#but i learned a lot about life and a lot about how jobs aren’t supposed to be

[alphacrone]

i have a lot of weird memories from my first job out of college but one i come back to constantly is the time my boss took me out to dinner to celebrate something—my one year anniversary maybe? we were a SMALL ass company—and we ordered wine and she was this whole like fancy wine connoisseur or whatever (she THOUGHT) and the poor waitress brought out our wine in stemless glasses and my boss was SO APPALLED that she actually asked for a stemmed glass and the poor waitress has to be like, “ma’am we had an accident with our wine glasses earlier and all the stemless ones fell off the shelf onto me and broke” and my boss had to huffily drink her wine from a stemless glass and she asked me “isn’t this weird to you? doesn’t it make it taste poorly?” and i has to tell her, “im 23. i literally drink all my wine from solo cups.” and i’d never seen her so appalled in my life

[fxrmuladaydreams]

lucky red bull driver (mv1)

max x reader , george x reader (platonic)

summary: george may have made a mistake when he introduced you to mercedes’ number one rival

notes: george is so dramatic in this, it’s great. i’ll probably write a part 2 to this

next part

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re sure there’s a clause somewhere in your contract that says you aren’t allowed to be doing what you’re doing, but you can’t help it.

Being hired as an assistant to Toto Wolff led you into the constant whirlwind of a life in Formula One. You’d gotten to learn a lot about the sport, and a lot about the Mercedes team.

Constantly being by the side of Toto Wolff had it’s perks. You got to travel the world, go to all of the Formula One races, meet and become close friends with Lewis Hamilton and George Russell. You were living the dream of many others.

Then he had to come in and ruin it. He ruined it with his pretty eyes, and his wide grin. He ruined it with his snarky comments, and soft praises. He was a hurricane storming in and you were trapped in the eye.

You could blame the whole thing on George, claim that it was his friendship to Max that had started your romantic endeavors with the Red Bull driver. Whenever Toto didn’t need your help, you were allowed to do whatever you liked, whether that be sightseeing or just relaxing. Recently though, you’d joined George on his paddle outings, which was where you had officially met Max.

George often played with some of the other drivers. Alex, Lando, and Max frequented the group. You had quickly become friends with the others, what with them being close in age to you, and their chaotic and amusing behavior when around one another.

This version of Max wasn’t the version you were used to seeing on the track. That version was serious, a scowl practically glued to his face. He’d gotten into verbal fights with some of the other drivers, George included. But this Max was different. He smiled a lot. He laughed when George and Alex would start bickering like an old married couple. He gave them all a pat on the back whether he won or lost the game.

It was during a game when you first spoke with the Dutch driver. He had tapped out, claiming he needed a break, and sent in someone else that had joined the group for the day. He sat on the bench next to you beside the court, watching the game unfold between the others.

He made quiet conversation with you, just about little things like how you were enjoying your job, your friendship with George. It had gotten to the point where you had stopped paying attention to the paddle game and gave Max your undivided attention.

That is, until a ball came hurtling towards you. You saw it out of the corner of your eye, lifting your arm up and turning your head away so that you wouldn’t get hit. But the ball never came in contact with your head, instead it hit Max’s paddle, which was being held up near your head.

“Watch where you hit the ball!” He shouted to the players on the court.

George looked sheepishly surprised as he jogged over to you. “Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to hit it to you-”

“At her. You hit it at her.” Max corrected him.

“I’m sorry Y/n.” George apologized again.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

You take a walk with Max afterwards, looking to avoid anymore rouge paddle balls. The two of you refuse to talk about anything that has to do with Mercedes or Red Bull while you walk, knowing that if you did you’d be in serious trouble with your bosses. Instead you talk about your childhoods, about how the two of you actually started your careers in Formula One, and about things that interested you outside of the sport.

You were surprised to hear Max say that he didn’t really excel in any other activities. You were shocked that the three time world champion, the man who was at the top of his sport, admitted that driving was really all he was good at.

You laugh and shake your head as you return to the court. “I don’t believe that for a minute Max.”

“It’s true! Put me in a pool and I’ll drown. On a football field and I’ll fall on my ass more times than you can count.�� He grins as you laugh.

“Y/n, ready to head back to the hotel?” George asks making his way over to the two of you. His eyes travel back and forth between you, watching as you’re standing so close to one another that your arms brush against each other.

You clear your throat and take a step away from Max, your eyes refusing to meet George’s. “Yeah, sure.” You turn back to Max. “It was nice talking with you.”

“You too. I hope we can do it again sometime.” He gives you a smile, then leaves you to join Lando.

When you look back at George he’s got his eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to say something. You don’t give him the satisfaction, instead walking back to his car.

You get in the passenger seat of his car silently as he throws his equipment in the backseat. When he gets into the drivers seat he sits quietly for a moment then breaks the silence with a slew of questions.

“Alright, what happened? What is going on with you and Max? Did you tell him anything about Mercedes? Did he tell you anything about Red Bull? Why does he want to see you again?”

You stop the waterfall of questions with a hand on his shoulder.

“We just took a walk. No, neither of us said anything about our teams. And I don’t know George, maybe he wants to see me again because he enjoyed my company.” You last sentence is laced with sarcasm.

George rolls his eyes. “Yes Y/n, you’re an absolute delight. You know Toto will have a conniption if he finds out you’re buddies with Max Verstappen.”

“Well we’re not, so there’s no reason to worry.” You shrug.

You like to believe you kept that up for a while, attempting to avoid the Red Bull areas of the paddock, and running the opposite direction when you saw the navy blue team kit headed your way, but it didn’t take long for you to give into the tugging feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

Avoiding him turned into brief greetings when passing each other, which turned into longer conversations with each other, which turned into seeking the other out while at work.

There’s no denying what’s going on at this point. Race weekends consist of you sneaking into his hotel room to see him, sharing meals together, and falling asleep wrapped around each other in his bed.

You hide in empty corners and walkways to see each other, sharing rushed kisses and hushed words of affection.

If anyone saw you, with his blue polo, and your white one, chaos would ensue. That’s exactly what happened when you were caught. You were pressed between a wall and his body, your arms wrapped around his neck as his held onto your hips. One of your hands reaches up to tangle itself in his hair, knocking his cap off his head onto the ground.

Even though you’re quite literally wrapped up in him, you still manage to stay aware of your surroundings, listening for anyone who might pass by the dark walkway you currently occupy.

“No one is going to find us liefje.” Max murmurs against your lips. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head.” He teases you as his kisses start to trail down your neck.

His teeth scrape against your pulse point, causing a light gasp to escape you. You can feel Max smirking into your neck.

“And what if someone does find us? And they see me making out with a Red Bull driver? What will they say?” You lean your head back against the wall behind you.

“Lucky Red Bull driver?” He grins as he pulls away from your neck.

You scoff and hit his chest with your hand. He lets out a loud laugh, slightly stumbling back. You grab onto his shoulder pulling him back towards you and place a finger over his lips.

“Max! You need to be quiet!” You whisper to him.

He leans his forehead against yours as your hand drops from his lips. He looks down at your lips then back up into your eyes.

“I know how you can keep me quiet.” He dives back down to your lips and pressing you into the wall again.

In that moment you’re so consumed by him, by his kisses that become more and more heated, by his tongue that slips into your mouth, by his hands that keep a firm grip on your hips, that you fail to notice the sound of someone approaching.

“Oh god!” A voice rings out.

You’re quick to push the Dutch driver off of you, looking towards where the voice had come from.

George stands about three meters away from you, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hanging open. His eyes go back and forth between you and Max, who stands next to you, running a hand through his hair.

It’s almost as if the three of you are having a stare down. You’re all searching for the right words to say, but no one can find them.

You take a slow step towards George with a hand lifted in front of you, almost like you’re trying not to scare off an animal.

“George-” you start softly, but that’s all it takes for an endless stream of words to come flowing for the Brit’s mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! You and him?” He points accusingly at Max. “Fucking Max Verstappen? Do you know how bad this is? Toto’s going to kill you!” He points at you now. “He’s going to kill you, then he’s going to kill you!” He points at Max again. “Then he’s going to kill me!” He arm drops back down. “Oh god, we’re all dead!”

You take a few quick steps to stand in front of George, placing your hands on his arms. “No, no one’s going to die, because Toto isn’t going to find out.”

“Because if you tell him I will push you off track.” Max says.

You turn to give him a stern look, then look back at George.

“George, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Y/n…” he groans.

“Please George, please don’t tell anyone.” You beg him.

He glances back at Max who’s picked up his hat from the ground and now adjusts it back on his head.

“You really like him? Like you two are together?” George asks looking back at you.

“I mean…” You turn to face Max. You were far too busy sneaking around to actually put a label on what you were.

Max shrugs. “She’s my girlfriend.”

George sighs shaking his head. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t you have just dated Lando? Or Charles?”

“Because I like Max, not Lando, and not Charles. Besides, you’re the one who introduced us.”

George groans covering his face with his hands. “I’m dead. I’m gonna be out of a job and dead.”

Not much changes after George finds out. It’s difficult to get him to keep his cool at first, but quickly adjusts to keeping this secret hidden away.

To others he seems closer to Max, the pair occasionally walking together, talking to each other in hushed tones. What was once just an acquaintanceship has seemingly turned into a close friendship.

George, only after being what some may call threatened by Max, now helps you sneak around with the Red Bull driver. He makes up excuses as to why Toto can’t find you while you’re in Max’s driver’s room. He offers to roadtrip with you from track to track so that you can travel with Max.

Everything goes smoothly for a while, until a few photos circulate Twitter.

You and Max were very careful about where you met up. It was usually somewhere secluded, somewhere that others wouldn’t find you or wouldn’t be able to see you.

You really enjoyed being with Max, but the hiding was starting to take a toll on the both of you. You wanted to be able to walk into the paddock hand in hand, and he wanted to be able to sweep you into his arms after winning a race.

It was nearing the day that would mark 4 months with each other, so Max had begged you to do something special. He just wanted to take you out. He promised he would make sure that everything was quiet and no one would catch you.

After reluctantly agreeing Max had called up your favorite restaurant. He paid to make sure the two of you would be the only ones dining there, and that you would have access to any back doors to get in and out.

Surprisingly dinner went off without a hitch. The restaurant was empty when you arrived, allowing you and Max to have a quiet romantic evening with each other somewhere other than between the walls of either of your apartments. You spent the nights smiling and laughing with each other, occasionally stealing food off the other’s plate.

You left the restaurant and headed back to his apartment with your takeout boxes. You spent the night there with Max, cuddled up into his chest as you let sleep overtake you.

The next morning you woke up still pressed against Max. Usually he would stay in bed, stroking your back or your hair softly until you woke up, but now he was sitting up looking at his phone.

His eyebrows were furrowed and a scowl rested on his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask, slowly sitting up.

“I’m sorry liefje…” He hands his phone to you.

He’s got Twitter open, and on it are a few photos. There’s one of you smiling up at Max. You can’t really tell that it’s Max, just a guy in a white shirt. Then one of you kissing the same guy. Then the last is one where you can clearly see Max, his face now turned towards the camera.

Someone took these photos as you were leaving the restaurant. Clearly someone had informed paparazzi that you would be there, sneaking in and out together.

You can feel your heartbeat speed up in your chest. You give Max his phone back and reach over for yours.

You’ve also got a slew of Twitter notifications, as well as a few texts from George.

Are you alright?

I don’t know how the hell that happened.

I’m here if you need me. Either of you.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. You can feel tears start to well up in your eyes, already picturing what’s going to happen next. You could lose your job, you could be forced to end your relationship with Max, you could be sued for potentially giving Red Bull classified information.

Max sees your eyes become glassy and immediately pulls you into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/n.” He lets you cry into his chest. “It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay. I promise.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Once you’ve finally got your breathing back to normal you slowly pull away from Max. He gives you a soft smile, then softly kisses you. He kisses you once, then twice, then a third time, until you finally return a smile to him.

You lay with him quietly for a few minutes until you hear you phone buzz.

Your screen lights up with a text notification from Toto.

We need to talk. Thursday, 4 o’clock, my office. Bring Verstappen.

[buckets-and-trees]

Welcome Home, Pumpkin [spiced]

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Bad ethics. Zero impulse control. This is what everyone says about him. What will it mean for you tonight?

Content/Warnings: dubious consent, soft!dark story, use of pet name "Pumpkin," explicit smut (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), orgasm denial, groping, light choking, bondage

Notes: This is the second of three in a set of short stories with Lloyd served three ways - soft, soft!dark, and dark. The three feature the same setting, overlapping themes, shared thoughts, and bits of dialogue. Spiced is the soft!dark version.

sugar pumpkin | smashed pumpkin

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You shut the door behind you and sigh, happy to be home after a long day - a long week, really. 

