#and the other one doesn’t care about anyone but herself

[yanderelovebites]

Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 18

MASTERLIST

Delilah leaned against the locker room bench, utterly drained. Her body ached in places she didn’t even know could hurt, and the weight of exhaustion pressed on her chest like a boulder. Last night had been… intense, to say the least. Between the altercation with Yandi, the stress of competition, and her “training” session in her room with Josh, she’d barely managed to scrape together two hours of sleep. Now, the morning tournament loomed over her like a cruel taskmaster, demanding strength she wasn’t sure she had left.

The locker room buzzed with quiet conversation as a few girls chatted in the corner. Their laughter felt distant and foreign, like it came from another world where people weren’t suffocating under the weight of expectations. Delilah couldn’t bring herself to join in—or even to care. If she could just survive this day without anyone bothering her, she’d consider it a victory.

She had just finished lacing up her boots when a voice cut through her solitude.

“You hear that Yandi got kicked out of the tournament?”

Delilah glanced up to see a young, dark-skinned woman, bright-eyed and confident, plop down beside her. The girl grinned, clearly expecting some kind of response, but Delilah’s exhaustion wouldn’t let her muster more than a faint shrug.

“Thanks, by the way,” the girl continued, undeterred. “That’s one less bitch to worry about.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Right,” she replied coolly, returning to her bag for a roll of tape. The news should have brought her some relief—Yandi had been an absolute menace to her—but right now, even relief felt like too much effort.

“I’m Temi,” the girl introduced herself, extending a hand into Delilah’s line of sight. When Delilah didn’t reciprocate, Temi simply cracked her knuckles and leaned back against the lockers. “Brrr, cold. Everyone knows she started the fight, so you can chill. You don’t gotta worry about that bitch no more.”

Before Delilah could respond, Temi stood and gave her a friendly pat on the back. “She was just jealous. She’s about the only girl in this locker room that hasn’t fucked a famous wrestler at some point.”

Delilah froze mid-wrap, her head snapping up to meet Temi’s smirking gaze. “Excuse me?”

Temi shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret, is it? You’ve been hanging out with Jey, right? People talk.”

Delilah’s stomach churned. “How do they even know that?”

Temi chuckled as two other girls sauntered over, joining the conversation. “You train with, what? Five, six other girls?” she asked. Delilah held up five fingers, her expression guarded. “And you’re the only one with a WWE contract? Bitches talk, babe, mostly out of jealousy. Then Jey shows up at your gym a couple of times? Somebody sees him around town? They've probably seen y'all together, too. People notice things.”

“And they connect the dots,” one of the other girls chimed in. “Or, you know, they make up their own dots. Doesn’t matter. Somebody’s always watching you now.”

That realization hit Delilah like a freight train. She’d known the spotlight would come with scrutiny, but this was different. It wasn’t just trainers and scouts evaluating her potential; it was everyone. Every move she made, every interaction, every whisper—it was all under a microscope.

“How long you been doing this?” Delilah asked, trying to steady her voice.

Temi smirked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Six years. And yeah, I’ve been through it. We all have.” She gestured to the girls behind her. “Cassie over there? She’s been hooking up with Damian Priest.”

Cassie beamed. “He’s flying me to New York after the tournament. We’re spending the week together.”

“Lauryn?” Temi nodded at the other girl. “She had a thing with Montez and Bianca. At the same time.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Lauryn shrugged. “It was fun. They’re premiere athletes for a good reason.”

It was getting more and more difficult to keep her jaw from dropping. “And you?” Delilah pressed, crossing her arms. “What’s your story?” When the girls behind her giggled, Delilah's eyebrow shot up. "Who?"

Lauryn put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Temi here has seduced no less than three world champions," she winked, counting off on her fingers. "Rollins, Punk, and Drew. She was all their first dark meat." 

Shaking her head, Delilah’s mouth finally fell open. "Bullshit," she spat. "There is no fucking way."

Temi just nodded confidently. "Oh, there's a way," she assured. "Actually, with Rollins, there's a lotta ways," she smirked, reaching out to pat Delilah's shoulder in reassurance. "Listen, Yandi's a bitch. Nobody likes her, and now she's gone. Let that shit go," she advised with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do your thing. Go as far as you can in this tournament. Boost your profile. You’ll need it when you start training properly at the Performance Center."

As the girls filed out, Delilah couldn’t shake the conversation. Their blasé attitudes, their stories, their warnings—it was all too much. She turned to the mirror, adjusting her gear when another voice, low and cool, cut through her thoughts again.

“So you’re the one he left me for.”

Delilah spun around, her eyes narrowing at the woman who stepped out of the shadows, immediately put Delilah on edge. She’d seen her wrestle several times through this tournament. Chloe. A striking presence both in and out of the ring, her athletic build and confident demeanor commanding attention wherever she went. With a rich brown complexion that seemed to glow under the spotlight and expressive hazel eyes, her curls, often styled in bold, intricate looks, were as dynamic as her wrestling persona—a combination of grace and grit that made her memorable. Offstage, she didn’t interact much with the others, a guarded side to her, shaped by the challenges she had faced in a male-dominated industry.

“I come in peace,” Chloe said with a faint smirk. “I was listening in on all the bragging. Quite the stellar lineup of superstars, huh? If only most of them weren’t recycled. Like yours, sorry to say.”

“What are you talking about?” Delilah asked, her voice sharp.

She extended a hand. “I’m Chloe.” When Delilah didn’t shake it, Chloe shrugged. “You’re not the only one Josh has had a fling with.”

Delilah frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Chloe smirked as she leaned against the lockers, her tone casual but tinged with a deliberate edge. “It was about two years ago, back in Atlanta. I was out with some girlfriends celebrating a birthday—looking fine, if I do say so myself—when Josh and his crew strolled into the club after SmackDown. His presence was impossible to ignore; he had that swagger, you know? I caught him looking at me from across the room, and let’s just say, he wasn’t subtle. He sent over a drink, then another, and before I knew it, I was in the VIP section with him. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only woman in the room. Smooth, charming, with that cocky little smirk that told you he thought he had you wrapped around his finger. And yeah, I guess he did—at least for a while.”

Delilah was speechless. Sounds about right.

She paused, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve, as if the memory wasn’t worth more than a moment’s thought. “But, you know, it fizzled out. He wasn’t exactly available, if you catch my drift.” Her eyes flick to Delilah meaningfully. “Married men have a way of forgetting their wedding rings when they’re on the road. And sure, it was fun at first, but it got old fast. Sneaking around, his half-assed excuses, him dodging my calls when he was in town sometimes? Not my style. I don’t chase nobody, so I ended it. Of course, he didn’t take it too hard—men like Josh always find someone else to keep them entertained.” She flashed a smug smile. “Looks like you’re the lucky rebound.”

Delilah’s stomach churned as the words sank in. For nearly a year she’d been seeing Josh, and not once had he mentioned anything like this. The idea that she could be just another notch on his belt—the way Chloe clearly saw her—made her heart twist. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, but she forced her face to remain neutral, unwilling to give Chloe the satisfaction of seeing her rattle. Still, the revelation gnawed at her, a sour taste rising in her throat as she wondered if everything she thought she had with Josh was just another game to him.

But just as she feared, Chloe could see right through her thoughts. She flashed Delilah a kind smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie, that’s all said and done. It’s all in the past. Besides, I think I’ve more than upgraded.”

Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Chloe leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. “I woulda said his name out loud, but the NDA I signed means I can’t say much.” Her smirk widened. “I could show you though, if you’d like.”

Delilah couldn’t help but nod, curiosity getting the best of her. She watched as Chloe pulled out her phone. She handed Delilah an AirPod. “You’re the only one I’m showing this to, so if this gets out, it's you, and I'll fuck you up.”

Delilah hesitated, but eventually placed the AirPod in her ear. The video on Chloe’s phone played, showing a man with long, dark hair between Chloe’s legs, his hands gripping her thighs as her moans rang through Delilah’s ears. Her breath hitched as the man lifted his head, revealing Roman Reigns’ unmistakable face. He licked his lips, smirked at the camera, and growled, “Turn that shit off.”

