#mysterious yellow eyed man...

[greenbirdtrash]

creature

source

[lucidstarlet]

Have a quick doodle of S1 Arthur and S2 Jon.

[mayajadewrites]

my type: shouta aizawa x dancer! reader

✦ synopsis: you're a dancer at a club that a certain erasure hero frequents every night after patrol. he's never talked to anyone before, until one night you decide to change that.

✦ content warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, strippers

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader

ao3

Every night, at 2AM on the dot, Pro Hero Eraserhead lingers into the club. You started noticing about 2 months ago when he would come in, order a few beers, and just watch.

He never got dances, though many, many dancers have asked him if he would like one. Even for free.

You've kept your distance from the raven-haired man, his yellow goggles pushed up against his hair. He seemed like bad news, and you wanted no parts.

During your stage time, you noticed him in the crowd. He wasn't in his hero uniform though, so maybe it was his night off.

Why was he here on his night off?

He exuded mysteriousness.

Your outfit tonight was all black - a black bikini with a mesh long sleeve crop top over it. You wore black metallic shorts that gave little to the imagination, with platform black heels.

You took your normal walk around the club, saying hi to some of your regulars and chatting with your fellow dancers.

Eraserhead with sat at a loveseat, his legs spread in the cockiest way.

"Have you ever given him a dance?" You asked one of the dancers. "Eraserhead."

"No, but GOD do I want to." She turned to look at him, biting her bottom lip. "He's so sexy. But he just comes here to drink I guess."

"Why not go to a bar then?"

"Girl I don't know. Why don't you ask him." She gently pushed between your shoulders to his direction.

His eyes were already locked on you as he sipped his drink.

They never left you once he locked eyes with you.

"Well if it isn't my favorite Pro Hero." You sit down next to him in the loveseat.

"Hello." His voice was deep. Deep as fuck. Not what you were expecting from a man who has never said one word in here.

"You know, I've seen you around." You crossed your legs - your thick thighs on display. "None of the girls have danced for you, though."

"I don't want any of them." He turned his head to take a sip of his drink, which looked like whiskey.

"Why not? They're gorgeous and can dance really well."

"Not my type."

"So what is your type, Eraserhead?" You lean into his space more, giving him a nice view of your tits.

"I prefer thicker women." He eyed your body up and down. "Ones that wear all black." He set his cup down on the table in front of him. "Ones that have the fattest ass I've ever seen."

"I've been here every time you were, so why didn't you say anything? Or ask for a dance?"

"What's your name?"

"My name here Rogue."

"Well, Rogue, every time I've wanted to you're already with someone and then you leave since the club closes at 3. I get here at 2."

"Tonights your lucky night then, hm?" You drag your nails along his black pants, stopping at his thigh. "Is that why you came here on your night off? To see me, Eraser?"

"Call me Shouta."

"Shouta." You repeated, your heart racing. He smelled like a mixture of musk, vanilla and cedar wood. His scent filled your nostrils as you moved your body just an inch closer to him.

"How much for a dance?" He pulled his leather wallet out of his pants pocket, revealing crisp bills.

"A private dance is $300."

"Heres $600." Shouta handed you the bills. He leaned in, his lips just grazing your ear. You grabbed his hand and lead him to the private rooms, which have a loveseat, LED lights, and a coffee table.

His hand is large and veiny, but soft and gentle, contrary to his appearance. You gently push him down onto the loveseat, watching his legs spread as he fixes his pants, most likely due to his erection.

You place your hands on his thighs as you start to move with the beat of the song that's on. Shouta stares at you, swallowing your entire figure with his eyes. You turned around and bent over to shake your ass and thighs, his lips parted just enough for you to tell he was enjoying this. Really enjoying this.

You ran your hands up and down your curves, his eyes focused on your thick, plush thighs as you danced.

You turned around to face him once more as you settle yourself into his lap - straddling him.

Your arms drape over his shoulders as you grind your hips on top of him, your clothed core soaked. You wonder if he can feel it.

His hands remained on the sides of his legs as you danced on him, refusing to give you the satisfaction you so desperately want.

Shouta's raven hair was beautiful and you needed to have your fingers in it. You wanted to feel the strands of his hair intertwined with your fingers.

He's just staring at you as you move, waiting to see what you do next.

You're becoming impatient. And annoyed that he isn't giving you the validation that you're chasing from him. You're usually confident - after all, this is your job. But Shouta is different.

You place your dainty hands on his chest and you can feel his muscles through the fabric. God, what you would do to see what's underneath.

"Handsy are we?" Shouta finally spoke, his voice smooth like velvet.

"Eraser." You sighed as you hooked your ankles onto his leg.

"Shouta."

"Shouta," You pressed your palms into him. "I-I want,"

"Use your words." Shouta grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger. "My quirk isn't mind reading."

Why was he making you so tongue-tied?

"I want you to touch me." You flipped your hair to one side as you spoke.

"Show me where." He put his hands up in front of you so you can grab them. "Put them where you want me to touch you."

You almost let out a whimper as you pull one hand to your the front of your neck, the other on your aching cunt.

Shouta's facial expression didn't change though. He still looked serious. Still barely looked like he wanted to be there. You moved his hands again, one to your breast and the other on your ass, to which he couldn't help but squeeze gently.

"Can I show you were I want to touch you?" Shouta leaned into your ear, his breath dancing on your skin. You nod, eager to feel him touch you at his own accord.

He mimicked where you placed his hands, but dragged his hands from your ass to your thighs. This man is definitely obsessed with thighs and would do anything to get in between yours.

"Let's get out of here." You leaned into him, your lips almost touching.

"Meet me in the parking lot."

-

You walked out into the cold night air, scanning the parking lot to find Shouta. You're wearing an oversized black hoodie with black biker shorts and slides.

You spot him leaning against his car with his arms crossed, looking sexy as fuck.

"You might look more gorgeous like that." He opened the passenger door for you before speeding off to your destination.

He wasted absolutely no time grabbing you once you were in his space. His apartment is clean and dark when his hands found your waist, pulling you into a frenzied kiss.

His lips felt hot on yours as his hands snuck under your hoodie, pressing his cold hands onto your soft stomach. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" He whispered against your lips as his moves his hands up to your tits. "I've thought about you for 2 months. Every. Day."

"Now you wanna talk?" You smirk as you bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you. "You were so quiet at the club."

"There was only one person I wanted to talk to." He growled as his lips attached to your neck. You threw your head back as he found your sensitive spot, kissing and sucking on your skin.

He then moved back to your lips, his large hand wrapping around your neck gently. You felt his fingertips slightly squeeze as he kissed you so sensually that you thought you were going to come right then and there.

Your pussy ached for his touch. A whimper escaped your throat as he kissed you, unable to say more than two words.

"Bed, please."

"You're so needy." Shouta pulled away from you and grabbed your hand. He pulled you into his room and practically threw you on the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his chiseled physique. He's fucking beautiful.

You laid on your back as he crawled over you, his lips finding yours again. You let your hands explore his body - fingertips over each and every muscle. He pulled his hair into a bun as he kissed you, making sure nothing was in his way. Not a hair could ruin this sight.

"Off." He pulled on the hem of your hoodie. You obeyed, pulling the fabric over your head and revealing your lacy bra.

He dipped his head down to your chest, kissing your skin gently. His lips felt even hotter on your skin now.

"Shouta, please."

"What did I tell you about using your words?"

"I want you inside of me. Right now." You whine as you wrap your arms around his neck. "I can't wait anymore."

Shouta was silent as he dipped his hand inside your shirts, his middle finger finding your soaked cunt. He smirked as he pulled the finger out, staring at the almost glittering arousal on his fingertip.

"So wet for me already." He pushed the finger into his mouth, tasting you. "You want me right now, pretty girl?"

You nod as you kick your shorts and thong off. You help him with his belt and other barriers to his cock. Your fingertips danced on the elastic of his boxer briefs when you felt his hard cock through the fabric. Fuck, he's big.

"Go ahead." He watched you as you pulled his underwear down, his cock slapping against his abdomen. Your eyes grew wide at his size, but you're also nervous about him fitting inside of you.

You spread your legs, watching Shouta line himself with your soaking cunt. You feel his fat tip graze your slits, a moan leaving your mouth.

"Shh, my neighbors will hear." He smirked as he slowly pushed his tip inside of you. "Wouldn't want them to think I have some loud, inconsiderate brat in here." His muscular arms caged you in as he kissed your lips to ease his cock sliding inside of you.

"F-Fuck." You moan as you feel the entirety of Shouta Aizawa. Even though you're soaked, it's still work to get him all the way inside of you. "Shouta, you're so big."

"I know, baby." He pressed his hand to the back of your head, pushing you up to kiss him. "You're taking me so well."

Your eyes roll back as he gains his rhythm, his thrusts slow and deliberate. "That's right, pretty girl. Take my fat cock." He pushed himself inside you until the hilt, his balls hitting your ass.

Your gummy walls swallowed him once you got used to his size, clenching against his cock. In a frenzied kiss, your lips attached to his as he buried his cock into you.

The room filled with the lewd noises of your bodies and sinful moans. You could listen to Shouta moan all day.

"Rogue." He moaned, caressing your cheek.

You told him your name. Your real name.

"Don't call me Rogue ever again." You kiss his lips again, slipping your tongue inside. His pace quickened as he kissed you and you could feel yourself getting close.

Shouta must've felt your cunt clenching him because his large, calloused hand dipped to your clit, rubbing circles gently.

"Shouta, fuck!" You moan loading as he massaged your sensitive nub.

"Be quiet." He used his other hand to cover your mouth as he rubbed your clit and thrusted into you. "I don't need a noise complaint."

He kept his hand on your mouth as you began to lose control of your body. You closed your eyes as you swear you saw stars, the taste of Shouta's skin on your lips as he pushed his hand against your mouth.

"Mmm." You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his back. His strokes started to become sporadic, so he took his hand off your lips. You were coming down from your high as he was just approaching his.

"Fuck, baby, this pussy was made for me. You know that?" His breath was labored. "I could fuck you every day and never want another pussy. I'm gonna get you out of the club and take care of you." He pushed himself inside you once more, layering your gummy walls with his seed.

You both had to catch your breath from the life altering orgasms you just had. Shouta's skin was shiny from the sweat, some face framing pieces of his hair that fell out of his bun are sticking to his face. You pushed them behind his ear gently, kissing his lips.

"You're gonna take care of me, Shouta?" You smile as he kisses you back.

"Mm, yes." He pulls his cock out of you. You whimper from the loss of contact, not ready to be without him inside of you. "You'll make a pretty little housewife."

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).

Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating

Thanks in advance!

chasing you ✩ gregory house

“What color is your pee?”

You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.

“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.

“And what color is your blood?”

“Red.”

House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”

The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”

The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”

“Waste-“

“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”

“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.

“Treatment?”

House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“

“Other possible causes?”

“Infection.”

House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”

Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”

“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.

House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.

“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.

“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”

The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.

“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”

House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.

Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.

When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”

“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”

The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”

“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”

Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”

“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”

“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.

House clicks his tongue. “No.”

“How long-“

“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”

The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”

House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”

“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”

House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”

You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”

“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”

Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.

“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”

“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.

House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”

“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.

House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”

Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.

“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.

“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.

Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”

The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”

“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.

“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”

“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”

Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”

“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”

This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”

For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”

With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”

You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”

House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”

“Probably not,” you reply.

“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”

Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.

Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.

To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.

You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”

“House.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”

“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”

Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”

“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.

Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”

Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.

After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”

You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”

Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”

With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.

“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.

James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.

You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.

When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.

“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.

House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”

You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.

“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”

“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”

House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.

“Why won’t you go with me?”

You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”

“Y/n, why-“

You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.

The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.

House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”

House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”

“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”

“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”

A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.

“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”

Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”

“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.

“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”

“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.

Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”

House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”

Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”

“I see.”

Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”

Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”

Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”

It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.

“Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”

“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.

House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”

You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”

Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”

You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”

“Why?” House asked immediately.

You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”

House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.

“And why do you want to go with me?”

House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’

You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”

“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.

You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.

House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.

And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”

Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”

House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”

“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”

House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”

You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”

“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.

Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.

House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”

“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.

House just hums. “Good.”

You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.

House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.

[wileys-russo]

idk if you’ve seen that tiktok trend where roommates have been making behavior charts (like the ones you might see in school. green for good, yellow for warning, red for bad and so on) but i can literally see in my mind you making one of those for your gfs leah and alessia, and i can see their pouts if you move their name from green to yellow.

this went in a slightly different direction but was so amusing

best behaviour II a.russo & l.williamson

"what's all this then babe?" leah asked as she and alessia returned home from training to you calling out you were in the kitchen, the blondes frowning as they eyed the armfuls of craft supplies discarded on the bench.

"please take a seat." you gestured for them to sit down which they both did hesitantly, sharing a concerned look as you cleared your throat, clearly holding something behind your back as you took a step closer.

"have we done something wrong?" alessia asked cautiously, folding her arms over chest and leaning back in her seat, eyebrows furrowed together in slight worry. "yeah you're being mysteriously serious." leah added on, narrowing her eyes as you rolled yours.

"if you let me speak, you will find out." you clipped as both blondes raised their eyebrows at your tone, sharing a look but staying silent. "much better, thank you."

"i have called this meeting today because as the two of you should have noticed, i've had it up to here with the pair of you lately." you held your hand above your head, indicating your level of tolerance, shooting leah a firm glare as she scoffed and went to speak, falling silent again.

"you-" you pointed sternly to the older of the two. "just the last couple of days alone you refused to do the dishes and instead flicked me or whipped me repeatedly with the tea towel when i was doing them, you drank the last of the milk from the carton and then put the empty carton back in the fridge, and you barked at the delivery man and scared him half to death!" you remanded leah who frowned at you grumpily.

"less dared me to bark at him babe thats not fair!" leah defended herself with a huff, sharply elbowing the blonde beside her who snickered at the memory.

"and you-" you now rounded onto the italian whose smile dropped. "you didn't listen when i warned you to separate the washing and turned everything white pink, you used the last of my body wash and gaslit me into thinking i knocked it over and it spilled down the drain, and you dared leah to bark at the delivery man who put in a complaint and now all of our packages have to be picked up directly from the post office!" you pointed to the striker with a stern stare who sunk down into her seat, biting her lip with a guilty smile.

"so i make my point again that you have both been doing my head in, and so we're gonna implement a little tool to help amend some of these...issues." you smiled calmly, though the look in your eyes had your girlfriends shifting uneasily.