You slip your shoes off, hang your bag on the hook by the door, and turn on some music before making your way down the hall to your bedroom, ready to change from your professional clothes to something comfy to lounge in the rest of the evening. 

You jump when a deep, serious voice you aren’t expecting says, “Welcome home, Pumpkin.”

Your heart rockets into your throat, and you grip the doorframe. “Lloyd Hansen!”

He chuckles, rising from the spot he’d been perched on the edge of the bed. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

He makes a show of bowing slightly, “And yet, here I am.”

You hesitate in the doorway, studying the face of the man you are now so familiar with. The steel blue eyes, the sharp jawline, the ridiculous mustache you hoped to avoid indefinitely. 

He looks you up and down slowly, then sits back on the bed. “Did you think I would really be stuck in a Lithuanian prison?”

You narrow your eyes slightly and chew the inside of your cheek. His eyes study you as much as you’re studying him, and you don’t want to give anything away. 

“Aw, you did. That’s cute,” he says, voice dripping in saccharine sweetness. “You should’ve known I’d be able to work myself out of there in two or three days, at most.”

You shrug. “A girl can hope.”

“Only one night, by the way, since I know you won’t ask,” he says, clearly wanting to boast. 

“And that was six months ago,” you counter. “I finished the job and got the paycheck.”

“The job might be done, but we have unfinished business, Pumpkin. And it’s more fun surprising you like this when you thought you’d never see me again, isn’t it?” he simpers. 

He might have been biding his time to drop in on your life again, and you can sense he’s eager, a bit impatient, but you also sense he will play this out the way he wants now that the two of you are in the same room together again.

And you hate the way you’ve been drawn to this man since the day you two first crossed paths. He is dangerous and untrustworthy. You operate in the daylight and occasionally step into the shadows, but he lives in the dark, revels in it. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re keeping from me? Why you took the contract in Kaunas in the first place?” he asks, lifting his chin just a fraction. 

And oh that look does something to you - the delicious swoop in your stomach that made you weak in Eastern Europe and traitorously eager for him now. 

“No,” you finally answer. Slowly, you take measured steps toward him. 

“Fair enough. But I might get under your skin enough to change your tune, wind you up, have you singing all sorts of secrets for me.”

“How much time did you spend thinking up that line? The imagery, the alliteration? Impressive.”

“Not the only thing that’s impressive about me,” he responds without a second thought.

You scoff, but there is an impertinent flutter in your chest you try to tamp down. He talks - a lot - but from the brief time you were in each others’ orbit in Lithuania, you learned he could back up his bluster with brains and brawn. A dangerous player on the board.

“How much time did spend you think about my fingers deep in your pussy like they were in the closet in that day in Kaunas?”

His words hang in the air, a bold challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. Your mind immediately flashes back to the last day in Lithuania, when you had been alone, hiding in a closet and his fingers had boldly started to explore your body. You can almost feel the heat of his touch, his breath on your neck, and his hard body pressed against your back like they were that day. The memory floods your senses, the smell of wood and dust, the creaking of the floorboards as the hired goons patrolled up and down the hallway just on the other side of the door. And now, here he is, asking how much time she had spent thinking about it.

You couldn't deny to yourself the way your body responds to his words, his presence, craving that same intense pleasure again, but you can deny it to him. You have to.

“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now,” you reply simply and walk over to your dresser, bypassing him on the bed. Methodically, you begin to take off your necklace, and then your watch, as if he’s not there.

“Want, need, crave…”

“Lloyd!” You gasp because those words are murmured directly in your ear, as Lloyd has moved with silent precision right behind you. 

“…those are all different things,” he says. He presses his hard body up against your back, pressing his pelvis up against your ass, knocking you roughly into the drawers, pinning you. “You may not want this, but need it? Crave it?”

“No,” you whimper when he grinds against you again. 

“Mmm, you made some pretty, soft sounds when we were hidden in the dark before. Wonder what sounds I can get you to make now that we’re not trying to be discreet.”

“We’re not trying to be anything,” you argue, squirming against him. 

“Anything with labels, no, definitely not,” he agrees. “But you’re itching for it, aren’t you, Pumpkin?” 

One of his large hands gropes your breast, and the other moves to your throat. He squeezes in both places, and you groan, a shiver ripping through you. 

He chuckles, “I see we like that.”

“No,” you whimper. 

“Boring!” he barks. 

In one swift motion, Lloyd hefts you up, flips you around and has you on the bed pinned beneath him, body pressing into yours. He growls into your mouth as he claims you in a filthy kiss. He props himself up slightly on one arm, and his other hand reaches to tear the front of your shirt open, rending the fabric in two. 

You look up at him, chest heaving, waiting with bated breath. 

He unbuttons the top of your pants and drags down the zipper, all the while looking in your eyes. 

“I find you wet, and I’m not stopping,” he insists, tone low, calculated. 

You could press your thighs together, try to squirm away from him, but he’s too strong, and you know what he’s going to find. You could even turn your head and look away, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His fingers dip into your panties, and he goes straight for the cut of you, slick and wet for him, and slips a finger inside. 

“I knew it,” he whispers. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in slow circles.

You moan, arching into his touch, unable to resist the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he murmurs, adding another finger and thrusting them inside you.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, unable to control your body’s response to his touch. He watches with dark satisfaction as you lose yourself in the moment.

“Lloyd,” you moan his name, and he chuckles softly.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” he coos, increasing the speed of his fingers inside you.

Your breath hitches as your orgasm approaches.

But then he pulls his thick fingers away, and a whine escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your body surges up, pelvis seeking his.

"You'll give me what I want," Lloyd purrs, his voice low and dangerous. He brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The sight makes you shiver involuntarily.

"Never," you breathe, but your voice lacks conviction.

Lloyd smirks, clearly not believing you. "We'll see about that."

He leans down, pressing his body against yours once more. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "I always get what I want. And right now, I want you."

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. His hands roam your body, touching, teasing, igniting a fire within you that you've tried so hard to extinguish. You hate how easily he can affect you, how your body responds to his touch without your permission.

Lloyd's voice is a low rumble against your ear as he pins you to the bed. "You'll tell me everything I want to know."

You struggle to catch your breath, still reeling from the sudden loss of his touch. "I told you, I'm not giving you anything."

He smirks, trailing a finger down your cheek. "Oh, but you will. Your body's already betraying you. I think you’ll give me everything."

You think there’s a possibility he could end up being right, because while you didn’t think of him much after Lithuania, the truth is you did think of him. You thought of him on some of the nights alone in your bed when you had your best orgasms.

"What's the real reason you took that contract in Kaunas?" he demands.

You clench your jaw, refusing to answer. Lloyd's hand slides back to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Come on, Pumpkin. Make this easy on yourself."

Your breath catches as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around your throat. The pressure sends a thrill through you, desire boiling in your belly despite your best efforts to resist.

"I won't tell you anything," you manage to choke out, your voice strained.

Lloyd's eyes darken with a mix of frustration and arousal. "So stubborn," he murmurs. "But I did hope you’d choose the hard way."

He takes off his belt and binds it around your forearms. He yanks the clothing completely down and off your bottom half, and then he’s between your legs, cock out, and pushing his thick, blunt head against your entrance. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "Last chance to tell me what I want to know."

You turn your head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Go to hell," you spit out.

He chuckles darkly. "Oh, we're already there, Pumpkin."

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Lloyd groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

You moan and push your bound forearms at his chest.

Lloyd growls, grabs your wrists, and pins them above your head in one of his giant hands.

Then he proceeds to fuck you.

Slowly.

He gives you what you won’t admit you want.

Over and over again he gives it to you, until you’re boneless, voice hoarse, throat raw, limbs aching, babbling, but somehow still fighting against giving the one piece of information he’s seemingly desperate to have.

When dawn is about to break, dazed and delirious with pleasure, you wonder which of you will break first - or if neither of you will.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

all Welcome Home, Pumpkin stories

Aaaaah! So with the second one, what do you think? Was this anything like what you were expecting? Did you catch the repeated lines?

...and will you be ready for the third and darkest of the three?!

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ruskaroma]

could you do a little drabble of an au of the reader and jw on their wedding night and tbe reader is like pure and naive and loosing her virginity to john 🤭🤍🪷

oh my god.. can i shake this up a little bit?

arranged marriage with john wick.

let’s say you’re the only child of a very powerful mob syndicate, and all your parents wanted is the best for you, so they don’t want you going around fucking with other guys that are below they’re status because it might ruin the reputation they’ve worked so hard to achieve.

so they kept you isolated.

you’re homeschooled, the only friends you have are the maids, the children of those maids and gardeners, you rarely go outside – and if you do, you have a bunch of bodyguards following you around everywhere you go.

of course, you don’t question it. you know your parents only want the best for you, and you know how dangerous it is to live in a world like this. you can’t exactly blame your parents.

when you turned 20, your father introduced you to a man named john wick.

he’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome you keep reading about in the books. late forties or mid fifties, you don’t exactly know. you just know that he’s a lot older and probably knows better.

your father had explained how you’re going to be marrying john and you were beyond ecstatic upon hearing the news. having a companion in life could open up to so many different opportunities. it didn’t matter that you just met this man. there’s so much time to learn about each other as you two plan for the wedding.

you didn’t ask your parents why they’re suddenly letting you marry a man because simply don’t care. too naïve for your own good. you didn’t know that your parents are only paying their debt to john and you were the only thing in their life that they could just simply give away.

fast forward to the night of your wedding day, let’s say that you aren’t expecting john to be so... rough during your lovemaking.

his actions are rough but his words are soft. it’s confusing you. you thought honeymoons are supposed to be sweet and slow, yet here you are getting fucked on the bed like some kind of cheap whore as john pulls your hair from behind and whispers filthy praises in your ear like there’s no tomorrow.

“my pretty little wife,” john grunts, snapping his hips against your ass, burying his cock so far deep into your little cunt that you could feel it in your stomach. you drool, stumbling over your words. “my wife got the best pussy – so fucking tight and pink. i bet you’ve never let anyone touch you like this before, hm? only me? only your husband?”

“y-yes – yes, john, o-only you!” you sob, clutching the bedsheets in your first as your pussy clench around his dick. “f-feel so full, j-john, feel s-so full – so big.”

“that means you’re doing a great job, baby,” he praises, letting go of your hair to drop his head on your neck, peppering kisses all over as his beard tickles your skin. “my little wife is taking my cock so well. you’re gonna have to get used to it, baby, because i can assure you that i’ll be fucking your sweet little cunt every single day that i come back home. gonna get you so nice and full again like this.”

[chichiscloset]

WHAT IS THIS SEASON OF LIFE TRYING TO TEACH YOU?

When you’re in pursuit of the life of your dreams along the journey there will be many seasons. Some seasons will be triumphant and you’ll feel like anything is possible, while others will be so difficult you’ll be unsure how you’re even going to make it through this season of life.

I want you ladies to remember, and as a reminder to myself as well, that the only constant in life is change. When change comes are you able to withstand the turbulence of life while remaining faithful and focused? And when things are great can you show gratitude for all that you prayed for and received?

“To whom much is given, much will be required”

I love that quote! It’s a reminder that if you want a lot you have to go through a lot. The best things in life are found through effort and experience. I know the “soft life” has convinced us all that being a “bad bitch” is enough to achieve the life of your dreams. However, in reality, that’s not all it takes! The life of your dreams doesn’t just appear! It is a treasure, and like a treasure, a hunt is required because you only find what you seek!

God/the universe, whatever you believe in, is always guiding you to become your best self. Let life mold into what you need to become, so that you can receive the desires of your heart. There is a lesson to learn in every season, and it’s your job to have enough wisdom to let life be your teacher.

At the end of the day, as much as we all want to, there is no avoiding the process or the discomfort that different season bring. If you are not already born into money you’re going to have to figure out how to get everything you dream of. Which means, you’ll have to go through some thangs!

How to embrace each session if your life?

I. PRAY

Pray, pray, pray.

Seriously! Without getting too religious, prayer works! Plenty of the darkest seasons of my life required a crap ton of prayer to get through the days. You have to remember nothing is happening to you, and everything is happening for you. You are where you are because that’s where you’re supposed to be. Trust that God has a plan, and it’s more beautiful than anything you could imagine.

Pray for guidance, pray for clarity, and pray for wisdom. Prayer has a way of providing calm in the midst of a storm.

II. SLOW DOWN

Take a moment to reflect on everything that lead you to where you are today.

Realize that some days will be productive, while others will feel like you aren’t doing hardly enough. We are all human, and growth is never linear. If you’re always moving and doing it’s hard to hear your intuition. It’s ok to slow down and listen to what the universe is trying to tell you.

III.FIND A NEW PART OF YOU TO EXPLORE

As humans we’re always evolving. We change the way we dress, the activities we enjoy, who/how we like to spend our time, and everything in between.