The video cut, and Delilah stared at Chloe in complete shock.

“Hot, right?” Chloe teased, fanning herself dramatically. “That family’s got top-tier pussy eaters.” She shrugged. “But here’s the thing: to them, we’re not special. Just another warm body. Don’t take it personal. Use them for what they’re worth—get your rent paid, get a contract, whatever. But don’t give them your heart. That’s the game, sweetheart. If you wanna survive this business, you need to learn how to play it.”

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

Thankfully, the remainder of the tournament unfolded without a hitch. Delilah advanced to the semi-finals, where her journey came to an end. Though she didn’t take home the win, she left with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude for the experience. By the time she was heading back to Pensacola, she was content with how far she had come. True to his word, Josh had upgraded her seat to first class so they could sit together on the flight back. It wasn’t just a plane ride; it felt like their own private six-hour date in the sky.

They made the most of every moment. Between sharing a few tequila shots, stealing sweet kisses, and watching movies, they fell into an easy rhythm that felt both playful and intimate. As the hours passed, they curled up together, their seats reclined into makeshift beds. Delilah found comfort in the warmth of Josh’s embrace, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep with his arm draped protectively around her. For those fleeting hours, it was as if the outside world didn’t exist—just the two of them savoring what little time they had left.

But as the plane began its descent into Pensacola, reality crept back in. Delilah’s chest tightened with the weight of what was coming next. When the wheels touched down, she felt a sharp pang in her heart, knowing this was the moment they’d part ways for good. The knowledge made her throat ache, and she wished, just for a second, that they had a little more time.

The private wing of the airport felt colder than it should have, the early morning silence pressing heavily on Delilah’s chest. Josh stood in front of her, his duffel slung casually over his shoulder, but his eyes told a different story—there was a heaviness in them that mirrored the ache in her heart. They had shared so many moments, stolen kisses, and whispered secrets over the past year, but this felt like the end of something neither of them was truly ready to let go of.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of their unspoken goodbye. “So this is it, huh,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though speaking louder would shatter the fragile connection still lingering between them.

Delilah bit her lip, willing herself not to cry, but it was a losing battle. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “This is it.” Her words trembled under the weight of her emotions. She knew this was the right decision—for her career, for her sanity—but it didn’t make it any easier to let go of someone who had become so much a part of her world.

Josh stepped closer, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip, a touch so gentle it made her knees weak. “You gon’ miss me?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with an undeniable sadness.

Delilah’s lip trembled despite her best efforts, and her eyes filled with tears. “More than you’ll ever know,” she admitted, her voice cracking. The truth of it burned in her throat. She would miss the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the room, the way he always knew just what to say to calm her nerves. She would miss everything about him, and the thought of not having him in her life felt unbearable.

Josh didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear the moment she let go, her tears soaking into his shirt. 

“I don’t wanna let you go,” she whispered, her voice breaking with raw emotion.

He pressed his lips to her hair, his own voice thick with longing. “Then don’t.” The words hung in the air between them—a plea, a promise, and a goodbye all at once.

Delilah pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hand resting on his cheek. “We have to,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears clogging it. “I can’t do this right now, Josh. I need to focus on my career, and you—” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You need to figure out what you want.”

Josh’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue, might ask her to stay, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to ignite a fire; it was the kind meant to say everything he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “Take care, Delilah,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

“You too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She forced a weak smile, though her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. “And thank you… for everything.”

Josh just nodded, his dark eyes searching hers for a moment longer before he stepped back, creating a distance that felt insurmountable. For a split second, Delilah considered running after him, begging him to stay, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. She had to let him go.

As she watched him walk away, her chest tightened, the reality of their parting sinking in. Tank, standing a few feet away, awkwardly cleared his throat and gestured toward the waiting car. Delilah wiped at her tears, slipping on her sunglasses to hide the evidence of her heartbreak. Tank nudged her shoulder gently as they walked to the car. “You did the right thing, kid,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “He gets that.”

Delilah nodded, but the words offered little comfort. As the car pulled away, she stared out the window, replaying every moment with Josh in her mind—the laughter, the fights, the stolen moments that had made the past several months unforgettable. She knew she’d made the right choice, but the ache in her chest told her it was going to be a long time before she stopped missing him.

She was pulling up to her sister Simone’s front door when her phone rang. The area code wasn’t from here, and she didn't recognize the number. Still, something pushed at her to answer the call. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Delilah Parrish, please?" the sweet voice on the other end asked.

Delilah leaned her hip against her suitcase. "Yes, this is Delilah," she responded, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Hi Delilah, my name is Emilia, and I'm with Dr. Gonzalez's office in Orlando," she said, "You came in for a physical last week?" she questioned.

Nodding and exhaling a sigh of relief, Delilah cleared her throat. "Yes, I did," she assured the nurse. As part of the recruitment process, WWE had requested she take a physical with their recommended medical facility. Delilah had done it with zero issues. She was determined that nothing was going to hinder her commencing training at the PC, and though she knew she was in good health, she would jump through any other hoop they asked to prove it.

"Well," Emilia spoke with a cheerful smile that for some reason was grating Delilah's nerves in her current state of mind. "Everything looks great. You're healthy as a horse, and we just sent the results to you via email," she said. "However, there’s just one thing that we want to make sure you are aware of, considering the degree of physicality you regularly engage in." Emilia cleared her throat. "You’re pregnant, Miss Parrish. Congratulations."

—————–

😬😬😬😬

Thoughts?

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[stxrslutrestored]

GOSSIP GIRL 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

new to the upper east side? not sure how it works round here? don’t you worry, I have you covered. sit back and put on your reading glasses while you become introduced to some of our very own gossip girl regulars 𐙚 enjoy!

gossip sweetheart, at first glance, and second, she’s the nicest girl on the upper east side, kind and well mannered, well educated and seemingly well seasoned (within her world at least). she’s the perfect amount of sheltered and innocent, but don’t let that fool you, she can get what she wants when she wants it. 

to be on her bad side is what some might consider social suicide. because to have sweetheart mad at you, you have to have done something. 

those who know her personally will get to know a much sillier girl, one who jumps easily and then plays it off like nothing. who makes stupid pop culture jokes and gets herself in shenanigans to no end.  

sarah cameron fits into her lifestyle perfectly. much like sweetheart, she’s the perfect girl for the upper east side, making the second half of the it girl duo that we love so much. sarah is classy when she needs to be, yet on the more informal side, we at gossip girl know that she has some other, less precious tendencies. 

sarah cameron is a party girl, known to be in the clubs with a new man every night. for a girl with such a good reputation, sarah cameron certainly has a dark side outside the bubble wrap of upper east side life. 

kiara carrera is somewhat of an outlier in the upper east side, instead of embracing her status and her riches, kiara chooses to live a more simple life, avoiding rich events at all costs. she spends her time hanging in brooklyn with those less fortunate than her. her money goes towards what she sees as good causes. 

this modern day rebel does what she wants when she wants. she indulges in her interest and lets be honest, she doesn’t care one bit what anyone has to say about her, or that’s what it seems like at least.

rafe cameron, the most infamous boy in the upper east side. nobody really knows what goes on inside rafe cameron’s mind,but everyone knows that he is really quite crazy. rafe is often caught in quickly covered scandals. drugs, violence, sex, you name it, if there’s something abominable going on in the upper east side, he’s involved. 

despite all his scandals, rafe still seems to make a life for himself. even after dropping out of college he lives comfortably on the upper east side, wielding his charm like a weapon to get whatever he wants. some say he’s set to inherit the cameron business and all its assets, but how well will that work out in the end? 

topper thornton, typical boy of the upper east side, facing no troubles or woes in his life. topper is laid back without a care in the world. some might say that it’s a sad existence to care for nothing but money, but topper disagrees, his life is easy, getting all he wants without lifting a finger, materials, rights, girls even. but will toppers life one day come crashing down when he really grows up and learns the harsh realities of adulthood. 