"this!" you proudly held up what you had spent pretty much the entire afternoon on, waving it around before turning on your heel and pinning it onto the fridge.

"what is that?" leah sighed with a shake of her head, the craft supplies now making sense. "this is what i like to call the girlfriend behavior chart!" you clapped happily, grabbing a marker off the counter.

"you'll see we have five colours and five tiers-" you began to explain, using your marker as a pointer, smacking it assertively against each tier.

"tier one is green,and you'll see is titled the 'you can do whatever you want with me superstar' tier-" you gestured to the very top row, flashing a somewhat suggestive smile to the two very unimpressed blondes in front of you.

"-tier two is orange, and you'll see is titled the 'someone made a good choice today' tier-" you continued, tapping along with your marker. "-tier three is yellow, and you'll see is titled the 'skating on thin ice' tier-" leah strongly withheld the urge to groan as you kept going.

"-tier four is red, and you'll see is titled the 'you're taking the fucking piss' tier. thought of you when i made that one lee." you added on, making sure to read out the words in your best impression of her thick milton keynes accent, the older blonde scoffing in offence but you held up a hand signalling you weren't done.

"and finally we have tier five which you will notice looks a little different, this is the dog house tier!" you warned, tapping to the final tier which was indeed a well scribbled dog house.

"if you find yourself on this tier by the end of the day you will be expected to sleep in the spare room or on the couch, alone." you explained with a satisfied smile, both of your girlfriends instantly exploding into protests once you did.

"hey! let me finish." you yelled over the top of them with a scowl. "these are the two of you-" you grabbed something out of your hoodie pocket, magnets with pictures of either of their faces glued on top.

"right now, you are both here." you placed down both magnets in the yellow tier. "the better you behave; helping out around the house, being sweet and lovely, not fucking around and pissing me off, you will move up." you demonstrated by bumping them both up to the orange.

"but the worse you behave; throwing your dirty kits at me, playing fifa until three in the morning, burping in my face like disgusting teenage boys, moaning at me about asking you to do something, you move down." you dropped the magnets down to the red zone in demonstration before moving both girls back into the yellow.

"any questions?" you raised an eyebrow, both blondes standing to their feet, hands flying around as they voiced their obvious disdain for your new tool.

"none? wonderful! whose turn is it to make dinner?"

~

"leah! christ man leave me alone." you whined, curling more into alessia as the older of the two once again sucked on her finger and shoved it in your ear, having been in an annoying mood all afternoon which you attributed to the raging storm outside which had caused their game to be postponed.

"you're like a fucking hyperactive four year old, go away!" you scowled, kicking at leah as she tried to grab you, clinging on tightly to your other girlfriend who simply smiled in amusement, having not wound you up at all today she was in the orange tier.

"i know a way we could burn some energy pretty girl." leah grinned, grabbing at your ankles and yanking you down the couch, climbing on top of you as her blonde hair fell around the two of you like a curtain. "chart!" you warned, smacking at her chest and pointing over her shoulder.

"are you in the green?" you smiled sarcastically as leah glanced toward the fridge. "no? so get off!" you huffed, shoving her away and crawling back to alessia who had her arms open expectantly.

leah however was not quite ready to give up that easily as she grabbed your ankles again, pulling you back down the couch and sitting on your back. "less i think i'm a bit sick of this chart business, would you agree?" leah asked as you struggled underneath her.

"lessi don't answer her!" you warned as the other blonde hesitated, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. "less, go get the chart babe." leah ordered gently with a charming smile, and you gasped as the italian slowly stood to her feet.

"lessi look you're almost in the green! you know what that means." you finally managed to shove leah off, sending the blonde tumbling to the ground with a yell as you tried to clamber over the back of the sofa, alessia hesitating in the kitchen.

"ah!" you yelped as leah shot to her feet with a war cry, grabbing you in a headlock and dragging you back down onto the sofa with her, entrapping your body with her long limbs. "less grab the chart baby, bring it here." leah purred with another smile and a nod of encouragement.

"lessi baby don't let her drag you down with her, she's in the dog house and you're not!" you grunted, leahs hand coming to rest over your mouth as she continued to give your other girlfriend nods of encouragement.

"lee i don't know about-" the striker started, leah cutting her off with murmurs of reassurance as your yells were muffled against her hand. "love if you think i ever mind your tongue touching me anywhere you're wrong." leah smirked down at you as you tried to lick her hand so she would move it off.

using all of your strength you managed to break free from the body lock the taller blonde had you in, yanking her hand off your mouth. "lessi, leah said you were a dope this morning, thats why she got moved down in the first place!" you revealed, alessia's eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"i am not a dope!" the italian defended, crossing her arms over her chest. "i didn't say that! i just said sometimes you can be a little bit dopey...and i said it lovingly!" leah scrambled to try and defend herself, you grinning happily as the look of displeasure didn't drop from your girlfriends face.

leah distracted with trying to clear her name you again tried to make an escape. "oh no you don't!" the older girls arms wound around your waist, the two of you wrestling around on the lounge, both yelling instructions to alessia who stood hopelessly torn in the kitchen.

"if you bring me the chart i'll let you be in charge tonight." leah bargained, finally wrangling you into a gentle chokehold as she held your furiously bucking body down. "lessi you know thats a lie she's too bossy!" you yelled, out of sight from the blonde who'd grabbed the chart and was weighing up her options.

"i'm bossy? sorry who made a behavior chart for her girlfriends in the first place?" leah scoffed looking down at you. "tiktok made me do it!" you huffed, pouting up at the blonde in hopes she would let you up as alessia arrived to the couch, chart in hand.

"well, you're on a tiktok ban then." leah pinned your arms down beneath her knees, taking the chart off alessia and rewarding her with a kiss. "starting from now!" leah effortlessly ripped the chart in half as you gasped, looking up in disbelief toward alessia who winced and sent you an apologetic smile.

"you are both so in the dog house." you warned quietly as leah jumped off of you, not giving you a chance to move before she'd easily slung your body over her shoulder.

"i love you?" alessia smiled guiltily, following behind as leah marched away. "put me down williamson or so help me-" you warned, but they again fell on deaf ears. "where are we going!" you huffed in annoyance, smacking at leahs bum since you could reach, flipping off alessia who continued to look at you apologetically.

"we're gonna go study my chart. i think its time we taught you some things about behavioral obedience baby girl."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Magnificent Seven | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), angst, canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 3382

A/N: SEASON THREEEEEEEEEEEE thank you guys so much for all the support i love you so much i give each of you a little kiss on the face :)))

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Dean hadn’t called you since you left. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to. However, there was a feeling clawing at you that you wanted him to. You wanted him to beg you to come back and tell you he missed you and loved you, too. Although, seventy-eight hours after leaving the Winchesters, you were unsure that phone call would ever come.

Over the previous three days, you’d scoured every library book on demonology you could get your hands on and prodded every community college professor that could possibly know any information helpful to you in breaking Dean’s deal. However, all you came up with were crossed eyes from staring at books for too long and several aging professors looking at you like you had three heads.

To your surprise, the phone on the center console next to you rang, the light from the small screen on the front of the flip phone illuminating a portion of the dark car. Hopeful, you picked it up. 

‘Oh,’ you thought. ‘Just Sam.’

“Hello?” you said into the phone.

“(Y/N), hey, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replied.

“Good to hear yours, too,” you said, a little sadness in your tone. “Is— Is Dean around?”

“Nah. He’s, uh…” Sam trailed off, sighing.

“Polling the electorate?” you questioned, hoping Sam would understand your reference. 

“Yeah,” Sam laughed sadly. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sighed, ready to change the subject. “It’s okay. What’s goin’ on? Why’d you call?”

“What, I couldn’t’ve just wanted to talk to you?”

“You would’ve called before if that was the case,” you replied a little flippantly. 

“Fine, you got me,” Sam chuckled. “Was wondering if you’d found anything.”

“Besides an unreal level of frustration? No.”

“Yeah. Same here.” 

You clicked on your turning signal and sighed. “Honestly, dude? I don’t think we’re gonna find the answer in any book.”

“You’re probably right,” Sam acknowledged. “Doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“I have looked, Sam. And there’s nothing,” you responded, getting a little snippy with him. “I’m sorry. I’m just—” you quickly apologized.

“I get it. Me, too.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam replied quietly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You understood the warning in his tone and knew he somehow figured out your next stop would be summoning every crossroads demon you could possibly find and hunting others down for answers. “Can’t make any promises, Sammy. Love you, bye.”

You snapped the phone shut and huffed. As badly as you wanted to continue your pursuit of these sons of bitches, you knew you’d be getting nowhere on the hour and a half of sleep you’d cumulatively been getting over the past five days. 

***

The next morning, only feeling slightly refreshed from the three hours of sleep you’d gotten, you headed out into the early morning sun to find yourself a demon. 

The previous evening, you’d found a bizarre story in the newspaper about a man who’d died under mysterious circumstances after picking up a hooker on the day after those demons were released from Hell in your fight with the yellow-eyed demon. There had also been a cicada swarm around the motel the man had died in; a traditional demonic omen.

The coroner’s report indicated the man had been tied to the bed and found without his genitals, blood soaking every inch of the room. They concluded the man had bled to death. What made the case more disturbing and interesting was the fact that there was a deep bruise around his neck in the shape of two small, delicate hands. 

Curious, you headed to Lincoln, Nebraska to interview the wife of the man who’d passed.

“Hi, I’m with the FBI—” you flashed your fake badge at the woman as you spoke— “and I just have a few questions for you regarding your husband’s death?”

“I don’t understand,” she said, beginning to tear up. “I already answered these questions for the police.”

“Yes, ma’am, I just have to do a follow-up of my own. A cross-examination of sorts.”

She nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing you into her home. She gestured for you to sit on the couch across from the chair she settled into. 

“So, what would you like to know?” she asked. 

“What was your husband like?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Why is that important? I mean, I’m not even sure I really knew him. Married to that cheating bastard for fifteen years, and he does this to me.”

“What do you mean by ‘you’re not sure you knew him’?” you pressed.

“I mean,” she sniffed, “I just never would’ve thought he’d cheat on me. With a whore, no less.”

You cringed at the implication of sex workers being “whores” but kept your mouth shut anyway. 

“I mean, in all the time we were together, I was the only girl he ever looked at,” she explained. “He never drank, never went out— hell, he felt guilty about watching porn! I just… I can’t understand why he’d do this to me.” Her sobs wracked her body, and she put her face in her hands. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grishop. I just have one more question for you.”

She looked back up at you expectantly, still hiccuping from her cries.

“Did he have any enemies? Anyone who may possibly want to hurt him?”

She shook her head. “No. Before… all this… he really was the nicest man I ever knew.”

***

Following leaving the woman’s house, you decided to head out to lunch to gather your thoughts. In the midst of writing them all down in your journal and munching on a fry, a story on the news caught your attention. 

“Second Victim of Possible Serial Killer Found,” read the headline at the bottom of the screen.

“Walter Morrisson, age forty-nine, was found dead in a Super 8 motel just off I-6 around eleven A.M. this morning. Authorities were called to the scene when the housekeeper found the body after assuming the man had already checked out."

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. You tuned the rest of the broadcast out as your mind raced; whatever this thing was, it was just getting started.

You left a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover your meal and tip and quickly left the diner. You sped down to the Super 8 to begin investigating. 

Upon entering the lobby, you noticed a scraggly young man sitting behind the desk. The room was completely empty aside from him.

“Hi,” you grinned. “My name’s Christine McVie; I’m with the FBI.” You flashed your badge. “You mind letting me have a look at your security tapes?”

He nodded nervously, eyes flickering from your chest and back up to your face. He allowed you behind the desk to examine the security tapes from the previous night, and you clicked over to the camera just outside of the victim’s motel room. A gorgeous blonde woman escorted the man into the room, and she looked at the camera for just a split second. Had you not been paying close attention, you would’ve missed it completely: her eyes were black.

Immediately, you had the man working the front desk make you a copy of the tape and brought it back to your motel room. You then uploaded it to your laptop and began scanning FBI and police databases you’d hacked into to find the woman’s identity. After about thirty minutes, you found a match.

“Jennifer Lane, 28, Missing from Miami, Florida,” the information on your screen read. 

‘Holy shit,’ you thought. ‘She went missing the same night I killed Yellow Eyes.’ Looking at the picture of Jennifer linked to the article you found confirmed the fact that this was your mystery demon. You felt awful for that poor girl trapped underneath and had no doubt she was going through a world of pain; a slave to her own mind.

“Housekeeping,” a sultry voice suddenly called from outside your door.

Unsettled, you drew your gun and pressed it to the door and looked through the peephole. You were met with the smiling face of the girl you had just been reading about, and the door abruptly slammed open and threw you back into your room. Two men with black eyes came into the room as well and grabbed under each of your arms before you even had a second to adjust. 

You fought them as best you could which quickly proved futile. 

“Don’t worry, angel,” the beautiful blonde cooed, “we’re not gonna hurt you.” She grinned wickedly and pulled your bottom lip down with her thumb. “Yet.”

The men holding you laughed as you continued to struggle, frantically flailing your limbs to shake them off. 

“What’s the rush?” the demon asked you, roughly grabbing the sides of your face. “Y’know, you give a girl all kinds of nasty ideas.” Her lips ghosted over yours, and you suddenly found yourself unable to resist leaning forward slightly to kiss her. She kissed you deeply and furiously, causing you to stop fighting the two demons holding either side of you. You could feel them pulling your arms behind your back and tying them together, as well as your legs, but you could do nothing to fight off the woman before you. 

When you’d been bound, the demons dragged you out to a car and threw you in the trunk of it. Trying not to panic, you tried to keep track of how long they were driving for and how many rights and lefts they’d been taking. However, after the second hour of driving, it was all becoming a bit much to keep track of. 

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. You tried to prepare for whatever was ahead of you mentally and cried out when a demon roughly grabbed your hair. He hauled you out of the trunk and unceremoniously tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked and fought as best as you could, screaming, “Let me go!” You kicked the man’s stomach with all your might. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

“(Y/N)!” you heard an all-too familiar voice yell. Your stomach dropped at the sound of Dean’s voice, unwilling to face him after your confession and having not spoken for a week. 

“Let go of me, you fucking asshole!” You wriggled even harder now and were suddenly aware that the man carrying you stopped moving. He roughly tore you off his shoulder and stood you on your shaky legs in front of the steps up to a house. You came face to face with Dean being held back from crossing the line of salt blocking the doorway by Bobby and Sam. 

Afraid your voice would fail if you spoke, you said nothing but held Dean’s gaze.