As you enter a new season of being take the time to reflect on what’s changing about yourself. Is it a change you like? Are you regressing? Take the time to explore and get to know this new version of yourself. Be curious without being judgemental.

IV. PRACTICE GRATITUDE

Practicing gratitude is the quickest way to call more good into your life. By being thankful for the good things in your life, no matter how big or small they may be it allows you to focus on the positive aspects of your life and acknowledge the good things that have come your way.

Some ways to practice gratitude include keeping a gratitude journal and expressing gratitude to others, taking time to appreciate nature, and focusing on the present moment. By practicing gratitude regularly, you can improve your overall well-being and increase your happiness, and better weather any season in your life.

Ultimately, accepting the changes and transitions that come with different stages of life, whether they be joyful or challenging. It means acknowledging that life is a journey with ups and downs, and learning to appreciate each moment for what it is. By embracing the seasons of life, we can grow, learn, and become more resilient individuals.

Until we talk again ❤️

Chichi

[thebubblesareevil]

Strap in Folks it’s time to learn some shit!

As HR manager at my job I have to look at A LOT of applications because we are primarily a seasonal job. We have busy seasons and slow seasons.

IM SO DONE WITH PEOPLE NOT KNOWING HOW TO ADVERTISE THEIRSELF!!!

Allow me to clarify.

If you take a break between jobs or couldn’t find a job

-did you do baby sitting?

-yard work for family members?

You didn’t have a gap!

Make a note of work history as landscaping or childcare!

Gaps in your employment never look good unless you also state you were in school!

If your previous job sucked and you only stayed there for about a week

- you never worked there

Don’t put on there that you only worked a week or lie about how long you worked there!

-I am absolutely allowed to call previous jobs and not only confirm you worked there and ask how long

-first assumption will always be that you were fired (sucks but it’s true). I don’t have any backstory so I won’t assume the job was at fault.

Resumes!

-Your resume should NEVER be tailored to the job you are applying for.

-this is supposed to be a basic outline of what you have done and what you can do

- I hate the autogenerated resumes from indeed because I have to go down a giant list that tells me you know how to use Microsoft 20 times in a different font.

- if you use indeed please submit an actual resume.

ASK SOMEONE TO READ OVER YOUR RESUME BEFORE SUBMITTING IT!!!!!

It never looks good if you misspell cashier or drink…repeatedly.

-keep it short! Unless you are going into a technical field that needs to know a full list of you certifications and the programs you can use, you want to keep it to 1 page. I need a summary, not a life story

SCHOOL IS NOT WORK EXPERIENCE! Do not put on there that you have 4yrs xp as a student!!!

Speaking of life stories

-do not leverage your kids for a job. If you tell me you have kids and it affects your availability that’s one thing. If you tell me you really need this job because you have kids, now you are using your kids to get a job and that’s not kosher.

Availability!

Do not lie about your availability!!!!

We ask for that for a reason! If you tell me you have open availability and you get hired, I will schedule you based on that availability. If you then tell me you are only available between the hours of 4pm-9pm….you aren’t getting scheduled and will be terminated.

-cannot and will not cater to your availability and schedule everyone else to accommodate your availability. That’s not fair to me or for coworkers.

Interviews!!!

-talk for the love of god, talk! If it’s a group interview, we want to see how involved you are. If it’s one on one, I want to learn about you!

-dress for success! even the most casual of jobs do not want you to show up in a tank top and shorts. You are here for a job not for a party 😭

Okay I think that’s all I need to rant about. There may be more when we hire again and the torture begins again.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Curious on how the Pleiades interact with Flower of Nazarick Mc.

I've already done Entoma and Solution but here are the others! 🖤🖤🖤

Flower of Nazarick Reader with Pleiades | Yandere Overlord

Sebas Tian

“Master (Y/n)!”

“Oh hi Sebas…I seem to be in a predicament.”

“Master…how did you get yourself trapped in the wall?”

 I figured out I could phase through things but then I somehow just stopped…But I’ll get out eventually! I'll just be here for a while.”

“I see. Would you like anything while you wait?”

“Hmm, can I get a–”

He finds you oh-so-precious 

He just so happens to witness some of your weirdest and vulnerable moments

Internally he’s the happiest dragon butler there can be 

He absolutely lives for the times you first discover different parts of Nazarick

When you aren’t training or being babysat by Albedo you’ll be doing your own thing

Sometimes monitored by him and the Pleiades

And the way he’s bared witness to your general silliness is a blessing to him

As much as he’ll preach to Yuri about their job to ‘raise’ you right he too will sway with a bat of your eyes

Yuri Alpha

“Come Master (Y/n). Lord Ainz summons you.”

“So early? Can’t he just wait a few more hours….”

“He’s already been waiting Master (Y/n). Please wake up”

“..”

“...Master. Master? I apologize in advance.”

"Blagh!!!"

Because the floor guardians tend to spoil you to bits no one’s all too keen on actually making you do anything

But with Ainz’s permission, she takes it upon herself to be some kind of disciplinarian

…a disciplinarian whose authority sways with her admiration

She’s well aware that you are a Supreme being in training 

So she regales you with tales of the supreme beings who ran Nazarick in hopes of inspiring your greatness

Any kind of decision or even a break in your casual tone with the Pleiades she’s swooning with a blush

She can’t believe her Nazarick’s flower is growing well and will one day be fit to rule alongside Ainz

She will personally take over anyone she deems too forward with you

Whether in disguise or not you happen to be way too flippant about your importance to Nazarick

So until you take the proper discretion to threaten those who disrespect you she’ll do it in the meantime 

With extreme prejudice

Lupisregina Beta

“Ah! Master I’ve never tasted something so wonderful!”

“Gee, thanks it’s a favorite of mine back where I’m from!”

“Hmmm~Learning about my Supreme Flower is the best!”

“Ah haha, LP make sure to chew your food before you speak.”

“Ack-! A nickname I’m dying!”

One of the most fun Pleiades to hang out with 

Unless given specific instructions she’s all about fun

And she adores how you just want to have fun with her too

That often doesn’t mean being in Nazarick which means you’ll be going a little outside their perimeter

That’s where you’ll probably get to see just how little Lupusregina cares for anyone who is not you

You’ll have to stop her from turning invisible to silently slash away anyone who could take your time from her

She’s not good at filling in the blanks so you’ll have to be very specific

Otherwise, you might just find any place you visit to be a graveyard

Narberal Gamma

“Psst Nabarel…you’re scaring everyone away. I’m supposed to blend in.”

“My apologies Master. It’s just these dirty humans dare look at you so casually I feel inclined to–”

“Nabarel.”

“Right sorry.”

This whole pretending to hide among the humans thing has gotten on her nerves

To see Ainz be treated so flippantly by worthless beings no less

It doesn’t help when the prized Flower of Nazarick occasionally does the same thing

And while she might have the restraint to behave around Ainz

She slips a lot more around you

Glaring more openly at anyone who even looks at you

She won’t even let anyone put a friendly hand on your back

She’s breaking bones if they get too close

But if you bat your eyes and smile sweetly she’ll snap it back

She won’t apologize though

Not for hurting them or endangering their life

Disguise or not she refuses to accept lower-life forms even getting within your vicinity

But she can’t deny the pride and excitement when you allow her to wait on you

Taking a break from her stupid disguise to return to serving you makes it a little bit better

Though she much prefers you stay within Nazarick

CZ2128 Delta

“Master (Y/n).”

“Yes, Delta?” 

“May I hold you?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Thank you, Master!”

She thinks you’re so so so so so so cute

She thinks she might short-circuit from cuteness

In her mind, you rival Eclair Eklair Eklare (The penguin Janitor)

If you give her permission to hold you she may never want to let go

But if it bothers you

She’ll settle by resting her head on your lap

Or holding onto any part of your person

She’s not as violent as the other Pleiades when it comes to protecting you but that doesn’t mean she won’t hurt anyone for you

If any creature divides her attention from you she’ll smite them quickly

And then try to get praise from you

[allwaswell16]

🔔 It's December! That means it's One Direction Advent fic season! Advent fics are generally posted daily from December 1 to December 24/25. Don't forget you can subscribe to the author to get a daily email reminder to read their Advent fic! 🔔

🌟 Baking In December by Itstilliswhatitis

Louis can't believe it! His sisters signed him up for a competition at some bakery and they won! Now he has to spend every day of December baking something with a random dude. Except, the random dude is named Harry and he's hot! Louis realises that this Christmas might be extra special!

🎁 Be Merry All by @justanothershadeofblue {Fic post}

there is a specific sort of oppression that comes with a miserable so-cal christmas, when it’s dark and dirty and rainy or else it's too hot and too bright and everyone’s hustling, and your family is all far away and the laundry machines in your building are broken and you’ve eaten too much take-out and all you want is two seconds of quiet and maybe a morsel of holiday joy.

🕯️ Can I Fly Home by @sadaveniren {Fic post}

“Nothing? A seventy-eight year old woman just gave birth. It’s clearly supernatural stuff at work. How could you say no?” “No.” “Come on, the mystery has to be getting to you just a little.” “Granny being horny isn’t a mystery, Lou. We’re supposed to be on a break until the new year. The real mystery is why you aren’t content to just stay in one place. We’ve hunted everything imaginable to hunt.” “And yet weird shit still ends up happening, fancy that.” He saw Louis change tactics, sticking out his lower lip, pleading. “Please? Check it out with me and then maybe we’ll come back here for Christmas.” AKA Louis and Harry have been hunting together since they were teenagers and it's beginning to take a toll. Harry wants to retire. Louis plans to die hunting. Maybe a "Christmas Miracle" is just what they need. An advent fic.

🦌 Christmas Advent Calendar by enchantedlandcoffee / @alarrylittlechristmas {Fic post}

A collection of holiday drabbles written and posted leading up to Christmas. One posted per day.

🥁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 {Fic post}

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

⛄ the holiday remix - choose ur adventure advent series by warmcuppatea / @hlplease {Fic post}

“I love you so much, yeah? And we’ve talked about moving in together when my lease ends. And we’ll be spending so much time together for the holidays, and you know, we get on so smashingly-” “Louis-” Harry laughed. “Spit it out!” “-So I was thinking,” Louis laughed, rubbing his face. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He laughed. “I was thinking we should test-run living together this month.” Harry and Louis are very in love, but moving in together feels huge. So, naturally, Louis has the idea to do a holiday test-run.

🔔I'll Be Home For Christmas by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {Fic post}

Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas. Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well...

🍪 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {Fic post}

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on now, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype. It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

 🎄 kay's 25 days of smutmas by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow {Fic post}

Starting on December 1st, I will be posting a new smut fic everyday until Christmas! These are all one shots of varying lengths and content. As they are posted, I will add the links to this post, summaries and lengths will be included under the break! All fics will be Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.

💌 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 {Fic post}

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

❤️ Love Actually [L.S.] by @louisthiccsexyglitteryass {Fic post}

Louis Tomlinson has just became Prime Minister of the UK. Harry Styles is a housekeeper at 10 Downing Street. Louis can't help but be enthralled with Harry. But, unfortunately, love has a funny of fucking punching you in the gut.

🎅 Neondiamond's 2023 Christmas Ficlet Party {Fic post}

If you know me at all, you’ll know that two of the things I enjoy most are writing fluffy ficlets, and Christmas. This year, I decided to combine the two and create my own little Christmas ficlet party all throughout December! 8 ficlets, 4 different pairings, many different tropes—all short, fluffy and festive! Perfect for a quick reading break with a warm drink!

☃️ Snow In Love by @lululawrence {Fic post}

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny. People thought they were already dating. Weird. An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🌲 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {Fic post}

Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

🔔 they're singing 'deck the halls' (but it's not like christmas at all) by doesanyonehearrunningwotah

Louis Tomlinson is no fan of Christmas. Between his douchebag ex-husband/co-parent, his two teenage kids, and the awful fact of his torn-apart family, the holiday season isn't looking to be all that festive. But maybe a boy's trip with his closest friends will lead him to something that'll make the season a little more bearable. Or the one where Louis' a bit of a grinch, Harry's a gorgeous present, and there's more weight to the past than either of them would like.

❄️ We Can Roll in the Darkness by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 {Fic post}

Top and Bottom Construction Co. - “We’ll get the job done, however you prefer it!” Louis looks up from the flyer, and back at Niall. “You must be joking?” Niall shakes his head, his mischievous grin only going wider. “Nope! I already researched them. They have glowing reviews AND they’re affordable. It’s perfect!” He pauses then to give Louis a cheeky wink. “Besides their website says they’re full service.” (Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way).

✨ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {Fic post}

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is. Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon. Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

[dwailol]

Great Toss

First post ❤️‍🔥 👅

Summary: Fem reader x Bucky Barnes. Established relationship. You get a surprise visit for the night you thought you were spending alone.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings ⚠️: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie

Word Count: 1.3k

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

The compound was empty. The lights were down low. I was enjoying my night alone or so I thought. As I was casually dancing around the living room with full control of the music, I all of a sudden felt a presence behind me.

