendship for @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1514

---

“Forbearance, Commander,” Dorian says with smug triumph. “You must have forbearance. Withholding response to—”

“I know what ‘forbearance,’ means, Dorian,” Cullen says, scrutinizing the board. The Tevinter mage has a tempestuous playing strategy, all flash and pomp — much like his performance on the battlefield, Cullen suspects. He’s trying to provoke Cullen into a trap, that’s plain as day. Cullen takes a more conservative move, causing Dorian’s brows to knit in confusion. 

“Fascinating,” Dorian mutters, pressing a fist to his mustache, elbow propped up on his knee. “You and your intellect always are a delightful surprise to me.”

“I assume that’s a delicate way of saying you expected me to be a meathead,” Cullen comments blithely. 

He looks up from the chess table in the garden rotunda and catches sight of Thalia entering from Skyhold’s Main Hall. The late afternoon sun catches the auburn in the plait she’s coiled around her head, making it glow like a halo. His mouth feels dry as he watches her, unseen, head to the herbalist to discuss the current potted crop. 

“Meathead? Hardly,” says Dorian, oblivious. “I assumed the Inquisition wouldn’t let an idiot run their army. Now — uncultured? Well, you are from the wilds of…” 

He looks up and trails off once he sees Cullen’s face. He turns and follows the Commander’s gaze. “Ah. My, my. The Inquisitor, eh?” 

“What?” Cullen shakes his head to clear it. “Er, no, of course not. I’ve no idea what you mean.” 

A wide grin spreads across Dorian’s face. Shit-eating is what some of the crasser Templars Cullen has known would call it. “Methinks he doth protest too much.” He chuckles. “I encourage it, my friend. I’m sure she’s lonely, after I had to let her down gently.”

“You?” Cullen cries. “She tried to—?”

“Girlish flirtation only, I assure you,” Dorian says, holding up a hand to calm him. “I got the impression she’s not got much practice, shut away in the Circle all those years. Though who can blame her? I am so devilishly handsome, after all.”

Cullen snorts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Dorian’s tone turns serious as he once again contemplates the chess board. “But you ought to take the initiative soon, I reckon. The moon eyes she makes at that brutish Grey Warden when we’re in the field together are quite unseemly.” 

Cullen stares, unsure if he’s joking. Dorian puts Cullen’s king in check and smirks. “Your move.” 

—

“What must one do to get a decent glass of Minrathous red around here?” Dorian grumbles at the diminutive barkeep. 

“Pay for importing costs,” grunts Cabot, unimpressed. 

With a tragic sigh, Dorian opts for a local pint of what looks like nug urine and resigns himself to the depths of Herald’s Rest. The tavern is bustling this eve, full of off-duty soldiers, mercenaries, pilgrims and the like. Skyhold has become quite the tourist destination — though given the limited options this far into backwater country, no wonder people are flocking here in droves. 

Dorian has brought along an esoteric tome on the principles of time magic and plans to tuck himself into a nook and read until he comes too drunk to continue. Unfortunately, his journey to the desired alcove is blocked by several large soldiers bearing the Inquisition’s crest. They are deep in their cups, and, Dorian can sense from a lifetime spent in the cutthroat circles of Tevinter elite, out for blood. 

“Since when d’we let Vints have the run of the place?” demands the first lout. 

“Since this one was invited here by the Inquisitor,” Dorian responds brightly. 

“’S not right,” says the second barbarian, even drunker than the first. “Vint, Venatori — I see no difference. You lot always thinking you’re better’n us.” 

“And the dark magic!” Chimes in the third. 

“Yeah, yeah. Damned sorcerers just runnin’ about, uncontrolled, unrestrained—”

“Ah, yes, social mores you’re unaccustomed to in this neck of the woods,” Dorian cuts in, smiling. “Good thing, yes, that your Inquisitor freed all the southern mages as well? So that we can all run about unrestrained together.” 

The thugs pause, too inebriated to sort out whether they’ve just been insulted. Dorian considers a small controlled burn of their breeches to prove his point. A little fear of the power of free mages might keep them in check. He sets down his drink, holding up his bare palm to conjure a flame. 

“Good evening, soldiers.”

The wastrels stand to attention upon hearing the Commander’s voice. Cullen strides into view, hand resting on the hilt of the sword he’s deemed fit to bring with him to dinner. Cullen arches a brow at at his men. “I trust you are not giving the esteemed Lord Pavus any trouble?” 

“No, ser,” grovel the unfortunate degenerates. 

“Glad to hear it,” Cullen says lightly. “It would be a shame if you three were relegated to cleaning detail twice in one month for insubordination.” 

The grunts give their apologies and shuffle away, imaginary tails tucked between their legs. “Where on earth did you come from?” Dorian asks, taking a sip of his subpar ale. 