“We come with a peace offering,” the gorgeous blonde who’d kidnapped you purred, dragging her nail harshly down your jawline and breaking the skin along it. You hissed in pain and could see Dean fight against Bobby out of the corner of your eye. “You give him back to us, and we’ll give her to you.”

“Nice try,” Sam replied. “How do we even know that’s (Y/N)? How do we know she’s not possessed?”

“You don’t." The woman gripped your chin. “But trust me, you don’t wanna see what happens if you leave me with her for much longer.”

And then, all hell broke loose. Someone— you were pretty sure you knew who— charged the demons holding you hostage and you heard Bobby yell, “Salt’s broken!” as the demon holding you up dropped you to the floor. About ten demons ran past you into the house, and you were left trying to get out of the binds you were held in. You were growing more and more frustrated by the second until someone came up from behind you.

“Need a little help?” a gorgeous blonde asked, smirking down at you. 

“Who the hell are you?” you asked. “Get away from me!”

“Baby, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” The woman pushed you upright into a sitting position and cut through the ropes binding your hands. 

Confused and startled, you watched the woman walk up to the house. “You’re welcome,” she remarked over her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you replied, still confused. You shook your head to snap yourself alert and stood. You were completely unsure of what to do now; you desperately wanted to help your friends, but you were scared of facing Dean and had no weapons. Alone outside of a house you didn’t recognize deep in the woods, you decided to hotwire the car the demons brought you there in. 

By some miracle, you managed to find the interstate and, eventually, your motel. When you’d showered, changed, and dressed the deep bruises and brush burns on your wrists from the rope the demons had used on you, you wrapped your arms around your stomach and laid on your side in bed.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, though; you were too busy stifling tears while your mind ran wild with possible scenarios that could’ve happened after you abandoned the boys. You felt horribly guilty already.

Your guilt was made even worse when Bobby called you around five in the morning.

“What the hell was that?” he scolded through the phone.

You grimaced. “Bobby—”

“No, (Y/N). You don’t abandon family like that,” he raged.

“I didn’t have any weapons! And since when do I have a family?!”

“Since the day I found you in the woods holding your guts in your goddamn hands!” he roared, and your guilt immediately sank deeper. 

“Bobby, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, kid. It’s Sam and Dean I’d worry about,” he replied, voice softening slightly— or, as much as Bobby’s voice could, anyway.

“What? Why?”

“You left again. Without saying goodbye. Or making sure that they were okay. Dean’s pissed; Sam’s just hurt.”

‘Ouch,’ you thought. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna be in the way, and I didn’t have any weapons, and when I saw that girl going to help you, I figured it was better if I just left—”

“So you saw her, too?” Bobby questioned.

“Of course, I saw her. Why wouldn’t I have seen her?” you replied.

“ ‘Cause Sam said she disappeared. And the knife she had killed three demons,” Bobby explained.

“What?! What the hell kind of knife can kill demons?” you exclaimed.

“Ask me yesterday, and I would’ve said there’s no such thing,” he said. “I thought Sam mighta been losin’ his mind, but since you saw her, too...” Bobby trailed off. “Look, I think you should give ‘em a call. Just let ‘em know you’re all right. And apologize.” The last part of Bobby’s statement sounded more like an order.

“I’ll call Sam,” you replied after a moment.

“No, (Y/N), Dean, too. You two need to sort out whatever the hell’s wrong with you,” Bobby asserted. 

You went quiet for a moment. 

“And call me when you get wherever you’re goin’,” he finished, “so I know you’re okay.”

The line cut out, and you smiled sadly. You felt absolutely horrible for leaving the way that you did, and you knew the right thing to do would be to call Sam and Dean; separately. You knew you had to face up to Dean at some point, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. But, Christ, did you miss him. You wanted him to apologize for not calling, you wanted to apologize for leaving— there were so many things you’d say to him. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone. 

You got up from your bed and crossed in front of the blackened television, jumping at the sight of your reflection. It was your guard uniform once more, scrapes up the left side of your arm and face, hair a complete mess, and buttons on your shirt buttoned haphazardly. You tried to steady yourself and take a breath. 

You hated trying to deal with this alone. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. You felt you couldn’t control the world around you like you used to feel before the prison case. It felt like things would never be okay, and you were never going to feel at home in yourself again. You didn’t like feeling helpless or like you needed anyone, but you truly needed your friends. Your pride fought your rational mind valiantly, telling you that you shouldn’t call because you can handle this alone. You shouldn’t call because you’ve never needed anyone before; why would you now? And yet, there was another part of you saying that you’ve always needed someone, this was just the first time you actually had someone. 

***

The day after leaving Lincoln, Nebraska, you began driving aimlessly again. You almost cried when you turned on the engine and rock music didn’t immediately start blaring from the speakers. The seats of the car felt uncomfortable and made you miss the polished leather of the Impala’s. You loved driving, but it didn’t feel right without Dean and Sam in the front seat ahead of you. 

Sam would often joke that he and his brother were your babysitters due to your designated seating positions in the car, and Dean would often say he wished he had “that sliding window thing—” “partition,” “thank you, Sam,” so he didn’t have to hear you chirping from the backseat. 

 None of the radio stations could rival the comforting background noise that was Dean’s cassette tape collection. You felt cramped without your seat to spread out across. The thing that made you call Sam, though, was the moment you slammed on the brakes and the book Sam read to you about Egypt while you had your concussion flew out of your duffel bag on the seat next to you. Tears swam in your eyes at the sight, and you finally gave in. 

“What, (Y/N)?” Sam annoyedly answered the phone. 

‘Jesus. Harsh,’ you thought. “I, uh. I just wanted to call and say that I’m sorry,” you began. “For leaving. Both times. And… just wanted to tell you that I hope you’re okay.”

You could practically hear the aggravation leaving Sam’s body as you spoke. One of your favorite things about your friend was how forgiving of a person he was. 

“I appreciate that,” Sam replied. He paused for a minute. “Why’d you do it, man?”

“I didn’t have any weapons. I saw the blonde chick go in to help you after she cut me loose, so I figured, I’d be doing more harm than good by staying—”

“No. The first time,” Sam cut you off.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you knew this whole time.”

“(Y/N), since when does Dean tell me anything. I mean, it literally took me nearly beating it out of him for him to tell me that if the deal’s broken, I die—”

“What?!” you exclaimed, furious. “Since when? Why the fuck would he make that deal?!” 

“I said the same thing,” Sam replied calmly. 

“He’s so fucking selfish!”

“I completely agree.”

“He doesn’t get to be mad at me for leaving when I literally told him I love him, and he’s gonna fucking leave me in a year because of some stupid demon deal!” you continued to yell, not realizing what you’d admitted to Sam.

He was taken aback. “Whoa, you what?” 

You suddenly processed what you’d said. “Yeah. I did.”

“Jesus,” Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N/N).”

“It’s fine,” you replied, suddenly feeling like you were too vulnerable. “I’m just pissed.”

The younger brother paused for a moment. “Will you at least talk to him? Try to work things out?”

“Not a chance in hell,” you scoffed. “I don’t want things to work out. I don’t wanna watch him die in a year, Sammy.” Your voice quivered.

He paused again. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to either if I were you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Will you at least call every once in a while?”

Your chest ached at the realization that you may not be hunting with the brothers again for quite some time. “Absolutely.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him sniffle on the other end of the line. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Till next time, Sammy.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 19 — mechanic — 843 words aka motocross enthusiasts to future boyfriends

James hastens to unclip and throw off his helmet. Carelessly, he throws it to the side where it lands with a dull thud in the foliage while he runs over to the person that just slipped off their motocross bike in front of him.

They were racing each other.

He came out of nowhere, appearing on the trail right next to James. As if he’d materialized himself out of thin air. Decked out in all black and bike an atrocious lime yellow-green that doesn’t blend with the background of the forest even if it wanted to.

He’d snaked his way in front of James when their twin paths united again. Two fingers were tipped from his helmet in a mock salute and then he’d accelerate hard and fast, swirling dirt at James’ helmet visor.

And, well. James has never said no to a challenge a day in his life. Especially from such a cheeky opponent. So James had revved his engine and done his best to keep up and find ways to overtake his mysterious challenger.

The thing is, the other guy was fast. Quick and nimble on his bike, winding between trees and seeking out every opportunity to get a good head start. Jumping off hills instead of taking them easier, dangerous maneuvers, snapping branches and leaving behind angry wheel tracks.

And James was chasing. As soon as the trees cleared a little James managed to pull almost level with him. The biker threw multiple looks over his shoulder when he noticed and James’ grin sharpened when he heard a short laugh from his front left. They parted ways when James chose to round a hill instead of going up and over it, slowing down to keep out of the other’s landing range.

But just as quickly James’ smile was gone.

Maybe the ground was muddier than the guy thought or he got too high-spirited. His hind wheel slipped right from underneath him upon hitting the ground again, making him tumble forward with the remaining momentum and his bike sideways.

Now, James skidders down onto his padded knees next to the body laying in the dirt. “Fuck, hey! You okay?”

He gets a groan in response, raspy and breathless.

And then James gets all breathless when the other guy weakly shoves off his own helmet. It’s pale skin contrasting starkly with his all black getup, dark curls tumbling onto his forehead and stormy eyes fluttering up at him.

Oh.

The gorgeous man on the ground grunts vaguely, “Never been better.”

James makes a skeptical noise. “Hey, open your eyes for me again. Can you see clearly?”

Slowly, grey eyes blink open and try focusing on James’ figure kneeling over him. His lips part around a silent gasp once they’re wide open, looking at James intensely. “Um, yeah,” he answers.

James’ mouth tips into a grin. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” the other breathes weakly.

“And your name is?”

“Regulus.”

James hums, “And how many fingers do you see, Regulus?” He holds up 3.

“Three,” Regulus answers dutifully.

James switches his fingers, holding his thumb to his forefinger, the tips of both of them creating a little heart. “And how many now?” James smirks.

Regulus’ wide eyed glance turns into a scowl, lips pouting as he pushes James’ hand away with a grumbling noise. James doesn’t miss the way his cheeks pinken though.

Regulus tries to sit up but he immediately plops back onto his elbows with a groan.

“Don’t be a hero,” James admonishes and pushes him to lay back down.

“How’s my bike?” Regulus wants to know. It’s quiet safe for the sounds of the forest, birds chirping, wind rustling the thicket.

James looks over his shoulder where the lime green atrocious is laying sideways in the leaves. The motor isn’t on anymore but it doesn’t look bent or scratched. “Looks in okay shape,” James replies, turning back to Regulus. He’s looking up at him with an uneasy gleam in his bright eyes. James drives a hand through his hair, licks his lips. Regulus’ eyes follow the motion. ”Easily fixable, I bet,” James reassures, “Probably just some of the electronics impacted.”

Regulus lets his head thump back into the foliage with an unhappy groan.

James grins. “Hey, y’know what? I’ll take you to my mechanic. Guy’s awesome! Funniest person I know and he really knows his bikes.”

James expects Regulus to lighten up and be thankful for the offer but instead he’s met with an almost patronizing smile in return. “Hard pass. I already have a trusted mechanic.”

James narrows his eyes, feeling defensive. “Well, your loss then. Sirius always does a flawless job for a good price. Plus,” he grins again, “His fancy ass espresso machine makes a mean hot chocolate. And he lets me have one every time.” James nods to himself, feeling victorious.

Something flits over grey eyes and then Regulus’ own lips tip onto a smirk. “I know,” he answers and James is properly confused for a few momentps before Regulus goes on. “I bought it for my brother.”

[badboydevotee]

Celebrating Mayhem

“Huh? Whose birthday? Mine? Gyahaha! Totally forgot about it! Grazie!” -Taiga's birthday voiceline.

The streets of the city pulsed with an electric energy that mirrored the chaos within Taiga Hoshibami’s mind. It was his birthday, and he had completely forgotten. His world had always revolved around the next thrill, the next gamble, and today was just another day ripe for impulsive decisions. 

You glanced at Taiga, who lounged against a lamppost, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. He’s suited up for this mission—exudes an air of authority in his dorm uniform, which resembles that of a mafia don. His sharply tailored dark suit hugs his lean frame, complemented by a crisp black polo shirt with a slightly rebellious collar. Black sunglasses add a layer of mystery, allowing him to survey his surroundings with confidence. A vibrant silk scarf drapes around his neck, contrasting with the monochrome suit and enhancing his audacious style. 

His long overcoat sways dramatically with each stride, completing an ensemble that commands attention and turns heads. With a blend of charisma and danger, Taiga transforms the mundane into the extraordinary, leaving a lasting impression on everyone he encounters. His crimson hair flared out like a wild flame, with streaks of blonde peeking through, much like the unpredictable nature of his personality. 

“Are you ready for this?” you asked, a hint of excitement and fear lacing your voice. Today’s mission was meant to be straightforward, but with Taiga, nothing was ever simple.

“Ready? Hah! Born ready, as always!” His sharp, shark-like teeth gleamed as he smirked, those bright yellow eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of mischief and something deeper—perhaps the thrill of the hunt.

As you both made your way toward the location of the mission, an underground casino rumored to host anomalies, the weight of his volatile energy pressed down on you. You had learned to navigate his impulsive nature, yet a part of you always wondered what lay beneath that reckless facade. 

The casino was a labyrinth of neon lights and shadowy corners, a playground for gamblers and thrill-seekers alike. As you entered, the cacophony of laughter, clinking chips, and hushed whispers enveloped you. Taiga’s eyes sparkled with delight, a child in a candy store, but you knew the stakes were far higher than mere entertainment.

“Let’s make some chaos!” he declared, his voice cutting through the noise. Before you could respond, he was off, weaving through the throngs of people like a ghost, leaving a trail of startled gazes in his wake.

You followed, your heart racing. Taiga’s gambling prowess was legendary, but so was his ability to attract trouble. As you rounded a corner, you found him at a table, his expression a mix of concentration and thrill. The dealer, a slick-looking man with a smile, eyed Taiga warily.

“Do you even know what game you’re playing?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, though the stakes felt dangerously high.

“Of course! It’s a game of chance—my favorite!” Taiga’s laughter rang out, bold and unrestrained. He tossed a handful of chips onto the table, his reckless abandon infectious.

As the cards flipped and the bets piled up, a tension filled the air. You couldn’t help but admire his ability to charm the room, yet your instincts screamed that trouble was looming. 

Just as you anticipated, the atmosphere shifted. The lights flickered, and a low growl echoed from somewhere deep within the casino. You exchanged a glance with Taiga, his grin widening as he sensed the impending chaos.

