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#'aw but he's old'
deviousdoctor · 5 days ago
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦  | Sexual Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦  | Romantic Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Crushing ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ | Squishing ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ | Sensual Attraction ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction
Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High
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worstloki · a month ago
Oh god I’m gonna be thinking about the avengers 1 au where Loki is 11 years old for weeks now
I’m not seeing a downside?
#thor stays the same age but loki falls off the bifrost and space-time temporal wormhole something something the void spits him out younger#doesn't make a difference to Thanos he took Gamora and Nebula as kids too#but there's less torture because Loki's a brat you retains his memories but his mindset on the trauma is more detached#young brain go ''no. i don't like you. you threw me off the bifrost.'' and then he lashes out and doesn't regret it or hold back#and Thanos basically sends this 11 year old to earth because he's got superstrength to make up for size and also strong enough magic#the sceptre is going to make him have mood swings?? no. he's a kid. he'll get distracted on his own. ''you just cant control kids'' and all#''barton i need you to get me 4 more workers we need that metal bar out of the way to make space for the tesseract portal machine''#''yes boss''#''aw no i peeled some of the sceptre's metal plating :( can you get those 4 to bring some gold and welding materials instead?''#''sure thing kid''#''thank you clint i love you''#''no worries loki now take your iron tablets''#''i didn't let you take me to get a blood test''#''you look like an anemic victorian orphan sit down before i make you''#*mumbling* whatever. you're just jealous of my sceptre being cooler than your bow.#''i'm not jealous of your 9ft sceptre loki''#''can someone buy me an archery set? a proper one? i would like one which can shoot daggers.''#''loki.''#''i don't think a bow for the sceptre would be very practical >:(''#''it sure wouldn't buddy now drink up your medicine''#*loki makes a run for it* NO! I'm NOT anemic and i'm NOT Victorian! and i actually might be an orphan BUT i'm just pale! leave me alone!!#*clint trying very hard to ignore the orphan thing* ''you keep saying you're thousands of years old but you're not acting it at all :/''#meanwhile Steve gets his @$$ handed to him by a midget with a sceptre that is twice as tall as him#i imagine steve starts off trying not to hit loki and is like ''listen. kid. i don't want to fight you--'' and then oop he deflects a blast#too late now he's already hit him and the kid got back up so it's time to go all in (he still loses... tiny target would make a funny fight)#tony shows up and goes ''what would you do if there was a child standing right in front of you'' while shooting loki#loki surrenders and the armour glows out and tony is just ''holy sh*t he's even smaller than before and where tf did he get this much gold''#loki stands in the SHIELD glass cell staring NIck Fury down squarely and EVERYONE's need to be a parent goes *DING*#Thor isn't immune either bc the Comic Thor and Kid Loki dynamic is nice
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touchmycoat · 2 months ago
like, do i want to see the proud young upstart run his mouth and get accidentally triggered by the unassuming yet secretly super experienced older bodyguard, throw a fit and quit his job, come scampering back under some guise of “I’m gonna figure out your secret and expose you and then we’ll see who’s boss hahaha,” scrutinize the older man’s every action for “research,” pretend like he totally doesn’t care and is absolutely above it all (but buys the older man strawberries, ‘cause he just happened to have extras, whatever), get told he obviously has incredible amounts of faith and respect for the older man, get told the older man respects him back, obsess after the older man suddenly quitting their brand new post-merger company, risk his entire career to seek out the older man and aggressively help the older man out all while rolling his eyes and telling the older man’s son that “this is all very hard to explain okay, stfu,” yell out Shimazaki Akira’s full name in a fit of desperation when he can’t find him on the job, save the older man’s life in a deeply emotional montage of team work and eye contact, and then end the start of season 2 by breaking up with his girlfriend explicitly for the sake of following Shimazaki into a life of risk?????????
yeah. the answer is yeah, i do.
in other news the best part of season 1′s b-cast was Suganuma + Takanashi’s wlw/mlm solidarity what the fuck happened to that Suganuma hates men that was canon don’t do her like this she would never date a fucko like Takanashi fuck off
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picorihero · 24 minutes ago
@divineforge​ { re. }
“Awe, going for the eyes is smart!” Henry commented on the personal preference, “I used to have a collection of severed eyes for a hex I liked, but I found a way to make it even better! Unfortunately it didn’t require eyes anymore as a result, though. Now it requires spleens!”
Ah, a little forger! Henry could read Mini’s very thought process had gestures not done their job; a bit of mind-reading did prove to be useful in a case like this. They didn’t suppose that he could make tomes, though. That would be too much to expect.
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“Hmm? What’s this? You want me to teach you?” Henry couldn’t keep one of their infamous guffaws at bay; this was too pure! “Mayyybe I could… Nya ha!”
Were they around this green-clad child’s age when they first picked up magic? Yeah, that seemed about right… maybe a little younger, actually! Either way, the child’s enthusiasm certainly made Henry happy!
“Baby’s first tome is always the most important! I still have mine, but it’s a little beat up. It’s an old Flux tome… but don’t worry, we’ll get a tome just for you!”
Perhaps they should show them what a tome was… so, Henry’s main tome would be slid out from under their protective arm. The color of its exterior was a deep, blood-like red with gold decals all around its covers in the shape of an eye. A Corvus tome, to be exact!
“There’s lots of different kinds of magic! Wind, fire, thunder… some mages only specialize in one element, but really really good mages can use ‘em all! Did you have an idea of which one you wanted to try out first?”
        As if it were his birthday, Link’s eyes lit up at the new and unexpected gift. The smile that followed was equally uplifting. Though the mood was soon to waver once he spotted the insignia on the elder’s tome. A certain eye-gouging itch was tempting to scratch, though as the saying goes: you shouldn’t punch a gift horse in the mouth. He could forgive it, for now.
        The question provided a much needed distraction. Link closed his eyes, pondering aloud with a small hum for his choice of element. Never once had he thought it necessary to decide on one. In his adventure to forge a sacred sword he collected all of them to use together as a combined strength. Though, suppose even the Four Sword had to start with just one. The first, he thought, may as well be a good enough start for himself:
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        “Earths!” he chirped. Sturdy and unassuming, it was the element that was easiest to overlook, much like himself—as well as the element most practical to a smithy who worked with metals and ores. Grandpa would be proud!
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the-tickly-oreo · 48 minutes ago
Uncle Tommy Tickles
A/N this is ler!Tommy( a first for me cus I do love myself lee!Tommy) and lee!Michael. I don’t know how old Michael is so I made him 6 he also speaks English. In this story, Michael can go outside as long as he has another person with him. I hope you like it!
Michael was so happy! Uncle Tommy was babysitting him today his parents had to sometime today that he couldn’t join them, which made him sad. But, never less he got to see Uncle Tommy which made up for it. Tommy was his favorite babysitter but he wouldn’t tell him that. He liked techno because he was piglin like him but he didn’t play with him like Uncle Tommy did. 
Michael was upstairs playing in his room when his dad called for him. “Michael come down here please uncle Tommy is here,” Tubbo shouted. Michael ran down the stairs and jumped into Tommy’s arms. 
“Uncle Tommy,” Michael shouted as he jumped into Tommy’s arms. “Heya squirt,” Tommy said catching Michael in his arms and holding him. Tommy adored Michael, he was just so cute. When he first met him he just pretended to not like Michael, just to keep pretending that he was mad at Ranboo. He ended up telling Ranboo that he didn’t hate him and that he was just playing it up, which led to Ranboo being “Mad” so he tickled Tommy until Tommy apologized (maybe I’ll write this if you guys want it). 
Tubbo and Ranboo left after giving Michael a kiss on the cheek and telling Tommy thank you. After they left Michael wanted to play outside so Tommy helped Michael put a jacket on because it was chilly and they went outside to play on the swing set that Michael got for his birthday. When Michael got bored they went up to Michaels’s room to play with toys. After a while Michael started to want tickles, uncle Tommy gave the best soft tickles(surprised I am too). 
“Uncle Tommy,” Michael said while putting down a toy. “Yeah kiddo,” Tommy said looking at the kid. “Can I have some tickles?” Michael said quietly, while a blush starts growing on his face. “Awwwww sure kiddo. Come here kid,” Tommy cooed at the kid while holding his arms out. Michael runs into Tommy’s lap. Tommy rearranges him so that he is holding Michael like a baby.
“Ok giggle bug where do you want to be tickled first the tickle monster is hungry” Tommy said chuckling evilly.  Michael blushed at this and pointed at his tummy. “Ok, you want tummy tickles aww that’s cute kid. Tommy starts to poke and squeeze Michael’s tummy. Michael didn’t even try to hold back his cute squeaky giggles while letting out a few snorts. 
“ Those cute giggles can never get old isn’t that right my giggly piggy,” Tommy cooed. “Unchchchle Tohohommy,” Michael said, giggling. Tommy starts to blow raspberries and nibbles on Michael’s tummy. Michael started to let out a ton of squeals and snorts. “Omg! You sound like a little piglet, that’s so cute. You’re my little piglet,” Tommy said while slowing down after the raspberries. Michael blushed even more at this and started to push his hands at Tommy’s, which was their sign that he was done. Tommy rubbed his hand on Michael’s tummy to stop the tingles. Michael let out the last of his giggles and let out a yawn. 
“Ok kiddo let’s go lay down because I bet you’re tired,” Tommy said while picking up Michael and walking him to his bed. Tommy lays him down and covers him but before he could leave Michael pulled at his shirt. “Uncle Tommy can you stay with me,” Michael says looking at Tommy. Tommy let out a soft smile. “Ok kid,” Tommy said getting into Michael’s bed(It’s a twin size). When Tubbo and Ranboo got home they found Tommy and Michael asleep and cuddling. 