“The corner right over there.” Cullen points to a round table laden with the tedious paperwork that must take up most of his day. “It has the best vantage point in the tavern.”

“Implying you were watching me since I entered?” Dorian narrows his eyes. 

Cullen shrugs. “You dress so sharply, it’s difficult not to notice.” 

Dorian lets out a guffaw; the Commander’s sense of humor takes him by surprise sometimes. “I appreciate the concern, but I had those ruffians under control.” 

“What was it you said about forbearance?” Cullen sobers. “Don’t let them provoke you. They’re just looking for an excuse.” 

“Mm.” Dorian feels a strange gratitude tugging at him. He takes another swig of ale. “Well, right now I am looking for a place to sit and read this dusty tome. Do you perhaps have room for me, Commander?”

“I suppose I’ll have to move a few stacks of reports,” Cullen quips, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “but I think I’ll be able to manage it.”

—

Cullen misses one chess appointment, then another. Dorian tries not to take it personally, until he does. 

“I understand you are a wholly busy man,” he announces as he strolls into Cullen’s office, “but it is polite when one must cancel an engagement to at least—”

He stops. Cullen stands in the center of the room, holding aloft a philter of glowing cerulean. Easily recognizable: no mage is a stranger to lyrium and its properties. But the way Cullen stares at it, like a desert-choked man stares at his last gulp of water, is unsettling. 

“…Are you quite all right, Commander?”

Cullen jolts, as if freeing himself from a trance. He glares in Dorian’s direction. “Have they not yet invented knocking in Tevinter, Dorian?” 

The enmity in Cullen’s voice surprises him. The Commander is a man of measured tones and biting subtext; direct aggression seems beneath him. Dorian crosses his arms over this chest, struggles to let logic win out over worry. The sheen of perspiration stands out on Cullen’s brow in the dim office’s candlelight. Dark circles stand prominent under his eyes, which are — feral is not quite the correct term, but not too far off, either. 

Dorian licks his lips, considering his next move. He recognizes what’s happening, even if he does not understand why. 

“Ah, no. You see, doors are not a necessity in my homeland. We simply go where we like, when we like, and enjoy a nice warm breeze in the process.” He keeps his voice light and conversational, inching closer — slowly, so as not to startle. “Might I ask what it is you are doing?” 

“I should be taking it,” Cullen mumbles, confirming Dorian’s suspicions. Cullen presses a palm to his forehead, wincing. 

“Why have you stopped?” Dorian asks quietly. 

“Because… because.” Cullen takes a ragged breath. “I cannot be beholden to them anymore. The Templar Order… I want to owe them nothing. But I… I need… the Inquisition needs…” The bottle shakes in his hand. 

“I see.” Dorian takes a breath. Crisis intervention? Not his strong suit. Charm them or mock them — or kill them, that he could do. He thinks of Alexius, of poor Felix, and he feels quite tired. “Then I think we are on thin ice here, Commander. That is the phrase they use in the frigid south, isn’t it?” 

Cullen blinks a few times, as if seeing Dorian for the first time.

“You take the lyrium, and you believe you are fulfilling your duties to the Inquisition, yes? But if you do, you are giving up something it does not seem you want to give.” Dorian tilts his head. “Am I right?” 

“I was told… the lyrium would make us stronger, better. Holier, even.” Cullen shivers at the memory. “They were lies.” He holds out the lyrium bottle, eyes pleading.

“Forbearance, Commander. Remember?” Dorian takes the bottle, relieved that Cullen releases it easily. He holds the Commander’s gaze, nodding. “Don’t let the bastards win.”  

[autisticlancemcclain]

There’s nothing like a summer afternoon on the backroads, windows down, wind rushing through his hair, My Chemical Romance absolutely blasting through the shitty speakers of his ‘93 Corolla. (Yeah, yeah, Emo Joke Here, blah blah blah. MCR is good, okay, and The Black Parade is an excellent summer album.)

Keith yells along to the lyrics, loud enough to hear himself over the speakers, absolutely tearing down the road. If Lance was here he’d be whooping in the passenger seat, yelling just as loud as Keith. Keith presses the gas just a little more — he must be going 90 now, yeesh — wanting to get home as fast as he can.

“Love! Gimme love! Gimme love! I don’t need it but I’ll take what I want from your heart and I’ll keep it —”

A small beep interrupts his song, and Keith steps off the gas pedal a bit, glancing at his phone.

Notification from: Messages

my sweetheart 💙:

i am Very Bored and Lonely.

Keith looks back up to the road, slowing down and pulling over to the gravel shoulder. He checks both ways for cops, not seeing any, and quickly puts on his hazards.

He knows exactly what that kinda text means.

He taps on the notifications, quickly opening his conversation with Lance, seeing the little bubble indicating he’s still typing.

my sweetheart 💙:

so i’ve been getting really into choose-your-own-adventure books lately 😏

me:

oh yeah baby?