“Time for some fun!” he roared, leaping from the table. The casino erupted into a frenzy, patrons screaming and scattering as an anomaly emerged—a hulking creature formed of shadows and sharp teeth.

Without missing a beat, Taiga reached for his weapon, a dark grin stretching across his face. “Let’s dance!” He charged headfirst into the fray, a whirlwind of violence and chaos. 

You followed, heart pounding, caught between admiration and fear for the man who was both reckless and brilliant. As he fought, you noticed how he moved, an instinctual understanding of the creature’s patterns, like he was playing a game of chess while everyone else was merely reacting.

“Taiga, watch out!” you yelled, but he was already a step ahead, dodging the attack.

After a harrowing battle that left the casino in ruins, you and Taiga stood amidst the wreckage, breathing heavily. The anomaly lay defeated, a swirling mass of shadows dissipating into nothingness. 

Taiga turned to you, his expression suddenly shifting from exhilaration to something softer. “Hey… I didn’t forget your birthday, did I? I mean, it’s mine too, after all!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that felt foreign in the wake of chaos. “That’s one way to celebrate. You could’ve given me a heads-up before diving headfirst into a fight.”

“Pfft! Where’s the fun in that?” His grin was infectious, but you could see a flicker of something else in his eyes—a vulnerability that rarely surfaced. 

“Happy birthday, Taiga. You’re… something else,” you said, your heart swelling with affection and exasperation.

“Thanks, I guess! Gyahaha! Here’s to more chaotic birthdays!” He raised a makeshift toast with a fallen chip, the moment encapsulating the paradox that was Taiga: a whirlwind of destruction and charm, reckless yet oddly endearing. 

As you stood amidst the remnants of the casino, you realized that every moment with Taiga, however reckless, was a piece of an unpredictable puzzle you were both piecing together—one that danced dangerously between life and death, chaos and companionship. 

With the remnants of the casino behind you, you and Taiga stepped into the neon night, laughter echoing through the streets. His birthday might have started with forgetfulness, but it ended with an unforgettable thrill, a testament to the wild adventure that was your life together. 

“Next mission?” Taiga asked, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Let’s just survive this one first,” you replied, your heart racing with the promise of whatever chaos awaits you next.

“Survival is just a prelude to the fun, right?” he chuckled, already plotting the next gamble. And with that, you plunged into the darkness, side by side, ready for the next chapter of your unpredictable saga.

Ao3 vers.

[noyzinerd]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @eevylynn! Thanks so much for the tag! I can't stress how not-often I get to participate in these things, so it's very appreciated 😭. From my fic If. A story about if Derek was Scott's sidekick, best friend and Stiles was the mysterious supernatural that came to town. I decided to finally post from something other than Pseudology for once😅. Enjoy

The sudden disappearance of the bite set off so many alarms in Derek's head, it was unreal. For a second, he honestly thought that maybe Scott had made up the animal attack all together. But then, that wouldn't explain why he didn't need his inhaler anymore.

This was just too weird.

He was about to holster his gun to get ready for his shift when the feeling of being watched struck him urgently like hands suddenly slamming down on piano keys. Before he could fully turn with his gun raised, nimble fingers easily flourished over the piece, rendering it useless on the floor in no less than a second, and pinning his wrist with enough power to force him back against the wall behind him. Another hand quickly clamped over his mouth.

"You say one word, and I'm gonna break your jaw, comprende?"

Derek struggled against the boy with his free hand but found to his surprise that even with having 100 pounds over the kid, there was no moving him. Stiles didn't even pretend like the shoving was doing anything other than annoying him. It was as if Derek's body was being held in place by a thin piece of rebar. There was an immovable strength in the other that just didn't match the body that held it.

"Now, I'm going to let you go. If I hear you yelling for anyone, I'm gonna start snapping bones." There was a precautionary squeeze to his wrist that bordered on the edge of painful.

Despite the rather redundant threat to his person (he had already threatened to break his jaw, everything else was just excessive), Derek gave a slow nod.

Cautiously, the hand over his mouth receded along with the hand on his wrist. Stiles was respectful enough to take a half step back to grant Derek room to move.

With a rub at his wrist, he stared back at the anomaly in his room.

"Just what are you?"

A smirk played on Stiles' lips. "If I were you, I'd be more concerned about whatever your friend was."

Derek paused at that. Did Stiles know what was going on with Scott? How could he possibly know? Even Scott didn't know what was going on with himself.

"What do you mean? Do you know what's happening with Scott?"

The smirk curled into a devilish grin. "Oh, buddy, you have no idea."

From one moment to the next where there once stood a skinny, average looking teenager, suddenly sprouted a flaming—he had no other word for it—aura that engulfed Stiles' entire body and stretched out to lick all the way from the edge of his bed to his desk. It startled a shout from Derek, causing him to scramble backwards and thudding against the wall he had forgotten was already at his back. The boy's now clawed hand flew out against his mouth again. "Man, the concept of being quiet really doesn't register to you, does it?"

Derek was starting to panic. He was seriously staring wide-eyed at a fiery thing that was talking to him like it was no big deal that he was on fire. Up close, he suddenly noticed bright yellow eyes and sharp fangs peeking from his furled lips. He was quick to stifle himself, this time around, when Stiles pulled away. "Wha-? How-?"

"Yeah, got your attention, now, don't I? See, normally I wouldn't reveal myself so willy-nilly like this. In fact, my dad is probably going to absolutely lose his mind if he ever finds out about this, but here's the thing. We—and I mean you and I—we are on a bit of a time crunch. I don't have time to deal with 'oh, you're crazy', 'werewolves aren't real, they're just make-believe' bullshit."

Derek's brows furrowed incredulously. "Wait, are you telling me Scott's a werewolf?"

"Whoops. Cat's outta the bag, now...or I guess the wolf's outta the bag." Stiles snickered at his own terrible joke. "And, hey, don't you point those sassy eyebrows at me. I am on fire. You cannot seriously think I'm joking after taking in all of this." The boy's hand gestured at his general aura and body.

"Okay, okay! I believe you! Can you please just turn it off?" That was a lie. Even as he said the words and despite evidence of the supernatural screaming at his face, Derek still found it hard to believe.

Stiles frowned but still dissipated what Derek now realized was the wavered image of what looked to be something with a long muzzle, like some sort of wolf or fox. "Okay, I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear you lie to my face. I don't have time to try and convince you. Instead, what I'm going to need you to do is stop your buddy, Scott, from playing the big game coming up. If he wolfs out, it's gonna expose him—and ergo me—to people that neither of us need to be exposed to. Understand? Your friend's life is in danger."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'm tagging all of my sterek muties, because I'm so terrible at tagging etiquette and never know who to tag 😰. I know some of you have already been tagged, but I forget who, and I don't know how many of you are writers or are even active anymore, so feel free to ignore 😅. Low pressure tags: @haleshomeforthederanged, @sterekyrround, @dear-massacre, @renmackree,

@fujiyolkart, @bee--cat, @ellsgowrite, @cursedtruth,

@princecharmingwinks, @grimmypuff, @gynnnicsworld, @raisesomehale

[jojo-schmo]

what are your personal favorite headcanons for meta knight?

Boy, oh BOY am I glad you asked!! You have unleashed me!!

First of all, I am very much Team White-Eyed Meta!!! (And his pretty pink cheeks!!!!!) -slams my drawing from last year on the table as exhibit A-

I respect everyone on Team Yellow-Eyed Meta since that's what is technically canon. But I just think drawing white eyes is so fun and pretty to look at... My first Kirby game was Squeak Squad and I was so mesmerized by his pretty white eyes when they were revealed for that split second! I'd replay that boss fight a bunch as a kid just to see them.

So yeah, I have the power to be in denial about a few facts for my own amusement and that's one of them. Draw and consume the content that makes you happiest, friends!! :P

About his backstory and origins, I don't have any solid headcanons of my own since I really like seeing other people's takes on it! Being Dark Matter-born, made by Nightmare, blending anime and game lore together, etc. There's so much I enjoy! His mysterious past can be frustratingly open-ended but at least it's given a lot of people the opportunity to be super creative!

I do like to think he gets more enjoyment out of a good, honest battle than he likes to let on. I mean, it's what he's best at! He fights for fun! An entire arena was built for him in Waddle Dee Town!

...So speaking of fighting, I've been doing some thinking about his powers... Like a lot of thinking. This is what I really wanna talk about!!

He's got some good old-fashioned, hard-earned skill with a sword. Probably from years of training. But his more powerful attacks use a lot of wind and electricity. That's why I think Meta Knight has the power of Storms.

Some examples of his use of wind:

One of his signature moves is Mach Tornado, after all!

Now, the bat effect to his spin in RtDL Deluxe kinda puzzles me. It just looks cooler I guess. This is a dude who put his face on his airship so why not have tiny bat particles come from your signature moves? Could just be a natural evolution of his power growing stronger, teehee.

Anyway, here are some examples of his use of electricity: (This man has a LOT of electric effects in his attacks!)

So much electricity!! Zappo! Bzzzzt!

And as a bonus, when Meta unsheathes Galaxia in the anime it materializes from lightning. THAT IS DOPE AS HELL. I don't personally subscribe to much of the anime lore, but I eat this detail UP.

Next, I used to think Meta had telekinesis because of Star Allies. All that purple aura when he lifts the rocks seems like solid evidence.

But then he does the same move in Forgotten Land and he's actually lifting the rocks with wind!! And a lot of it!! So his mastery of wind is significant to me! Probably helps him fly better too! I think his use of wind could certainly give his opponents the impression that he has telekinesis and psych them out a bit!

Finally, I used to think his duplication move was because of the Jamba Heart in Star Allies but I realized he does this in the Kirby Mass Attack mini game (whose canonicity is probably up for debate, but hey.) I'm willing to hear someone else out for an explanation because I'm stumped! Lol :P

....So yeah!! TLDR I think he is a swordsman with the power of Storms!

I'm interested to see other people's takes on him, this is just what I've made up for myself, haha! Either way, I love Meta Knight and he is super cool!! Thanks for reading!!

[a1307s]

Lady Todd #1

(Batboys)

[Art is not mine! Credit to haines-mae]

Requested by: OliviaBrady821

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6380

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Mentions of teen pregnancy

Mentions of suicide

———————————————————————

"Hello," an old, tall man says after swinging open a door at least twice my height. The door gives me the creeps. This house gives me the creeps. Gotham gives me the creeps. Honestly, at this point, the list of things that don't give me the creeps is shorter. "How can I help you?"

"Hello. I'm Noah Johnson," my caseworker says, shifting through his briefcase. Noah Johnson was ruled responsible for me by the state of New Jersey until my sperm donor could be located. I'm Noah's first foster care case ever and it's very painfully obvious. "Umm... this is Y/N Todd," he mumbles, holding up my birth certificate to the elder man as he continues to shift through his briefcase in search of a copy of my mom's will.

The elder man looks over the paper before turning toward me with a long blank stare. My mom was a short, blonde-hair, blue-eyed girl. I got my mother's height but other than that she always insisted I was the spitting image of my father. I don't see it but I also don't know what my father looks like, so I don't have much to compare my features to.

"Jason Todd is her father and on behalf of Mia Smith's dying wishes, I need to talk to Mr. Todd about... well... what he wants to do considering Y/N," Noah spills out, managing to find my mom's will and my DNA test supposedly proving this Jason dude is my dad.

The old man glances at the DNA sheet before taking the packet from Noah. "The yellow highlighter is details of Ms. Smith's passing. Green is anything mentioned Mr. Todd, pink is the details of Y/N's inheritance from her mother and blue is any details relating to the placement of Y/N Ms. Smith wished for," Noah says, placing his hands on my shoulders to hide the fact that they're shaking.

String bean grandpa glances between Noah and me before fingering through the packet. He glances through the accident report and death certificate of my mother before getting to her will. "Please come in," the man finally says, stepping aside so Noah and I can walk through the door frame.

The castle of a house echoes with our footsteps. "So is my dad some kind of mafia man?" I ask, looking around the entry. The throw rug alone looks more expensive than the apartment I used to live in.

The old man loses control of the door, causing it to slam shut. "Why do you say that?" He asks, glancing at me before leading us toward the marble staircase in the middle of the room.

"Well, last time I checked the only people in Gotham that can afford luxury is criminals."

"Y/N let's be quiet," Noah says, tightening his grip on my shoulders and letting out a nervous laugh.

"You're acting like Gotham is any worse than Blüdhaven," I mumble, starting to climb up the stairs. Noah's head is constantly whipping back and forth, his grip not loosening on me.

The walk up the stairs and down the hall is silent beside our footsteps and the occasional noises of the old floors shifting. "Wait here," Old Man Gangster says once we're in front of the huge double doors at the end of the hallway.

"I think you should wait out here as I talk to your da- Jason. As I talk to Jason," Noah says, correcting himself halfway through. I freaked out on him the first time he called this mystery man my dad. He's not my dad. He's a random guy that happened to knock up my mom.

     "Whatever," I murmur, leaning against the wall before sliding down it to sit on the carpeted ground. "I don't want to stay here," I say, looking up at Noah.

     "Well, you don't want to end up in a group home either. Especially one in Blüdhaven. This is your best chance Y/N and at the end of the day I don't get to decide what happens to you, Jason does."

     Jason, Jason, Jason. It's the only thing I've been hearing for the last week. It took about three hours after my mom was pronounced dead for people to find out she left custody - with a DNA test to back up her claims - of me to the famous Jason Todd. It buzzed around everywhere I went: the police station, the foster care house, school, everywhere.

All I've heard the past week is how hot and rich and mysterious and ew my 'dad' is. My mom was brutally murdered a week ago and all people cared about was this Jason Todd prick. A stupid dumb prick that high-tailed his ass out of my life after knocking my mom up at 15. Fucking asshole.

"You may enter," Raisin face says, poking his head out the door.

     "I'll come check on you in a little bit, okay? Stay here," Noah says before slipping through the door.

Once the door clicks shut, I'm left in complete silence. I don't mind it though. It gives me time to look over the place. I scoot forward, sticking my legs through the railing of the hallway and letting them hang over the edge. There's a big crystal chandelier hanging over the entryway. Honestly, the whole place looks like a torn-out image of Dracula's castle. It's disgusting. No one needs this much fancy shit. I'm sure no one needs big ass crystals dangling from their roof either.