“Aw look at them they are so cute,” Tubbo said peaking in the room. “Yeah, he is much better with kids than I thought he would be,” Ranboo said chuckling softly. “Yeah he is, lets let the sleep,” Tubbo responded. “Yeah we should,” Ranboo said. Tubbo closed the door and he and Ranboo walked into the living room and watched tv. 
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respondcrs · 55 minutes ago
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"no matter how awful you think it is, i promise you, you’re not alone.”
NAME: benjamin morgan. NICKNAMES: ben. KNOWN ALIASES: none. AGE: thirty-two (32). BIRTHDAY: 26 november 1988. SPECIES: human. GENDER: cis man. PRONOUNS: he/his.
MOTHER: regina morgan. FATHER: david morgan. FAMILY: tragedy can make or break a family - it broke benjamin. SIBLINGS: none, though cousin madeleine spencer was as close to a sister as could be.
P H Y S I C A L    A T T R I B U T E S
FACE CLAIM: michael b jordan. RACE/ETHNICITY: african american. NATIONALITY: american. HEIGHT: six feet and one inch (6′1). WEIGHT: irrelevant. BUILD: athletic. HAIR: short. HAIR COLOR: black. EYE COLOR: brown. DOMINANT HAND: right. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: dimples, scarring from a fire on his back. SCENT: soap and soot. ACCENT: american. PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: none. LEARNING DISABILITIES: none. ALLERGIES: peanuts. DISORDERS: none. FASHION: casual, doesn’t dress up in the fancy clothes he used to in new york. NERVOUS TICS: bounces his leg.
HOME ADDRESS: town house. RESIDES: chicago, illinois. BORN: manhattan, new york. RAISED: manhattan, new york. VEHICLE: an old mustang mach 1. PHONE: iphone. LAPTOP/COMPUTER: none, has an ipad he doesn’t use. PETS: none, but will occasionally feed the stray cat near his home.
HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: privately educated. COLLEGE EDUCATION: dropped out of cornell. CAREER: lieutenant at firehouse 51. EMPLOYER: chicago fire department.
POLITICAL AFFILIATION: democrat. RELIGION: atheist. BELIEFS: none. MISDEMEANORS: none. FELONIES: none. TICKETS AND/OR VIOLATIONS: has a parking ticket he hasn’t paid yet. DRUGS: never. SMOKES: no. ALCOHOL: of course. DIET: tries to be healthy but you know.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: undetermined. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: undetermined. MARTIAL STATUS: single. CHILDREN: none. AVAILABILITY: depends. LOOKING FOR: someone to give him a hug.
LANGUAGES: english, german.
PHOBIAS: not being able to save someone he loves. HOBBIES: is good with diy, likes a project in his off-hours. TRAITS: protective, empathetic, proud, detached, irrational, conflicted. SOCIAL MEDIA: not really.
LOCATION: the lakehouse his family owns. SPORTS TEAM: new york giants. GAME: will pull out mario kart on the wii after a few drinks. MUSIC: something with a heavy beat. SHOWS: easy watches, brooklyn 99, parks and recreation. MOVIES: the godfather. FOOD: hot dogs. BEVERAGE: beer. COLOR: navy.
MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful neutral. MBTI: enfp. ENNEAGRAM: type 8 - the challenger. TEMPERAMENT: melancholic. WESTERN ZODIAC: sagittarius. CHINESE ZODIAC: tiger. PRIMAL SIGN: mongoose. SONG: highway to hell - ac/dc.
IDEOLOGIES: sometimes the ones you need to save are the ones who don’t want to be saved.
tw drugs, death.
benjamin morgan was born in manhattan, new york, in the winter of 1988 and was to be the only child of one regina and david morgan - a museum curator and ceo respectively. a wealthy family to say the least, benjamin was brought up primarily by Monika, a german nanny who taught him the language and became a second mother to him growing up. 
another individual he spent a lot of time with growing up was his cousin, madeleine spencer, to the extent where benjamin considered maddie to be more like a little sister to him than a cousin. though five years his junior, the pair both had parents with the same busy schedules and lifestyles, which meant more often than not they spent their time together. which of course, only grew them to become closer over the years.
benjamin would have liked to think that all that time, his parents had been happily married, given that he didn’t see a lot of the marriage. however, it was only as he grew up he realised that the family set up that he’d been accustomed to was perhaps not the norm, not the same as his friends, and that there may have been more bubbling below the surface. he’d never broached the topic, never asked the question, for he’d been brought up to avoid the awkward conversations. despite this however, he still considers his childhood to have been a good one. 
with the morgan and spencer households spending as much time together as they did, including vacations to the lakehouse his family owned, benjamin got close to his uncle, madeleine’s father. well, as close as the two families were capable of allowing themselves to get, that is. he was a doctor, and ultimately it was benjamin’s uncle who helped to begin to carve out the path that ben would set out on over the coming years, laying the foundation for a career in medicine. 
benjamin was athletic in school, actively taking part in boxing and baseball. he hoped from early on in high school that he would be able to get into a good school on a baseball scholarship so he wouldn’t need to focus as hard on his studies, but a torn rotator cuff in his sophomore year quickly killed that dream, and he came to the quick conclusion that he had to get his head in the books if he wanted to get into medicine.
as much as he would hate to admit it, he knew that his parents pulled a few strings when it came to his offers for college, but the decision ultimately came down to him. during this time he had watched madeleine begin what would only go on to become a drug-induced spiral out of control, the concern for his cousin and arguably best friend only growing with each day that passed.
benjamin began at cornell in the fall of 2006, in pre-med, as he had always planned. and things were great, for the most part. he got his head down, he worked hard, and he came home to visit his family every few weeks. there was a feeling of guilt within him every time he missed a visit, the feeling that maddie was slipping further down a slope that he wouldn’t be able to get her back from. but he was assured by both his parents and hers, that they would have it under control. he was to focus on school. so he did.
until his junior year, when while he was back in manhattan for a visit, he received a number of phone calls and frantic voicemails from maddie. things weren’t under control, they hadn’t ever been, and she’d wound up looking for her next score, and found trouble instead. he didn’t need to think twice, he was straight in the car and looking for her as soon as he could.
the last call that he’d received had sounds behind that to this day he can’t shake from his memory. the sounds of a fire blazing in the background, reassurance from maddie that they had it under control, that they’d just lit a small fire to keep warm while she waited for him to collect her. and that was the last thing ben heard from maddie - that she was waiting for him.
had he driven quicker, he might have been able to get there before the fire had gotten out of control, or so he likes to tell himself. he’d fought to try and get into the building, only making it so far before the smoke had become too much. he’d called out for maddie too many times, only to be stopped on his quest to find her by the firefighters who had come to extinguish the blaze. he’d been pulled out before maddie, granted because he closer to the exit than she was, but he still feels guilt about it. about the whole night. 
he’d been fighting against a firefighter to try and get back into the blaze when he’d seen them pull maddie out. limp, lifeless, she’d been too strung out to even try and make her own way out of the building. it’s just to keep warm while i wait for you.
within six weeks, benjamin dropped out of cornell. he didn’t see a point in following in the footsteps of a man who, in his mind, had let down his daughter the way that he had let down maddie, and benjamin started to cut ties with his family. the loss of maddie hit him incredibly hard, more so due to the guilt that told him every day that he could have done more. that he could have saved her.
getting out of manhattan was the logical choice, and with a couple of friends at college in chicago, benjamin headed to illinois. the voice in the back of his head told him that there people out there he could save, he needed to save, to make up for not saving maddie. that voice encouraged him to sign up to the fire academy, where benjamin would go on to meet kelly severide, to do just that. quick friends, benjamin and kelly were two of a kind, with ben graduating right behind kelly when the time came.
benjamin completed his candidacy, and moved houses a couple of times, before securing a lieutenants position at firehouse 51, back with his friend. despite the lives he has saved since graduating the academy, it has done nothing to suppress the guilt inside of him. benjamin has trouble walking away from a victim, while he knows not every life can be saved, he’ll be the last one out of a fire to try his hardest to make sure they are saved. this causes problems sometimes, means he puts himself in more danger than he knows he should, but it hasn’t done him as much harm as it should have - yet. 
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dawnrider · an hour ago
*cracks knuckles* Now that the list is out... The Show Must Go On and Through the Wormhole which I am REALLY hoping is a farscape reference!!!
Hello @ruddcatha!  
I teased about The Show Must Go On a long time ago, and @alerialblu actually sketched some potential art for it at the time. It’s a Cirque du Soleil inspired fic where Inuyasha and Kikyo are aerial art partners... but something happens and Inuyasha has to figure out how to be a performer on his own, or finally accept a new partner, which he is NOT ready to do.  But in bops Kagome and flips his head around... like ya do.  XD 
This didn’t feel right.  Something was off and she could feel it.  Just there above his shoulder blade.  “Inuyasha, you missed a spot,” she whispered to her partner, noticing his anxious twitching as she ran her hand down his spine to gain his attention.  He glanced back at her as she stood waiting behind him, his long silver hair trailing behind his head in a tight braid.  “I’ll get it.”  Chalking her hand she smeared the white powder on the spot he had missed in pre-show then tidied it so that no one would be able to tell that it was indeed chalk and not just her partner’s pale skin.  They could ill afford a mistake like that at a time like this.  Kikyou was nervous.  This was their last show for this run and it wouldn’t do to screw it up.  But that wasn’t why she was nervous.  Something was tugging at her brain and her heart, making it flutter uncomfortably in her chest.
The pair watched Rin on her pedestal center stage.  Her tiny form performed gravity defying acts of flexibility and poise as she balanced on one hand, occasionally switching to the other on a small block more than five feet off the ground.  Splits, bends and combinations of both, all while in a one-handed handstand, showed her strengths as a contortionist.  The crowd was filled with awe and applause permeated the air.  How could anyone not be astounded at the pure talent the young woman displayed?  The funny thing was people thought her to be fifteen years old at most, adding to the amazement of the spectators that someone so young could be so talented.  Unfortunately for the crowd, Rin Hiragawa was twenty-seven years old and one of the older members in the company.  No one set out to correct their assumptions.  Why destroy the magic?