kelce rylan is yet another typical rich boy. always spotted with topper thornton, he has much of the same attitude towards life. kelce does whatever he wants and then pays as much as he can to cover it. to the naked eye he is just a regular guy, to gossip girl, we know there’s more to him. as one of rafe cameron’s minions, there’s nothing you can put past him.

jj maybank a total mystery, its common knowledge that jj lives in brooklyn with a deadbeat dad, and that he couldn’t care less about anything to do with the upper east side life. so how is this boy at constance? that’s a secret not even I can tell you. 

jj is constance academy’s resident bad boy, hanging on to his place in the school by a thread it seems. with a constantly scuffled uniform and a generally intoxicated demeanor, jj maybank still manages to carry a certain charm, and it does make him somewhat of a ladies man. 

pope heyward the star student. at constance on a scholarship by some sweet miracle, his one priority is to make it to an Ivy league and finish his education with straight A’s.

a sweet boy, a kind boy. pope heyward is the perfect gentleman. he spends his free time helping out at the family cafe, a staple for the brooklyn gang.

whilst pope heywards life seems simple, it will most likely become apparent that one little push will be enough to send everything crashing down

john b routlege, brookyns heartthrob. high status enough for constance, but not for anything else. rumour has it his father found a lost city of gold and became rich, not many believe it. a lottery win seems more likely.

john b is hard working, determined, loving and caring, the perfect boy to many. as he hangs out with the other brooklyn boys and only just scrapes by at constance, he makes the perfect other half to our very own JJ maybank

barry rodriguez, the local dealer in simple terms. nobody really knows who he is or where he comes from, but they do know he gets the good stuff. barry supplies the entire upper east side, he’s particularly well known to be around rafe cameron, whatever kind of deal they have, nobody really knows.

now you know what the upper east side is about, who everyone is and how it works.

and who am I? that’s one secret I’ll never tell. xoxo, gossip girl

[inthelibrarybtw]

get to know college!student!reader

college!student!reader who is naturally smart, and loves studying, it can get a little too much because she hates to get less than a B in her classes, in high school she got a C once and almost cried her eyes out (no one knows about this) she’s not a party girl, she’s more into staying in watching a movie with her friends, baking and if she’s alone reading a book. baking usually is like a coping mechanism that shows up around finals and midterms because it becomes stress baking, but sometimes she does it for fun or to have a nice little detail for someone she cares about. 

college!student!reader who is very kind, just don’t provoke her,  hates confrontations but always sets her limits. her anxiety and overthinking can get the best of her, her friends know that and always reassure her when she’s having a bad day which is not that often but when it hits it hits hard. she has a hard time asking for help unless it’s her best friend from high school who sadly doesn’t go to the same college as her or kelce since they know each other since they were practically kids. she tends to cry when stressed, angry or when she’s exhausted and drained. 

college!student!reader who loves taylor swift and everything that anyone could classify as basic but she loves it, picking flowers, reading romance books, watching 90s and early 2000s shows. passionate for art and music, loves to go on walks while listening to music, you can catch her going to museums on her own, usually very independent but loves to spend time with her friends and people she loves, quality time is her number one love language and physical touch is the second even if she doesn’t like to admit it. who barely understands sports but when her friends invite her to football or basketball games, she goes to spend time with them and because they always go out for food afterward. 

college!student!reader who is an only child which has allowed her to have a good relationship with her parents, her high school best friend is like her sister, she loves her friends and respects them a lot. she’s really hard on herself, even if she knows she has people who will be there for her no matter what sometimes she shuts down and doesn’t speak to anyone about what she’s going through, shields herself with reading, and externalizes her emotions on playlists or listening one song on a loop as longs as it fits to how she’s feeling.

college!student!reader who loves to take pictures of everything and share them on her social media, it’s like her digital diary. her major suits her for that reason, digital marketing with a minor in graphic design, to in her words “make everything look pretty”. who is bilingual, her mom taught her Spanish since she was little and she uses it a lot when talking to her family and some friends. who is also very sarcastic, always has a smile on her face and most of the time she won’t verbally say stuff but her face sure will let you know everything before she even thinks about saying it.

authors note: thank you so much for all the love this fic is already receiving!! college!student!reader (aka Avery) is very dear to my heart, she has a lot of bits and pieces that I took from my life and put them into who she is. I hope you guys like her and get more excited to read about her.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[danyseastar]

this is an INCREDIBLY disingenuous take, which doesn’t shock me in the slightest despite season two utterly destroying the fanon perception of alicent many have made up in their minds.

rhaenyra did not want to marry laenor, book or show. it is a direct consequence of viserys’ inability to be anything other than a complacent door mat, and daemon attempting to sully rhaenyra’s reputation in the hopes that viserys will marry her to him. the only husband she chooses is daemon.

the show did her far less justice in that it created a storyline of rhaenyra being given a ‘choice’ or at the very least the ‘illusion of choice’ before being forced to marry. the situation leading up to it is roughly the same minus that aspect is the book. i have no doubt in my mind that viserys would have concocted some scheme to bring the velaryon’s back into the fold regardless of rhaenyra’s reputation being put into question, but i digress. i’m not here to talk about hypotheticals.

rhaenyra has no intentions of not ‘doing her duty’ or ‘not sacrificing herself enough’ in this endeavor. this person is purposely misleading with their usage of only part of the quote (the one that fits the narrative they want to push). below is the dialogue for the scene this person is talking about:

the conversation, as this person so eloquently put, is not about rhaenyra wanting to ‘fuck whoever she pleases.’ it’s two teenagers put into a predicament they don’t want to be in; one because she both does not want to marry and wishes to find love with someone else, and the other a closeted gay man with no interest in women. the full quote is, “that we perform our DUTIES to our fathers, then each of us dines as we see fit.” rhaenyra had no initial interest in not having trueborn children with her husband. this is further proven with the season one episode seven line, “i had hoped to bear your [laenor’s] children.”

another point i’d like to make is WHY exactly is it seen as such a character flaw to not want to be looked down upon, or taken advantage of? to want freedom and flights of fancy and the ability to be happy? a certain someone DID her duty, and she wasn’t happy. she SACRIFICED everything, and she still wasn’t happy. she ultimately decides to gift her sons on a silver platter to the enemy in her pursuit of protecting her daughter and granddaughter; after a conversation where she admits that she was jealous of rhaenyra, for finding that happiness she herself was unable to grasp. this is not a moral failing on rhaenyra’s part. i don’t care what the in world ethics are of any given situation, i’m not going to sit back and look at a system meant to hurt women and root for it, whether my favorite character supports it or not. whether i deem it the ‘safest’ option (it isn’t) for my favorites lives to continue. how is anyone meant to break the wheel if they continuously allow themselves to be stepped on, or god forbid uphold it for their own personal gain?

‘i’m supposed to root* for her?’ you don’t have to root for her. you’re not obliged to. you’re not going to be burned at the stake. you’re not special for siding with overt female subjugation because the only women you deem to deserve better are those who perform their duties unwillingly and sacrifice their bodies and minds in the process. those who don’t fit into mold of the patriarchy be damned, the imperfect victims that they are, the ‘bad’ women of society.

[wingsdippedingold]

On the wings.

I hate that we have to still have this conversation but so many (white) ACOTAR fans still don’t see an issue with Feyre donning Illyrian wings. I’m absolutely open to criticism and discussion, but if you disagree with what I have to say and happen to be white, I implore you to think of your own biases and think empathetically as to why poc feel this way. I’ve done my best to include real world examples in a tasteful manner to assist that, as well as real arguments I’ve seen and discussed, but we’ll see.

Now let me clarify, this specific part criticism towards her use of Illyrian wings is for SEX, and is more broadly directed to Sarah and the white women who defend the actions rather than Feyre herself. Do not dog pile me for being a Feyre or women hater, that’s not what this is. Okay? Okay.

She could be a paragon of virtue, but as long as the Illyrian women are still suffering under their rule, whether directly or not, it’s still wrong. It’s the equivalent of a white woman in colonial America dressing up as an indigenous woman because her husband thinks it’s hot. The majority of Illyrian women have their wings clipped; you might not think it’s morally wrong to shift into an Illyrian, but it is insensitive.