No one was supposed to be back for days. I grab a metal decoration off the side table and hurl it into the dark corner of the room. I hear the sound of metal on metal catching. Out of the dark steps Bucky Barnes. Fuck.

“Great toss,” he says dropping it on the floor and walking towards my frozen body. He caresses my face with his vibranium hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. He leans in close and with a deep hushed voice whispers, “Did they leave you all alone in here?”

Just as I catch my breath, I lose it again at the feeling of his other hand resting on my hip. We are eye to eye. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten me into a rush like this.

“What are you doing here? Everyone left today for—“ I try to explain.

He cuts me off. “Oh no, I knew that they’d be gone and that you had some sort of a ‘conflict of interest’ which makes you the heroic house sitter! For a few days right? I just wanted to get under your skin a bit with that entrance. Did it work?” He gives a smug look. It worked.

He sits down on the arm of the couch behind him and slides his metal hand down to my other hip. Blood rushes where he had his hands that move lower and lower. It had been a while since he had shown his face. That’s what I’ve been coming to learn about the hero life style—that people show up and leave and show up again when you aren’t expecting.

“You could have texted before scaring me like that,” I say.

“Well I just missed you so much doll,” he sweeps my body onto the couch with ease as he pins me under him, “I especially missed seeing those eyes get wide like that.” I feel his hand slip under my shirt. “I missed a lot of things about you.”

I think back to the first time I saw those intense eyes of his staring at me up and down. All with his eyes he told me that he would have me and that he would have me in anyway he wanted. He did. He was about to again.

“Did my good girl miss me?” he asks now squeezing at my breasts and kissing from my collar to my jaw. I take a deep breath. “I missed a lot about you too,” I respond as cool as I can.

“Show me.”

Just like that our faces smash together. Coming up for air was not a priority. He slides his hand under my back to push me as close to his body as possible. His vibranium hand clutches my thigh. There was only so close our bodies could get with all our clothes on. I pause and catch my breath saying, “We need to take these off.”

He kisses me before saying, “You’re full of great ideas bunny!” He sits up and pulls me up close to his face. “You first,” he orders. He takes off my top and stares as he glides his hand over what was his.

“No bra? Making my job easier,” he kisses all up and down me while untying the string of my lounge shorts. “You wearing anything under these?” The answer was also no and I was ready to not be wearing those shorts too.

He pushes me back down and starts peeling away his clothes down to his boxers. He finally slides my shorts off. You could see the shine from how wet I was. He towers over me and starts to run his flesh fingers along the most inner part of my thighs then lightly over my clit. He starts rubbing faster and harder. I let out a gasp.

He grabs my face with his other hand. He locks eyes with me. “I missed my pussy,” he says, inserting a finger and moving it up and down and in and out. I let out a loud moan. We both loved that I was about to be as loud as I wanted.

“Good girl. Whose pussy is this?” He inserts another finger and starts to go faster. I let out a scream and I’m already close. I hadn’t answered yet.

“You can’t cum until you tell me whose pussy is this,” as he holds my arms above my head.

“It’s yours!”

“It’s whose?!”

“It’s Bucky’s!” I cry out. I’m finally allowed to cum. I sigh out the air I’d been holding in.

“My beautiful girl,” he leans down close to my face again. “So beautiful when you’re cumming for me.” My arms are still held down and I can feel him sliding his boxers off. I can feel his precum now rubbing against my entry. I press my hips forward but he moves back to look into my eyes. The suspense was killing me.

“And you’re so so beautiful taking my cock,” and then he slides right in. He starts his first strokes. I moan and feel his girth testing my limits. Thank god he gets me so wet. Having a big dick is one thing but he knows how to use it too. I let him know just how much I’m loving it, “Fuck. Bucky I love feeling you inside me!” His beat is steady.

“That’s music to my ears Angel. Wrap your legs around me.” As I do he sits up while still inside me. I’m in the position to ride him but he never makes me do any work. He grabs my hair and pulls me in for a messy kiss. Bringing my head so that my ear is on his mouth when he says, “Now I wanna hear you sing.”

Just like that he picks up the beat hard and fast. I shriek so loudly it bounced off the walls. He pushes me back so he can see my face while he’s fucking me. I bite down on my lip. He goes harder. “I said I wanna hear you sing!” He pulls me in again so I’m yelling right in his ear to the beat of his thrusts. He smacks my ass, “Good girl!”

He rolls me back onto my back and hinges my hips up while looking over me. He starts rubbing my clit. My breath falls heavy again. “I think I’m gonna cum!”

His beat steadies as he demands, “Not until I say so. When you’re cumming I want to be cumming inside you. Do you want that Angel?” I whimper out an mhm. He picks up the pace, “Sing it for me!” Leaving me screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! YES!” I hear him grunting which means he’s close too. He begins rubbing away and my pussy is absolutely throbbing waiting for the release.

“You can cum in 5,” he’s moaning.

4. I can see his neck tensing ready to spill into me.

3. He bends over me without his hand leaving my clit. Still caging me in with his other arm.

2. God I am so fucking close. “Please please please!” I beg.

“1,” he grunts out thrusting me through and multiplying my orgasm. He falls onto me with his cock still inside to fuck all his cum deep inside me, making sure none of it spills out. “I love cumming in you.” He kisses the side of my face and onto my lips again.

He gets up and lets a deep breath out. “Want some water before the next round?”

Fuck.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Monster Hunters

Summary: Relativity/Reunion Falls, Stan realizes he and Ford have some common interests.

Masterlist

...

“Stanley?”

Despite the low volume, the fear in Ford’s voice wakes Stan up, and he jerks upright, finding him standing right at the edge of his bed.

“What?  What time is it?” Stan asks, rubbing at his eyes.  It’s light outside, but seems to be only just.

“It’s 6AM,” Ford whispers.

“And you’re awake, why?” Stan asks.

“Well— I was downstairs trying to make Grauntie Mabel some breakfast as a surprise, and— and Jeff broke in and stole her edible glitter!”

Stan snorts.  “Oh.  Yeah, he does that.  Don’t worry about it,” he says.  He moves to lay back down on the bed, but Ford grabs his arm and pulls him back up.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers.  “Grauntie Mabel was so mad at him when it happened last time!  What if she finds out it happened under my watch?”

“Uh… I don’t know how to answer that question.  She’ll buy some more edible glitter?”

“But what if she’s mad?”

“Grauntie Mabel?  You’re kidding, right?”

“We have to get it back!” Ford says.

“Woah, okay, calm down,” Stan says, holding his hands out.  And despite the fact that he really thinks Ford is making a big deal out of nothing, he looks desperate enough that after a second Stan sighs and pulls his covers back.  “Okay, let’s go find it.”

Such obvious relief enters Ford’s eyes that it makes Stan a little worried for a second, but Ford’s running across the room and grabbing his shoes before he can ask about it.

Stan groans and reaches down to fumble for his shoes.  It seems to take him a lot longer than Ford wants, judging by the way he stands nervously in front of Stan fidgeting with his gloves for the last half a minute of Stan putting his shoes on, but they get there.  Ford hurries them both downstairs and outside after that, and then starts dragging Stan off towards where he says he saw the gnome go.

Stan has more than a little experience tracking gnomes, but he doesn’t tend to do it at 6-in-the-damn-morning times, and he’s pretty sure this shows over the next half hour or so, because he’s barely awake stumbling after Ford.  He does manage to shake some awareness into his brain eventually, though, and finds that Ford seems to be doing an alright job tracking Jeff on his own— at least, if that tiny trail of glitter is anything to go by.

“Hey, when did you…” Stan yawns.  “Learn how to do this?”

“I observed the gnomes in their natural environment after Jeff stole the glitter the first time.”

“You… huh?”

“I snuck out to spy on them.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes?  How else was I supposed to learn anything?”

“I dunno, just didn’t take you for the type,” Stan mutters, trailing his eyes over the glitter on the tree to their left.  “You’re a nerdy book kid, aren’t ya?  I’m friends with one, they don’t tend to sneak out to spy on monsters.”

“Well, it sounds they’re missing valuable data then,” Ford says.  He stops.  “The trail’s gone.  Where did you see it last?”

Stan yawns again and points a thumb at the tree behind them.  Ford looks back at it too, then runs towards it.

Stan follows just in time to see Ford run his fingers over the glitter and mutter, “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Stan asks.  He leans back against the tree, only to immediately lean forward again when he hears an audible clang.

There’s a loud familiar shout from what sounds like inside the tree.

“Jeff!” Stan snaps.  “I know you’re— in there?  Where are you?”

“Nowhere!” comes Jeff’s very recognizable voice.

Stan and Ford exchange a deadpan look, and then Stan runs his hand along the tree.  When his hand slips over a gap that shouldn’t be there, he pulls, and a section of metal tree opens to reveal Jeff, sitting on top of a weird metal box and holding the jar of edible glitter close to his chest.

“Ah!  I’m not here!” he yells, and starts to leap away.  But Stan has tangled with far too many gnomes in his life, and reaches out and catches Jeff by the scruff of the neck.

Ford gives him a grateful grin and grabs the glitter from Jeff, who cries out in despair and continues to squirm towards it.

“Give it back!  That blue bake off ribbon will be mine!”

Stan grins at Ford.  “You want to do the honors?” he asks.

Ford blinks.  “What?”

“Nah?  Next time then,” Stan says, and before Jeff can call for help, Stan drop kicks him hard into the woods.

Ford barks out a laugh and puts his hands over his mouth.  Stan grins at him for a second before turning back to the opening in the tree.

“Now what the heck is this?” he asks, gesturing at the metal science-looking box.

“You don’t know?” Ford asks, stepping forward next to him.

“Nope.  I’ve never seen this thing before.  What do you think it does?”

Ford shrugs.  “Only one way to find out.”  He reaches forward and flicks both of the switches on top.  As soon as he flicks the second one, though, there’s a loud whirring, and both of them turn to see a different patch of ground open up.

They turn to each other for a moment with an excited grin, and then rush forward to peer down into the hole to find—

“A book?” Stan groans.

“An old book!” Ford exclaims, sounding ecstatic.  He bends down and pulls it out, then blows the dust off the cover.

The book sure does look old, alright.  It’s torn and the blue cover is faded.  On the front is a golden pine tree with the number 3 on it, but it’s started to chip off at the edges.

Stan kneels down next to Ford as he pulls it open, because he’s admittedly a little curious, even if a book is a lame prize for the end of a gnome hunt.

“‘It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon,’” Ford reads from the first page.

“Wait, what?” Stan asks, leaning closer.  Ford turns the page, and to Stan’s shock, reveals pages on eye bats, gnomes, and all kinds of other monsters, some of which Stan had seen and fought, and some of which he hadn’t.

“It’s like, notes on everything weird Grauntie Mabel said I’d find in the town,” Ford breathes.

“Woah,” Stan breathes.  “That’s so—”

“Cool!” he and Ford both say at the same time.

Stan turns to him in surprise.  “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Ford exclaims, turning to him with a huge grin.  “I’ve been wondering if anyone else has ever wanted to study the monsters around here!  This is awesome, I can have other observations to compare my own with!”

“Your own?” Stan asks, eyes widening.  “Like, you’ve been looking for monsters on purpose?”

“Duh!  Are you kidding, I’ve never seen this much weird stuff in one place before, it’s amazing!  I feel like I finally fit in somewhere!  I’ve been meaning to ask you if you had a guide of some kind, just cause Maria told me I shouldn’t really go looking for monsters without any kind of background knowledge, but now this can—”

“Dude,” Stan grabs Ford by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth a couple times.  “Ford.  Dude.  Bro.  You have to tell me these things!”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“Dude, I’ve been looking for monsters since I was a little kid!” Stan says, bouncing a bit on his feet.  “I thought you were a boring nerd who wouldn’t want to go anywhere near them at first, and you know, then I didn’t want to freak you out!  You’re telling me we could have been going on sick monster hunts together this whole time?”

“You… you want to find monsters together?” Ford asks, looking like Stan’s just presented him the meaning to life on a silver platter.

“I’ve been looking for someone who wants to find the Gremloblin with me all summer!” Stan exclaims, throwing his hands out in excitement.  “You want to go find a monster that shows people their worst fears with me?”

“That. Sounds. Amazing!” Ford cries, leaning right into Stan’s face with a huge grin.  “When do we go, where is it?”

“Breakfast first!” Stan calls happily, grabbing Ford’s arm to start pulling them both back towards the house, after giving Ford just enough time to tuck the journal into his jacket.  “Trust me, you do not want to monster hunt on an empty stomach.  Oh this is gonna be the coolest!”