And for Through the Wormhole, you are absolutely spot on!  That is exactly what that is.  It’s mostly @lemonlushff’s fault.  Ironically, almost everyone is gender flipped, simply because the personalities worked better that way. Kagome as John, Inuyasha as Aeryn, Sango is D’Argo... I’m up in the air about Miroku as Chiana or Zhaan. Kikyo as Crais...
“Hey!  You can’t leave me in here with him!”  Kagome insistently slapped her palm against the cell grate.  “You’ve known me longer than this guy!  C’mon!”
“Yes, but you’re a Peacekeeper, just like him.”
“The He…  I don’t even know what that is!”
The woman she had begun to call Amazon in her head, for lack of an actual name, snarled as she slammed her fist near where Kagome’s face was.  “Don’t bother lying, Peacekeeper.”  She backed away from the door.  “If you’re a traitor to them, you’re probably dead anyway.  Good luck!”  Her tone was gleefully snide and Kagome didn’t like it a bit.
The man in the dark red flight suit behind her, and she only assumed male based on build, jerked into wakefulness and tugged off his helmet in a rush, gasping for breath.  He was almost more bizarre than the others she had encountered so far, including the green tinged man with spots and the tiny floating wrinkle that spoke with an imperiously rude tone.  “You’re human.”
“What?” he growled, even as his eyes surveyed the room, clearly identifying weakness and trying to find a way out.  This was a man bred for battle, there was no doubt in her mind about that now… but he was human!  “You.  Name, rank, and company.”
“No, I…”
“Name, rank, and company,” he shouted, so suddenly in her space that she hadn’t the time to avoid his grasp on her shirt collar, nearly hauling her off her feet.  “K-Kagome Higurashi and… I don’t have a rank or company!  I’m a scientist!”
His perfectly white teeth glinted at her in the spotlights overhead as he snarled at her.
“A Tech?  Of course.  You’re too scrawny to be infantry.”  He dropped her none too gently and turned his back for a moment, again analyzing their - currently shared - cell.  “Were you the one in that ancient-looking pod?”
“Ancient?” Kagome sputtered, still trying to regain her standing balance after being dumped on her ass.  “That’s cutting edge science…”
“Keh.  ‘Course it is.  What backward planet do you come from again?”
“Earth.  It’s called Earth.  Where…”
“Never heard of it,” he interrupted without turning around.  “They took you in for what?  Hostage negotiation?  You’re not one of us and Peacekeepers don’t negotiate with escaped prisoners…”
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legxllyblxndc · an hour ago
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ezra || facts
name: ezra jacob donovan 
nicknames: ez
age: 18
from: london
lives in: london
sexuality: bisexual
occupation: college student
relationship status: in a relationship with alexandra lewis 
financial background: middle class
family: parents are happily married. twin brother, jeremy.
mental health: n/a
build: slim (mens medium)
body modifications: nose pierced
intelligence: highly intelligence. As in most subjects, Bs in a couple
drinking/smoking/drugs: socially/never/rarely
studing: dance, music, media & film studies
ezras parents are a little older than the average. they were incredibly happy together but when it came to having kids, they struggled to conceive. they worked hard to get together the money to try IVF and - third times the charm - they managed to fall pregnant with their twin boys, jeremy and ezra. ezra is the older twin by just a couple minutes. they were raised in a happy household. their parents were so in love and that was clear to ezra from a very young age. they learnt how to treat people with kindness, how to be good people and his parents always taught them that treating people with respect was the most important thing that you can do. 
when ezra was around eight years old, he went to his parents to ask for dance classes. it was always something that he thought he would enjoy. he would watch strictly with his parents in absolute awe. and any time there was any sort of dancing, he would want to watch. he was put into ballet classes at first. currently, he takes ballet, tap, contemporary and jazz. dancing has always been something that ezra does for an escape. it gives him time to take his mind off of the real world and he’s always been pretty natural at it. although he doesn’t really know how feasible it would be, ezra would love to make a career out of dance. it’s the one thing he loves the most in the entire world.
the need to escape from real life also came through in ezras love of films. he could talk for hours and hours about a film that he loves and it’s something that he has always been super passionate about. ezra would spend entire days of the weekends at the cinema. he would get so caught up and lost in the worlds on screens and it completely took him out of whatever it was that was going on in the real world. although he has never really had anything major happen to him, he has always felt like he needed that little bit of an escape - and movies was it. 
his best friend is his twin brother, jeremy. for their entire life, they have done absolutely everything together. they would have matching halloween costumes, they would go to all the same parties. they’ve been each others shadows. with university approaching, the idea of moving out of the family home and being without his brother - especially if it’s across the country - is something that ezra is trying not to think about too much. he doesn’t like the idea of being separated from his twin, even though he knows that they would still talk all of the time.
ezra met alexandra lewis in their first year of college. he was at a welcome party and she was there. she looked like she was a little lonely and he decided to go over and talk to her. they hit is off straight away. ezra really likes alexandra. he’s had girlfriends before but this, somehow, feels different to that. he thinks that he’s starting to fall in love with her. they’ve been together for just over a year now and he thinks that everything is still perfect - he has no idea about her budding feelings for his brother.
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tiredacetm · an hour ago
Richie: I don't want a bath.
Eddie: Aw, too bad, Stan’s direct orders.
Richie: Stan’s not the boss of me.
Eddie: Are you in here? Because Stan is the boss of all of us. Seriously, Rich, you smell like the floor of a brewery.
Richie: I do not!
Eddie: Yes, you do.
Richie: Oh, my God. Yes, I do.
Eddie: Yeah.
Richie: A brewery floor with a hint of second hand smoke.
Eddie: And a pint of Old Spice.
Richie: I totally need a bath.
Eddie: Yes, you do.
Richie: Stan’s a bossy genius.
Eddie: Yeah, he is.
Richie: [Using the shower head as a mic] So, what about you?
Eddie: What about me? I don't smell like an ashtray.
Richie: But you look like an ass-tray.
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aiteall · 2 hours ago
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@sho-aizawa asked: Send 🥀 for what my muse would say at your muse’s graveside for toshinori 
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toshinori is not a person who forgets anniversaries; or the like, for that matter, however insignificant they'd seem to be from an outside perspective. and although today started like any other with getting out of bed plagued by incessant back pain and sore limbs, he somehow managed to get dressed rather quickly and put on the least baggy set of clothing he could find and made his way to the nearby store for a fourty-nine cents pre-packaged iced coffee and a bouquet of flowers he didn't really know the name of. but they're orange and yellow, some brighter red sparkled in between the greens, too. 
the cashier recognizes him not for all might but for the man who comes here once a week with the same purchase, but this time he's been here twice in a row because old habits die hard and toshinori doesn't mind the exercise. 
his heart felt disgustingly heavy throughout it all, from the moment he opened his eyes to when the bus arrived twelve minutes too late in the pouring rain. he tugged the scarf tighter around his neck, clutches the flowers in his right hand afraid they'd slip somehow, and the coffee is stored in the pocket of his cardigan; a decent fit if he says so himself, and it's not even his own. 
the bus ride went by in the blink of an eye, and from here on there's only a bit left to walk past the graveyard's gates and up the muddy path where toshinori would slip if he wasn't careful. 
the first couple of times he went there he wasn't sure if he would find the way there or back again; not that the layout was disorienting, and really, his feet appeared to carry him to the right place time and time again; but on his mind there's different things than this. it felt heavy to drag on with rain pouring from the sides of the umbrella, the soft pitter-patter on the leaves above him and if he would've looked up toshinori would've seen the gap in the clouds. 
the flowers were so tiny in his hand when he looked down on them, and so felt everything else but his thumping heart. the last couple of steps were the hardest, toshinori keeps his eyes glued to the ground because looking up, reading his name on the headstone, it'd punch him right in the chest and he wasn't quite ready for that awful sensation, no matter how many times it's been, but eventually--- eventually the rain stopped and toshinori stands in warm sunshine, can let his umbrella down and he murmurs a weak „hey. i'm back.“ to shota's grave. it's all he manages to say for a little while, putting the flowers down in one of those little plastic vases wordlessly like he always did. and there it was, the punch to his chest. the tears, the quiver of his lower lip, knit eyebrows. 
with shaking hands he pulls the coffee from his pocket and tears off the lid as evenly as the tremor let him, unsure what to say, afraid to say the wrong thing, scared to admit that he still couldn't bear it. 
„i, uh... got the same brand again,“ he spoke after a while, voice thick and heavy, „dunno if you liked it, honestly, but to me it all tastes the same.“ toshinori manages to crack a smile; a sad one; and wipes his tears before taking a tiny sip. „today's the nineteenth. and the weather is very much like april... you'd hate it. i...“ toshinori has to take a break to gather himself. reads whats on the stone as if he hadn't done so thousand times. as if it'd change. as if it would hurt less. it never did. once more, his throat aching, dry and sore from crying, toshinori wipes the tears and the iced coffee in his hand shakes violently under his own tremors. 
„happy anniversary, shota. i miss you-“ he curses under his breath, wishes he'd had the power to change everything that happened, for a moment wishes they could switch places because it was only fair and logical and less of a loss and so much easier on him but-- but... no. 
he stills. breathes through. and he decides to stay for a while longer. 
„i love you.“
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zelenacat · 2 hours ago
When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 18
Satine did not tell Korkie about her fight with his father, she did however, ask him to question his siblings on whether or not they wanted to meet their father. Tyra felt like she would hate to run into him at the temple if he’d met her, and Tristan felt that it would add more uproar to his life. Mara didn’t think he’d be proud of her, and seemed to understand that he’d fought with her mother. Korkie outright said he felt like forming a relationship with his father would be a betrayal to his mother. When Satine assured him it wouldn’t be, Korkie still didn’t budge.