“What happened to pro-choice? It’s her body!” Okay? Pro-choice does not mean pro-bad-choice. A white woman doing black face isn’t okay all of a sudden just because it’s her body that she’s painting black. “But blackface is demeaning and meant to be derogatory!” Do you not think turning into a specific race for your sexual escapades isn’t demeaning? It’s a fetishization. Do you not think the fetishization of East Asian women by white men and only caring about them in a sexual content isn’t wrong? And before anyone attacks me for applying real world examples to a fantasy land, obviously these aren’t one-to-one, nothing can be when you throw in magic, but they are in the same vein of reasoning.

“But she modeled them after Azriel, her friend.” 1. Azriel is not and was not affected by the plight of the Illyrian women. His permission, opinion, or relation in the matter does not matter. 2. Just because one poc (which in the world of ACOTAR aren’t technically poc, but rather a whole other race, though that’s not the point) says an action is okay, doesn’t make the action is okay to the collective. I mean would you be okay with a white high school boy saying the N-word because his friend gave him a “pass”? Hopefully not. 3. Azriel was her only choice (besides Cassian) to model them after. The women’s aren’t exactly an option…

“It’s not a costume, she’s physically shifting.” If I get surgeries specifically with the intent to look like a different race, physically altering my body, is it all of a sudden not a costume and okay?

Feyre can take her wings on and off, Illyrian women can’t. Feyre can get all the benefits of their livelihood, without any of the hardships.

At the end of the day, the Illyrian women are still suffering, so using a part of the autonomy that’s denied to them will always be inconsiderate and insensitive.

[pamwritessometimes]

The Great Invasion: Chapter 1

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: In a world turned upside down, where monsters hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.

General warnings: dark themes, gore, kind of apocalyptic vibes, language

Chapter warnings: mentions of murders of hunters, horrible description of a fight, kidnapping, demons being demons, captivity.

Theme song of the chapter: Champion by Barns Courtney

Series masterlist

Chapter 1: The Hunter Games

The stadium was packed like it was Super Bowl night and Taylor Swift was about to perform at the halftime show. The air was littered with different kinds of noises, laughing, heckling, betting, heated debates over who’d win this match. Names were chanted aggressively all around the field, bets were shouted across the aisles. From a distance it looked like any massive sports event, even sounded like one.

Just one friendly match…

But upon taking a closer glance one could see it wasn’t a regular game, not by any means.

Those seats weren’t filled with your standard-issue fans.

No, these spectators were monsters in every sense of the word. Ghosts floated uneasily above the cheap and creaky seats like they were haunted by the idea of proper lumbar support. Ghouls gnawed on concessions — and occasionally on each other — while witches cackled from different corners like it was open mic night at a coven comedy club. Werewolves let loose howls at random, probably to remind everyone they were there, and demons? Well, demons were the VIPs, lounging like they owned the joint…. Because let’s be honest, they actually did.

All of them packed the stadium to watch the same spectacle: humans fighting for their lives.

It was a standard form of entertainment now, events like this. Humans, hunters, more specifically, trying to fight for their lives.

And monsters ate up the whole event, not being ashamed of their monsterness. In a chaos like this, anyone could mingle, blend in.

This was the first thing she noticed and was fathomlessly grateful for. Since The Great Invasion, she rarely left the walls of the only safe place she could find, and with good reason. Even now she wore a dark green cloak pulled tight and sunglasses perched firmly on her nose. The kind of low profile look that ironically screamed, I don’t want to be noticed!

But so far, it worked. No one seemed to recognize her, and she intended to keep it that way.

Once seated, she tuned into a nearby conversation.

“Eighty-eight wins! Can you believe it?” a demon behind her said, his voice dripping with excitement.

“Don’t care” grunted another. “She doesn’t look like much. Probably just lucky.”

“She’s more than lucky, idiot. She was one of them. A real hunter. Ya know, back before we took over?”

“Yeah? So what? All of them down there are. She ain’t special. I’m betting she’s done for tonight.”

Rowena smirked faintly to herself. This was the right place, then.

Y/N was here.

Down on the field, the coordinator strutted out, a smarmy grin plastered across his face and a ridiculous suit clinging to his body. He raised his hands, and the crowd hushed in an instant, sensing the greatest shitshow of entertainment was about to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fiends and freaks…” he began, pausing just long enough to milk the moment, “Welcome to the Second Hunter Games!”

It made Rowena cringe a bit; it felt like a tacky attempt to imitate human pop culture, but the crowd seemed to eat it up.

“As you all know” the announcer continued, “this is where the tables turned. We’re the hunters now, and they” he pointed smugly toward the cages at the edge of the arena where ten poor ragged humans huddled, “are the prey. Let’s see if they’ve got what it takes to entertain us, shall we?”

The crowd erupted again and the announcer basked in the spotlight.

The games began with the first hunter shoved onto the field like a lamb to slaughter on its birthday. He was tall, mid-twenties at most, but he had the look of someone who’d already given up. And let’s be real, he probably truly had. His opponent was a standard werewolf, if werewolves could be called normal. The creature took him down in less than five minutes. The crowd cheered but only half-heartedly during the first round. 

They weren’t here for warm-ups.

One by one, the hunters went out. Some tried to fight, others tried to talk. One even tried a heartfelt speech about unity and coexistence — he didn’t make it past “coex—” before a wendigo clamped down on his skull. The audience howled with laughter, blood spattering the arena floor like confetti.

Panem et circenses.

Finally, the energy shifted after the ninth round.

Here comes the main event.

The announcer strutted back to the center of the field, his grin somehow stretching even wider and smug enough to suggest he was about to introduce King Charles to a stadium full of overly enthusiastic Brits.

“And now” he drawled, stretching every syllable like he was getting paid by the second, “the match you’ve all been waiting for! Our reigning champion. The hunter who’s racked up more monster kills than you’ve had hot meals. Eighty-eight wins across countless blood-soaked battles. A walking nightmare for anything with fangs or claws. The only reason she’s not still out there handing you all your asses on a silver platter is… well, someone got to her first.”

The crowd roared with laughter.

“Give it up for the one, the only… Y/N Y/L/N!”

Rowena’s eyes were glued to the field, her anticipation was running high and it seemed like for a moment even Earth stopped turning. She heard a ton about you, some seemingly far-fetched anecdotes about the only hunter who could make it this far in this world. Just thinking about it, a strange feeling tugged at his heart.

Then you stepped out into the arena.

And for a second, Rowena hesitated, even looked crestfallen almost.

Her? This plain-looking thing? 

Was this the great champion she’d been sent to find, or were Jack and the trench coat baby just shitting her? Was she the one she was strangely excited to see?

Your appearance didn’t scream legendary hunter nor acclaimed champion, just… a plain ole regular hunter. Your hair was thrown into a sloppy ponytail and you wore a basic black tank top under a khaki jacket that looked more functional than fashionable. The only things that were new were your boots, but that seemed more like a perk of your status than an actual necessity.

However, for some reason, you didn’t have that desperate, hunted look that clung to the others’ faces. 

Then your opponent stepped into view and the crowd fell silent. 

He was tall, broad and built like a marble statue from afar, his every movement a study in control and power — like seeing a perfectly executed villain performance in a Broadway musical. His jawline could have cut glass and his eyes were cold enough to freeze it. He was dressed in all black, looking more like an assassin sent from the upper echelons of Hell than a combatant. Even his walk wasn’t just a walk. It was a declaration: he wasn’t here to fight. He was here to win.

Rowena watched as you faced him. No dramatic pose, no fear, just you, standing there, calm and almost… bored. Meanwhile, the guy smirked, already acting like he’d won.

The whole thing felt strange.

The crowd was a mess of cheers and jeers, half rooting for you, half betting you’d finally crash and burn. But Rowena noticed the phlegm in your eyes and your suppressed confidence that didn’t match the plain outfit you were rocking on the outside.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that you had something up your sleeves.

Then, the bell rang. 