That plan is put on pause as soon as they both get back, however, and find Grauntie Mabel sitting on the porch looking very unhappy with them.

Oh.  Right.

“Hi there,” she says, crossing her arms.  “Do you want to explain why you two snuck out of the house before I was even awake?”

“Uh,” Ford says, with obvious fear in his voice.

And really, he’s overreacting a bit, and that’s not gonna do.  If they’re gonna start going on monster hunts together, Ford needs to know he can go to Grauntie Mabel if they get in over their head.

So, Stan takes a step forward and says, “I saw your edible glitter get stolen, Grauntie Mabel,” gesturing at the glitter Ford’s still got clutched in his hand.  “I wanted to show Ford how monster hunts go around here, cause he said he wants to do some with me!  Isn’t that cool?  I thought gnomes would be a good first option, but I kinda forgot to let you know.  Sorry.”

Grauntie Mabel sighs, but seems considerably less irritated, which thankfully makes Ford seem considerably less scared.  “Alright, but let me know next time, you hear?  I need to know if you two are in danger and I need to come save your butts.”

“Will do, sorry Grauntie Mabel!” Stan calls.  He lets Ford give her the glitter back, which Grauntie Mabel gives him a grateful smile for, and then grabs his arm again to pull them both up to the attic.

“Dude, you seriously need to chill around Grauntie Mabel,” he says, turning to Ford as soon as they get there.  Ford blinks at him.  “She’s not gonna get mad at you for stupid little stuff.  And we’re gonna need her help sometimes if we get into trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Ford asks, looking baffled at the idea.  “Parents aren’t for helping you out of trouble, they’re for yelling at you if you get caught doing something you’re not supposed to.”

Stan wrinkles his nose.  “Ugh.  Well, good thing she’s a Grauntie, then.  Because that’s not what Graunties are for.  I can always count on her if I need help.  And she like, seriously loves you, which means you definitely can too.”

Ford still doesn’t seem to know what to do with that.  “I… that’s weird.”

“Yeah, but weird is cool, remember?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “That’s what the gloves mean.”

Ford looks down at his gloves and flexes his fingers a couple times.  Then, after a second, he starts to smile, and looks back up at Stan.  “Okay,” he says.  “If you say so.”

“I totally do.  Now come on.  Let’s go convince Grauntie Mabel to add edible glitter to our breakfast!  We earned it after getting it back for her.”

He turns to start for the kitchen, only for Ford to stop him by grabbing his arm.

“Hey, uh, thanks,” he says, and Stan turns back around.  “You know, for getting up and doing all this with me when you didn’t have to.  I’ve never had a partner in crime before.”

“Ooh, partner in crime, I like the sound of that,” Stan says with a grin.  He holds his hand up to Ford.  “High six?”

Ford grins back and smacks his hand.  “High six.”

[ickle-anthology]

I’d like to be optimistic and say this will be short and sweet, however it has grown increasingly apparent that I do nothing by half measures. I suppose if you’re going to do a job - do it properly. Go big or go home, right? 

I’m trying to learn how to set healthy boundaries, which is extremely challenging for an empath that feels everything as deeply as I do and has been through the things that I’ve been through. I suppose my need to people please stems from wanting to help and lighten the load in anyway possible for the people I care deeply about at the expense of my own peace. It’s even more unbearable when I have walked in their shoes with and know what it’s like when you have nowhere to turn to, unfortunately helping doesn’t always go the way I intend but at-least I can say I tried and gave it my all, and by doing so leaves my conscious clear and unburdened. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of awful things in my life, some worse than others and some that have left lasting scars that I’m still sowing up- but I actually quite like me, however I acknowledge that there’s always room for improvement. I have a long list of things that I can’t change but would happily sell my soul to the devil to alter. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that some things aren’t meant to be changed and that no response is a response. Let’s be honest, you can’t be everyone’s cuppa tea otherwise you’d be a mug. 

You ever known what you needed to do but struggled to find the strength to do it? That’s the current predicament I’m faced with. The past few weeks I’ve had a lot of time to digest and reflect on the changes that have happened in my life - recent and not so recent changes. Up until recently, I considered myself to be a healed woman but I realise now that healing isn’t a linear path and the more I experience different things, the more I realise I’m still on that healing journey - and that’s ok, being honest with myself about it is probably the best thing I can do. I like to think I always look for best in people, that I can feel the good in them. But like with anything in this universe, there must be balance and everything that goes up, must come down eventually... I see the undesirable and distasteful flaws too, I don’t look at the world through a looking glass and I’m not as naive as some people may choose to believe. I have this uncanny ability to read people like books, and without a doubt my silence gets mistaken for an absence of knowledge, when it’s quite the opposite in fact. I’m a firm believer that you shouldn’t open your mouth and comment on something unless you know it’s accurate and have the ability to back it up. So with that statement, if you are on the receiving end of me opening my mouth about a subject, then prepare to be slapped with the unbias, and unadulterated truth - which as we know, can be more cold and callous than any lie. Everything I do, I do for a reason. I strategically and methodologically analyse every situation and every possible outcome of it so I am able to understand it but ultimately protect myself. One of my favourite quotes is that ‘the truth always prevails in the end’ and boy does it ever. 

It grows more evident the older I get that this ability I have to read people is an unconscious decision that stems from being hyper vigilant. It does present its problems though, like causing the feeling of being constantly stuck between the stages of fight, flight or freeze, it’s a blessing and a curse - one would say oxymoronic at its true core. Life has always been so black and white for me, and learning grey has been exhausting, both mentally and physically but truly worth it in hindsight. Im allowing colour to trickle back into my life slowly though and it’s given me the foresight to see the world (and the people in it) in a different light, just like a kaleidoscope. Up until a few years ago, I was always so sure of the person I was, but the past few years really made me question everything I know about people… myself included. I got hurt by people that I never thought were capable of the things they did, and lost people that I thought would be in my life indefinitely. Some things have become so deeply imbedded in my soul that they occasionally weep, so I guess you could say nothing ceases to surprise me anymore. I always say that I’m going to hope for the best and prepare for the worst but preparing for the worst has become somewhat of a ritual for me and I grow evermore cautious of hope with each passing day. 

Without a doubt, the biggest and hardest pill to swallow as of recent months has been that not everyone has a good heart just because I do. More importantly, just because I treat people with kindness, understanding and compassion, doesn’t mean I’ll receive the same treatment back. I’ve realised that over the past few weeks that it reflects more about them and their character, than it does me. Not everyone has the same moral compass as me, nor everyone has a big heart full of love like me and some people are only interested in saving their own skins - don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with protecting your peace. But there’s a difference between protecting your peace and remaining silent and then lying and stonewalling those individuals, especially when they try to communicate in a healthy way with you about a problem. We all mess up, but I think what’s important is owning your behaviours. It’s come to my attention that not everyone I’ve crossed paths with have spent the time looking at their own maladaptive coping mechanisms. They haven’t given themselves the respect to understand or recognise where the dysregulation stems from, and as a direct result from that, it allows for an inability to correct their behaviour at its root stem and be better in the future - so they are just stuck in the same cycles. I’ve realised that you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink, and if this is the bed they chose to make then let them sleep in it. Theres nothing wrong with feeling emotions in that precise moment though and giving yourself time to sit in your grief, but I emphasise that no joy ever comes from wallowing in them for prolonged periods of time and there is a time where you will have to deal with those feelings and situations head on before they swallow you whole. 

I think for now I’ll enjoy sitting back, remaining humble and continue to people watch. They say time heals all wounds but I think time only gives us the ability to reflect and process those wounds. If we don’t deal with the monsters under our beds, and the damage they cause to ourselves and others, then they never really go away - they just get better at hiding by wearing a mask. Inevitably, they always trickle back in and just like clockwork, they always come full circle. Poetically, it’s always at the least desirable moment and before you know it, you’re weeping through the cuts you scrambled so desperately to bandage. The right path is not always the path with least resistance, we all know what we need to do but it’s just finding the strength to do it. You really do get back what you put into the universe.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

The chance of William not marrying for love is higher than what most people insist.

I just want to answer this anon. I think people like to think that William and Kate aren’t in love because they look at people through their roles or like generalized labels or like through the lens of rules they think should exist in the universe. As Joan Didion said, we tell ourselves stories in order to live. A lot of people know that royals or aristocrat often marry for money or convenience. It’s true that historically, royals get into arranged marriages.

But I would like to offer a different perspective. We can try and see the humanity in each person. I know that’s difficult to do with royals because they’re so media trained and private. But paying proper attention to the stories of these people, the tiny bit of personality that comes through in their interviews and stuff, sometimes we can see their individual stories, their individual personalities. While it’s true that there’s a high chance that the heir to the throne like William would not marry for love, we can infer from the story of his life laid out that there’s a chance he did. My opinion of William is that he’s actually a lot more transparent than people realize. Or maybe it’s just the result of his parents being Charles and Diana who couldn’t stop themselves leaking left and right in the 90s, that there’s no choice but for a lot of things to be laid bare for us. Of course, William is still very private and we might be wrong in our assessment, but we can’t also always generalize.

What I’m saying is, this is the man who in his engagement interview, didn’t shy away in showing how affected he was about his parent’s past. He said something about learning from the past. We also know from things Diana said and from William’s own demeanor that he’s someone who gives a lot of thought to things. We also know from interviews he’s given as a teenager that he struggles with the fact that his role pulls him in different directions and he’s protective of his self, which can sometimes appear to be stubbornness. What I’m saying is, we can infer from these things that this is a man with his own mind. So I would say that from all the things we think we know about William, there’s also a high chance that he would insist on marrying exactly who he wanted to marry or who he loved.

I would also say that even though we know historically that royals get into arranged marriages, we can’t always be sure of how the story goes. I mean, if we’re looking into history, for example, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York married for political reasons. Their union ended the War of the Roses, and yet most historians would agree that it seems they found love along the way and that Henry VII was one of the monarchs with no known mistress. However, royals can fancy themselves in love too in the beginning but the story doesn’t end in a good note. Henry VIII, for example. I think most historians would also agree that he was enamored with Anne Boleyn. Maybe it wasn’t love, maybe it was lust. But the thing is, he fancied himself in love at the beginning, but obviously it ended horribly. A lot of people also forget that Henry VIII was happy at one point with Catherine of Aragon.

What I’m saying is, while we can all generalize that “oh, royals do not marry for love” or we can have a sense of “oh these rich people are all unhappy!”, but they have their own stories too. And so do we, being “norma people” or not being as rich does not guarantee happiness or finding true love. Marrying for love does not guarantee happily ever after also, but we can only wish the best for everyone.

Thanks, anon! You make some really good points here.

I don't have anything to add except: if royals and aristos aren't supposed to be marrying for love, someone better tell the romance writers because they're out of a job now.

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight ~ Chapter 6 - His Side Story: “A Faint Wriggling, Deep Inside My Chest”

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: This is a side story from Ellis' perspective of the events of Chapter 6, as such it too contains depictions of murder and several mentions of blood.

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

(For me, Kate is the person I want most to be happy.)

(I’m happy that she’s been smiling more and more lately. And…)

Kate: “Please tell me about what you like, Ellis. Then I can make you happy tomorrow.”

Kate: “So, what’s your favorite food?”

--

Kate: “Oh,  I spread a lot of butter on the toast before it got cold.”

Kate: “Thank you, as always.”

Kate says she wants to make me happy too.

She listens to my preferences and feelings and remembers them carefully.

(Kate is a wonderful person.)

(…I don’t want to make you unhappy.)

The night I went with Jude and Kate to look for the ‘ring-leader” involved in the kidnapping incident.

I’d seen the woman who had come into contact with the ‘ring-leader’ being dragged into a back alley, and reflexively ran after her.

Reaching the back of the alley—I saw multiple men surrounding the woman and trying to restrain her by covering her mouth.

Scenes like this aren’t uncommon—What I do is the same as usual.

Ellis: “Are you the kidnappers?”

The kidnappers were startled by the sudden voice and immediately attacked me.

I just have to deal with them one by one.

A man who looks like a kidnapper: “—Women are worth money, ‘em alive. Kill the bastard.”

(Women…Ah)

Kate: “Gh…”

I heard a gasp behind me and realized that Kate had followed me.

(…it was her.)

(Kate is a hard worker who can muster courage even in times like these.)

I gently restrained Kate, who was holding a deck brush in her trembling hands.

Ellis: “Kate, stay here.”

(I’ll finish this quickly.)

I kick off the ground.

Taking a life is as easy as polishing a shoe if you know how to use the tools.

If you cut a vital point with a knife, the body will collapse to the ground as though a string has been cut.

(Just a few more.)

(I need to finish this quickly and give her peace of mind.)

Kate had been scared when she saw the men attacking the woman.

(I’ll end it right away.)