So, a mere hour before the Duchess of Mandalore would welcome the head of the Trade Federation. She was texting Senator Amidala.
“None of the kids want to meet him?”
“None.” Satine repeated.
Padme bit her lip, “He’ll be angry.”
“I know.”
The phone end went silent.
“Padme,” Satine stutterted, “I mean, if it wouldn’t be too much, could you ask Anakin to break the news to him?”
“They haven’t been on the greatest of terms,” Padme frowned, “since Obi-Wan found out that we knew before he did they’ve been a little tense.”
“Could you tell him then,” Satine swallowed, “and ask him if he’d like to be there when I give birth.”
Padme sighed.
“Please, Padme,” Satine begged, “he won’t talk to me.”
“Alright,” Padme agreed, “but I don’t know what he’ll say.”
“Thank you, thank you so much, Padme,” Satine gasped, “you’re such an angel.”
“Good luck with the Federation heads, Duchess,” the Senator warned, “they can be stiff.”
“I will, Senator,” Satine smiled, “thank you, thank you a thousand times over.”
The Duchess’ dress weighed more than any dress should. Four ladies had to carry it into her room on a stretcher. It seemed that every blue crystal owned by the Mandalorian royal house was on that dress.
“How-” Satine began.
“Five pounds,” Waldie grinned, “and that’s without your tiara.”
Parna squealed.
“Let’s get you in it, Satine,” Khaami huffed, “it’ll certainly be a piece of work.”
“That it will.” Waldie agreed.
There were at least three layers of petticoats that Satine counted, then came the glorious masterpiece itself. A luscious royal purple silk resplendent as the stars with gems worth more than the Banking Clan owned all together.
“Ooph,” Satine huffed, “heavy.”
Waldie smiled, “Should I send for the royal jeweler?”
Khaami and Parna’s dresses were navy, modeled in the traditional style of ladies to the Duchess. Lord Eldar, Khaami’s husband, had given his wife their family jewels for the occasion. Parna ooed and awed. Parna, as head lady, wore the golden sash of service.
“They Royal Jeweler, Your Grace.” Waldie announced.
The old man bowed low, holding a wooden chest out before him.
“Your jewels, Your Highness.”
Parna gasped as Satine opened the treasure. Satine adorned herself with a diamond choker and pearls around her neck, and silver bangles on her wrists.
“Satine,” Khaami gasped, “I didn’t know you had such majesty.”
The Duchess giggled, “There’s more to come.”
The royal jeweler opened the box that Waldie was holding and pulled out a navy sash.
“The medals? Parna gasped.
“We’re putting on a show,” Satine explained as Khaami pinned on her medals, “and I intend to make the trade representatives quiver in their boots.”
“You certainly will.” Waldie assured.
“And now,” the Royal Jeweler gestured, “for the tiara.”
Satine’s eyes watered as she saw it, remembering her mother.
“The late Duchess wore this on her wedding day,” the Jeweler stated as if Satine had forgotten, “it was a gift for Queen Mara from King Zagreus the Second of Zygerria.”
It was gorgeously intricate. Silver, diamonds, pearls, and even some quartz glowed magnificent in the headpiece. Satine stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like an empress.
“Do excuse me, Your Highness,” the jeweler bowed, “I must prepare your nephew.”
“Thank you,” Satine nodded, practicing moving her head in the crown, “you’ve done me a wonderful service.”
“I can’t believe you invited the whole court,” Khaami grinned, “I haven't seen some of the clan leaders in years.”
“I know,” Parna agreed, “and we get to dress so fancily.”
Satine had forgotten that Parna was a little younger than her, they had become adults together, yet in many ways they were still young.
“I saw them raising the banners earlier,” Khaami cooed, “and I must say, the new crest is marvelous.”
“You know how I love lilies.” Satine smiled.
Parna slipped the Duchess’ comfiest navy flats on her feet.
“Ah,” Satine placed her hands on her stomach, “this is going to be a long night.”
“You’ve got this,” Parna huffed, “you’re the Duchess.”
“And the She-wolf of Mandalore.” Khaami added with a grin.
“Yes,” Satine agreed, “I am.”
The Duchess was grateful her dress had a stiff back, it helped spread the weight evenly as she walked. Satine, donning her transparent shawl, met Korkie behind the doors to the grand hallway.
“Wow,” his jaw dropped, “don’t scare them, Lady Aunt.”
“I make no promises.” Satine winked.
Korkie himself was also dressed finely. Wearing his navy military uniform with a purple sash and medals to mark him as heir presumptive. He even had a ceremonial sword.
“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs,” Korkie nodded, disappearing down a side hall, “good luck.”
Satine smiled.
“Her Grace, Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Second of Her Name and Lady Krewella, accompanied by Lady Parna Supreis and Lady Khaami Eldar.”
The doors opened wide and Satine descended gracefully, a noble dignity caressing her features. It was so silent the only noise were Satine, Parna, and Khaami’s footfalls, but the Duchess knew it was just awe settling in.
The doors across the hall opened.
“His Grace, Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari.”
Those who weren’t enthralled by Satine swiveled their heads to Korkie, who kept a steady pace walking down the hall as he was trained to do. When Satine reached the bottom of the stairs, she straightened her shoulders and waited. Then, holding out her hand as Korkie came close, allowed herself to be escorted to her throne. 
As she sat, Satine scanned the crowd, there, at the back, were the Trade Federation representatives. An aide whispered to them and proudly, the representatives came forward, their circle of assistants around them.
“The Honorable Trade Federation Ambassadors lead by Trai Dee.”
Trai Dee, a man dressed in gold robes, bowed low before Satine. All his minions followed.
“Mandalore welcomes the Trade Federation with great reverence,” the Duchess announced, smiling, “we look forward to working to ensure the benefit of both our systems and set an example to the galaxy.”
“The Trade Federation thanks you for your welcome, my Great Lady,” Trai Dee raised his head, “we come with the righteous goal of acting as a beacon of humanly grace in wartime, and are grateful for Your Highness’ sentiments.”
“I appreciate the Trade Federation’s noble quest, and am most grateful for your time,” Satine looked up to face the court, “Mandalorians, shall we treat our guests with all our system has to offer?”
Cheers went up from the crowd, and a low rumble began as the drummers warmed up their tambors. The dance floor cleared, Satine stood, so did Trai Dee.
The Duchess walked down to the Ambassador, “I would be honored if you would join me for the first dance, Your Honor.” 
“It would be my pleasure to accept, Your Grace.” Trai Dee agreed.
They danced La Mandalorra, and old Mandalorian waltz performed only to drum beats. 
“Senator Amidala never told me you were such an exquisite dancer.” smiled Trai Dee.
“Thank you for your compliment,” Satine smiled, “I do hope you will enjoy the way we do things here.”
The Ambassador grinned back, “I happen to like grandeur and courtly rigour, Your Grace.”
Satine laughed, “Then you’ve come to the right place.”
The Duchess twirled, her dress spooling out around her. Then, she faced Trai Dee, who got down on one knee and kissed her hand. Applause arose, and the Ambassador stood as more people joined the dance floor. Khaami, Parna, and Korkie all danced with Ambassador Dee’s aides while Satine and her partner danced the second song.
“If I may,” Satine began, “I hope you will excuse any dealings you had with my former Prime Minister.”
“It’s quite a terrible thing,” agreed Trai Dee, “I am just glad he is in custody.”
“So am I,” Satine tried not to frown thinking of Almec, “Senator Amidala was a huge help to us.”
“The Senator is a gift to us all.” Ambassador Dee nodded.
The second song finished and Satine curtsied.
“Do excuse me, Ambassador, I must see to my ladies.”
Khaami and Parna nodded at their partners and left to join Satine.
“Is anyone here I should know about?” Satine whispered.
“The Wrens are here,” Parna stated, “but I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“I saw a jetpack flying in the distance,” Khaami quivered, “but I have scanned the room and can’t see anyone we affiliate with Death Watch.”
Satine scanned the room as well, smiling slightly as she saw Tristan and Korkie, but then returned to her goal. After a minute she was satisfied.
“Accompany to visit Jaru, our Prime Minister,” Satine instructed, “I don’t believe you’ve met her yet.”
“I have.” Khaami grinned.
“Still,” Satine linked her arm through her lady’s, “you are married now.”
The Prime Minister was standing with some trade aide, who all regarded Satine and her ladies politely.
“Your Grace,” Jaru Djarin bowed, “you throw a splendid party.”
“It’s all in honor of our guests,” the Duchess smiled, turning to the aides, “Mandalore is thrilled to have you here.”
“We are happy to be here,” an aide responded, “Your Highness is very kind.”
“Well then,” Satine smiled pleasantly, “I hope to see you enjoying yourselves.”
Next, the Duchess made her way to Korkie, who was conversing with Mandalorian noble children his own age.
Tristan saw her first, and bowed, “Your Grace.”
“Aunt Satine,” Korkie grinned, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “This song is coming to a close, Korkyrach, and I wore my good shoes.”
Sabine Wren snorted at that.
“Lady Aunt,” Korkie handed his cup to Tristan and held out his hand, “would you do me the honor of joining me in the next dance.”
“Why, Korkie,” Satine placed a hand to her chest, “I would simply adore that.”
 The Duchess let her nephew lead her onto the dance floor. The musicians began, and Satine twirled.
“I never thought I’d have to speak pleasantly for so long,” Korkie whispered, “I met a couple of the Ambassador’s aides, our conversation was practically a minefield.”
“Minefield?” Satine asked.
“They of course have ties to both sides,” Korkie explained, “but I got the impression they resented your friendship with Auntie Padme.”
“I see,” Satine’s eyes narrowed, “and did they mention the Ambassador’s feelings on the matter?”
The Duchess spinned, returning to get Korkie’s answer.