Keith feels his heart rate pick up, and he bites his lip. Yeah, he wants to get home, but he can definitely make a pit stop for this. He exits the conversation quickly as Lance is typing, opening up Spotify and playing their sexy playlist.

No one else is on this road, okay? There’s nothing but farmland for miles. It’s fine.

Finally, the typing bubble fades and Lance’s text pops up.

my sweetheart 💙:

mhmmmmm it gave me an idea 😈

my sweetheart 💙:

You are sitting next to me on the couch. Do you:

a) put your hand on my leg

b) kiss my neck

c) put your tongue in my ear

Keith can feel something hot and tight building in his gut, and he bites his lip, exhaling sharply through his nose.

me:

oh shit i like this a lot

me:

i like where this is going

me:

B

Keith palms at the hardening tent in his jeans, eagerly awaiting what comes next. God, Lance is so perfect for him. He’s always got a million and ten ideas, always throwing Keith in for a loop. It’s not like sexting is something particularly saucy or unique, but somehow Lance makes everything with him exciting.

The ‘ding’ notification that accompanies the typing bubble finally becoming a message could not get Keith’s attention fast enough, and his eyes rush to his phone immediately.

my sweetheart 💙:

Egads! A trap! The cushion beneath you gives way, plummeting you to a horrible cavern filled with ropes.

my sweetheart 💙:

Wait a minute. Ropes don’t move

my sweetheart 💙:

Snakes!!!

Keith busts out laughing, hand immediately leaving the front of his jeans in favour of pressing his hand to his eyes. His ears are still burning. This fucking dork.

me:

jesus

me:

what are my options now?

my sweetheart 💙:

no options. the snakes bit off ur penis u are dead

my sweetheart 💙:

can u bring me home a baja blast please

Keith snorts again, hard-on fully fading. Yeah, Keith loves this little shit. Lance knows damn well what he’s doing. He replies a quick ‘yes, you fucker,’ before switching his music back from the sexy playlist. He checks that it’s safe — road’s still 100% empty — and pulls back out, making a turn at the first stop sign to get to Taco Bell.

Lance may be a shit, but he’s a shit who’s gonna get his Baja Blast, dammit.

—

“Lance?” Keith calls, shutting the door to their apartment behind him. He hears quiet giggling from the living room, and rolls his eyes fondly before making his way over.

“Hello, you little brat,” Keith greets as he sees Lance, who is wearing tiny shorts and one of Keith’s t-shirts and smirking at him.

“Hi,” Lance replies, still giddy.

“I brought you your Baja Blast, and a taco, even though you don’t deserve it.”

Lance brightens, making Keith grin despite himself.

His boyfriend is very cute.

The cute boyfriend in question makes grabby hands, and Keith huffs, teasingly pretending to consider it.

“I dunno,” he says, tapping his chin as if in deep thought. “Do I give you this taco I bought, or do I just eat it?”

Lance pouts at him, making his already big brown doe eyes even bigger and more doe-like. Keith chuckles, gesturing for Lance to scoot over on the couch.

“Put those eyes away, you minx. You know damn well I’ll do anything you want without them.”

Lance laughs delightedly, grabbing his taco and tearing into it. “Yeah, I know,” he says around a mouthful of food, which would be disgusting was Keith not so distressingly in love with him. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger, babe. It’s very embarrassing for you.”

Keith snorts but doesn’t deny it, because there’s literally nothing he can do to deny it. Lance has him completely whipped, unfortunately.

“Okay, Mr. Got-A-Job-At-A-Car-Dealership-Just-To-Talk-To-Me.”

“Hey, I’m just as whipped for you, never said I wasn’t. I just think it’s very funny that I intentionally got you up and running, left you hanging —” here Lance giggles again, the idea of a sexually frustrated Keith apparently too funny to tamp down his laughter — “and you still ran errands for me. Simp.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at him, then pauses what he’s doing, carefully grabbing his and Lance’s tacos and setting them on the coffee table, before turning to Lance with heated eyes.

Lance realises what’s going on just a second too late.

“No no no no no —” he scrambles backwards, desperately trying to get away, but it’s too late. Keith pounces, digging his fingers into Lance’s sides, making him shriek was laughter.

“G — get off, you big lug!”

Lance writhes around, attempting to buck Keith off, but Keith has him pinned. After several minutes of constant assault, though, Keith is feeling a little merciful, and grabs Lance’s wrists, pinning them above his head. He leans down, close enough that Lance’s eyes cross trying to look at him.

“You are a menace,” Keith says seriously.

Lance giggles again, wrapping his legs around Keith’s hips. “I know,” he whispers, leaning up to brush his lips against Keith’s. “You like it.”

“Mhm.” Keith presses back, licking lightly into his mouth. “I like all of you.”

———

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