The man lunged first but you sidestepped his hand and his attack sliced through empty air. It was all for a show, really. Any match like this was. You knew it, your opponent knew it, the whole arena knew it.

This is not how you fight a demon.

But that’s what the crowd wanted and that’s what they are getting. A circus.

The audience gasped as you landed a swift, clean jab to his ribs. It wasn’t a heavy hit but it was precise enough to make him (or rather his vessel) flinch.

Your opponent circled you, his smirk widening, but there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes now. He was used to fights that ended fast and messy, but you weren’t giving him that satisfaction.

He lunged again and this time you were ready. A subtle flick of your wrist sent a splash of liquid from a hidden vial straight onto his hand. The faint sizzle that followed was drowned out by the crowd’s cheers but Rowena saw it and so did he. His smirk faltered, just for a moment.

Holy water.

Rowena’s lips twitched into a smirk.

There she is. 

She had no idea how you managed to keep holy water on you (smuggled it, stashed it, conjured it, got it, who knew?) and she couldn’t understand why the other hunters hadn’t done the same. Could they not? But one thing was crystal clear: you weren’t here to lose.

The fight went on but calling it a fight feels generous. To be fair, you were running the show. You moved like you’d choreographed the whole thing beforehand, because you dodged his strikes like you knew everything was going to happen.

And all the while, you were muttering something under your breath.

Rowena tilted her head, her ears catching the sound with some magical help. Latin.

Her grin spread wide.

An exorcism. Clever little thing.

You weren’t just fighting him but you were dismantling him piece by piece.

Your opponent’s movements grew sloppier as his vessel started to reject him by your ancient words. Each syllable you muttered chipped away at his hold and every dodge, every counterstrike added to his frustration. The crowd thought he was just losing steam, but Rowena knew better. 

You were breaking him from the inside out.

Then came his final, and just as desperate charge. He lunged at you without actually realizing how clumsy his punch was. You dodged easily, stepping out of the way like it was nothing. This time, your voice got louder, the words now audible even to the crowd:

“…ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

That was it. His body jerked violently, a guttural scream tearing from his throat as thick black smoke poured out of his mouth. The vessel dropped to the ground, staying limp and seemingly lifeless. You just hoped the human was alright.

You stood there, brushing off your hands like you’d just finished a chore not a fight to the death. Rowena leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs with a look that screamed satisfaction while her red lips curled into a sly grin.

Maybe she isn't as fragile as I thought so.

You hadn’t just won, you’d also put on one hell of a show.

And in this world, where blood and spectacle ruled that was what mattered most.

Sunlight poured through the long red curtains, spilling a golden glow across the pearly white walls of your room. It was the kind of quiet beauty you’d never taken the time to notice and bask in before.

Your dad’s voice echoed in your head: It’s the little things that count. Back then, you’d dismissed it as sentimental fluff people spouted when life was falling apart. But now, sitting in this room that was yours, but not quite yours, you got it.

Because everything had fallen apart. Or maybe it was better to say it had been shattered. And now, the only thing you had left were the little things. The way the light slanted just so or how you could still catch the tail-end of a sunset through your window, even in this messed-up new world.

It wasn’t always like this. You still remembered a time before The Great Invasion, even though it felt like a lifetime ago. It hadn’t been that long, though. Maybe two years? Who knew anymore? The calendar didn’t matter when monsters were in charge and time itself felt like a joke.

The knock at the door broke the stillness and your thoughts’ overflow. You glanced at the clock. 

Six p.m. already. 

The door creaked open, and in walked Rommer, your suite’s assigned waiter, carrying a tray. His hands were a bit shaky and his posture was stiff but he still managed to hold onto that old-fashioned professional air. Well, mostly, since the tension in his eyes betrayed him: He was scared. Not that you blamed him. You were scared, too.

Rommer had been working here at the Mandarin Oriental long before the monsters took over, so he knew how to fake calm when it mattered. But the truth was in his eyes: he was human, just like you. And every time you looked at him, you were reminded of the kind of life you could’ve had. What other kind of slave you could have ended up as.

He was a little grounding point in your life. The only presence you felt somewhat safe around. The only one that somewhat understood you here.

The little things.

Once or twice, you even tried to make him stay just a bit longer, just to talk and exchange more than five words. You were desperate for human contact, even for just getting to know his first name, but he didn’t seem to be a partner in your little attempt — his rigid posture and tight lips a clear indication of that.

But again, you couldn’t blame him.

Anyone would be tense and terrified if a demon billionaire essentially held them hostage.

It was strange, this life of luxury you were given. A room in a five-star hotel with all the trimmings and a staff that treated you like some lower level royalty. By all accounts, it should have been a dream. But dreams didn’t come with the kind of shadows that stuck to every step you took.

“Evening, Miss Y/L/N” he said, setting the tray down in front of you. Not silver, of course.

“Evening” you replied and offered him a slight smile despite the oddity of the entire situation. 

“The usual” he nodded at the plate of perfectly cooked steak and vegetables.

You thanked him and stared at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world… assuming the other seven were still standing.

He hesitated, as if about to say something, but he decided not to. His eyes flicked toward the door where the demon guard stood, watching rather indiscreetly. With a quick bow, Rommer left without saying another unnecessary word.

You stared at the tray, the smell of the food wafting up to you. It was good. It was always good. But somehow it never quite tasted right. It wasn’t the flavor, nor the texture, nor the temperature. Maybe it was because no matter how fancy the room, no matter how golden the sunlight, you couldn’t forget the truth.

This wasn’t freedom. This was a gilded cage.

Still, it was the only way to stay alive… And better than a life spent running forever.

Dean was in his element. A wide, open garage with all the tools he could ever need. It was way better than the bunker’s setup. His hands were covered in grease as he leaned over the Impala, carefully tweaking something under the hood. Honestly, he didn’t care who to thank, Jack, Cas, or the afterlife fairy, just as long as Baby was here with him.

Fixing her up wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was steady work. Something simple. Something he loved. Something that brought him peace.

Metallica blared from somewhere, though he had no idea where. Heaven magic, probably, since he’d never seen a stereo in this place. Not that he was complaining.

Maybe it was the afterlife thing, but there was no rush here. No monsters to kill, no apocalyptic prophecies to stop. Just the hum of the engine and the whiskey-smooth riffs of Whiskey in the Jar keeping him company.

It was nice.

He could feel the presence of someone appearing in the background, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Sammy, hope you found a few glasses of cold ‘cause I’m running out here” he said, still focused under the hood of his car.

"Hi, Dean."

It wasn’t the voice he expected. Dean straightened up, glancing toward the garage door. There, standing in the sunlight with hands shoved in his pockets, was Jack.

Dean blinked, staring for a moment. It’s been a while since he saw the kid. Jack was still… very much Jack. He looked just as young as before somehow, still nothing like a god… more like a kid just stopping by to say hello. 

And as much as he wanted to hope this was just a casual visit, a “hey, how’s it going, maybe drink a beer or two” Dean couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t that simple. After all, Jack was the most powerful creature in the universe now — was it weird to want to grab a beer with him?

“Jack” Dean wiped his hands off again, eyeing Jack with a half-smile. “What’s up? You’re not here for a good time, are you? Because I gotta tell ya, I’m on a roll with this carburetor.”

Jack’s eyes flashed with something uncharacteristically serious and Dean’s gut twisted at the sight. Shit. If Jack was showing up here on a peaceful, lazy forever-afternoon, it had to be for a reason.

Dean straightened. “Let me guess… If the big guy himself is here, it’s gotta be an emergency, right?”

“It’s kind of an emergency.” Jack nodded.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Jack took a step forward, and just when Dean thought he’d get a straight answer, the kid held out his hand. A flash of glowing light flickered, and bam, Sam was suddenly standing there in front of them, a pack of beer in his hand, blinking like he’d just been yanked out of whatever peaceful afterlife he’d been enjoying in Heaven.

Well, he was heading this way anyway.

“Huh?” Dean blinked, half-amused and half-confused.

Sam rubbed his eyes, still processing what had just happened. “What’s going on, Dean?” Then his eyes ended on the kid. “Jack? Hey, how—“

Jack didn’t waste time answering, cutting him off. “We need you both. Something’s going on back on Earth. We gotta go to the bunker. Cas is already there.”

It was well past your usual lights-out when you heard a chopped Latin chant. You bolted upright in bed, the satin of your pajama top slipping off one shoulder as you fumbled for the first object within arm’s reach: your bedside lamp.

Damn Barbas. Of course, that bastard wouldn’t let you keep a single weapon for protection. Why would he? Keeping you helpless was part of his twisted game, though you weren’t precisely sure what that game was. Vessel or not, you loathed every inch of him, including that smug, sadistic face of his.

Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, and it didn’t take long to spot a flashing light flickering in and out in the middle of your suite’s plush carpet.

“What the hell?” you muttered, freezing in place.

Someone had just teleported into your five-star hotel room.

Teleported. Not walked, not snuck in, teleported. No human could pull that off. And with all the layers of magic and muscle guarding this place, no low-tier spell-slinger should’ve been able to either.

As the last remnants of the shimmering magic faded, a figure emerged, a woman from what you could see, her back to you. She wore a dark cloak, though strands of red hair slipped out messily from beneath the hood.

“Oh, dear, you couldn’t have been more precise” her Scottish tone rang out.

Your grip tightened on the lamp as she turned. Rowena MacLeod. The ex-Queen of Hell herself. Your pulse spiked, adrenaline flooding your veins as your mind raced with all the reasons to hate her. Maybe she hadn’t masterminded The Great Invasion, but she’d failed to stop it. Hell’s gates had burst open on her watch, and the world had paid the price.

“Don’t look at me like that, dear” Rowena said, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her face. “We don’t have much time. I see you recognise me, that’s great. Saves me a lot of trouble.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” You narrowed your eyes, heart pounding in your chest.

Rowena sighed dramatically, folding her arms across her chest. “No time for that little debate club. I’m here to save your hide.”

“Save me? Excuse my ass if it doesn't believe the former Queen of Hell.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Yes, my résumé does tend to precede me. But I assure you, I’m quite serious. Your little fortress of luxury here?” She gestured around the room with a dismissive wave. “It’s about to be less... secure.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as your grip on the lamp was firm as ever. “And why would you wanna save me?”

"Well, let’s just say the ex-Queen of Hell has her ways. I’ve been keeping tabs on you since the Games. You… are quite the showstopper, dear.”

“That still doesn't answer my question.”

She tilted her head. "Well, this place is guarded, almost as much as the hideout I’m about to take you to. And to your misfortune, I couldn’t get past the gates without notice."

The implication hung in the air. “You…”

“I know, I know, I'm a piece of garbage, yes, you can let it all out later. But right now, I advise you to get out of that California king and let me get you out of here before your not-so-lovely captors arrive” she said, her voice dropping an octave and with that all traces of sarcasm was gone. “Unless you’d rather face them on your own. I’d love to see their expressions when they figure you let me in. After all, you’re not exactly on the friendliest terms with them, are you? And I have a feeling they will jump to conclusions about me being here.”

Your eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation, she’d made it worse than you could have ever imagined. If Barbas’ guards noticed her slipping through the magically guarded gates, and you were damn sure they had, they were already on their way. And if they found the two of you together in ‘your’ room? You might as well write your own obituary. Forget reasoning with them. You were already on dangerously thin ice with Barbas and his crew. Seeing you in this situation would be all the justification they needed.

No second chances. No questions asked. Just the sharp click of triggers being pulled.

No championship would make them listen to you. You weren’t important to them, not really. All they cared about was your skills and the reputation they could leverage from it. You were just a tool in their game, nothing more

The words barely left her mouth when a loud thud echoed in outside from the hallway. Your heart jumped into your throat as Rowena turned her head toward the noise.

“Well, that would be them” she said. “No time for debate, am I right?”

Before you could process what was happening, Rowena’s hands were moving, her fingers weaving through the air in fluid motions. You barely had time to protest when the air around you shimmered and the world around you vanished with a gut-wrenching lurch.

“Y/N! You little piece of shit!” Barbas’ voice thundered through the room, shaking the very walls as he and his entourage of guards stormed in and ripping the door off its hinges like it was a cheap piece of cardboard from a bargain bin as they did.

His eyes scanned the room with the intensity of a bloodhound on a hunt. The bed was empty and there was still a faint shimmer in the air jaut above the plush carpet in the center. Barbas’ jaw clenched so tightly one could hear the bones grinding together.

One of the guards (probably the one that drew the shorter straw) stammered, “There’s no s-sign of her, sir. She’s... g-gone. W-with Rowena M-MacLeod.”

Barbas’ fist collided with the nightstand with enough force to rattle the room. The wood groaned under the impact. “Find them. Now,” he barked, his eyes seething with rage as they flicked over his guards.

That anyone he implied was a very specific someone that can’t know Barbas messed this up.

When the swirling magic cleared, you were standing in a dimly lit room that smelled faintly of dust, gunpowder and old books.

“What the—?” you stumbled forward, clutching your stomach as the nausea of teleportation hit you like a truck.

Shit, I shouldn’t have eaten all that steak.

“Welcome to your new home” Rowena said with a flourish, already brushing herself off as if nothing had happened.

“You can’t just—” you groaned, doubling over slightly. “I can’t believe you just did this!”

“Oh, no need for dramatics” she said. “You’ll feel better in a moment. And you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you snapped and you stood upright despite the dizziness. “You just fucking kidnapped me!”

“Oh, please” She scoffed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “If I hadn’t, you’d be in a demon’s stew pot by now.”

“Which you caused!”

You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing from deeper within this strange yet seemingly enormous building. Your heart skipped a beat and you turned toward the noise, tense and ready for anything.

Mostly for throwing a few punches.

A tall man in a beige, worn trench coat appeared from one of the doorways.

He paused and took a long look at the both of you, his expression was almost completely stoic but you could see a hint of some stress and worry buried deep within.

“You made it back” he said to Rowenaz then his attention shifted to you. “I see you found her. Hello, Y/N. My name’s Castiel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Next on The Great Invasion (Sneak Peek from Chapter 2)

Guns N’ Roses blasted through your headphones, drowning out every thought except the music. You made it your mission to listen to every cassette tape you found in the boxes. By the time you hit cassette number three’s flip side, the music was doing its job at making you feel a bit calmer a little too well. Your eyelids got heavier with every riff and before you knew it, you’d dozed off against the headboard. 

The music was loud enough to block out the creak of the door opening but not the voice that followed.

“Why’s there a chick in my room?” a gruff voice demanded. A pause. Then louder, like the words were physically offensive: “Listening to my damn tapes? Wearing my damn clothes?”

Maybe that last part didn’t bother him as much as the rest, though he wasn’t about to admit it. He was too busy scowling and reminding himself that this room, his room, was supposed to be his sanctuary. Instead, here you were, in his flannel, looking entirely too cozy and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but also borderline irresistible for someone squatting in his space.

Or was this Jack’s way of saying, Sorry I yanked you out of Heaven, but hey, thanks for agreeing to help me clean up yet another apocalyptic mess!?

Because if so—

Congratulations, hunter, you made it this far! Welcome to the bunker.🤭

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the Great Invasion! AndI also hope you buckled your seat belts because we are going to have a wild ride, I tell you.

Can’t wait to read your thoughts on this!!

xx Pam

Chapter 2: I Just Want A Little Peace Of Mind (coming soon!)