I silence the last one and let my feet settle on the ground.

Ellis: “…I guess that’s everyone.”

The timing must have been relatively good.

I looked around the alley that looks like I’ve spilled jam all over it, see there are no survivors, and look up.

“Kate…”

Kate: “Eh…Ah.”

Ellis: “Your face is pale… Are you okay?”

I put the knife in its sheath and reached out to Kate.

At that moment her body trembled.

Ellis: “…”

(--it was)

(From Kate’s point of view, these men and I are the same.)

I’m a ‘human being who kills people’ for his job.

(I had a feeling that Kate, was learning to trust me just a little bit… I forgot.)

I want to make her happy, though.

I’m the kind of person who scares her in the first place.

(I should’ve been more careful)

Ellis: “…I’m sorry. You’re scared.”

Ellis: “I should have asked you to keep your eyes closed so you wouldn’t have to see it.”

Kate: “Um, what… what about the woman?”

Ellis: “Hmm, she’s fine… I think she’s just passed out.”

Jude: “Tch… Ya killed everyone?”

Ellis: “Jude. What about the store?”

Jude: “When I came in, he’d already escaped in a horse-drawn carriage from the back door. He’s quick to run.”

Jude, who was supposed to have been chasing the ‘ring-leader’ walked over to a corpse and inspected it coldly.

(…Ah, I think I’m going to be scolded.)

Jude: “Jeez, let at least one of ‘em live. Otherwise I can’t interrogate ‘em.”

(On second thought)

Ellis: “Sorry. He said as long as we didn’t kill the commander I would be fine…Also.”

Ellis: “They were trying to harm Kate.”

Kate: “…”

Kate took a quiet breath again.

(Maybe I reminded you of what happened earlier.)

(…Sorry.)

Ellis: “… It’s okay now, Kate.”

Her frozen expression never relaxed… and I felt a little sad.

(Kate, you’re still silent)

Step by step we proceed down the hallway.

I walked behind her a little ways so as not to make her even more anxious.

(Is this okay…?)

(If you’re worried, if you’re scared, I want to be by your side.)

(But with me, it might have the opposite effect.)

While I was wondering what I should do to make Kate happy, we ended up in front of her room.

Ellis: “We’re here, Kate.”

Kate raised her head and looked straight at me.

(If you look at me, it might remind you of something scary, but… you’re so kind.)

Kate: “About earlier… Thank you for protecting me, Ellis.”

Ellis: “No. It’s my job to escort you, Kate.”

Ellis: “But, this time I failed…”

Ellis: “If you hadn’t seen that, you would be happier.”

Ellis: “I already knew you were a hard worker and that you would push yourself even if you were scared.”

Ellis: “I should have said, “You follow Jude” before going into the alley.”

Ellis: “Next time, I’ll be careful not to kill someone in front of you.”

(Even if I show you something like that…I wonder if I can make you smile again.)

(I need to think of a way.)

Thinking about this, I was about to turn on my heel, when—

Kate: “…Ellis…!”

My palm was grabbed by something warm.

(Kate…?)

Kate: “Ellis…Aren’t you having a hard time…?”

Ellis: “…”

Even though she must have been scared just a moment ago, Kate held my hand and looked straight at me.

(…I…?)

(Why would you say that?)

I was a little surprised when Kate asked me if it wasn’t hard being the object of her fear.

Then I was convinced.

Ellis: “Ah… I see.”

Ellis: “I thought you were just scared of me.”

(Kate is a wonderful person)

She’s the kind of person who listens intently to my feelings, my happiness, and remembers things like that.

Ellis: “You were worried that I was hurt, so you made that face…”

Ellis: “…You’re so kind, Kate.”

Ellis: “If I say it like this, I might scare you again.”

Ellis: “It’s not that painful, so don’t worry.”

Kate: “…Really?”

Ellis: “Yeah, really… See, my hands aren’t shaking like yours.”

As if to reassure her, I held up our joined palms.

--“Killing people and laughing is what the devil does.”

The words I’d once heard echoed in my head, making me feel a little sad.

(But the reason I’m smiling now is not because I’m happy.)

My heart is not moved by the idea of taking people’s lives as a part of my job.

(My desires have nothing to do with it, so I’m neither happy nor sad.)

I still hold the lid on my desires tighter and tighter.

(This time, I’ll take care of someone as wonderful as Kate.)

Kate seemed to have made up her mind and grabbed my hand tightly.

Kate: “…Hot milk.”

Ellis: “Eh…?”

Kate: “My body is cold… don’t you sleep better after drinking it?”

Ellis: “…”

I suddenly remembered drinking it on sleepless nights when I was little.

It has a sweet, relaxing, and calming taste.

(…I loved it.)

(Especially when drinking it in the middle of the night.)

Ellis: “I’d like that.”

Ellis: “In the middle of the night, I actually like hot milk with butter and sugar.”

Even though she wouldn’t know anything about my heart or the memories I had just remembered,

Kate looked happy, but somehow sad, and took my hand.

(Kate… is a bit of a troubled person.)

(…she’s too nice.)

I want to make her happy, and that’s all I feel, but something seems to be mixed in with it.

The desire I had pushed deep inside my heart began to stir in my chest.

Next Chapter

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 29 (Final)

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Throws some fluffing feels in your face and then closes the door like a boss. 

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67​​​​ Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist        Series Masterlist

“Wearing a hole in the floor isn’t going to make the time go by any faster,” Y/N reminded Dean as she sat on the counter, nibbling on a saltine cracker, and watching her boyfriend literally pace the kitchen in front of her. 

“Sorry,” Dean grumbled as he forced himself to stop pacing, and after a brief moment of deliberation, decided to just take a seat at the kitchen table.

Not fifteen feet away, in the bathroom that adjoined the hallway, were two pregnancy tests sitting snugly under a box on top of the sink. The test took only three minutes to show the results, it had so far been exactly 1 minute and 34 seconds since she placed the boxes over the top of the test once she’d taken them, and honestly, it felt like it had been one year and 34  days instead. 

Especially to Dean. That much she could tell. He wasn’t exactly hiding it very well at the moment.

“Dean, don’t get your hopes up, okay? It could just be a stomach bug, and I don’t want you to get disappointed,” Y/N said as her gaze wandered back to the red reamed clock on the wall; checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time in about 40 seconds. 

It was true. All signs and symptoms pointed to pregnancy. They’d stopped all preventative measures that could deter conception, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten pregnant yet. She was prepared to have to try for quite a while to even get pregnant. She’d taken birth control for years, and only God knows how long it was going to take for her body to hormonally be ready to conceive. 

“Trust me sweetheart, my hopes aren’t up,” Dean assured her, reaching for her to come and sit down in his lap.

Carefully, she pushed down and off of her perch and made her way over to where he was sitting, slipping into his hold with ease. 

“It will happen when and if it’s meant to. This is kinda one of those things we have little control over. We can do things to help it along, and there are multiple avenues to try, but after everything in life we’ve been through, I’ve learned nothing ever comes easy, or right away; so I have no expectations, other than making sure you’re okay,” Dean continued, placing a kiss to the top of her forehead. 

She melted into the warmth that seemed to always radiate from Dean’s body. Home, no matter where they were in life, no matter where life would take them, this was it, Dean was home. Not a roof and four walls. 

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Y/N admitted. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.”

Dean’s grip tightened around her waist, attempting to hold her as close to him as humanly possible. “It’s okay, it’s my job to take care of you when you’re not feeling well. I just wish you would have told me you weren’t feeling great sooner; I would have never gone into work this morning. I didn’t know this was something that had been kinda going on for days. You’ve got to communicate with me sweetheart.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Y/N said, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

Here she sat with the tables turned, what felt like not so long ago, she was the one telling him that HE needed to communicate with HER when he wasn’t feeling well. God they had come so far, especially Dean. 

Just since his accident, he’d proven not only friends, family, but doctors and even himself wrong. He’d far surpassed any expectation any of them set for him. He’d done the one thing Chuck and the universe had tried so fucking hard to not allow him to do -  he’d created a life for himself. He’d created a home. He was doing what it was he always wanted to do. He was happy. An ending he never thought he’d deserve, and one Y/N didn’t really feel that she deserved either, but here they were. He should be dead. By all rights, accounts and reasons, Dean should have never lived to see the outside of that barn, but here he was, alive and well. Scared, battered, broken in some ways, but still here. Still alive. 

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Y/N questioned, and Dean swallowed thickly above her. 

“No. No I didn’t. I thought I’d be dead by now. I never saw life the way it was not. It was just a distant dream. It still feels like a dream some days,” Dean admitted, and he wasn’t wrong, it did feel like a dream some days. If it weren’t for the hard days, the days that tested the both of them on every emotional and physical level, she’d think they were both dead and in heaven, just playing this thing out, but nope, this was real, this was their life. As fake as it felt, it was real. 

“Me either,” Y/N voiced after a moment. “I had given up on anything even remotely similar to this. Never even tried to achieve it.”

“Do you regret it?” Dean asked, his deep rumble barely above a whisper in the silence that hung heavy in the kitchen. “Do you regret giving up your life as a hunter for this? For me?”

Y/N sat up straight as he would allow her with his firm grip on her waist, and placed a gentle kiss to his lips before leaning her forehead against his own. “Not even for a second. I’d do it all over again, no matter how many times I had to live through everything we both went through, I’d do it with a smile on my face as long as it ended right here, right now.”

“Me too,” Dean agreed. “I’d walk right into that barn every time, go through every ounce of pain and suffering, just as long as we ended up right here in this kitchen at the end.”

The sound of her alarm going off seemed much louder than it was -coming from her phone in the  pocket of her sweat pants;  she’d have jumped off of Dean’s lap had he not been holding onto her. But as the shock of the sudden loud sound waned, the heaviness set in with a rock of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Here it was. The moment of truth. There were only two answers waiting on the other side of that door, but one would change their lives forever. Suddenly, she found herself too scared and nervous to move. 

“Do you want me to go and look for you?” Dean questioned when she didn’t move, just sat up ramrod straight in his lap. 

“No, no I wanna do it, just… stay here, okay?” 

Dean nodded as she stood on shaking legs, and even though she didn’t turn around to see him, she could feel his pale green gaze on every step she made towards the door. 

A million and a half memories flooded her mind as she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, looking at the boxes that were still set on top of the little tests. Memories of pain, so much pain. Pain of Dean never even noticing her. The undesirable pain she felt as she stood there and watched him stuck to that goddamn poll, his life quickly bleeding away. Pain as she watched him struggle to recover. The fear that he’d never be the same again, if he ever woke up at all. The pain of learning how to let him go, so that he could recover on his own, and move from caretaker to partner. The moment they moved in this house. Every step that they made that led them to this moment. She could still see it. It was all still so clear. A horrible ending that they had taken, and rewritten for the good. What could have been a disaster, now could possibly be the start of a whole new life. One that Dean had always wanted. One that she had always wanted. 

She felt as if she was having an out of body experience as she lifted the box off of the text, eyes closed; breath held, almost too afraid to open her eyes and see that they were negative, which she had convinced herself that they were. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered to herself. “It’s all gonna be okay. No matter what the results are, we’re gonna be okay.”

With every ounce of courage she had left in her body, Y/N forced her eyes open, and her focus to shift down to the counter, where the sticks were. 

At first, she thought she was hallucinating, surely she had to be, because one test stood proud and pink with two lines on the result screen, and the other the word YES + . She was pregnant. 

Subconsciously, her hand fluttered down to her stomach as shock quickly made way for disbelief, and disbelief to something that she could only describe as pure joy. She had a little life, a little piece of Dean Winchester, the man she loved more than her own life, growing right now inside of her. A piece of him that no matter what, she’d get to keep forever. 

Grabbing both tests, she quickly made her way out of the door, and back towards the kitchen, where Dean was still waiting at the table, his head buried in his hands.  

Most people would have probably wanted to ‘surprise’ him with something cute. Some way of telling him that he was gonna be a Dad, but not her. They’d waited long enough for this moment, and she wasn’t going to make him wait a minute longer for the sake of theatrics. 

Dean’s head lifted as he heard her footsteps approaching, and he was on his feet reaching for the test before she could even make it to him. His hand shook as he took the two test from her hand, and looked down at them. The same emotional turmoil running over his face as had hers only a moment ago, which sent a flood of emotions streaming down her face, or maybe it was the hormones?

“You’re pregnant?” he stated after a while-  as if he needed to say it to make it real. 

“You’re going to be a father, Dean Winchester,” she said, her voice choking with emotions, as he wrapped his arms around her squeezing her tightly as his own emotional dam broke, and years of pain, rejection, doubt, and fear of never having a life of his flooded down his own face, all while he clung on to her like she was his lifeline. She was honestly, and he was hers. 

Life as they knew it would never be the same. Things had forever changed. Dean had a family of his own now. A real family. This was the first day of their forever. 

Y/N’s eye’s lifted to the doorway of the kitchen, where had Dean not been holding her up, her feet would have given out from under her as the clear ghost of John Winchester and Mary Winchester stood, arm and arm watching the pair. Jack and Cas stood not far behind in the hallway, along with Bobby, beaming proudly at him. 

“All of Heaven had to come and see this moment,” Jack said as both stood there in shock at the faces of family and friends long gone. 

“We’re all so proud of you son, and when that boy of yours is born, he’s going to do great things,” John said, pride beaming from his face. “You did good.”

Just as suddenly as they had appeared, in a blink of an eye, they were all gone. Leaving nothing but an empty room, and the promise of a son that Dean had always wanted. She couldn’t think of a better, more fitting ending for Dean Winchester. The righteous man that might have saved the world on multiple occasions, and he saved her. He’d saved her in way’s she’d never stop thanking him for. He was her constant. Her comfort, and now, the father of her child, and the man he could finally call himself proud of. Scared. Battered. Bruised. Broken. But proud of the man, father, and one day husband he’d become. 

The End.

Forever:

@bubsonnobx​​​​​​​​

@britnwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

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@spnwoman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@christycreature​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@teresa-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​��​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@herstarburststories​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jxackles

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@ladysparks78

@sarahgracej​

[imagineanime2022]

You Created The Zombies

Grell Sutcliffe X Reader The Undertaker X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: If you can, can you do one that you’re a retired reaper and you’re even older than Undertaker. You first started creating the zombies but out of animals and you’re infamous for that reason. How would you think Undertaker or Grell would react, first time requesting. Sorry if the description is bad

Grell Sutcliffe

✂ Grell had never heard of you before seeing your work, mostly because she never paid attention when people talked about the history of reapers. ✂ She met you because she had accidentally wandered into one of your many creations while taking on a job. ✂ Grell came back with the zombie wolf gnawing at her coat, it was then that William explained what it was and that someone would be along to collect it soon. ✂ When you were the one to come for the rabid dog she was shocked. ✂ “You are the one that owns this mutt?!” “Yeah sorry about that he was guarding some pups that I’ve been working with.” “I was expecting some old croon.” “Thanks I think.” ✂ Grell would sneak out to find you when no one was looking, now that she knew who you were she wanted to know more. ✂ “So how’d you get out of the business?” “Well we’re not supposed to bring things back life, we’re supposed to end it.” “That was what got you kicked out.” “disrupting the natural order got me kicked out.” ✂ Grell learned to love you little creation, there was nothing like them and when they got used to her they were nice to have around. ✂ Grell started to get jealous when others came looking for you, especially if you ever got the attention of Ciel or Sebastain. ✂ “They aren’t going to help you.” “Is that so? Sebastian, make sure that they help us.” “Yes young master.” “Or you could ask nicely, the little ones like it better when you ask nicely.” ✂ Grell is happy with the simple “I told you.” after you dismiss them with a simple ‘no’. ✂ Honestly Grell will likely become your most common visitor, her interest becomes friendship pretty easily and whether it becomes more than that is up to you but we all know that she’ll let you know what she wants in due time.

The Undertaker

⚰ He’s never really been interested in anything but when someone managed to get kicked out long before he did, he had to know why. ⚰ You were easy to find, he just had to follow one of your little pets, he was way too good at being stealthy but you still noticed he was there. ⚰ “Explain yourself quickly, they like biting.” “I only came to see what everyone was talking about dear.” “How nice everyone’s talking about me.” “Don’t you worry they’ll be talking about me soon.” ⚰ You were first person that he came to see after he left the reapers, he offered you a place in his shop and you accepted. ⚰ You were the only person that he allowed to see his face and true personality after he left the reapers. ⚰ “Will you let me use them?” “For what?” “Do you really care, there’s nothing anyone can do to punish you.” “As long as you come back after you’ve had your fun.” “Where else would I go?” ⚰ He is honestly very protective of you, you’ve taken a step back from the fighting so when Sebastian is in the shop he’s careful about how close he lets him get, often sending you off to make tea or something while they were there. ⚰ He’s does get jealous sometimes, if you spend more time with your creation then you do with him, after all it takes a lot for him to admit that he even likes someone let alone invite them to share his space. ⚰ The undertaker definitely finds you to be the most interesting reaper he’s ever met and by extension spends a lot of time getting to know you, whether that leads you to something more is up to you because he’ll tease you but you’ll have to be the one to make the final move.

Request Here!!

[galaxymagitech]

Skyglow

Summary: Jason wakes up in a coffin for the second time, the feeling of satin brushing against his fingers and the thick scent of dirt filling his nostrils. He should probably start digging. But he doesn't.

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, possibly something that counts as a suicide attempt (not sure), a character claws at their skin.

It’s a dark, clear night in Gotham, and if you squint hard enough, you can almost see the stars.

Jason sits at the edge of the roof, staring into the sky and pretending like he’s finding meaning there. There’s the sound of soft footsteps behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees Nightwing hang his legs off the roof’s edge a few feet away.

“When I was little,” Jason says, “I used to think they made the stars up.”

Dick hums.

“Bruce took me on a business trip in Metropolis, one day. We wanted to be there before sundown, but we ended up getting delayed. Don’t remember why. And so we were driving on the interstate and I looked up from my book and just—there were stars. Everywhere. And I was just like, oh, I guess stars aren’t just a metaphor. Can you believe that? I was twelve when I learned that stars were real.”

Dick shifts a little. “I never thought of that.”

“What, that a stupid little kid wouldn’t believe in stars?”

“That some people in Gotham haven’t ever seen a star. That’s just…” They sit in silence, for a bit. “Why are we here?” Dick asks, eventually.

Jason shrugs. “I dunno why you followed me.” That’s not entirely true. He’d be willing to bet that Tim snitched. But he doesn’t know why Tim decided his concerns were important enough to bother Nightwing about. Or why Dick decided to actually be concerned.

Dick sighs. “You know what I’m asking. Why are you here?”

Jason doesn’t know. He’s been hanging out on a lot of rooftops, lately. Maybe if he sits on enough ledges, he’ll decide if it’s actually worth it to jump, instead of just slowly sliding off. 

Unlike the stars, that’s a metaphor; Jason wouldn’t jump. A fall isn’t clean enough. Too much of a chance that the universe will fuck him over again. No, if he dies, he wants to stay dead.

“I don’t know what brought me back,” Jason says, well aware that Dick meant here on the rooftop, not here as in alive. “But dead screw-ups don’t come back to life. That’s for…Superman. The forces of evil. Hell, I’d buy it if Batman came back. But me? No fucking way was I supposed to get a second shot.”

“You did, Jason,” Dick says. “You’re alive. I don’t care if we don’t know how, you’re alive.”

But Jason just plows right past. “I figured, if I didn’t deserve a second shot, then I must’ve been brought back for a reason. ‘cause there was something I needed to do.” He frowns. “Do you know the first words I heard once I came back to myself?” Dick shakes his head. “Yeah, why would you? I didn’t say. But. Talia said, ‘you remain unavenged.’ That’s what she told me.”

“Jason—”

 “So I figured it had to be revenge, right? Only, I haven’t been able to kill the Joker. And then I figured, maybe I needed to prove Batman wrong. But he’s still doing the same thing he always did, letting the Joker live, not fixing anything. And then I figured, it was up to me, and my job was to fix things. But I’m not killing right now, I’m following the rules, and I’m a fucking joke, Dick. Everyone knows it. So there isn’t really a point to me after all.”

“Don’t say that.”

Jason shrugs. “It’s true. There isn’t. It would’ve been better if I hadn’t crawled my way out of that grave.”

---

Jason wakes up gasping for air and rolls over, fumbling for the switch of the lamp beside his bed. Instead, his fingers brush against cushioned satin.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, only to see complete darkness. No light filters through the curtains or leaks underneath the door. It’s unnatural. It’s wrong. He reaches up an arm, only to hit the ceiling a couple inches above his face. That’s when the panic sets in.

Jason loses himself to the shocks of fear pulsing through his system, pumped by his pounding heart. For a long time, he can’t think at all. He can only drown in the darkness and terror. When he regains awareness, his breaths are shallow and he can feel strips of satin beneath his fingers, torn from the roof of—

What is the last thing you remember? Jason blinks, but his memories swim. He doesn’t know. There are glimpses, lines thrown out into the water, but as soon as he reaches for them, they’re gone. He leans over Tim’s shoulder in the Batcave, examining a color-coded spreadsheet. He stands in front of Bruce, helmet on, as they brief on top of a rooftop. He sits at the kitchen table of Safehouse 4, the oldest of the safehouses he hasn’t burnt yet, with Around the World in 80 Days propped open as he picks at an omelet. All of the memories feel old. None of them explain where he is now.

His neck is itching, Jason realizes. He reaches up instinctively to loosen his tie. That’s when he realizes that he is, in fact, wearing a tie. These days, Jason only wears one of those for infiltration. Was he on an infiltration mission? He brushes a hand against his face. There doesn’t seem to be any make-up there, not even concealer for his scars.

The realization comes to him dully, this time.

He’s in a suit, surrounded by satin, in a small, enclosed space, and it’s dark. Jason’s been here before.

---

Jason stands across from Bruce, no, Batman. At the man’s side is Robin, arms slightly raised and fists tightly clenched. It’s milliseconds away from a defensive position. Jason should probably feel bad about that, but he doesn’t.

When he speaks, he aims to hurt. “You have no idea what it was like,” Jason says. “I crawled my way out of my own grave.”

This should not be news to anyone, but Bruce still flinches.

Jason grins, all teeth. “I remember it, sometimes. It took hours. I was screaming the whole time. I tore off all my fingernails, you know. Even when I was Robin, the most any torturer got to was four. But I lost ten, and I kept digging.” The Replacement looks like he’s going to be sick. Good. “Up and up and up. I knew I wasn’t gonna make it, you see. You can’t force your way out of your own grave. Mythbusters did an episode on it, yeah? So I had to scoop the dirt away, but I knew I wasn’t gonna have enough air for that. But I kept digging, because I thought—I thought maybe someone would find me, and if I made it just a little bit easier for them—”

“I’m sorry,” Batman says roughly. “Jason, I’m so sorr—"

Jason ignores him. It feels good to ignore an apology from Batman, instead of being grateful for whatever scraps of contrition the man can manage. “I don’t know how I did it. It should’ve been impossible. I think maybe I suffocated, and just came back to life and kept digging again, and suffocated again, and—”

“Stop,” Batman orders.

“Things are fuzzier, after I made it out. But I remember I was cold. So, so cold. It was raining. And I felt like I was as cold as a corpse, like life hadn’t properly warmed me up yet. And I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t walk, so I just crawled. I just crawled, Bruce, and then I stood up, and then I walked. A few hours before, I was being beaten to death with a crowbar. I thought someone would find me then. No one did. And I was still stupid enough to think someone would find me that second time.”

Robin’s right hand drifts toward Batman, like he’s going to try to cling to his mentor’s cape, before he clearly thinks better of it and withdraws his hand as if burnt. Batman growls. He doesn’t sound entirely human.

“You know nothing, Bruce,” Jason spits. “Nothing.”

---

Jason is in a coffin. He can smell the dirt around him, and he’s too lucid for that to be entirely an olfactory hallucination. He’s in a coffin, and he’s buried underground.

Although Jason wouldn’t put it past certain Rogues and crime families to bury someone alive, he’s in a suit and he isn’t wearing anything to disguise his identity. He has to face the facts.

Jason can feel phantom pains in his fingers, his lungs burning for oxygen before he’s even begun to truly run out of air.

Jason should probably start digging. But he doesn’t.

It’s quiet, in this coffin, just the sounds of his own ragged breaths. Jason knows that the first time around, he screamed. And when he couldn’t scream anymore, he cried, and when he couldn’t cry, he pleaded in hoarse whispers for someone, anyone, Bruce, Dick, Dad, please, please—

Jason realizes he isn’t breathing anymore and forces himself to inhale, wheezing like a dying man. Hah. He already died. At least twice. Probably—probably more. If he came back this time, how many times in the past have his “brushes with death” in fact taken him past its threshold?

But in the past, he seized his chance at life with both hands. This time…this time…

The universe brought him back for a reason. But it isn’t the Joker, and it isn’t Batman, and it isn’t Gotham. And Jason—Jason had been glad to fulfill it, whatever it was. He’d taken his second chance and used it, used himself as kindling to start whatever fire the universe desired. But he’s fucking tired of being burnt. Speaking of burning—

No one told Jason to write a will. He knows Dick has one and Bruce, of course, has one. Alfred has one, Barbara has one, even Cassandra Cain has one, although she has little to her name. Jason knows it’s standard vigilante/superhero procedure to have your affairs in order. But no one could work up the willpower—heh, willpower—to approach Jason and ask that he prepare for a second death.