After a couple of minutes of silence, the dust-covered vampire house is filled with the sounds of the front door creaking open. I rip my legs from the edge, folding myself up as I spy on the new person entering. Whoever it is, is wrapped up in a police uniform. Mr. Police Officer is definitely breaking the law. Officers can't just enter your house without permission. Well, unless they got a warrant.

I keep my eyes trailed on the person as they start heading up the staircase. "Bruce? Alfred?" The voice calls out, sparking my mind some. I know this voice but from were. The officer calls out a few more times, giving me more chances to run through all the people I've met in the last week.

The officer turns down the hallway, heading toward me. His eyes lock on mine, his pace slowing down as he sizes me up. "Y/N?" He asks, picking his pace up some.

"Officer Grayson?" I call back, stiffening some as he approaches me. Why the fuck is a Blüdhaven cop here? Why is the Blüdhaven cop that handled my mother's murder here? Last time I checked Dick Grayson was estranged from Bruce Wayne.

"How are you?" Grayson asks, crouching down to be closer to my level once he gets in front of me.

"Oh, you know, still technically an orphan and a ward of the state, so just dandy."

Officer Grayson chuckles some, trying to cover the sadness in his eyes. With him handling my mother's case I've seen a lot of him recently. I've heard a lot about him too. Some of the other officers were poking fun at him for "adopting a fellow orphan". After I quick google search, I found that his parents fell to their death when he was younger than me. It sucks for him, but it's a bit of a comfort to know he's gone through what I'm dealing with.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, shifting to sit down instead of kneeling.

"My case worker is talking to the old man that answers the door and I'm guessing Jason."

"The old man is named Alfred." Grayson says, glancing at me before looking through the railing as well. "So-"

"I googled you already. And Jason. I know you're his brother or whatever," I say, a bit more bitter than I meant. Grayson has been really sweet to me, but it would have been nice to find out he's technically my uncle from him instead of google. "Is the department going to make you drop my mom's case?"

"No, Captain said I could keep working the case." Silence falls between us for a while. Grayson glances at me every couple second, opening his mouth every now and again but nothing comes out. "Do you want some ice cream?" He finally asks, standing back up in his feet.

"I'm an orphan, not an idiot. Of course, I want free ice cream," I half-heartedly joke, crawling to my feet as well.

Grayson nervously chuckles, rubbing his neck before turning away from me. "This way," he mumbles, starting to lead me to the kitchen. Or at least I think that's what he's doing. It would be disappointing if he offered ice cream and then decide to murder me in this spooky ass house.

The way to the kitchen is filled with more obnoxiously fancy things. The walls are litter with picture of I think five different people - six if you count the Alfred guy. All five people have raven hair but only three of the five have blue eyes. The odd balls out have green eyes. Throughout the pictures I'm able to pick out Grayson in most of them but I'm not sure who the others are.

I stop in front of the pictures that catch my eye. Per the stats que of all the past pictures it's a black-haired man but he has a streak of white unlike the rest. It's one of the green-eyed ones too. He's in a leather jacket, propped up by the motorcycle he's leaning on. "That's Jason," Grayson says softly, ruffling my hair some before opening a door for me.

"He looks repulsing," I say, walking through the door to be met by a huge kitchen. The kitchen alone is bigger than any place I've stayed at.

"He's not all that bad," Grayson says, walking around the kitchen to collect dishes. I hum in disagreement, watching as the officer digs around the freezer. "Honestly Y/N he's a really good guy, a very honorable-"

"If he's so honorable, why'd he leave my mom to be poor single mother. Look at this place. This is where Jason has lived most of his life, and yet my mom worked herself to the bone just for us to stay in poverty the rest of her life." This shuts Richard up, the only noise being spoons clinking against glass bowls as we eat our ice cream.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't push my image of Jason on to you," Grayson says once our bowls are empty.

The room is silent again as Grayson cleans up our bowls. I soak in the silence, taking in all the dust that seems to cover everything. "Officer Grayson-"

"Please call me Dick," he says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Ya, no I'm not going to call you that," I say, abruptly standing up to walk out, feeling really uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is going.

"No, it's not like that, I swe-"

"I will see you at the station whenever you get an update," I say pushing the kitchen door open and heading down the hallway. What grown man tells a young girl to call him dick? What can of suppose uncle tells his niece to call him dick? What the fuck is he trying to do? Is he trying to get me in bed? What the fuck?

"It's my name. Well, my nick name. It's short for Richard, I swear. I'm sorry," he races out, speeding after me in the hallway.

"You need to start leading with that," I say, stopping in my footsteps.

"Ya probably," Richie Rich says, paired with a nervous laugh and a neck rub. "I'm sorry, I'm coming off all kinds of bad way today, huh?"

"A little," I say, glancing around to plan my exit plan. I'm getting real sick of Mr. Fix it. Officer Gray- Dick goes into a rant of an apology, giving me a distraction to sneak away and find my way back to the hallway I'm supposed to be waiting in.

"Y/N?" Richard says, his voice echoing around the hollow house as I step off the last step. Living here might be terrible but it'll defiantly be easy to sneak around.

———————————

"I hate you," I whisper yell at Noah as he drags me up the Wayne Manor stairs.

"Yes, I know but Jason has decided he wants to keep you, so my hands are tied."

"I'm not a fucking dog you get to decide whether you want to keep are not," I say dragging my feet as much as I can as Noah leads me to the door.

"I know you're not, but like I said there's nothing else I can do for you. You have to at least try it out and if shit goes south and I mean south, then I can pull you." Noah drops to his knee, wrapping his hands around my own. I look down at him, taking in his face. I can't tell if he's sad or angry or what. "I know it sucks. I know, but you'll have a full stomach every night, a warm bed to sleep in, and a roof over your head. You'll be living comfortably - necessaries wise at least. You are so close to being legally an adult. Just tough out the Waynes until then okay?"

I sigh, shifting on my feet. "Fine, I'll tough it out. Food from ignorant people is better than no food."

Noah sighs in relief, laying his head against my arms before standing up. "Okay, you got this. You're perfect," he tells me, glancing at me a few times before knocking on the door.

It takes a bit but soon enough the door swings open. It's not the old man from the other day. This time it's - you guessed it - a raven-haired, blue-eyed boy, that looks not much older than me. "Oh, hi," he mumbles, glancing at me before very obviously checking out Noah.

"Hello!" Noah chirps out, clasping his hands around me, probably in fear that I'll run. "Is... uh... Mr. Wayne home?"

"Maybe," the boy says, closing the door some.

"Dumb rich assholes," I mumble, crossing my arms and turning my attention to the bushes. Even the front yard looks obnoxiously expensive.

"Who's at the door?" Comes Richard's voice from inside the building. Grayson soon fills the rest of the frame, the door swung open and the smaller carbon copy of him nuzzled between the officer and the door. "Oh! Y/N, you're back. With no bags..." He says, glancing around to look for nonexistent bags.

"No bags, just the backpack," I say, shifting the backpack around to cause the few things I own to jingle together. "What's up with the mini-you? You pull a Jason Todd?" I tease, pushing Grayson to the side to wiggle myself and Noah into the manor of terror.

"A 'Jason Todd'?" Mini-Me asks, looking up at the older boy.

"Tim, this is Y/N. Jason's... this is Y/N." Richard says, rolling over his words before settling on what he wants to say. "Y/N this is your... Tim is Jason's and my... This is Tim Drake." He is really struggling with his words today.

"Hey," I mumble, taking in the entry way again. I don't think I'm ever going to get over the dumb chandler or the fear it'll snap and crush me. "You're one of my donor's brothers I'm guessing," I say, looking over this Drake guy. I think I've seen him on the cover of vogue before. "Do you think Noah is hot?"

"Y/N!" Noah yelps out, tightening his grasp on me. "Manners please."

"He was so obviously checking you out. I just want to know if he's gay or intimidated," I say, smiling a little at the thought of someone being intimidated by a five-six, hundred- and thirty-pound Noah.

"I'm bisexual, actually," Tim says, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. "And you are very aware of things, it seems."

"Ya well Jason is going to be very aware of my-"

"How about Tim shows you to your room?" Noah pipes up, wrapping his hand around my mouth to cut me off. "Sounds like a lovely idea. I'm going to go talk to Mr. Wayne and then I'll pop by before leaving," he says, answering his own question as he pushes me towards Mini-Me.

Drake glances at me before turning on his heels and heading up the staircase. I follow behind, constantly looking over my shoulder in search for Noah. I am going to be a reck when he leaves me here alone. Once Noah is out of sight, I take in Tim's back as he leads me around the manor. He seems really fit for his age. I mean, Richard is fit but he's also an officer. Are they health nuts? Am I going to get dragged out of bed at five in the morning to go running or some shit?

"This one's yours," he mumbles, coming to a stop without warning, causing me to bump into him. "You good?" Drake asks, glancing down at me as he pushes open the bedroom door.

"I'm fine," I whisper, leaning forward some to look into the room. It makes me gag a bit. What is the problem with rich people being over the top for no reason?

"You can go in," my chaperone says, softly pushing me forward by the small of my back. "It's not going to swallow you whole."

I'm not so sure of that. Who knows what creep has or will happen in this horror house. The room is big, almost as big as the kitchen I saw a couple days ago. Big glass windows reach across most of the wall in front of me. The back yard and the Gotham Lake are in full view. Maybe sometimes having an expensive yard is worth it. There an overstuffed white couch tucked in front of the middle window, empty bookcases towering on other sides of the window. The walls are a marble black color, making all the pink and white in the room stand out in an unbearable way.

On the left, there's huge bed, even bigger than a king size, I think. A pink fluffy bedspread has been laid out on it with matching pink fuzz pillows. The frame of the bed reminds me of a princess bedframe, the kind that you can pull currents around. It does have currents - see through bubble gum pink ones. Three's white nightstands on either side of the bed. The left bedstand has a vase filled with pink camellias, and white lotuses. There's a bowl on the right table, filled with apples, peaches, and plums. Tucked in the corner is a vanity set, separated from the bed by double doors. Once again, the vanity is made with light pink wood and a huge mirror, big enough to see most of myself in it. The seating chair is fuzzy pink just like the bedding.

I step into the room, taking in the rest of it. The right side is just as packed as the left but doesn't seem so from the space the room takes up in the world. A huge flat screen tv takes up a lot of the upper wall. Under the tv is a barn styled table, the middle open but the sides covered with mini versions of barn doors. Just like the rest of the room, this furniture is made with white wood. How am I going to keep all this white looking clean? Set on top of the table is two box looking things. One's a vertical white and black thin box and the other is horizontal black box with an X-ed out circle.

To the left of the TV is another door, but this time it's only a single door. To the right of the screen is a - white - desk with three different sized drawers attached to it. I'm really starting to dislike the color white. One the desk is a sleek black box, thinner than the box sitting on the tv stand. Above the desk is two matching - empty shelves. The wall behind me is bear, nothing on it but the marbled color. Another pink fuzzy chair is sat in front of it.

"It's very... pink," I finally say, nervously glancing around the room as anxiety builds in my chest. The room feels too clean with all the white, making me feel dirty. The white looks terrible against the walls. The pink looks even worse. What the fuck did the Waynes do? Google girl and buy any pink furniture they could find?

"Ya... none of us really know how to buy for a girl. We kind of panicked and bought everything in white and pink," Tim mumbles, stepping into the room too. He's closer to me than I'd like, closer than my anxiety likes. "Once you get settled in and such, we'll have a spray paint party or something. Get everything the color you'd like."

"Okay," I mumble, stepping towards the bed to get away from the guy in this room. My room. The guy in my room. This room is gross. I don't want to live within these four walls. I don't want to live in this building. I'd rather starve on the streets of Gotham than feel like I'm a dirty rat pretending to live a lifestyle like this. "Is it okay if I set my bag down?" I ask, eyeing the bed spread.

"It's your bedroom, you can do whatever you want." Tim says, walking up next to me. There's more room between us this time but it doesn't stop my anxiety from sparking. "What are five things you can see?" He asks, eyes locked on me.

"What?" I ask a bit confused, trying to calm my breathing down as I gently set my bag on the bed sheets. I end up moving it to the floor in fear of ruining the bed spread.

"Just humor me, what are five things you see?" Drake asks again, plopping on the bed, spreading out with his arms over his head and his legs dangling off the edge.

"The red flowers in the garden... and double doors that lead to god knows where... and useless see through curtains... and empty bookshelves... and you, lying on the bed."

"Laying on your bed," Mini-Me corrects, closing his eyes as he stretches his back out. "Close your eyes and tell me four things you can hear."

"I don't want to close my eyes," I say, panic spiking in me.

"You don't have too; it just helps your ears focus."

I think it over for a second before softly closing my eyes, ready to snap them open at any sign of Tim moving. It takes a second for me to calm down enough to focus. "I can hear the floorboards shifting," I answer, falling silent again to find another sound. "I can hear the buzzing of the boxes over there," I continue, nodding towards the tv. "I can hear my heartbeat, and your breathing."

"Three things you can smell?"

I snap my eyes open, glaring down at the rich boy laying in front of me. What's up with these questions? Is he making a joke out of me? Is he trying to train me like the puppy everyone sees me as? I take a few deep breaths, running Noah's words through my head. "I can smell the flowers." Tim hums, continuing to stare at the ceiling. He's not stretching anymore. "I smell old spice, I think?"

"Jason wears old spice cologne," Drake mumbles, leaning up to glance at me before going back to the ceiling.

"And I smell the like woody scent of... well, wood."

Drake hums again before ordering me around again. "Two things you could taste?"

"The fucking apples and peaches in the fruit bowl. Kind of tacky of you guys," I snap out, the words coming out pretty harsh. That's not very 'sticking it out' of me.

"And one thing you can feel?" He asks, sitting up and looking at me. His eyes are filled with curiosity, which ticks me off a bit. I'm not a zoo attraction. Stupid rich people.

I glare at the boy for a bit before glancing down at the bedding. I carefully run my fingers over the fuzz, letting it envelope my fingers in warmth. "This obnoxious bedding."

Tim chuckles a bit, sliding over so his outer thigh is grazing my hand. "I suffer from anxiety too. Checking your environment and vocalizing it tends to fill your head and helps you forget you're going to have a panic attack." He smiles at me, tilting his head some as he looks at me. "What color do you want your furniture?"

"It's fine as is."

"It's not. This is going to be your home - or at least where you'll be staying. Your room is supposed to be your safe space. You can't feel safe if you don't feel comfortable."

I think it over for a second, glancing around the room. "Well, I'd prefer for all the wood things to be black. Maybe change all the seating to something not pink. Maybe red fuzz. Well, not the bedding, or the couch. I like the couch being white," I rush out, looking anywhere but Grayson's Mini-Me.