🤍Series taglist🤍

@thebiggerbear @spnaquakindgdom

🤍 Jensen taglist🤍

@roseblue373

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Hey imagine a Folly X Reader were It like this

Reader is like a dream entity like her Unlike Folly who is like a nightmare entity Reader is like a positive dreams entity and always give positive vibes tô Evreyone,Folly hated Reader......but does she Really hate him she Can't stop thinking about him

Folly With A Dream Entity!Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Finally got a Regretevator ask and it’s with my favourite Folly. Really enjoyed writing this since I love Folly a lot. Anyways hope you enjoy it. ~Dawn

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warnings: ⚠️Slight Spoilers For Folly’s Background⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Folly

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by Cubon_pins on Pinterest + Banner by Faelynn_x (Edited by me) on Pinterest

———————————

- It isn’t really a secret that Folly hates you. Well she is known for being hateful to everything and everyone in general but I’m pretty sure it was obvious that she has a quote on quote hatred for you. Most people kind of assumed the hatred comes from with her being a nightmare entity and you being a dream entity. One being considered good and one considered bad.

- But in all honesty I think her ‘hatred’ she has for you isn’t really that much of actual anger or anything of the sort. The thing is I’d think she’d mostly see herself in you a bit at least her old self. She wasn’t always like this she was like you, innocent and caring then she got corrupted into what she is now destroying all trust she has for anyone so seeing you having all these positive interactions with everyone it’s like looking in a mirror of the past for her. She hates it. She hates how kind you were to everyone even her. She knows that there are bad people out there yet here you are still treating them with kindness.

- She honestly doesn’t understand why you’re so insistent on keeping her company, you treating her with kindness despite her being the complete opposite of you. The fact you always see the best in people to your own detriment. Despite the fact she keeps pushing you away, telling you that there’s no kindness in the world you dispute what she says with a chuckle and just treat her nicely. It’s something she hasn’t experienced in a while and she honestly doesn’t know if she likes it or hates it. Despite this she hasn’t pushed you away or at least fully because for some strange reason she still wants to be around you.

- The feelings she has for you are weird. To her at least. She claims to not only herself but everyone else that she hates you with every fibre and being possibly inside of her but yet when she sees you interact with anyone else she feels something in her that she wouldn’t even dare to admit. Was it jealousy? Maybe. Not towards you but towards the others surprisingly. But as I said she wouldn’t dare admit that she’s jealous.

- I’d like to think that somehow despite her ‘hatred’ always found herself unconsciously being around you or wanting to be around you. Even she doesn’t know why. If you just so happen to mention something you’d like that she heard from someone else she immediately associates that thing to you. If she ever needed to talk to someone regarding the content of conversation she immediately goes to you, whether it being in a taunting way or a genuine conversation. It’s definitely obvious to the other characters. There definitely will be teasing coming from them, joking that she’s having an enemies to lovers momen moment with you. Even with Folly protesting their comments threatening them to quit if they still do it. Though mostly through subtle comments since they don’t actually want to face her.

- I do think you may be able to at least have a somewhat civil friendship around you at some point like seen in her interactions with Wallter. Having common interests in things like music, books etc. But it will take a while for it to reach that point though. Even if you do don’t expect her to be all buddy with you she’ll still be like herself just being more calm and civil.

- Honestly I’d be surprised if you managed to get her to be civil with you. Even with the unknown link bounding you and her together especially with the two of you being similar beings, she’s very stubborn so please be patient with her. You’ll be able to get her to let her guard down. Thanks to your kind hearted and empathetic personality.

———————————

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Why? (Dean Winchester)

Description: Y/N has a big secret that she’s kept but now it’s revealed and Dean doesn’t understand why

Word Count: 1,598

13 years. That’s how long it’s been since Y/N joined the brothers and the angel on their journey. She was 22 at the time. Young and oblivious to the true power that the universe held. Sam was like her best friend. He was always nice and welcoming and kept her grounded. Dean on the other hand was not nice to her at all. He hated the fact that she was with them and even though she was a good help he never said thanks. Sam and Cas did but that wasn’t enough.

As sick and twisted as it was, she was in love with Dean. She truly had no good reason for it. He hated her and definitely did not share the same feelings. She kept these feelings hidden away. Away from Sam and Cas, knowing that they would never understand. She would never admit this to anyone, especially Dean. But 13 years on the road with them she came to the realization and fear that she wouldn’t have to. A mind reader. What kind of sick joke was this?

The mind reader stood in the room with them as they all prepared to kill it in some way. It laughed or he laughed and walked towards them, Y/N took a huge step back but he kept stepping towards her. “Get away from her!” Sam yelled but he ignored him. “W-What d-do you want?” Y/N asked, shaking. She was scared for her life and not because this thing could see her darkest secrets, it might kill her. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek. She was in disgust but too scared to show it. He closed his eyes for a moment, reading into her mind before opening them again. “You’ve kept that for so many years.” He said with pity. Her eyes widened as she realized what he might be talking about. “Kept what?” Cas asked. She shook with fear now for two things.

The mind reader could tell that she didn’t want the secret out. He stepped away from her and her body relaxed. “Just a little crush or should I say a big one? In love with the enemy.” The mind reader looked at Dean who wasn’t catching on. “Who cares who she’s in love with? What’s this got to do with why you’re here?” Dean asked. At the same time Cas asked, “The enemy?” Sam stayed silent. “I’m not here for anything but some fun.” The Mind Reader laughed but the others didn’t. It wasn’t funny. “Please.” Y/N whispered. He could kidnap her or torture her but she begged silently that he wouldn’t reveal the secret that she kept in her heart all these years.

“We aren’t children, we don't want your fun.” Dean growled. The mind reader shook his head and gave her a pity look. “Not everyone is smart about loving someone. We don’t all make the right choice.” She looked away from him as she kept telling herself that maybe the mind reader wouldn’t reveal it. “I’m sorry did you not hear me?” Dean asked and stepped forward. The Mind Reader looked at him and smirked, “I think it’s you who didn’t hear me.” Y/N wanted to cry.

She wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She couldn’t believe the big secret she kept was about to be revealed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean was confused and maybe it was best he stayed that way. The Mind Reader smirked at him and looked at Y/N who was red in the face. “You can hate someone while they love you.” Sam looked at Y/N who was looking anywhere but them. Sam was the first to catch on in this sick joke. “Dean, don’t play coy. You know what I’m talking about.” Dean looked over at his brother who was staring at Y/N.

Y/N was red in the face and that’s when he realized. “Ding Ding Ding.” He looked back at the mind reader. “She’s in love with you but you can’t stand the thought of her or is that just what you tell yourself?” Dean wasn’t having any of this. “You’re going to tell us what you want or we will kill you.” Dean said to him. “I already told you.” Y/N looked at the mind reader with so much anger. She walked up to him and stabbed him with the knife but not in a place that could kill him. “My arm you bitch.” He growled but Dean finished the job. Without looking in his direction she walked away and out of the room. 

It was days later that anything would come about what was revealed. Sam nor Cas said anything about it. Dean sat in thought about it just like Y/N. She was in love with him? He couldn’t understand why. He was an asshole to her and always has been so why would she love him? He walked out of his room to see her in the kitchen making food. She looked tired, hell they all did. Sleep never came to them when needed. Sam was still in his room and Cas was somewhere else. Dean stood as he watched her make eggs.

She wasn’t aware that he was there watching her. She moved the eggs to a plate and grabbed the toast from the toaster. She took the plate to the kitchen table and began eating. She looked at Dean but said nothing. Dean walked into the kitchen and sighed. They had to talk about it, eventually. “So the mind reader just told us one of your darkest secrets and you aren’t going to say anything about it?” She almost choked on her food. “What’s to say Dean?” She asked without turning to look at him.

“A lot actually. I have been nothing but an asshole to you and yet you love me?” She nodded her head. What poor excuse could she make? “I can’t make sense of that at all.” Nor could she. “I mean years, you’ve felt this way for years?” She stood up and turned to him. “I’m aware it’s ridiculous Dean. I don’t need you to point it out.” She yelled. She just wanted to eat her food in peace. “There’s no excuse or anything that I can make for it.” She finishes. She grabs her plate to take it to her room. “Wait.” Dean says and she turns to him. “I’m sorry about the past 13 years. You don’t deserve that and I certainly don’t deserve your love.” She nodded her head and walked to her room to finish eating. 

The house was silent for a while. No new cases or anything like that. Y/N tried to avoid Dean the best that she could but knew that she couldn’t do it forever. They established what had happened and it’s done. Dean felt completely different about it. He never realized it but he wasn’t the nicest person to her and the fact that she was in love with him made him realize how truly horrible he had been to her.

Her room was next to his and never once did he think that anytime he could hear her cry it was about him. How awful he was and yet she loved him. Sam always got on his case about treating her differently but he could tell that not even Sam knew this. Dean heard noise in the kitchen and thought it was Sam. Sam who just went to bed was not the one in the kitchen, it was Y/N. She grabbed a bag of cheetos and sat at the table on her phone.

She looked up as she saw Dean. She looked back down at her phone, making him sigh. “I’m not done with this situation.” He said and sat across from her. “Yeah well I am.” She said. “Y/N please just give me something. Why are you in love with me?” She sighed and looked at him, “Dean, why do you care so much?” She asked. “You hate me, remember?” She asked. “I don’t hate you. Before you stabbed the mind reader he was gonna say that I feel the same way.” She laughed and stood up.

“Yeah right Dean. You don’t treat someone like shit if you love them.” She yelled. He stood up, “If you think I treat you like shit why do you love me?” He yelled. “Because Dean I know that you aren’t that way to everyone just the people you don’t like. You’re a caring man and you would die for Sam or Cas. Anyone that you care about.” “That includes you.” She laughed again.

“Right, Dean. Sure whatever.” She said. He walked over to her, “That wasn’t a joke.” She looked up at him, “It was to me.” She said softly. Just like the mind reader he put his hand on her cheek. Though this time she wasn’t disgusted. “I do care about you and I do love you.” He whispered and she closed her eyes. She wanted to believe that.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life getting you to see that.” She looked up at him and his eyes spoke the truth. There wasn’t an ounce of hate in them. His eyes searched hers before he did something he never saw himself doing. He leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back surprisingly fast. The kiss was short but sweet. Dean pulled away and placed his forehead on hers. “I will spend my whole life making it up to you.” For the first time in a week she smiled, a genuine happy smile.

[rubywillkins]

Lando Norris | Beyond the checkered flags

Pairing Lando × female reader

Warning smut, frenemy, insecurity

Y/n had always been part of the Formula 1 world, though not directly. Her childhood friend, Lando, was one of the most celebrated drivers on the grid, and their mutual friends ensured she was never far from the paddock drama. They had grown up together, thick as thieves but constantly at odds—a dynamic their friends loved to tease.

“You two fight like you’re in love,” Clara quipped one evening at a dinner.

Y/n smirked. “Please. His ego would suffocate me.”

Lando shot back, “And her stubbornness would drive me straight into the gravel.”

The room erupted into laughter, but neither noticed the fleeting glances they exchanged when the other wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t until a rainy summer barbecue that their dynamic shifted. Yn was sitting under a gazebo, watching Lando charm a group of fans who had crashed the party. She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest. Meanwhile, Lando couldn’t shake how Y/n’s laugh—melodic and carefree—seemed to pierce through the noise around him.

Later that night, as the rain drizzled down, he found himself texting her.

“You should come to a race,” he wrote.

Y/n stared at her phone, her heart skipping a beat. “Sure, let me just hop on my private jet,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Lando texted back. “Let me handle it. I want you to see me race.”

Y/n hesitated. She hated the idea of accepting something so extravagant, even from Lando. “I’ll think about it,” she finally replied, hoping he’d drop the subject.

But Lando wasn’t one to give up. Over the next few days, he bombarded her with calls and texts. “Y/n, don’t be stubborn. It’s nothing for me to arrange. You’ve always been there for me—let me do this for you,” he said late one night, his voice softer than usual.

Her resistance melted. A week later, she found herself walking beside him in the bustling paddock of the British Grand Prix. The air vibrated with the roar of engines, the sharp smell of rubber and gasoline filling her senses. She felt out of place, but Lando’s presence was grounding.

But the day wasn’t without its thorns. By the evening, y/n discovered a slew of toxic comments on social media: “Who’s the girl with Lando? Another fame-hungry wannabe.” “She looks so out of place. Clearly, not his type.”

Y/n tried to shrug it off, but the words gnawed at her. Back at his hotel room, Lando noticed her unusually quiet demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

She hesitated before showing him her phone. “It’s just...people online. Nothing important.”

Lando scrolled through the comments, his jaw tightening. “y/n, don’t let these idiots get to you. They have no idea who you are.”

She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s hard not to care.”

He cupped her chin, gently tilting her face toward his. His touch was warm, his eyes smoldering with an intensity that made her pulse race. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re incredible. And anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve to know you.”

Her breath hitched, their proximity electric. “Lando…”

Before she could say more, his lips were on hers—firm, urgent, yet achingly tender. Lando melted into him, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken emotions unraveling in the heat between them.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Y/n gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe I’ve wanted it too.”

Lando’s hands slid to her waist, his touch firm yet reverent. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/s’s heart pounded, but there was no hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere.”

What followed was a night of raw, unrestrained passion. Lando worshipped her like she was the only thing that mattered, He took her in his arms in bridal style, and than put her on bed slowly. "I just love you sweetheart so much" before she could even reply he just started kissing her hungrily... it was rough but with care...

He started to undress her while making out..

The moment the Bra was off of her.. he just froze.. he admired the her breasts like they were kind of sweet.. " lando stop.." she said while blushing.. "oh c'mon they are adorable, lemme taste them" he started sucking them like a hungy poor guy who didn't get food since days...

One hand pinching other niple while other was gropping one while he is sucking it.. and you.. you were a fucking moaning mess.. and than he slowly moved to your clit... And started drawing circles on it... He suddenly slipped his all 3 fingers inside you... You gasped... " Lando..be gentle Baby".." yea baby.. I will try.. i will try to be very gently rough"..

"argh you are so good lando"... He was fucking you with his all three fingers... While sucking your clitoris... And than... He put his dick inside you in a split second.. givinh you shockwaves every min.. or should I say every second..

He was good infact he was firee.. after some time.. you both cum together...

You let yourself fall, surrendering to the heat and emotion that had simmered between both of you, for years.

By morning, they lay tangled in the sheets, the first rays of sunlight painting the room in soft hues. Lando traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.

“So,” he began with a smirk, “will you come to more races with me?”

Y/n laughed, her fingers trailing down his chest. “Only if you promise to win.”

“For you?” he said, leaning down to kiss her again. “Always.”

From that day on, y/n and Lando faced the highs and lows of his career together. In a world of speed and chaos, they had found something steady and unshakable: each other.

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

Authors note

As per the pole results.. Lando Norris won by 0.6% from Oscar. I personally think it's almost a tie. So if you guys want an Oscar fic too than you can request me. I'll only be making the oscar fic after this if I get enough requests. So if you guys want an Oscar fic just after this fic than my next fic will be about oscar. Thankyou ❤️

[diari0deglierrori]

Seriously…. And then they ask why I’m mad so often

[riccissance]

taissa is so so tragic in that she literally can’t trust herself to keep her loved ones safe even though she desperately wants to… like, whenever she realizes things she’s done while sleepwalking, all she wants to do is fix it or keep it from happening again (assuring steve she won’t hurt him like biscuit while knowing she can’t actually do anything about it)… and she tries to fight off the other part of herself to keep them safe but only ever manages to make things worse (simone ending up in the icu)…

[thepromisedbride]

i don’t talk about bridgerton on here but just to clarify. i will not be having ANY eloise hate on this account. i will bite.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

I was rewatching The Stone Forest and I really like to think that Hilda had to pass by the Bell Keeper’s outpost on her way out of the city limits. I like to think that idiot looked at what was happening, shrugged, and said ‘eh, she’s the scariest thing out there’

[trolls-poppy-specialist]

okay now I need a fic compilation of what were to happen if carmen were to be sick in every episode of the series

like, getting taken by VILE or some team red comfort (especially with the introduction of dadowsan)…

[makotonaegiunderstander]

do you ever go do autism crazy for something you can feel it in ur chest. like it’s hard to breathe almost it’s making you gasp for breath and jump around physically. got an adrenaline rush thinking abt Kirigiri.