“I think they feel we are more Republic-leaning,” the Duke of Sundari answered, “but an aide, Jaira Deere, said that the Viceroy would be pleased if Mandalore stayed neutral, and of course, that’s who they represent.”
The Duchess curtsied, the Duke bowed.
“You’ve been very helpful, Korkie,” Satine straightened, “let me introduce you to the Ambassador directly, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”
On her nephew’s arm, Satine went in search of Ambassador Dee. She found him talking with Ursa and Alrich Wren of all people.
Alrich saw them first, “Your Highness, Your Grace.” 
Trai Dee turned around with a tense smile on his face, and Satine wondered if this visit was as much informational as it was to strike a deal and make money.
“Your Highness.” he bowed.
“Ambassador,” the Duchess smiled sweetly, “allow me to introduce you to my nephew, the Duke of Sundari.”
Dee bowed, “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.”
“The pleasure is all ours, Your Honor,” Korkie extended his hand, “Mandalore is grateful for your visit.”
The Ambassador shook Korkie’s hand, “We’re glad to be here.”
The Duchess made some pleasant compliment about Korkie’s schoolwork and then excused herself, promising she’d return soon.
Satine was glad to find Tristan standing relatively alone, watching Sabine dance with a Saxon Lord.
“Lord Wren, may I speak with you?”
Tristan bowed, “Of course, your Grace.”
Satine lowered her voice, “I missed you and Mara’s sixteenth birthday.”
The boy’s eyes saddened, “I thought you forgot.”
“I couldn’t,” the Duchess tried to keep her tone even, “I was there you know.”
“Mara, and I met up for fifteen minutes in a shady part of town,” Tristan grinned at Satine’s expression, “we had coffee and commed Korkie and Tyra.”
The Duchess gave a small smile, “Well, tell your family that they’re invited to breakfast tomorrow with Korkie and my ladies. I’d like to give you your present.”
Tristan perked up, “I would love that.”
“I’m glad.”
Tristan bowed and Satine meandered through the ballroom until she returned to Korkie and the Ambassador.
“Your nephew is quite inquisitive,” Ambassador Dee’s eyes sparkled, “it’s refreshing to see one so young care about politics.”
“I feel that way as well,” Satine wrapped an arm around Korkie, “my nephew makes for a good Duke.”
When it came time for dinner, a bell rang and two grand doors opened into the dining hall. Pride filled Satine’s features, her decorators had done a marvelous job.
As usual, Korkie pulled out his aunt’s chair and pushed her in as the rest of the guests were sitting down. Parna, Khaami, and Korkie were all sprinkled at the head of the table near the Ambassador and his aides, along with the heads of Clean Saxon, Wren, and Bralor.
Near the end of the table sat Count Vizsla, looking unusually uncomfortable. Duchess Satine, when she wasn’t conversing with the Ambassador or eavesdropping on conversations, spent her time watching him. When the meal concluded, she noticed that Count Vizsla, instead of returning to the ballroom, took a wrong turn at an intersection.
“Follow Count Vizsla,” Satine instructed Korkie, “and take Parna with you.”
The rest of the evening was spent back in the ballroom. No one was dancing now, but instead couches had been moved into the room and the musicians were playing quietly as cocktails were served.
“Do tell us, Your Highness,” spoke up a make aide, “how neutrality has managed to keep your system stable.”
“It’s been quite a journey,” Satine responded, “but war is intolerable to civilization, it wreaks havoc in unseemly ways that destroys all the good society works for.”
“And yet you take support from the Republic.” a female aide countered.
Satine raised an eyebrow, “We’d be willing to take support from the Separatists if they were kind enough to not block our trading lines.”
“Jaira,” Ambassador Dee interjected, “we will not let the war interfere with politics where it is not needed.”
Slowly, the guests approached Satine and thanked her for such a splendid party, and ever the esteemed hostess, the Duchess replied that she was happy to provide her service.
Parna and Korkie returned about an hour later, Parna pulled her lady aside. 
“He confessed that his son made contact with him and spilled all of Death Watch’s plans to spoil the event, he’s in custody now.”
Satine smiled as if this were happy news and thanked Parna with a knowing look.
When it came down to only a few people left, Satine asked her guests if they wished to retire.
“My ladies will direct you to your rooms,” the Duchess gestured, “please know that your comfort is our first concern.”
Ambassador Dee bowed, “Thank you, Your Grace, sleep well.”
As the musicians packed up, Satine found Korkie and Tristan struggling to keep their eyes open.
“Get rest, boys,” the Duchess instructed, “we have big days ahead.”
Confession time, Satine took the elevator to her rooms. Korkie came up with her.
“We can’t have you falling asleep on the job, Lady Mother.” he teased quietly.
As Parna and Khaami were still attending to their guests Korkie sat his mother down and took off her shoes.
“You don’t need to do this, Korkie.” Satine smiled sweetly.
“I take of my siblings,” the Duke grinned, “I’m the oldest.”
That made Satine’s heart melt, and she felt safe enough to ask about whether or not Korkie would meet his father.
The Duke paused, “I’d still rather not, but maybe one day.”
The Duchess nodded and held out her arm to help her son up.
“Get some rest,” she advised, “Tristan and his family will have breakfast with us.”
Korkie winked, “Fun.”
“Go on now.” Satine shooed.
It took a half an hour to remove all of Satine’s jewels and place them in the appropriate boxes. It then took a further two trips for Khaami to return them all to the Royal Jewel Room while Parna undid Satine’s heavy gown.
“I can’t believe you’re still wearing corsets in your second trimester.” the lady admitted.
“I’ve done it before with twins,” Satine stated, “and we have Hera now, if you’re worried.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Parna agreed, handing Satine her nightshift, “I think things will be much easier now.”
When Khaami and Parna woke Satine up the next morning, the Duchess felt drained. She had a headache and her back and shoulders hurt from carrying the weight of last night’s dress.
“We have to spread our vile mixture on your sheets, remember,” Khaami whispered, “to stop the rumors?”
With a groan, Satine nodded.
“Come on,” Parna goaded, “your dress will be lighter today.”
Her dress was lighter that day. She wore her dress embroidered with the Mandalorian star system. The corset that had been added wasn’t as stiff, but Satine wore heels and a sash to distract from the fact that she had gained some weight. Then, while Parna did up her hair with lilies, Khaami spread Satine’s fake blood on her bedsheets.
“I’ll dip some on your nightdress too,” the lady added, “it’ll make it more convincing.”
Before heading downstairs, Satine fished out two plain-looking keycards.
“What are the presents?” Khaami asked.
“Palace entry cards,” Satine blushed, “so they can come see me and have access to the kitchens.”
Parna snorted. The main breakfast was served in the dining hall, but Satine went to a private room where Korkie was happily chatting with the Wrens.
“Duchess,” Ursa grinned, a gleam in her eye, “you were resplendent of our sun last night.”
“Thank you,” Satine blinked, “but tell me, how is the food this morning?”
“Delicious!” Sabine clapped.
Alrich shot her a look. Tristan snorted.
“Uh, I mean, delicious, Your Grace.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Satine smiled, sitting down, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen your family, Ursa, how are you all?” “Well, thank you,” Ursa nodded, “though Sabine had a question about Pre Vizsla.”
Satine raised an eyebrow.
Sabine shrunk, “Word travels fast.”
Was Sabine friendly with the Death Watch? She’d have to ask Tristan. Korkie then took up the conversation to ask about Tristan’s schoolwork, which the Duchess found greatly interesting.
“Top of the class this semester,” she smiled, “really?”
“Yes,” Tristan blushed, “and I intend to study genetic engineering.”
“How interesting.” Satine looked to Khaami, a smile on her face.
At the end of the meal, while Ursa and Sabine excused themselves, Khaami, Parna and Alrich were clearing the plates, Satine turned to her sons.
“Korkie, give us a moment, will you?”
Standing, the Duke of Sundari winked at his brother and left.
“Tristan,” the Duchess held out the cards, “this gives you access to anywhere in the palace, one is for Mara, but I’d like you both to come and go as you please.”
Tristan was flabbergasted.
“You will be able to access the kitchen, yes,” Satine smiled, “and anything in the med lab.”
Tristan took the card, hand shaking, “Thank you, Lady Mother.”
“Happy sixteenth birthday, Tristan Kryze,” Satine kissed her second son’s head, “to you and your twin sister.”
Tristan wrapped his arms around his mother.
“May I come in now?”
Satine laughed, “Of course, Korkie.”
“I’ll ask Mara to come this weekend,” Tristan said, excited, “does this mean we get wine cellar permission?”
Korkie snorted, “I’m not even allowed down there.”
Satine leveled him a look, “And you shouldn’t be.”
Tristan turned to Korkie, “Don’t worry, bro, you’ve got me now.”
A small knock bounced off the door. It was Ursa Wren.
“The meeting room is prepared, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Satine stood, “for all your help.”
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marshmallowprotection · 2 hours ago
Hey Sunflower Anon is back🥺🌻
I just have a very vague but specific headcannon, I wonder how would RFA react to MC squishing their cheeks affectionately + add our lovely boy Saeran (Good Ending version) in the list too.
Yoosung would turn all shades of red as you cooed and doted on him. When you do that, he doesn’t feel like he’s being teased or anything. But, that’s one of the things that relatives will often do whether you like it or not. 
You always giggle and laugh at him when you do it. He leans how to lean into your touch every single time that it happens because he knows that you’re going to keep doing that with an affectionate glimmer in your eyes. He always looks wide-eyed and dazed whenever you do it because he just can’t see it coming. Have fun with how he reacts. 
Jaehee is more curious then anything. She doesn’t react immediately because she’s too busy staring at you and trying to figure out why you’re gushing over her like you’re a grandmother who just saw their grandkids for the first time in a few months. 
Still, she thinks it’s sweet that you’re got this affectionate streak about yourself because it’s unlike anything that she’s used to. Her face does turn a bit warm but she manages to keep her composure and clear her throat a few times to wash away any of the obvious signs that she’s clearly enjoying this level of affection. 
Zen has dealt with people doing this to him his entire life. He’s gotten used to it, but to be honest with you, sometimes he has a small flinch whenever this does happen to him because it brings up memories of when he was a kid. He hides it with a chuckle, but... scars are scars. 
But when you do it? He feels like he can smile and like he’s finally comfortable with someone close to him. He chuckles and catches your hand so that he can kiss your palms and get you to pause your cooing to fall victim to his charm and love towards you.
Jumin is definitely intrigued by your brand of cooing and awing over him. He thinks that he should be more annoyed by it, but honestly, he isn’t. He likes when you’re open and clear with him about how you feel and how you enjoy being close to him. 
His face may turn a little warm around the edges if you lean in just a bit closer and remind him that you’ve been waiting all day to see him and now you don’t want him to leave your side. You’re too much, but at the same time, he could get more and more of this and it wouldn’t ever get old.
Seven loves it when you fawn over him. He’s not going to stop you because you look so proud of yourself every single time that you murmur and whisper that you love him. It’s the little things that mean the most to him in the long run. Just being able to have you close to him makes him happy, but you doing this makes him know that he’s just a man in love.
He doesn’t have to think about anything else. Just how much he wants to sweep you off of your feet and whisk you away. He starts talking when you fall into a lull about everything that he wants to do with you. You know him, he gets carried off by his thoughts fast.
GE Saeran doesn’t even flinch when you grasp out at him and touch his cheeks with a smile. Coo, awe, and murmur at him and he’ll take all of it for as long as you want to dote on him and smile broadly. You make him happy and seeing you appeased with the smallest gestures make him know how much you think of him and it reassures him. 
Just know that he’s going to cup your face in his hands right afterward and you’ll have to listen to him cooing over you and saying everything that’s on his mind as you have to know what he does think about when he sees you every hour of every single day. 
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bitchie-ritchie · 2 hours ago
Hello! This is the first time I'm ever requesting something 😂
What do you think of Captain Levi taking the weak cadet reader under his ~very~ protective wing?
Aw thanks for sending this in! 🥺 Personally I think that at first he’d be reluctant to get close but eventually he’d feel  responsible for their safety. 
Here’s a little something sweet for the kids. 
Summary: Levi can’t bear to watch another kid die under his care.
Word Count: 1.8K
Warnings: mentions of past abuse and malnourishment 
When the group of teens wandered into the courtyard, Levi knew that they were no different from the previous bunch. Wide eyed, heads in the clouds, loud boisterous laughter. All the innocent traits that they should’ve possessed, being only fifteen years old. So as he leaned against the stables with Hange at his side he began to wonder which of the young soldiers would come out on top. 
There was a sturdy boy with bright blonde hair and a dazzling smile. He seemed strong, and just from looking at him Levi could tell that he was well versed in social cues. If he could prove himself strong enough to make it through the expeditions, he stood a chance at rising in the ranks. A girl with red hair and sharp brown eyes was looking around her new environment with a certain cagey manor that Levi recognized all too well. He figured that at least she was unlike most of her peers, more focused on the here and now, something that was vital outside of the walls. A brunette boy walked in along with the throng of kids, but his shoulders were pulled back and chin cocked upwards. It was clear that he was confident in his skills, more so than most of his peers. He noted the cuts on his knuckles and how his fellow soldiers granted him a wide berth, Levi figured that he must have been strong enough to demand the respect of his comrades. 
It was only Levi’s second year with the scouts, yet he could recognize these traits with ease. Cadets were chewed up in training, spat into action and then digested by titans, well of course not literally since titans don’t digest. He hated that he could recognize those who would not make it apart from those who would. 
And when he saw you, he knew that you would not be one of them. Frail and silent, almost an apparition, barely standing apart from the crowd. Levi was thrown right back into the darkest parts of his memory when he took in your malnourished state, the bones that jutted from your wrists, the way that the clothes looked too big on you. It was all too familiar, hunger had been a pain he had endured for the worse half of his life. 
He couldn’t fathom why of all the regiments, you had come crawling into the corps. Your eyes were glazed over and your face held no emotion. You jumped when the blonde boy clapped you on the back, his hands rubbing your shoulders almost mockingly. If Levi strained his ears, he could just make out the boy’s words. “-I’m still surprised you came here (Y/n)! Thought for sure you’d drop out and work in the fields.” He teased as he steered you towards the red head who was glaring daggers back at the blonde and you. 
“I’ve told you....I’m no quitter.” Your words were strained and clearly you had dealt with this tormenting perviously as well. 
“Ah but you see I’m proud of you! Our own little runt rising in the ranks.” He clapped your back once more, causing you to stumble forward and smack into the red head who whipped around and glared at the blonde. 
“Knock it off Jake, I’ll break your damn ankles if you keep messin with the lass.” Her accent surprised Levi. 
“Oh come on Red, you know I’m right.” Jake pressed as he kept a domineering hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward. Levi couldn’t tell if the banter between the three, or well two of them was friendly or hostile as they marched past the stables. 
“Interesting batch this one...” Hange commented as she angled her head down to speak to Levi in a somewhat hushed tone. 
“Hmph, I suppose.” Levi agreed, eyes still locked on the retreating cadets. 
“Since I’m a squad leader now, I think that I’ll take the blonde, he looks like he possesses a good mind.” Hange brought her knuckle to her lips to nibble the skin as her cheeks flushed with excitement. Levi rolled his eyes, he was still working directly under Erwin as a regular soldier, but he hoped to have his own team as well soon. 
“You do that.” Levi grunted, pushing off of the wall to tail the cadets into the dining hall for dinner. Hange huffed in disappointment but still followed after Levi, easily catching up to him and matching his stride. 
“And what about you? Erwin mentioned giving you some kids to watch, which would you like to have under your care?” Hange asked as she smirked down at Levi. 
“The ones that know how to properly clean their asses.” Levi grunted as he pulled the doors open and marched straight towards the veteran’s table in the back of the room, where Nanaba, Gelgar, Mike, and Ness were already gathered. He grabbed a tray of food before dropping into an open seat next to Mike, Hange falling into the seat to his right. 
“-She’s to thin I can’t believe she can even function-” Gelgar was in the middle of a rant when Nanaba smacked him in the back of the head. 
“That’s no way to speak about her! God knows what she’s been through.” Nanaba’s voice was hushed and carried an edge of scolding on it as she spoke. Levi followed their gaze back to you, sitting between Jake and the red head, their shoulders brushing against yours as the three or you scarfed down the food. Directly across was the brunette, his eyes were dull and constantly roaming across the room, almost as if he was on look out duty. 
“Come on Nan, look at the poor runt! I’m only speaking the truth.” Gelgar argued, your back was to them, jacket strewn across your lap, meaning that your spine could be seen, even from nearly across the room. 
“Who’s going to want that responsibility? It’s like sending a lamb off to slaughter!” Gelgar continued and Mike gave a grunt in agreement. 
“I’ll take her.” Levi’s voice surprised himself, the table fell quiet as they all stared at him in awe. 
“What? Clearly she has some talent if she’s made it this far.” Levi grunted, lifting his tea to his lips in hopes of deterring more questions. 
“How bold of you.” Hange said with a wide smile. 
“Shut up shitty glasses.” He scoffed and stood, eager to find Erwin and request for the mangey runt to be in his mini squad. 
Your feet kicked out in front of you, tapping harmlessly against Casper’s shins. You were eating slower than usual, feeling pressured by Jake and Carina on either side of you. Casper was dutifully keeping watch, something that he had done since you were children, the threat of loosing dinner to rabid street dogs or other children. The inner walls were only kind to those of status, you were examples of that. Casper and yourself had met on the streets and been inseparable ever since, picking up Jake and Carina in the cadet corps. Now you had a happy little family. 
“What squad are you assigned to?” Jake prodded your boney ribs, spitting crumbs on you as he spoke. 
“Erwin’s.” You answered, taking a chunk out of your own bread as well. 
“Ahh for real? I’m with squad leader Hange.” Jake’s chest puffed out proudly and Casper rolled his eyes. 
“I’m under Erwin as well.” He said, looking to Carina expectantly. 
“I’m under Mike.” Carina said with her mug pressed to her lips. 
“So we’ll be splitting up...” You said with a dark look on your face. 
“Seems so.” Jake agreed in a light hearted manner. 
“We’ll be okay.” Casper said to the group, but his eyes were locked on your own. 
As it turned out, you weren’t exactly under Erwin Smith’s care. Instead you were standing in front of his prickly subordinate, shivering in the cool morning air. 
“You lot will be working alongside me, when I say to do something I mean it. I don’t like repeating myself.” Levi paced up and down the row of cadets, only about five kids in total. 
“You want to live, train hard and trust in your comrades.” He continued, pausing in front of a girl with blonde hair. 
“Study the formations, keep your gear pristine, and care for your horse as if it was your own child.” Levi’s boots crunched on the gravel as he stopped in front of you. You were tense and your eyes were more alert than he remembered. 
“Got it?” He growled and all the cadets nodded eagerly and gave him a flurry of ‘yes sirs’ . 
“Yes sir.” He noticed how your jaw was locked and your shoulders were pulled back. Already he was seeing improvements. 
“Good, let’s get started then.” 
In the few months that you had to prepare for the expedition, you made slow progress. Putting on weight and muscle alike, all thanks to Levi. He often requested you to help him with his paper work and re shelving the books in the scout’s library. As a reward he would often gift you extra rations, you were grateful of course. But as the expedition neared it became obvious that he was not going to sign you off. 
“-Captain I have to go, it wouldn’t be fair to my comrades! They need me!” You begged, hands splayed out on his desktop as he leaned back in his chair. 
“Quit whining, I’m trying to spare your pathetic life.” Levi scoffed as he glared up at you. 
“But sir, it’s not fair. It’s like you said, my life isn’t worth more than my comrades’.” You argued, surprised by your own stubbornness as you glowered at your superior. 
“You’re right....but every human life is special in its own right. If you were to perish under my care....I’d never-” 
“It’s part of the job. I signed up knowing the risks, I’m sure you did too. So....let me do what I signed up for.” Your voice mellowed out and you averted your eyes, embarrassed by the outburst. 
“I won’t let you die out there. Sit this one out, work harder, gain some strength and then you can join us on the mission. If there’s one thing in this world that I hate more then filth, it would be a pointless death.” Levi rose to his feet and met your gaze once more. You couldn’t deny that you were weak, he was right, if you were to go out there now, you would surely perish. 
“Fine, just this once.” Levi felt his heart float with relief, even if it was just one mission, it was still more time that he could spend on training you. 
“Thank you, now get the fuck out of here.” He pointed at the door and you saluted him one last time before leaving him alone in his dimly lit office. He promised himself that he would do his best to prepare you, keep you safe, keep you alive. That was all he wanted, he knew that this was a dangerous wish, but he was determined to see it through, no matter what. 
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hotdogwillex · 3 hours ago
she’s kinda hot // s.s.
masterlist | taglist
a/n: my first stiles fic!! and yes it’s named after a 5sos song i’m bad at titles okay (2.4k words)
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Stiles was pretty sure he didn’t know what love was until he saw Y/N burst into a room full of werewolves armed with nothing but a taser. She took them on, no hesitation, three to one, while he stood and watched in awe. To be fair, he was being held down by a werewolf at the time, so he couldn’t have helped even if he wanted to.
After she had electrocuted the werewolf restraining him and pulled him up off the floor, he did what any sane person who had just been rescued by their beautiful best friend would have done. He kissed her right on the mouth. She was holding a live taser in one hand, and they were standing next to a werewolf writhing in pain, but he didn’t care.
They haven’t talked about it since, because Stiles wasn’t really sure what the standard protocol was after your best friend tases a werewolf in the nuts and you stick your tongue down her throat. Ignoring the situation entirely was definitely the best option, right?
“You smell weird,” Scott said, leaning against the locker next to him.
“Huh?” he was too busy watching Y/N across the hall laughing at something that Isaac had said, and when she touched his arm he had to stop himself from running over and ripping the werewolf out of her reach.
“You smell,” Scott said again, this time catching his attention.
“What?” Stiles sniffed his armpit, making sure his Old Spice was holding up. “Dude, really? I showered this morning!”
“No, idiot,” Scott rolled his eyes. “Like, you smell like hormones.”
“Hormones?” he had forgotten that his best friend had the ability to smell emotions. “What kind of hormones?”
“You have a crush on someone,” the werewolf finally put two and two together. “Dude! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t have a crush on someone!” Stiles lowered his voice, just in case Isaac’s super hearing picked up on the conversation. Sometimes he really hated werewolves.
“Yeah you do!” Scott follows his gaze across the hall to where Y/N stood, listening intently to something Isaac was saying. Stiles didn’t even understand how their conversation could still be going on, since Isaac was one of the least talkative people he had ever met. “Oh my god, it’s Y/N? You like Y/N?”
“No! Shh!” he swatted at Scott, who clearly did not get the hint.
“You like… Isaac?” the werewolf looked so genuinely confused that Stiles took pity on him and dragged him into an empty classroom, protected from werewolf hearing or bystanders who liked gossip.
“Okay, it’s Y/N,” he sighed. “After she saved my ass the other day, I kissed her. I just stood up and kissed her, and she kissed me back, and we made out, and then she drove me home and didn’t say anything about it, and acted like everything was normal. And now I’m kinda freaked out, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and she’s all giggly with Isaac!”
“Slow down,” Scott laughed. “You kissed Y/N, she kissed you back. That’s great! That means you guys like each other, right?”
“No?” Stiles shrugged. “It means I’m an idiot and probably ruined everything with our best friend since middle school.”
“I kissed Y/N once,” the other boy stated as if he were discussing the weather, and Stiles was suddenly insanely jealous.
“Yeah, Lydia forced us all into spin the bottle at one of her parties,” he explained.
“Where was I?!”
“I don’t know, sulking in the bathroom after Lydia and Jackson made out in front of everyone?”
“Damn,” Stiles slumped against a desk. “What do I do?”
“Talk to her?” Scott rolled his eyes. 
“What if she likes Isaac?” 
“I’m pretty sure Y/N’s type isn’t guys with daddy issues who wear scarves in the spring,” Scott reassured him, trying not to laugh.
“But what if her type is hunky werewolves who could sweep her off her feet at a moment’s notice?” he panicked.
“Then she’d be dating me,” Scott said, dodging Stiles when he lunged at him. 
Then the bell rang, and the two boys hurried off to class, where Stiles did not pay attention to the importance of themes in The Catcher in the Rye and instead glared holes in the back of Isaac Lahey’s head.
Later that night, Allison and Scott called a last minute pack meeting, and Stiles fumed silently while Y/N sat in between Derek and Isaac. Y/N was smart, funny, and easy to get along with, which is how the two of them had become best friends in the first place. But then, as Derek leaned over to whisper some comment that had her trying to hide a smile, Stiles wished she was some sort of socially awkward recluse who only wanted to talk to him.
Okay, it was bad. Really bad. He liked Y/N. Y/N, his best friend since middle school and the Hermione to his and Scott’s Ron and Harry, respectively. Y/N, who was insanely beloved by the pack, which meant when she wasn’t with him or Scott she was shopping with Allison and Lydia, studying with Liam, or, god forbid, at the loft with Derek and Isaac.
Logically speaking, if you kiss a girl and she pretends like it never happened, that means she didn’t like it, right? And if that girl is one of your best friends, and she continues to treat you like a best friend, that means all of her feelings for you are strictly platonic. Right?
Stiles was about one more anxious spiral away from creating a crime board to figure out how Y/N was feeling.
“Hey!” she smiled brightly at him the next day. “Ready for chem?”
“What are you wearing?” he narrowed his eyes at the maroon lacrosse hoodie that covered her torso.
“A hoodie?” Y/N looked at him like he had just grown another head.
“A lacrosse hoodie,” Stiles retorted, grabbing the left sleeve to get a better look. When he saw the number 14 embroidered underneath a neatly stitched Lahey, he suddenly understood Scott’s werewolf rage episodes. “Isaac’s lacrosse hoodie. Of course.”
“What’s up with you?” she yanked her arm out of his grasp. “He leant it to me, the library is freezing.”
“Yeah, well, if you wanted a lacrosse hoodie you could’ve just asked me or Scott,” he grumbled.
“Next time I get cold, I’ll be sure to track you down,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Now, come on, we’re gonna be late!”
That night, they had their regularly scheduled pack meeting, and Stiles nearly died when he entered the Hale loft to see Y/N and Derek with their heads bent close together, huddled over a piece of paper on the kitchen table.
“What’s going on here?” he cried, causing Y/N to jump and Derek to glare in his direction.
“Does no one knock anymore?” Derek rolled his eyes as Y/N said, “Stiles! You scared the shit out of me.”
“Why are you and Y/N alone in your apartment?” Stiles walked toward Derek, only stopping when the alpha flashed his red eyes. “You know, you’re in your twenties, you really need to stop hitting on high school girls. I didn’t forget what happened with Erica!”
Derek growled, and Y/N said, “Uh, what happened with Erica?”
“You know, maybe being part wolf isn’t the only predatory thing about you, Derek,” he knew the words coming out of his mouth were ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop himself, not even when Derek’s claws emerged.
“Are you serious?” Y/N quickly placed herself between Derek and Stiles, lowering the werewolf’s outstretched hand. “I got here early because Derek asked me to take a look at the map he found of the Beacon Hills sewer system. Now, if you can get your head out of your ass and stop accusing our friend of being into underage girls, we can get started with the pack meeting.”
Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, and Stiles whipped around to find Liam, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, and Scott staring at him with wide eyes.
“Uh, I - yeah, you’re right, let’s - let’s do that,” Stiles stammered, mortified, as Scott grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him into a chair.
“He is not my friend,” Derek growled softly as Y/N patted his shoulder, leading him to the table.
After the pack meeting, Y/N pulled Stiles into the dark hallway of the Hale apartment. “You’re being a jerk, you know that? I’m allowed to speak to guys who aren’t you and Scott. There’s no reason to be protective of me, I can hold my own. I’ve saved you multiple times, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Stiles was supposed to be taking this seriously but he couldn’t stop his brain from conjuring up the memory of what happened the last time he was this close to Y/N in a dark room. “Yeah, I know,” he forced out, trying to look anywhere but her lips.
“Derek is my friend. Isaac is my friend. If you didn’t want me to be friends with them, why did you bring me into the pack?” she was staring him down intensely, and he felt his cheeks heat up under her gaze.
“Because you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life and value your opinions?” he grimaced as her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, and he really shouldn’t find this attractive.
“Stop being a dickhead, Stiles,” Y/N jabbed a finger into his chest before backing away. “I mean it.”
“Where are you going?” he called as she turned around and walked off.
“Isaac is my ride home,” she turned to give him one final smirk before vanishing from his line of sight.
“Stupid fucking werewolves with their stupid fucking scarves,” Stiles mumbled to himself, cursing the day Isaac Lahey was born.
“What are you still doing here?” Derek’s head popped into the hallway. “Get out of my apartment.”
He made it out, narrowly avoiding the foot Derek had stretched into the hallway to try and trip him with.
A week later, Stiles was standing in the middle of the woods, kissing Y/N like his life depended on it.
For context, she had just fended off one of Argent’s hunters as Stiles hung upside down from a tree in one of their traps, and had then cut him down with a dagger he had no clue how she had obtained. It was, quite frankly, super hot.
“This is becoming a strange little habit,” she laughed as he pulled away for air.
“Do you do this with all of your friends?” he breathed, hoping that making jokes would kill the butterflies in his stomach.
“Oh, yeah, Isaac and I make out all the time,” Y/N deadpanned.
“What?!” Stiles’ eyes bugged out of his head as she tilted her head back in laughter. “Oh, you’re joking. You know, that’s not funny!”
“It’s kinda funny,” her cheeks were red and her breath floated into the night sky in tiny gray clouds, and Stiles had never seen anything more beautiful.
“I’m sorry for being a jealous dickhead,” he apologized, the shame settling in his stomach.
“Oh, so you were jealous!” Y/N smiled. “Derek told me you made his whole apartment stink of teenage hormones.”
“I hate him,” Stiles grumbled, blushing with embarrassment.
“You know, if we’re going to date, you have to be cool with me having guy friends,” she looped her arms around his waist as he stood frozen, trying to comprehend what she had just said.
“Date?” Stiles echoed, blinking down at her.
“Well, this is our second secret makeout, and you flip out every time I’m near another guy, so clearly you’re into me,” she stated as though it were obvious.
“But - you - you like me?” Stiles was pretty sure the trap had knocked him out, and this was some sort of unconscious hallucination his brain had thought up to make up for the fact that he was about to be sliced up by a werewolf hunter.
“Duh,” Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ve liked you for a while. You know, if you’d grown out that buzzcut sooner, we could’ve avoided wasting a lot of time.”
“I - what?” he brought a hand up to run through his hair, which was no longer neatly cropped.
“I like you, Stiles,” she laughed, pulling him closer. “Now shut up and kiss me, we have a lot of wasted time to make up for.”
Stiles shut up and kissed her, forgetting that they were technically in the middle of a fight against scary werewolf hunters, and were standing in the middle of the creepy woods surrounding the Beacon Hills Preserve. The only thing that mattered was Y/N softly smiling under his lips, and her fingers tangled into his hair as she gently bit his bottom lip.
She was right, they had been wasting so much time. Years, actually. Stiles couldn’t believe how stupid he had been chasing after Lydia or any other girl that was pretty and unattainable when Y/N had been right there. He had to watch her develop crushes on athletes and that one kid from her Algebra class when they could’ve been together the whole time.
Y/N tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her arms moving to wind around Stiles’ neck, and he thought he was going to melt into the ground right there. He let his hands fall naturally to her waist, keeping her body pressed against his.
“Boyfriend and girlfriend, huh?” he smiled when they pulled away for air. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too,” Y/N grinned, pulling Stiles back down to meet her lips.
“Y/N? Stiles? Are you -” Derek burst through the trees, stopping in his tracks when he saw the two of them. “Guys, really? Right now?”
“Aw, is someone a jealous wolf?” Stiles teased as he shifted to wrap his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, partially to keep her close and partially to show off that she had chosen him.
Derek’s claws were already outstretched and he wasted no time in lunging for Stiles. Y/N freed herself from his grasp in an instant and caught the werewolf’s raised arm with her hand, keeping her fingers tight around his wrist.
“Be nice, Derek,” she glared at the alpha, silently challenging him until he backed down, rolling his eyes.
“You can do better,” Derek grumbled, sending another glare to Stiles.
“I disagree,” Y/N replied, turning back to send Stiles a grin that sent his heart soaring. And if he flipped Derek off behind her back once she turned around, well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Derek rolled his eyes and headed back to the fight, muttering something about stupid teenagers under his breath.
“Do you think they’d be mad if we made out in my Jeep instead of helping with the big bad of the week?” Stiles reached for Y/N, winding his arms around her waist.
“We are going to go help our friends,” she rolled her eyes but still had a smile on her face as she pulled out of his grasp.
“And then?”
“And then we can make out in your Jeep,” Y/N tried to look annoyed but couldn’t stop the laughter from escaping her lips.
The trees behind her rustled, and she jumped forwards, knocking Stiles to the ground as an arrow slammed into the tree that he had been standing in front of. He groaned, trying to catch his breath as she kept him pinned to the ground. When he finally regained control of his breathing and looked up at Y/N, he couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her lips were inches from his.
“You’re so hot when you save my life,” he blurted out, not being able to think of anything besides the feeling of her body pressed against his.
“Why do you think I do it so often?” she winked, and then in an instant was on her feet, running in the direction Derek had gone moments earlier.
“Wait what?!”
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stusbunker · 3 hours ago
BGDC: Free Will
A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series
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Featuring: Female Hunter Reader, Dean and Sam Winchester
Word Count: 1060
A/N: Flashbacks in italics, angst and resolution. Thanks for sticking this through to the end! xoxo Stu
Series Masterlist
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It was my worst fear realized: I was just a footnote in the legend of Sam and Dean Winchester. Even God didn’t deem me worthy of an ending.
Luckily, for everyone involved, his grandson has a much kinder heart. I came to, right where Chuck ended me, at a nearly abandoned service station without a car for miles. 
It was a hike back to the bunker, but I made it by noon on the second day, with some help from a passing trucker.
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    Dean found me in my room. Sheepish was not a look I’d ever be used to seeing on him, but it’s the only way to describe the look on his face.
    “Everything okay?”
    He huffed and replied honestly. “Not really.”
    “Anything I can help with?” I asked, confused.
    Dean sat next to me, feet firm and half bent, ready to leave as soon as he came. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. This is all on me.”
    Both our eyes instantly hovered over the Mark on his arm.
    “We just got you back. You don’t need to be okay right away,” I squeezed his bicep, balancing my chin on his shoulder.
    He nodded, breath rattling in his chest. After a minute, he suggested, “wanna watch a movie? I just need to shut off for a while.”
    “Of course. It’s my turn to pick anyway.”
    Dean chuckled. “How can you possibly remember that?”
    “Cuz it is! Don’t think I had to twist Sam’s arm to watch what I wanted.” I instantly regretted mentioning all the time spent without him.
    “That’s because you guys have the same awful taste,” Dean added a moment too late.
    “Go! I’ll start some popcorn.”
    He stood in my doorway and turned. “Hey, thanks.”
    I gave him a simple smile. Once he was gone, I exhaled, releasing the tension his presence ignited. Carefully, I grabbed my crutches from against my desk and hobbled toward the kitchen.
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Dean found her note once they got back to the bunker. They had detoured ten miles in each direction from the gas station hoping she had set off on foot. Jack said he pulled it off, but something in Dean’s gut told him to check and make sure.
Her familiar scrawl hit him square in the chest with equal parts relief and comeuppance. He shouted for Sam, handing him the thin scrap of paper and sharing a look. Of course.
Sam huffed. “Well, at least we know she’s alive.”
Dean nodded, taking the note back for something to fiddle with. He felt Sam’s eyes on him but he didn’t know if he should say the things that were clogging his throat.
“You could always call her, you know,” Sam suggested, face pinched.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give her some space. Check in in a week or so,” Dean agreed, too easily accepting the obvious.
“But you’re not going to,” Sam surmised, hands firmly planted in his pockets.
“No, I’m not,” Dean admitted and started refreshing his duffel. “You coming?”
Sam smirked. “Be ready in ten.”
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    Dean found himself walking into her room out of habit, just to remember she wasn’t there. That he’d kicked her out. That he wasn’t what he thought he was to her. And he’d get angry again.
    Until he got sad.
    When his mom was around it was easier to remember who his family truly was. To ignore the absence in the backseat, on the couch, in the library.
    They’d almost met up on a couple of cases. But either Sam was playing both sides or Chuck didn’t want them facing off. Dean wasn’t going to be the one to break.
    She owed him the damn apology.
    She was better off on her own.
    Sam never told him that she was working on tracking Michael for him. And Dean never asked. The stalemate was broken because they kept losing people and Dean couldn’t swallow the idea of her death coming and them not knowing. 
When Chuck went Old Testament, Dean Winchester rose above and made the call. But only because Sam made him do it.
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I walk out of the victim’s house only to stop in my tracks. There, slouching against the side of the impala are two well dressed imposters, waiting smugly for me. We’d been here before, and the hope that we would be again crackled across my skin.
“Here to steal my case?” I call out.
“What case? That lady is fruit loops,” Dean replies, unable to hide his amusement.
Sam moves first. “Good to see you, Shrimp,” he mutters against my hair as we squeeze each other, long and tight. No jokes or awkwardness. 
“So? You beat him?” I check with Sam and then look at Dean.
“It was the kid,” Dean clarifies, turning to face us.
“Whoa! Okay, well, good. I don’t think I could live with you if you had the chance to say ‘I killed God’ out loud,” I sass and cut the distance between us. Dean cocks an eyebrow and I feel their silent conversation over my head.
“So, you are coming back, then?” He teases.
I play it up. “That depends.”
“On if you forgive me.”
“That depends,” Dean tosses my words back at me.
I sigh. “On what, Grumpus?”
Dean smirks, “you gonna hug me or not?”
I roll my eyes and fall against his chest, feel his strong arms holding me close. I missed him so damn much. I missed us, what we really were.
“You’re not gonna try and kiss me are you?” Dean mumbles, earning a throat clear from Sam. But I just groan and stomp on his shiny fed shoe for good measure.
Dean grunts and bends before I can get an elbow into his side too.
“You love me,” I retort.
“Yeah? Tough.” 
Sam breaks our gooeyness. “Mind some company on the ride back?”
“Sick of him too?” I snark. “You’re always a welcome copilot, you know that.”
Dean rolls his eyes and steps back into the street. “Race ya.”
And he peels off the curb before I can even argue. Sam doubles over at the look on my face and I hip check him just because I can. My truck is no match for the impala, but that’s not the point.
The point is that I’m heading home, where I’m wanted. Where I belong.
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