"What color bedding do you want?" Tim asks me. I can still feel his eyes burning into me but from how soft his words are I don't think he means them to burn.

"I don't know. I just... don't like all the pink or the see through curtains."

"Well, once we get you new bedding, we will find some not see through and not pink curtains to match," Drake hums, standing up next to me. He's really close but this time it doesn't cause my anxiety to spike. "So, the door next to the bed leads to a walk-in closet. There's nothing in their but empty shelves and hangers for now. The door over there," He says, pointing towards the tv wall, "is your bathroom. There's nothing in there yet because we didn't know what kinds of soaps and such you like so when we go out later today, we'll get you that stuff too, okay?"

"Are the towels and curtain pink?" I ask, turning my head towards Mini-Me.

"Bruce wanted to get you pink towels but Alfred, somehow talked him into red ones. We forgot to get you a curtain so no there's no pink in the bathroom," he answers, a big smile on his face. "I'm going to let you look around and get settled, okay? My room is to the right of yours if you need me and to the left is... well Jason is to the left, but Bruce said if that makes you uncomfortable, we can move you to a different room," Tim stumbles over the second half, eyeing me up and down as he pushes the words out.

"It's fine," I say, scouting away from Tim. The idea of being alone and having the chance to air out my thoughts is the only relief I've felt today.

Drake hums again, glancing over me before settling on my eyes. "Just come knock if you need anything, okay? Anything," He repeats, doing another glance over before walking out. The sound of the door closing behind my new roomie fills me with both peace and fear. I'm glad to finally be alone for the first time these past couple of days and also terrified of this big, expensive room and the people that are paired with it. Why couldn't I just be happy with the pink? I'm causing unnecessary waves in a house I don't want to be in, for people I don't want to be around let alone get to know.

———————————

After a couple of hours I'm a little looser. The pink and white are still obnoxious but when Tim checked in on me he assured me that it'll get changed and that there wasn't an issue fixing it. I still feel bad for coming off so ungrateful.

About two or three hours ago Noah left but promised he'd stop by in a couple days to check in on me. Since Noah left the thought of leaving this room has terrified me. I haven't unpacked or even taken off my shoes yet. I'm sitting in the middle of the room, criss-crossed on the dark red carpet, terrified of touching anything in case I mess it up.

Three soft knocks fill the room, quickly followed by a "Lady Todd?"

Lady Todd? What the fuck is that? I'm not a lady. Well... I am technically a lady but what the hell? "Lady Todd? Are you alright? May I enter?" Comes the smooth voice again.

Anxiety claws up my spine and my breath picks up as I quickly stand. Who's at the door? What do they want? Why can't the Waynes just leave me to rut in this room until I turn 18?

     Think of things around me. Vocalize my environment. What do I see? "I... I see... um-"

     My whispers are cut off by more knocking. This time the knocking lasts longer and is more panicked. "Lady Todd? Lady Todd? Please answer the door," The voice says, a panicked undertone laced in his words.

     His panic makes me panic, causing me to freeze in my steps. "I'm coming in, Lady Todd," they say, slowly turning the door knob and pushing my door open. The doorman from the other day pokes his head in, looking around the room before settling his eyes on me. "Are you alright, Lady Todd?" He asks, straightening up before taking a step in the room.

I glance between the older man and the door he left wide open. How hard would it be to push past him and run away? He's an old man so it couldn't be that hard right? "I'm fine," I peep out, shifting my weight between my feet.

     "Well that's good, Lady Todd. You had me worried for a second." The old man takes a couple more steps into the room, luckily leaving plenty of room between us still. I see spookily ass black walls. "I didn't mean to cause panic. I just... I've been reestablishing my familiarity with the American Foster System and I read that while in distress of new situations some young adults have... unethical ways to deal with the situation."

A laugh at this statement before I can stop myself. "Are you asking me if I'm suicidal?" I mange to squeeze out between laughs.

"Well... I suppose so," the old man says, glancing to the side before looking at me again. "Master Drake has informed me of your... overwhelm-ness earlier today."

"Well don't worry old timer. If I decide to die I wouldn't do it in the house. Wouldn't want to ruin the carpets, you know?"

A small smile crosses his wrinkly face but pity is still very evident in his eyes. "Your consideration is appreciated Lady Todd, but please don't harm yourself." I hum in response, crossing my arms and glancing around the room. "I've made a pot of tea for Master Drake - it helps with his anxiety. Would you like a cup?"

"I'm not a big tea drinker."

"Perhaps hot cocoa then? And maybe a sandwich. You've had a long day, I'm sure you're hungry."

I think about it for a second. The promise of food and the hunger that's been rattling around my stomach overrides the fear of leaving the room I've been planted in all day. "I could go for a sandwich, I guess," I mumble, shoving my hands into my pockets and shifting my weight again.

     "Well then I'll show you the way to the kitchen, My Lady," the man says, turning on his heels and heading out of the room.

     I fall behind, making sure to keep a few paces between us. "So Lord-" I start, a bit confused as the word tumbles out.

     "Alfred, just Alfred," he says, glancing over his shoulder at me.

     "Well why are you 'just Alfred' and I'm not 'just Y/N'?"

     "Since you're so directly related to Master Wayne, you inherit his title along with being in line to inherit the Wayne family properties, and the fortune too, of course. If you want to get technical, since you are the only lady of the manor - and family line - you're mistress of the house but I think lady is better suited for your age."

     I roll the words over in my head, a bit stunned. I thought Alfred was being nice, not that it was an actual title that I supposedly have. "So like what happens if one of Bruce's other sons have a girl? Would I lose my title of 'mistress'?" I ask, carefully watching Alfred as he props the kitchen door open for me.

     "At the moment the only way you would lose your title and simply be a lady of the manor is if Master Wayne married. Down the line, upon Master Wayne's passing, Master Grayson would become the Master of the manor and once again, you'd only lose your title upon him getting married."

     "So like it's an age thing that only gets over ridden my marriage?" I ask, walking through the door and being met with the semi-familiar uncomfortably sized kitchen.

     "Pretty much so," Alfred says, letting the door swing shut behind him. "Please take a seat."

     I obey, sliding into one of the stools sat in front of the coffee island. "So let's say in a bazaar turn of events Grayson gets married tomorrow, then would I lose my title?"

     "You would not since Master Wayne is still the head of the house. So, if for whatever reason Master Grayson gets married tomorrow, you would not drop down to just a lady of the house until Master Wayne dies and Master Grayson becomes head of the manor."

"Oh," I whisper, watching as Alfred starts pulling out stuff to make my sandwich. "I can make it myself."

"Absolutely not. You are a lady of the house. It's mine - along with the Masters' - job to ensure you're needs are fulfilled and that you're every beckon call is answered," Alfred says, a bit of a huff following his words.

"My every beckon call?"

"Every beck and call," He repeats, opening the fridge and looking around.

"Say I want, I don't know, 50 blue feathers at three in the morning?"

"Then me or one of the Masters would go find 50 blue feathers. What kind of sandwich would you like Lady Todd?"

     "I don't care what kind," I mumble, looking over the older man. This is insane. I'm suppose to believe that ever man in this house's sole purpose is to serve me? What kind of backwards ass sexist shit is that? "Isn't that like the opposite of the world?" I finally ask, watching as Alfred carefully crafts my food.

"I suppose so. The Wayne Masters have always believed the only people superior to themselves are the ladies of the house. After all, without the ladies of the manor none of them would be here. Blind obedience and love for women of the bloodline is something Master Wayne - and his father before him - live their lives by."

"Live their lives by?" I ask, watching the maid - maybe? - place my plate in front of me.

"Yes, Bruce's father never made a single decision without the permission of his wife, whether it be what socks to wear or to sign a new business partner."

"I don't want to make those decisions," I say, my anxiety spiking up again as I bite into my sandwich.

Alfred chuckles a little before starting to clean up the left out sandwich supplies. "Well since you're the granddaughter of the head of the manor and not the wife your role will be quite a bit different."

"How so?" I ask between bites. I didn't realize how hungry I actually am until I started eating which is a bit depressing if I think too much about it.

     "Well, you'd be more of an advisor than anything else. Someone to bounce thoughts off of," Alfred tells me, glancing at my plate before opening a few cabinets. “If I’m honest with you Lady Todd, with three uncles and your father being ahead of you in the inheritance line, you’ll probably spend your life being pampered and getting to do as you please with your life.”

“No one gets to truly do what they want,” I answer back, my tone a little snippy.

“You do,” Alfred says, opening a bag of chips and dumping some on my plate. “You come from a family with unlimited resources to everything in the world. A family who’s blood line’s whole purpose it to serve you in anyway you want. Nothing is impossible when it comes to you.”

I eye the grandpa standing in front of me, his face suddenly so hard. I mentally roll my eyes, picking at the chips on my plate. “So if I tell Bruce I want to go on a date with Kid Flash he’d just make it happen?”

“Of course, though I’m sure Master Grayson wouldn’t be too thrilled about that.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? This guy really wants me to believe that Bruce Wayne knows kid flash? I’m stuck in a house full of weirdos with service kinks.

“Pennyworth? Is Todd’s girl here yet?” A voice comes from outside the kitchen door. Following the words, the door is quickly pushed open. A smaller version of Drake stands in the door way. Mini-Me’s mini-me doesn’t have blue eyes though, he has green eyes. What the fuck is up with Wayne’s obsession with mean mugged raven-haired boys? “Oh, hello Todd.” I should have ran when I had the chance.

———————————————————————

[flurry-of-stars]

100 𝓕𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Hello, hello If you’re new here, I am currently celebrating reaching 100 followers! And to all my followers reading this, welcome, welcome! Make yourselves comfortable! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

So! For the celebration, I’m putting the decision into your hands! (´∀｀) Below I have six short descriptions of stories I have in the works right now. After the completion of chapter 5 of These Hollow Halls, I will focus my attention on the fic idea that gets the highest number of votes! Names are subjected to change as well as what themes may appear in the stories as I start the writing process! Some stories may be longer or shorter than others as well. If none are to your taste, I also have requests open if you want something more specific （＾ｖ＾） So without further adieu~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ

Meant to be Yours

Obsessed Sigma x Reader “The Sky Casino. The place where fortunes are made and lost with the turn of a hand of cards. As the enigmatic general manager orchestrates the elegant dance of chance, his icy facade belies a twisted obsession with one of his own: a downtrodden worker seeking solace in the company of the flashing lights and the roll of a die. Unbeknownst to you, you’ve caught the eye of the general manager, who’s fiercely protective of what’s important to him. Behind his kind smile and gentle demeanour, he harbours a dark secret, his love for you driving him to unspeakable lengths just for you.”

Little Yellow Butterfly

Cult Leader/University student Fyodor x University student Reader

“After breaking up with the man you thought of as your saviour, you end up back under the oppressive hand of your tyrannical father’s control. University becomes your battleground for freedom. Forced into university against your control, you find solace and companionship in a senior student in your class, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. But beneath his charming facade and popularity lies a dark secret only those chosen learn of before they mysteriously disappear. Falling into Fyodor’s web of manipulation and deceit, you remain blissfully unaware of the true intentions this charming Russian has for you.”

Hall of Illusions

Nikolai Gogol x Spy Reader

“You have one job; infiltrate the Decay of Angels and figure out what their plan is before they can implement it. As an undercover agent for The Alabaster Veil, a covert team of Ability Users whose identities are a mystery to everyone, even other government special forces, you take on the name Piper and are initiated into the DOA as a general assistant. You befriend three of the other members but become particularly close Nikolai Gogol, the jester of the DOA. But when torn between your commitment to your country and your new blossoming relationship, what will you choose?”

My Love, Mine All Mine

Dad Sigma x Reader

“It’s the night you’ve spent the past two years waiting for. Your wedding night. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried. Your new husband, Sigma, opted against going all the way with you until tonight and during your previous intimate encounters, he’s come across as rather…shy. Will this night really be as romantic and exciting as you’ve always imagined it will be?”

Echoes of Eternity

Fyodor Dostoyevsky x Reincarnated Reader

“The day of your wedding anniversary with Fyodor comes around; not for this incarnation, but for your very first incarnation. Feeling an overwhelming sense of love twisted with his bitterness and fear, he takes you out for the day to locations that stir a sense of familiarity within you."

Love you like a Love Song

Idol Nikolai x Idol Reader

“Now that the fashion show is done, you manage to sneak away from your overbearing manager under the lie of being ill so you can finally spend some romantic, one on one time with Nikolai in Paris. You would be more excited, but you can't shake the feeling of jealousy still lingering in your heart. As the green eyed monster in you starts to resurface, Nikolai finds a way to make your one desire come true.”

The poll will be open for one week! It will be linked here when posted! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧𝓟𝓸𝓵𝓵 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Dividers by @/saradika

[roselyn-writing]

Chapter 21

A/N: If you feel disturbed while reading this, please skip! Your health and comfort is important!

“Tears in the night”

The Blazing Virginian sun rose high, casting a fiery light that painted the horizon in hues of gold and orange, as if nature itself was ablaze with the morning's arrival.

Al’Balsm area is a uninhabited place. Not because it is not fitting for living but it was told by Sire Aham himself not inhabit this beautiful and enchanting place. He fears that people would ruined it with their carelessness and greed.

Al’Balsm is gorgeous, enchanting place and considered by many a slice of heaven itself; beneath a cerulean sky, Tall grass swayed in a gentle dance, their emerald peaks kissed by the golden light of the sun. Wildflowers dot the landscape like vibrant jewels, painting the meadow in a riot of colours - amethyst purples, buttery yellows, and ruby reds.

The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth, a fragrant embrace that lingered in the breeze. In this tranquil haven, time seems to stand still, and the worries of the world fade away amidst the beauty and serenity of the meadow.

And the Virignian singing flowers, a type of indigenous flower to Virginians, Beautiful and unique flowers and they only grow in Al’Balsm area. They are known to dance around by the swift and gentle breeze, when they do, they produce beautiful sounds that are akin to lullabies and melodies; to anyone within earshot who cared to listen.

In the blink of an eye, A shepherd and her flock emerged in the vicinity. Aliyaa's face lit up with a smile as she gestured towards the meadow, and the sheep eagerly trailed behind her, delighting in the opportunity to graze on the lush, emerald-green grass.

Aliyaa, The beautiful daughter of Hadi and Farrah Aepel, She became an astonishingly wise and beautiful woman as she grew up. She meticulously and bashfully helped in herding the sheep of her father in this wide and greenery meadow of Al’Blasm area; a beautiful green and wide area near their city.