Jason wrote a will anyway. Legally, he doesn’t exist. He has a small amount of money in various fake identities, but most of his funds aren’t exactly something he can distribute in a will. But he doesn’t much care what happens to them after his death. No, he wrote the will after one too many nightmares about his resurrection. That night, he picked up a pen and scribbled feverishly in his notebook that he wanted to be cremated. And Jason woke up in the morning and looked at it and thought, yeah, that’s fair. So he made it about as official as it could get.

Right now, it’s really fucking clear that he hasn’t been cremated.

Jason should start digging. But he doesn’t.

Death was supposed to mean that he was done. Cremation was supposed to ensure that. Jason just wants to be done. He thinks he deserves that much, at least. 

Jason thinks, what if I just lay here? Last time, he took his chance to live. What good did that do him? He didn’t get revenge, he didn’t get proof that Bruce cared, hell, he didn’t even properly protect Crime Alley. His dad always told Jason that he had to grow up to be something, “not like your old man.” But one time when he was drunk, Willis looked straight at Jason and said, “you’re never gonna amount to anything” and Jason had never figured out if his father had been talking to Jason or himself. Jason had thought, with Robin, that he mattered. But he was replaced as easy as can be. He never mattered. He squandered his first life, and he failed at his second, and really, Jason thinks, what’s the point of a third?

Jason wonders what will happen if he just stays here. Good corpses stay still. Good corpses don’t dig their way out of graves. Jason’s been dead twice now. He should be a pro at being a corpse.

It’s always been hard to do nothing. The same impulse that urged Jason to take his tire iron to the Batmobile makes his hands twitch to start digging. He’s wasting valuable time. Jason’s always been a do-er, and now he needs to not do anything. He’s always been a survivor, and now he has to lay down and die.

Jason should really start digging. But he doesn’t.

He is done being a zombie, a revenant, a walking memorial. He shouldn’t have come back that first time. The universe put things right and now Jason has to prevent her from having second thoughts.

---

“What the hell was that?” The Replacement shouts, one hand tight around his bo staff and the other clenched into a fist.

“I don’t answer to you,” Jason sneers. He folds his arms across his chest. Fuck it. This is a waste of time. He leans down to snap a ziptie over wrists of one of the less injured traffickers. The sooner he cleans up, the sooner he can get out of this warehouse.

“This is my route, so according to protocol, you do,” Tim insists.

“Yeah, I don’t follow protocol.” Jason gestures at the criminals bleeding all over the warehouse floor. None of them are dead. Probably.

“Clearly, or else you wouldn’t have engaged!”

“I made an informed decision.”

“No, you didn’t. You entered the middle of a freaking firefight, Hood, without your helmet, and you didn’t know you had backup.”

“It was fine.”

“Because I was there! Which you didn’t know, because you refuse to be on our comms.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Hood, do you not see how insane what you just did was? Or do you just not care?”

Jason bristles. “What, concerned about the poor widdle traffickers?”

Tim throws his hands into the air, like Jason’s the one being difficult. “That’s not what I’m talking about! I don’t care about them!”

Jason feels his lips twitch into a smirk, and before he knows it, he’s drawn a gun from its holster and trained it on the goon at his feet. His smirk widens into a grin at Tim’s flinch. “Oh, really? Guess I’ll just take out some trash then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tim says, voice carefully measured. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Well, that’s one way to ensure that Tim never gets to his actual point. Jason flicks the safety off. The click echoes through the warehouse.

“Stop it,” the kid tries to order. Jason’s finger twitches on the trigger. “Please, Hood. Don’t do this.”

Jason shrugs and clicks the safety on, as if it doesn’t physically pain him to leave this scum alive. He knew he wasn’t going to kill anyone the second he dropped down from the rafters, and unlike what Batman thinks, he has self-control.

The Replacement tries to hide his relief, but he does a piss-poor job of it. “That was reckless,” Tim says. “Really, really reckless, and you know it.”

Jason turns around without a word. He doesn’t have to deal with this shit.

“I’ll have to tell B.”

Jason really doesn’t need a lecture from Bruce, but he can just avoid the cave until Bruce gets distracted by something equally reckless Tim does. Or, well, probably not equally reckless—Jason’s well-aware that what he did is pretty close to the edge of the ‘reckless’ spectrum, straddling the line between ‘reckless’ and, well, ‘suicidal.’ But equally stupid, at least. The Replacement seems like a dumb kid.

“I’ll tell Nightwing,” Tim tries desperately, and that makes Jason spin around. Because shit, Nightwing would hunt him down and not be satisfied just giving a lecture. He’d want to talk about feelings.

“Fine,” Jason huffs. “What do you want? A safehouse? Files? Me off this case?”

“I want you to stay alive, because believe it or not, I’d like Batman to not have another mental breakdown.”

Yeah, right. Like that would happen. Batman would still have his precious display case, and he cares far more about the dead kid than the Red Hood.

“Bruce can’t lose his son again,” Tim says, and Jason just—he can’t do this. His vision whites out. He has to leave. So he leaves.

When Jason finally registers the thuds of his boots, he’s three long blocks away from the warehouse. Whatever. The Replacement’s not going to go crying to Nightwing about Hood being a little reckless. If anything, he’ll be pleased.

---

Jason swallows. If he’s going to die, he might as well use up his air faster. Less time to wait. “It is a truth universally acknowledged…”

He recites the first chapter of Pride and Prejudice. Darkness by Lord Byron. Sings You Are My Sunshine five times. Waiting to die is a slow, slow thing, and every second, his entire body is screaming dig, save yourself, survive!

There’s a sound above him, strange thumping. Maybe, Jason thinks, it’s raining. That would be…not ironic, but there’s a strange sort of circle to it, isn’t there? He was born on a rainy day, and Catherine arrived at the hospital soaked. He was reborn in the rain. If he had dug up, he would have been born yet again in the rain. The opposite of a phoenix.

Bruce should have cremated him. Jason doesn’t even know that he won’t just suffocate and then wake up again, but this time with no air. An endless loop of suffocation. The thought sends a thrill of terror through Jason. He regrets not digging.

But if he wakes up again, Jason supposes, then he’ll make his way out. It’ll hurt, but he can take his time. And then after, after, he’ll find a fire. And then he won’t have to remember how much it hurt.

The thought should be comforting, but Jason just feels terrified, and afraid, and alone. He wonders where they buried him this time. Last time, he’d been next to Sheila. But he’d screamed at Bruce for it, so maybe, maybe this time it’s somewhere else. Next to his mom, his real mom, even. Not that Bruce seemed to particularly care about Jason’s wishes, when he was actually real and not just a memorial caged within rose-tinted glass. After all, he’d asked to be cremated.

Jason closes his eyes. Everything feels detached, out of phase. He isn’t sure if it’s oxygen deprivation setting in or a side-effect of his resurrection, or just the strangeness of the scenario. He’s tired. That could be any one of the three as well.

How did I die? Jason wonders. He strains for his memories. The taste of rocky road ice cream from his favorite ice cream shop. Tim laughing. Flashes of blinding light. None of it is an answer. None of it explains what happened.

The thuds are getting louder. Jason wonders if it’s hail. Last he remembers, it was June. If it’s winter now, he supposes six months have passed. Maybe more. Maybe he’s been dead for years.

“I’m tired,” Jason whispers. “I’m so tired.” He blinks. His vision tilts. Definitely oxygen deprivation.

It’s almost over.

And then Jason hears—Jason hears voices and there’s a light, but it’s dim, and there are shadows falling on him. Jason lies there. He wonders if this is what he saw right before he died the second time. The first time, he just saw flames, seared across his eyelids.

“Jason,” someone says. They sound horrified.

That’s his name. Jason doesn’t respond. What’s the point?

“Hold on.”

This dream doesn’t make much sense. Jason hopes it’ll be over soon.

Something grasps his arms and pulls. No. No, Jason has to stay. Corpses have to stay in their graves. If he doesn’t stay, then he’ll have to come back, and he’ll just ruin it again. He has to stay. “No,” Jason can hear himself babbling. “No, let me go, let me—no. I have to. I have to go back.”

“Jason, calm down.”

“No!” Jason shouts, desperately. He throws out a kick and dives forwards, eyes closed. Strong arms catch him around the waist and hold him close, pulling him against someone’s chest. “No, I have to go back! Please!”

“Jason, open your eyes!”

Jason’s eyes snap open and he sees—

Batman. Nightwing. Robin. It’s all wrong.

Jason doubles over. “Please,” he sobs. “I have to go back. You need to let me go back.”

“You’re okay, Jason,” Batman says in his ear, but his voice is all Bruce. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.” Dick startles. Jason must’ve said that out loud. “Please,” he whispers.

The first time he dug himself out of his own grave, Jason’s voice was gone by the time he made it to the surface. This time, someone else dug him out, but no one will listen when he speaks.

Jason slumps in Bruce’s hold, and they just…stand there. Eventually, Bruce slowly sets Jason on the ground and kneels down in front of him. 

Jason’s heartbeat pounds in his ear. It’s wrong. His heart shouldn’t be beating. It’s wrongwrongwrongwrong. Desperately, Jason claws at his wrists, trying to dig the heartbeat out. It has to go away. Someone tugs at his hand and Jason snatches it away and cradles his hand against his chest. His pulse continues to tear him apart.

“Jason,” Bruce says. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“A fucking graveyard, right?” Jason says. His eyes burn. He refuses to wipe at them. He can feel the hard, rocky dirt beneath him. He wants to be numb again. He shouldn’t be here. He should be underground.

There’s a sharp silence. “We’re not in a graveyard, Little Wing,” Dick says, eventually.

Jason looks around slowly. His vision feels disconnected, and it takes several moments for each image to register. But there are no gravestones around, just trees, trees and sky. It’s dark out. He thinks, when he looks up, he can almost see the stars. He doesn’t understand. “Then why am I in a suit?”

“Do you remember the gala?” Tim asks, so quietly that Jason almost doesn’t hear him. In fact, it sounds more like “…oo…ber…gala?” with the rest being lost underneath the Replacement’s breath, but Jason figures that’s what he’s saying. Jason shakes his head. 

Dick takes a step closer. “The paparazzi saw us out in Gotham four days ago. With you. You…there was a gala tonight. Bruce convinced you to go with us. And then you went missing. We thought you walked out early. But then…well, Tim was working on a case, and…well…”

“A weird cult thought you were a zombie,” Tim says, when it becomes clear that Dick’s not going to explain anything properly. “So they knocked you out, did a ritual, and re-buried you.”

This is real, Jason thinks suddenly, and then he’s doubled over, retching. Nothing comes out except spit. He can feel grass beneath his hands. When he curls his fingers, he scrapes up dirt. “This is real,” Jason says aloud. “This is real. This is real.”

“This is real,” Dick confirms. Jason retches again.

This is real. Jason doesn’t know what to say.

Tim sighs. “We need to take you to the police.”

Bruce shakes his head. “We need to talk.” His voice is dark. Jason shudders.

“Not like this, Bruce,” Dick says. “Not with the cowl on. Jason, are you good to deal with questions right now?”

“I don’t remember much.” Jason tugs at his tie in the stifling heat. Across the room, Tim is talking to a group of teenage boys and making large, animated gestures. Jason stumbles, catching himself on a nearby table.

“That’s fine, Jay,” Dick says. “We recovered security footage and we have confessions. We’ll be there in civies as soon as we can, okay?”

Jason shrugs. Someone helps him to his feet.

---

On the rooftop, Dick places a hand over Jason’s. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Jason says quietly. “I shouldn’t have come back.”

“You’re wrong,” Dick says. He sounds so sure. But that’s the first Robin. He’s sure about everything. Jason could never measure up.

“Jason Todd was better off without me insulting his memory.”

“Who cares about a memory?” Dick scoffs. “You’re alive.”

“Tell that to Bruce.”

“Tell that to yourself,” Dick says. “You’re alive, Jason. You’re alive. Don’t you see how amazing that is? All of us—me, Bruce, Tim, Alfred—we’re so happy that you’re alive.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason says. He believes that Dick believes it. He believes that Dick has to believe it, that Dick won’t admit to himself that he wishes Jason was still dead. Dick will always ignore his darker thoughts. But Jason knows. Jason knows Dick would be happier if Jason never came back. And Bruce? The man doesn’t even think that Jason counts as Jason anymore. Alfred no doubt can see that something in Jason is deeply, deeply wrong—sociopathic tendencies, Talia had theorized, although Jason suspects he’s far beyond tendencies. And Tim has no reason to wish his murderous predecessor well, not after the Tower. So, no, Jason doesn’t believe Dick.

“You will,” Dick says. “I promise.”

Jason stares into the sky. He thinks maybe, just maybe, he can see a star.