Aliyaa, She was beauty given flesh, known by the town people as ‘the desert beauty’ she has an innocent face with her doe-eyed signature look, her skin is fair — smooth and flawless skin that even the blazing sun of Virginia couldn’t damage it, and wavy hair as black as night that hung past her backside in slightly loose twisted locks. She wore a long brown dress trimmed with golden silk and sequins, it is elegant and accentuated her curves very well, and a head veil that was hung on atop of her crown.

Aliyaa caught the eyes of many men but she was ignorant of the fact that she caught Mr Peitz’s attention: Her father’s best friend. He admires her alot, and he has feelings for her despite the age gap; feelings that are unholy such as: lust.

Mr Peitz, as majority of men, has feelings for a woman that is young enough to be his daughter. And what’s even worse; she is his best friend daughter.

He was observing her as she worked with feeding the sheep, she was singing as she did her work. He even continued to glance at her when she started to clean their sheepskin.

His eyes sparkled with admiration for her. He always tell himself that she is the one for him. As much as it is troublesome and worrying for a man to be in love with a very young woman, to him love has no age or limitations, Perhaps, that is the reason why Hadi Aepel feel the ‘bad vibes’ whenever he is around him.

He hummed with happiness when he noticed she got up and started to adjusted her dress from the rub the wool away from her clothes.

Mr Peitz is a fine looking man, 5 feet tall and 7 inches. He has a smooth ivory skin that is slightly dotted with dark spots, semi-muscular body. and his mysterious, alluring absinthe-green eyes added a flair to his handsome look. He has his blonde hair that is streaked with brown highlights in a tapered sides hairstyle.

He wore a white and yellow shepherd robes, along with snake-skin leather belt and pointed, Arabian moorish mughal shoes.

He is always handsome and stylish; In fact, the most stylish and handsome men always hide a dark secret beneath their handsome fącade.

Mr Peitz tried his hardest to control himself. He is fighting his own demons. he doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with her father, nor his reputation as a respected man of the high-Virginian council. Part of him doesn’t care about what’ll people say about him or even judge him. He wants his taboo fantasy with Aliyaa to be out in the open, And the other part of him cares about his reputation and his status.

It is such a cruel thing when a human is torn between two things.

Luckily, Aliyaa finished from herding her sheeps. She walked them towards the barn and they quickly rushed inside it. Mr Peitz mentally kicked himself for letting her go before even saying hello or talking to her.

Under the vast expanse of the cerulean sky, Aliyaa's footsteps echoed softly against the earth as she made her way towards the edge of their tribe's land. The scent of pine and earth mingled in the crisp air, a familiar fragrance that whispered of home. As she approached the clearing, the rustle of leaves and the crackle of branches signaled the presence of her best friends, Emily and Blake, engaged in their shared passion for hunting.

As Aliyaa drew closer, a mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, a playful, happy glint in her eyes as she interrupted their conversation. With a lighthearted greeting, she approached her friends, the warmth of their camaraderie enveloping her like a familiar embrace; The air around them was permeated with a sense of ease and familiarity, the kind that comes only from shared histories and unbreakable bonds.

Emily, with her ebony long hair cascading down her back like a flowy banner of war, stood poised with a bow in hand, her keen eyes scanning the surrounding forest for any forest creature that dared to attack her. Next to her, Blake, tall and sturdy, exuded a quiet strength as he prepared his arrows, his focus unwavering as he honed in on their target. The hunt was both a source of sustenance and amusement for the trio, a cherished tradition that bound them together in a bond forged through shared experiences.

Aliyaa gently grinned as she tilted her head and greeted Blake. Emily’s companion, and perhaps lover. Blake, a man of striking physical appearance, possesses a complexion reminiscent of cream, exhibiting flawlessness in his skin tone. His dark locks resemble the depth of midnight, trimmed into a neatly combed style that enhances his overall demeanor. His eyes, a shade of grey akin to stormy skies, shimmer with a mischievous and sarcastic quality, encapsulating an aura that speaks to his personality. Adorned in a brown vest and pants complemented by a variety of vests in contrasting colors, his attire gives him the appearance of a rogue or bandit, adding a certain allure to his already captivating presence.

In that fleeting moment of embrace, Aliyaa found herself immersed in a chorus of joy and contentment. The soothing laughter and banter of her friends filled the air, like the most melodious of harmonies; the company they offered bringing respite to her weary soul. Emily and Blake, two true Virginians, had discovered Aliyaa whilst she working as a shepherd, and had shown her the kindness and respect that is inherent in those from this fair land. Now, the trio stood by the Silveglade River, watching the majestic descent of the sun in reverent silence; the 'Great Provider’ to the Virginians

“We should head back to the city,” Emily suggested as she adjusted her bow.

“Agreed.” Aliyaa and Blake said in unison.

Rocks jutted from the ground like the jagged teeth of some slumbering beast, as though the earth itself bore the scars of timeless struggles. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, haunting call of distant creatures hidden among the underbrush, their cries reverberating through the stillness like echoes from underworld. Aliyaa, Blake and Emily quickly readied their weapons in case creatures attacked. But thankfully, no creatures had come in their way — unless if they were foolish enough to take on experienced, armoured Virginians like them. For the rest of their journey, They were meandering around the fair, enchanted forest in peace and unbothered by any disturbances.

Of all the races in this world, none were fiercer or more formidable than the Virginians. They possessed knowledge and magical powers so great, that no creature, be it known or unknown, dared to even think of challenging them. Sire Aham, in His infinite wisdom and favour, had given them these gifts, which set them apart and above any other races that walked upon this planet.

The jagged roads twisted like vines through the dense thicket, their way marked by gnarled roots that erupted from the earth, clawing at their ankles and nearly tripping them. Overhead, the vast forest canopy loomed like a magical startlit sky, bespeaking secrets of age-old wonders that lingered amongst the rustling leaves. The branches intertwined overhead, casting faint shadows that danced and plummeted in the fleeting light, Like a mirage conjured by the forest’s own colourful whim.

It only took little time for them to reach the Al’Jahra town. A place where people enjoyed life in the fullest. The walls of the vibrant city were suffused with the golden glow of the morning sun, giving the aged stones a warm, sun-kissed hue. The trees that lined the broad streets of the city shimmered and swayed in the soft breeze, their leaves casting dancing shadows upon the cobblestones. The citizens bustled about their day with a vibrant energy, their laughter and chatter filling the air like a symphony of contentment. It was a city that thrived and hummed with a joy for life, a testament to the resilience and spirit of its people.

After they exchanging farewells, Emily, Blake, and Aliyaa decided to part ways and headed home. Each of them was looking forward to some much-needed rest after a long and exhausting day.

Hadi Aepel laid on his bed tiredly, he coughed as he straightened himself up to drink the tea his sister, Novelyn made for him. His hand shook terribly as he tried to hold the cup. He finally managed to take a sip from it. It tasted weird and sour like the usual.

Unbeknownst to him, his beloved sister watched from the shadows, she smiled insidiously as she glanced at him, She had convinced herself that sacrificing her brother's life was the only way to save her son, blinded by a mother's love and consumed by her own hatred.

As Novelyn concocted her deadly plan, she carefully mixed a tasteless and odorless poison into her brother's favourite morning tea, a brew he never suspected could harbor such treachery. With each sip, the toxic liquid slipped down his throat, leaving no trace of its presence as it began its insidious work.

Doubts and uncertainty were gnawing at his consciousness. He always had visions and dreams of his sister placing something in his tea. One time, he dreamed of her pouring a black liquid in his tea then she handed it to him. and other times he dreamed. She smiled wickedly at him while he was drinking the tea. As if she is making sure that he is drinking the tea.

Night after night, Hadi’s dreams were plagued by haunting visions of his sister's betrayal, a warning from his subconscious that he could not decipher. Yet, in his waking hours, he dismissed these visions as mere figments of an overactive imagination, unable to fathom the depths of his sister's deception.

As the days passed, the poison began to take its toll on the brother's health, sapping his strength and clouding his mind with a fog of confusion. He grew increasingly ill, unable to understand the cause of his sudden decline as his sister feigned concern, playing the part of the doting family member with chilling precision.

Despite his failing health and the nagging doubts that whispered at the edges of his consciousness, the brother remained steadfast in his loyalty to his sister, unable to accept the horrifying truth that lay hidden beneath her caring facade. And as his life hung in the balance, only time would reveal the depths of her deception and the tragic consequences of her desperate act.

Hadi weakly glanced up and saw Aliyaa only a few feet away. She was tearing her eyes out, with unstoppable tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him, witnessing his life essence slowly fading away.

“Daddy!” She cried as she came running to him. She wholeheartedly hugged him and sobbed in his embrace.

Hadi smiled weakly as he hardly raised his hand up. “Aliyaa, p.. pl.. please take my hand,” He croaked.

She quickly hold his hand, As if her holding his hands will make the pain goes away, as if it was a comforting and a soothing balm in his already tired soul.

She pleadingly glanced at him, Hoping beyond hope that he can fight back. She hoped that her touch could chase away the ache that tormented him. She is dreadfully afraid of losing him, Her rock and her guide in this world.

Hadi smiled weakly at her, he coughed out darkish-red blood, and it stained his clothes. He felt light, he could feel everything running out of him, he knew he is dying; he felt light, clear and his time is running out. He coughed again blood as he looked at Aliyaa momentarily, he wished he can wipes her tears but he is too weak to move a muscle. instead he looked above—at the ceiling. He saw a great line of light.

He smiled at that — great light, holy, pure and beautiful. Too magnificent to describe in mere words, and only, the purest of souls can see it when it’s their time to leave this world. So beautiful and magnificent! He thought.

Aliyaa knew that he hasn’t much to live, that’s why she started to bawled even harder while looking at him, but she knew that good souls see angels and magnificent light-creatures in their final moments.

“P..Please daddy, fight it! Don’t leave me alone!” Aliyaa begged, with tears streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall.

Hadi coughed again. He glanced at her and smiled. “Y-you……have your mother, your grandparents and my brother,” He calmly responded.

After that, Hadi weakly raised his hand up, as if to touch something unseen, He grinned weakly as he touched the light — the light that seemed to shine from heaven itself, He chuckled weakly as he felt it on his weak hand. He revelled for a few moments as he felt the light flow through him, and he was contemplating his words, his final words to say to his daughter. While he was thinking about what to say, He died.

His hand fell to his chest as soon as he raised it to feel the light. He closed his eyes as his faced turned to the other way. Aliyaa cried as she threw herself on his chest and began to bawl again, He went peacefully away.

She began to lament bitterly, shaking her father in a vain attempt to stir him from his slumber. Yet, she knew all too well that it was in vain, He had been laid cold and still, beyond the reach of her tremulous entreaties. He would not return, never to awaken from the deep, eternal sleep that had snatched him away from her.

For long moments that seemed like an eternity, she paused her pitiful wailing. Her eyes, red from weeping, looked upon her father's lifeless form. Gradually, she let go of his cold, rigid hands and slowly accepted the bitter truth that he was gone and would never come back for her. With a final, deep, labored breath, the painful lump in her throat finally dissolved.

As she stared at her Father's lifeless form, she finally accepted the sad reality of life. She came to understand that death was inevitable, and that no one could escape its grasp. Looking back on their time together — she was grateful that she had treasured each moment they had shared. From the day she was born to the day he passed away, she remembered vividly the joyous times they spent together. Whether it was tending to the sheep or enjoying meals at a fine inn.

Pain still lingers in her tormented heart and soul. It is that cruel and ugly feeling that people despise the most. A feeling every creature hate, It is the enemy of joy and life itself. She looked once again at her Father’s corpse. It is still painful, she lost the only person who cared about her. She already missed him; and she missed those joyful moments. She wants it back, she wants her father back. And, how she’d do anything to have them all back.

[igakc]

Take It Easy - What If Spider Never Left Hell's Gate?

Spider always wished he would be able to leave the lab, to finally venture out into the forest he had grown up hearing about. But no, he was stuck inside a metal box with a group of scientists who never batted an eye toward him, other than when he got into trouble, of course.

He knew the rules, and he followed them. Day after day, week after week, year after year. He followed them. He watched the clock tick by from inside the labs, he peered over Norm's shoulder as the older man worked, he even began to study astrology. Max began to call him the Man Of The Stars.

Life fell into a steady rhythm after his sixteenth birthday. He'd wake up and hit the old RDA-made gym, shower, do his long list of chores, and head to work. The rhythm never, ever changed. And he was finally okay with it. He stopped looking out the window, he stopped wondering what mysteries the forest held, and he stopped thinking of the yellow-eyed girl who haunted his dreams.

That was until the rhythm got absolutely fucked up the day Jake Sully walked into the labs. The behemoth Na'Vi entered through the airlock and scared the shit out of Spider, causing him to drop all of his astrology books.

"Dang it. Can you watch where you're fuckin' going, dude? Norm's gonna kill me if I damage these." Spider bent down to pick up the books, flicking his curly hair out of his face with a huff. He flinched slightly as a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"What did you just say to me, kid?" The human boy's eyes widened as he looked up at Jake. Spider swore that if he had a tail, it would be between his legs at that very moment. "Might want to watch your mouth 'round me."

Spider opened his mouth to reply but it was cut short as he looked at his watch. "Oh for fuck- I'm late for work!" He sprinted off in the opposite direction, leaving Jake alone in the entranceway. The boy leaped over the stray carts and tables, sliding underneath some of the scientist's legs as he made his way to Room.

'Room' was the word he used for the massive gym building that housed everything he needed. There was a jungle gym, a rock-climbing wall, rows and rows of bookshelves, a telescope, and a desk.

On the farthest side of Room, was his art wall. It was covered in colourful paintings that he'd crafted over the years, most of them were of the stars he saw.

Spider set his books down on his desk before walking over to the art wall, setting his hands on his hips as if deep in thought. Over the expanse of his lifetime, he only ever drew the stars, never actually seeing them. He wasn't ever allowed outside of airlock, even on his birthdays. Sure, Norm and Max promised to take him on their supply runs, but every time they left him alone in Room. It was starting to feel like Room was his only friend.

Even though he had left the life of wonderment and curiosity behind, a small part of him still wanted to get out of Room and see the stars. Or see anything, for that matter. Anything but Room, or the labs, or airlock. He wanted to climb something other than the rock wall, he wanted to study something other than the stars in his books, he wanted to be on the other side of airlock.

He wanted to be outside.

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

Spider.. Spider- SPIDER! SPI-

Spider rolled over and smacked Lo'ak over the head with a scowl. His legs were still very much tangled in his sheets, so when he attempted to get out of his bed, he ended up banging his head into the wall with a grunt.

"Hey monkey boy! Dad said we could visit you today." Kiri lifted him up by the back of his neck with a grin. "You sleep in awfully late."

Spider grumbled angrily. He walked over to his chest of draws and pulled out some of Norm's old jean shorts that he had cut himself, pulling them on quickly. They reached just below his knees and were so loose he had to tie a shoestring around his waist. He then donned his tank top to replace it with yet another tank top. But oh- This one was so different! It was just one shade darker than the other! Score.

He then pulled on his shoes and military-issued boots. Nothing seemed to work to cover his teenager stink, so he ended up over-spraying his lynx deodorant. Next was his hair which had been cut into a very unruly mop of curls, which Kiri tied into a man-bun atop his head.

"C'mon bro, show us your life in this.. Shack!" Lo'ak grinned.

Spider rolled his eyes before opening his bedroom door, setting off in the direction of Room in silence. Lo'ak and Kiri were nice and all, but they didn't seem to understand the differences they had. Spider was human, while they were Na'Vi. And to be honest, he didn't really like being around them. All he wanted to do was work and chores, so he could play in Room. That was literally all he needed to do before he got sent back to earth on his eighteenth birthday. He could finally be back where he belonged.

"Uh. This is Room. I work in here most of the time, don't touch anything." Spider pulled the curtains covering his paintings down, inspecting the newest set of stars he'd painted the night before.

Kiri's jaw dropped open in awe. Her thin fingers skimmed over the paint, feeling each groove and dip of the concrete wall. "You painted these all yourself?"

Spider nodded.

"They are very good, Spider. You should keep up with it. Maybe some of the village Elders might want some?"

That drew a pretty loud snort from Spider. "I can't give them away, they're literally etched in stone." He walked forward to stand beside Kiri, his voice lowering to a pained whisper. "There's no real talent here anyway."

Spider, who always saw himself as nothing but an unwilling addition to the humans, never had someone to praise him or congratulate him when he did something good. Spider spent his entire life alone in Room, and at first he told himself that he was worth something.

'Don't worry Spider, Norm doesn't hate you. What he told Max wasn't true!'

'Don't worry Spider, Jake wasn't lying when he said your paintings were good!'

But Norm did hate him, and his paintings were crap. So there was no point convincing himself that he was worth something.

"C'mon bro! These are awesome, definitely better than Tuk's." Lo'ak snickered, slapping Spider on the back. The human boy gritted his teeth together and turned away from the Na'Vi teenagers. They didn't get it, they never could get it. They had parents, they had siblings, they had friends. He had nothing.

"Can you fuck off for once?" The words had left his mouth before he could stop them.

Lo'ak's grin dropped, and Kiri flinched away from him.

An incredible silence settled over the three, and it stretched on for way too many minutes before a voice spoke up on the other side of Room.

"Lo'ak, Kiri. Your mom says its time to go home." Norm poked his head through the double doors. Spider stomped toward the man and shoved him out of the way. He had no clear idea of where he was going, but he knew he couldn't be around them anymore.

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

It'll get more interesting I promise <3

Chapter 2

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 2x10 ‘The Deserter’ Reaction

aka the Rex Chest Episode

The way Grievous says ‘Kenobiiiii’ will never fail to make me laugh

“Any sign of Grievous?” the gesture that goes with this is just, oh Rex

Jesse? Is that Jesse? 

That little smirk from Rex. He knows that Obi-Wan wants first dibs on fighting his frenemy

Cody: “Rex is a smart man.” Obi-Wan: “Indeed. Always thinking on his feet.” Rex: *immediately gets shot*

Also the little glances they exchange during this

Oof that’s gotta hurt. Sniper shot straight to the plastoid covered chest. Poor Rex lying there like a busted pretzel.

Kix, was that you?

I’m guessing the yellow clone is Crys? Why is he yellow instead of 212th gold?

Why does Obi-Wan say “We’ve picked up the scent.” straight down the barrel of the camera? What is this 4th wall break?

Hello Kix!

Jesse got the braincell today. Also Kix’s decidedly confused “Sir” to Jesse was adorable. Wookieepedia lists Jesse as a Lieutenant and with Rex down I’m assuming that means he’s in charge now.

Why are the Twi'lek’s french?

Jesse saying ma’am is sending me

Well Suu is a certified badass. Absolutely no messing with her. 

REX CHEST?!

AND REX WHUMP?!!

Omg his chest and neck and that jaw and those arms and he hurts so prettily and omg I am unwell and cannot be saved help me

I’m guessing the other clone with the tattoo over his left eye is Hardcase? Hi Hardcase! Is he the one with ADHD? I love him already.

Rex flopping around like a fish out of water lmao

Oof that is a nasty bruise on his back. Also his back. And shoulders. And arms. Omg.

Kix telling Rex he outranks him lmao

Rex thighs?! Rex are you wearing nothing but your lower blacks?! That look decidedly grey but anyway. Also, where is the clone bulge? We were robbed.

“You look like my daddy.” FORESHADOWING CLAXON

The way that Kix and Hardcase looked at Rex like, “is this yours?”

There was so much in that “Mmmm” from Suu lol she is so unimpressed

Jesse being told he’s in command while holding a platter of fruit and nodding like a butler at Rex CACKLING

Rex, where are your nipples? Do clones not have nipples? What did the Kaminoans have against nipples? Did we seriously not get clone nipples? Were animated male nipples too much for Lucasfilm and Cartoon Network in the year of our lord 2010? Why are your nipples just slightly darker vague blotches Rex?

Omg Obi-Wan you completely and utterly over the top dramatic bitch (affectionate). Look at him all backlight by the moon looking all dark and mysterious as he hunts down his favourite arch nemesis. 

REX ARMS

Jesus H Christ. My God. Just look at them. Holy fuck. SIR

Also this bit with the farm animal waking him up was hilarious. His wide eyed look of alarm when it was snuffling and licking his face, poor Rex.

Also, Rex Hands? They’re so big. And his fingers are so long. Oh my. Oh no. My brain has already run away with itself.

I may have paused it at the wrong moment but his forearms look hilariously weedy in comparison with the absolute bulging units that are his biceps. 

I know this is supposed to be faux sinister and spooky but do all clones have such lovely beautiful long fingers?

Rex’s spidey senses activated

Cut? Sir? Daddy? Hello? Are all clones just a bulging mass of ripped muscle?

And here we have our philosophical argument for the episode

“Then our children and their children will be forced to live under an evil I can’t well imagine.” Oh no. Oh, Rex. If only you knew.

That was one awkward conversation to have at the family dinner table

Cut was at the Battle of Geonosis? Hmmm I wonder what batch that makes him and how old he is. Especially if Cody wasn’t at the Battle of Geonosis, which we found out in a previous episode. 

Another awkward conversation to have while your kids and wife are just sitting there watching?

Obi-Wan, you are such an overly dramatic bitch. It is hilarious. I love it. A giant Force leap off a tank with multiple somersaults ending in a superhero pose? Really? Also, that poor clone that basically fell out of the exploded tank and was dangling off a bit of it at the end.

Did that clone just shoot an incoming missile out of the air?!

Kids playing outside by themselves? This can only go well. I didn’t realise it at the time but episode 1x2 “Cut and Run” of The Bad Batch did exactly the same thing.

Oop that’s gone well. 

Well Cut clearly hasn’t lost any of his skills from being a clone

Protective Dad Mode Engaged

Also, why is Protective Dad Mode always so damn hot. Hunter does the exact same thing.

Jesse, Hardcase and Kix just absolutely dismantling droids on their speeders

“Always something.” lmao

Cut punching the commando droid and immediately regretting it

So Rex is still just as deadly even with the use of only one arm. 

Poor Rex getting strangled by a commando droid after falling through the floor. Also Cut shooting the droid that was choking Rex was a decidedly badass moment. Thought it did remind me of when Cody basically did the same thing for Crosshair in episode 2x3 ‘The Solitary Clone’ of TBB.

Grievous, did you just try to use a tactical dramatic cape drop on the master of dramatic cape drops himself?

Lol Obi-Wan’s little reach for Grievous. Nooooo come back and fight meeeeee.

Obi-Wan is so pissed that he didn’t get to capture his favourite arch nemesis. He’s having a little sulk. Cody is probably so tired of this shit.

That’s growth right there. Character development time for Rex.

Naw look at Rex riding off into the sunset. Cowboy Rex anyone?

[creative-heart]

"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter seven: “I see forever in your eyes”

Lucia’s notes: I really hope you liked the last chapter on Friday. Here comes the last part of this Fanfiction.

Playlist:

 Beautiful things- Benson Boone

Dandelions- Ruth B.

Yellow- Coldplay

Speechless- Dan + Shay

Nothing- Bruno Major

From the ground up- Dan + Shay

Content Warning: Social drinking and a brief mention of being drunk, otherwise, just a cute and fluffy chapter..

Word Count: 1.2k

It was true when people said the best you could get in terms of love is to be in a relationship with your best friend. Y/N had proved it herself, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, she stood before the mirror in their cozy Barcelona apartment, a soft smile playing on her lips. Five years. Five years of laughter, tears, adventures, and love with Esteban, her Kuku.

She traced her fingers over the photograph on the dresser, a candid shot of them laughing in the streets of Barcelona when they had just moved to the city four years ago, his arms wrapped around her waist as they danced to the rhythm of their hearts. It felt like yesterday when they had decided to finally give all this a go back in Buenos Aires going back and forth between their apartments, watching silly movies that neither of them was really paying attention to, or playing Nintendo even tho the brown eyed man would always let her win because he loved her excited face whenever she did.

The place buzzed with excitement as Sofia prepared for their anniversary date. Esteban had been mysteriously busy all week, dropping hints about a surprise he had planned. Little did she know, tonight would mark a milestone in their journey together, one she would cherish forever. With a final touch of her favorite perfume and a glance at the mirror, the blonde woman headed downstairs to where kuku awaited, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

The streets of Barcelona shimmered with the glow of streetlights as the couple strolled hand in hand, the city alive with the magic of their love. They reminisced about their adventures, shared dreams, and whispered promises of forever. They went to dinner to a new and exclusive Argentinian restaurant in the city they had been dying to try, their hands only coming apart to eat, their eyes never leaving each other’s as they wine and dined. Once they were done, they walked out, enjoying the fresh air of the night and a little bit given to kuku’s insistence they went on a walk, ending up on the first spot they stepped foot when they moved here.

As they reached the special place overlooking the city, Esteban turned to Y/N, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “Mi amor, my darling Y/N, whenever I pictured the woman with whom I would share my life, I never pictured someone as perfect as you. You never fail to make me laugh, your love is evergreen and I’m so proud of how confident in yourself you’ve become since we met. I know this might sound cheesy, but from the second you walked into my parent’s place for that party, I knew that you would change my life for the better”. He spoke feeling the emotion break in the back of his throat having to swallow the lump so he wouldn’t start crying before he could get what he wanted to say out and Y/N felt her heart swell with love for this man who had become her everything so easily.

Then, with trembling hands, Esteban dropped to one knee, a small velvet box held out before him. Y/N gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. "Y/N," Esteban began, his voice barely steady and filled with emotion, "these five years with you have been the most beautiful of my life. You've filled my days with love, laughter, and endless joy. Will you continue this adventure with me, as my wife, my partner, and my forever?"

The blonde woman could hardly speak through her tears as she nodded, her heart overflowing with love. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" With a radiant smile, Esteban slipped the ring onto her finger, sealing their love with a promise of forever and a slow kiss filled with all the love and friendship shared amongst the two of them.

Time flies when you’re planning a wedding in a different continent and the following year went by in a whirlwind of excitement and preparations. The day finally arrived, the sun shining brightly overhead as Y/N walked down the aisle her arm around her dad’s and her heart pounding with love and anticipation.

Esteban stood at the altar his boys standing beside him as Fran handed him a tissue when he saw the tears brimming the elder’s eyes. Esteban’s eyes never leaving hers, his love shining like a beacon in the sea of faces. When she reached him, Y/D/N gave kuku a short one armed hug and whispered in his ear “please take care of my princess, she’s yours to protect now, but she’s still my baby girl”. Kuku nodded softly and whispered back “she’s my whole heart, I could never hurt her sir”.

 As they exchanged vows, promising to love, cherish, and support each other for all eternity, Y/N knew she was exactly where she belonged, this was the person the universe had set for her to spend her life with, and it was simply meant to be.

The wedding reception was a vision of beauty and love, a celebration of their journey together and the adventures that lay ahead. Under a canopy of twinkling lights and surrounded by their closest friends and family, Y/N and Esteban danced until they couldn’t stand their feet hurt so much. The boys had taken it upon themselves to get everybody drunk that night, specially Simón and Matias kept the booze running amongst the group even though they were clearly drunk by now. As Matias approached kuku on one of the rounds, the older one wrapped his arms around his friend and drunkenly slurred to his friend “Muchas gracias Mati, muchas veces, if it weren’t because you insisted me to go after Y/N, we wouldn’t be here, so you should be proud” he poked the younger’s chest with his long finger.

Matias laughed softly as he planted a kiss on his friend’s temple, “man, she was crazy about you and it could be seen from that first night at the party, you two were just too dumb to do anything about it yourselves, I’m just so glad that you grew a pair eventually.”

“That’s my husband you’re kissing there Recalt!” Y/N chimed in playfully and drunkenly as she stepped closer to the group “so be careful with what you do, also, I’ll steal him away from you all for a bit” the blonde winked playfully linking her arm with her husband’s before walking away from the noise and fun from the party, their fingers intertwined as they gazed up at the sky. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes fixed up on the stars.

"I love you more than anything in this world," kuku replied, his voice filled with emotion as his gaze fell on his wife’s profile “and now you’re mine forever, I can’t believe my luck” he smiled planting a kiss on her cheek. And as they held each other close, Y/N knew that their love would endure, forever echoing in the depths of their souls, a melody of love that would never fade away because she had always known, she saw forever in those big, kind, brown eyes.

THE END.

Lucia's notes: This is where this story comes to an end, I really hope you enjoyed this as muchas I did while writing it. If you have any ideas or rquests for some short scenario coming from this, please know, my ask box is always open and I'd be super happy to explore those ideas. 🥰🥰😍😍

Taglist:

@madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro

@espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing