#i worked. So Hard on this yesterday. and i'm proud of it!

[intellectual6666]

I have some things to talk about, which I felt and saw after I got my CBSE 10th results.

Everyone takes credit. Like relatives who for the whole year kept saying, "our children also gave boards, why are they (my parents) acting like it's such a big thing?", "they are showing as if only they have work and they are busy, we are useless na", came to say, "she is our daughter/granddaughter, that's why she excelled in her exams." I do have a lot of respect for them and yes, I love them a lot too and also you can take credits of it, due to their ashirvad I was able to excel in the exams but why act like they are "only" reason I got good marks in it ? I would like to give 50% credits to my parents and the rest to me and my God. There was also a time when my father was not able to give the monthly fees of my school for 3 months, but he managed to keep me in a English medium private school by working his ass off. My mother left her social life, didn't even go to ISKCON (her favourite place) so that she can keep her full attention on me. We went through so much financial issues in 2022 and 2023 (first half) but my parents didn't let my education sacrifice. I, didn't take any tuitions so that I do not put extra burden on them (another reason I didn't take tuition coz I prefer self study more than tuitions). Me, who got so stressed because of my class 10 boards that by the time my exams were near my mental health worsened. I was getting suicidal thoughts and got introduced to new health problems which still haunt me, hypertension and palpitation. But still, I worked hard, my closest friends helped me, my parents helped me and most importantly Krishna ji, Ganesh ji, Radharani ji and Mahadev helped me. My struggle was totally mine and no one fought the war inside me other than me. So before taking the whole credit, atleast for once one should think about the people who really worked hard.

Second, this comparison shit kills one inside. No, I didn't compare myself to anyone as my parents never taught me that nor they ever compared me to anyone. Basically me and my maternal uncle's daughter are really close. And she is quite average in her studies. But trust me she is an amazing dancer, singer and artist. I envy her because of the great acting skills she have. But according to that typical thoughts, her parents always compare her with me and try to demean her, on the thing that she is not much good in studies and I'm comparatively good in it. Her results came out some days ago, as she used to study in an ICSE school and to be honest, she did amazing. Getting such marks is not so easy in ICSE board. Yesterday her mother kept comparing her with me and made her feel insecure and bad. Like why ? What do you get by hurting a child ? Why the actual fuck can't you ever be satisfied with whatever she got ? Praise her, tell her she is amazing, bring some confidence in her instead of making her feel so insecure that she starts to kill her feelings for everyone. Please freaking stop that. My mother, as usual a boss lady, replied her so sassily that my sissy ran to her and hugged her for 15 minutes straight. All of my closest friends got above 90% and I got below it, but God my parents didn't think about that for even once. They kept praising me.

So this was a rant post and you can totally ignore it if you want. Sorry for writing such a long ass thing, I had a lot to burst out.

And also sorry if there's any spelling mistake.

Congratulations to all the 10thies and 12thies for acing your exams. Everyone did amazing. I'm proud of you.

#rant post #shitposting #my thoughts #written by me #desiblr #desi tumblr #me #desi teen #desi academia #txt post #txt #me and my thoughts #10th cbse boards #cbse 10th grade #10th boards

[daandyli0n]

i did!! a thing!! and i'm proud of myself for it!!

(warnings: blood/gore, body horror(?), disturbing/unsettling/creepy imagery)

(text is from ‘Rain’ by Jack Stauber)

alright, so i believe this requires a bit of explanation:

-yes, this is a kin thing that i got the inspiration to do

-it’s basically about a kin memory i have (dying in prison and almost getting abandoned in Limbo) and my feelings about it

-the fox hybrid ghostbur and the sheep hybrid are, in fact, the same person (me)

-look, what happened post-Wilbur’s revival is complicated, just know that i basically changed to look as different from him as possible. somehow, that also changed my species

-i wear the ribbon to hide the neck scar since neither me nor Tommy like looking at it

-yes, c!Dream is an enderman. no, i’m not entirely sure why. it’s just how the memories work

-he also cut my throat open and i Am, in fact, still mad at him for it >:/

-yes, i have blue blood and tears

-don’t worry, things are chill now! 

#dsmp kin #ghostbur kin #my art #i worked. So Hard on this yesterday. and i'm proud of it! #kin things 💙

[yea-baiyi]

hrrrrnnnggghhhhhhhh im too lazy to touch this one anymore so have an ohm smiling at nanon <3

#ohm pawat #ohmnanon #my art #bad buddy #art stuff #idk i spent a while on this yesterday and i'm not totally happy with it but im not fixing it anymore #please validate me im trying so hard to work on art more #hopefully one day i'll do art im actually proud of again

[curseofdelos]

Last line challenge!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote or drew and tag some people.

Tagged by @solisaureus <3

So the actual last line I wrote is the last line from this cabin 7 fic I posted yesterday:

“Yeah,” she said as the truck disappeared into the horizon, “but I think I’ll be okay.” 

But I feel like the spirit of the challenge is to post something from a wip, not a published fic you can read right now lol, so here's the last line I wrote in one of the longer fics I like to work on for fun in between oneshots:

“Nico is the child of the prophecy.” 

:)

I tag whoever wants to do this! If you haven't been tagged yet but want to participate, then do it and tag me lol I want to see what you all are writing 👀

#my fic #seeing the complete lack of subtlety that line has when taken out of context is making me laugh so hard #it really is just a baldly stated fact with no bells or whistles huh #I can't even be coy about the premise of that fic because it's clearly stated RIGHT THERE #(well. half of the premise anyway) #anyway. nobody get too excited because that au spiralled WAY out of control and I'm not confident in my ability to finish it #it is simply too long and I have other things I need to be working on lmao #but I'm having a good time writing it and I love the au dearly <3 #maybe I'll do this again in a few days/weeks/whenever I start my next oneshot so I can give you a line from a fic I actually intend to post #but for now you all can ruminate on that one I guess lol #also read the fic I posted yesterday I'm proud of how it turned it out <3

[kalims]

⊹ giving them flowers

premise. no plot we are just giving them flowers cause guys deserve some too <3

content. fluff, mini scenarios, azul turns into a silly nerd (affectionate)

featuring. jamil, sebek, riddle, azul.

note. actually accidentally posted this yesterday and got a heart attack (also an actual consistent posting schedule...?)

jamil gives you a look.

he spares a long stare at the bouquet you clutch between your hands, wearing an awfully cheeky grin that's chipping off the scold in his throat. "how many times have I told you this?" he deadpans.

but from the obvious fact that you're holding it. it's not like jamil can do anything about it.

"you don't buy flowers for yourself," he says firmly. I'm supposed to be the one getting them for you. he would like to add.

"they're a waste of madol?" you tilt your head.

he answers immediately. "no, just—" jamil's eye twitches like he's trying his hardest to keep something. "don't,"

perhaps he's being a little too blunt but it makes him upset. is he really messing up in gift giving to the extent where you have to buy something for.. yourself? and jamil is pretty sure gifts are called as such for a reason.

and that they're from, or gifted to another person.

you chuckle in your fist, but he continues to ramble; "also it's hard to care for flowers when you don't know much, i don't want you to—"

"jamil hon, my baby, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, they're for you,"

you say simply, and watch in amusement when his moments stutter before they stop to a complete freeze.

a furious wave of heat crawls up on his back but he's praying frantically. now is not the time. he seethes.

... he just tripped over his words.

jamil reluctantly accepts the flowers after you've finished laughing your ass off, and the only thing in his mind is the love.

okay maybe he should pick up a book about caring for flowers. do they even survive in the harsh conditions of scarabia?

whatever he'll make it work.

you should've expected this.

despite your arm honestly starting to tremble under the stress of holding it out for about 2 minutes straight now, you still attempt a smile—although strained. wouldn't want sebek to find it an unfriendly gesture.

even though he probably already thinks that anyways.

you don't want to color sebek in a way that shows that his only personality is being suspicious to everyone, and of course. the dearest young master he adores. (seriously though it's a little concerning, and you're kinda jealous.)

sebek stares at the bouquet in your hand with scrutinizing eyes, as if to say non-verbally: 'what is this'.

you sigh when he just stares at it like it's a bomb. "it's flowers." you deadpan.

sebek pursues his lips, looks away before looking back. "I can see that!" he says like he wasn't wearing a face that made you think you had to explain. but he just crosses his arms and falls silent with a huff. "for the young master, yes?'

he pauses. "I can atleast acknowledge your gesture, human!"

was that supposed to be good? you weren't given the chance to explain because he continues again; "though I will have to make sure that these aren't anything the young master is allergic to." he nods to himself, as though proud for being so thoughtful.

your eye twitches. you're a little surprised that he didn't even imply that it could be possibly a bomb inside to try and assassinate them.. but you notice a slight tense-ness to his demeanor.

you know cause he's huffed about 5 times in the past 1 minute, he's looked away and he's very clearly sneaking peaks at your hand.

—then he huffs to himself! then it repeats.

"I will take them to the young master at once!" he announces with his loud volume, stepping forward to grab it from you but you ultimately beat him. you're just praying he doesn't find you 10x more suspicious the moment you had wrenched it back to yourself with surprising strength you didn't know you had.

even he looked surprised!

"no, sebek.." you heave. "they're not for malleus, they're for you."

he didn't have the heart to correct the way you addressed the young master before he dutifully exploded.

he's shaking away from you with a wobbling, agape mouth. he could only open and close them dumbly, not beir capable to let a word out.

you suppose he was too speechless because he didn't even say anything when you happily pushed the bouquet to his chest like nothing happened.

for someone who's most diligent in studying, you'd think riddle would be able to catch on easily on the gist of your actions.

but he just blinks when you hold out your hand. pretty gray eyes trained on the bouquet of red roses in your grasp, then onto your face with inquisitive question apparent with the raise of his brow.

"we have plenty of roses in our gardens." he says, as though like giving him... these is the most bizarre phenomenon in his life.

it seems like he feels the need to add. "we grow them."

you smile, the sweet thing awfully tight on your face. "they're for you," you explain. a little perturbed that you need to in the first place, but it's riddle so you sorta understand?

riddle squints. "why?"

you blank. "like... like a gift, for you? you know. cause I want to."

then as if the slowness of the processing going on in his brain gradually speeds up. it's obvious he's probably realized the implications of your little gift from the jolt, then widened eyes who stare in disbelief.

riddle gulps. "for, me?" he asks stupidly.

your raised brows say yes.

it's almost hilarious when he accepts them gratefully and stares at them like you just sprouted a literal white rose from the ground, wrapped it in some fancy plastic, and then handed it to him with a smile.

silence ensues again. riddle notices, screeches in his head to do something about it except he can't, cause his mind seems to be broken right now and he can't exert any words but a stammer.

and he'd really like to relearn how to speak because you're fidgeting on the spot, clearly nervous by his silence.

"sorry," you chuckle. "um.. it's just red roses, not white, or blue, or pink—"

"no!" he blurts out far too quickly. hands stretched out in the air a little as though reaching out to stop you but then stiffly staying by his side. riddle clears his throat. "I mean... this is... very important to me."

you look like you don't really believe him cause he was going off about roses in his dorm before.

he flushes, away from your gaze. "because its from you."

you can barely see azul.

or gauge out his reaction if it's supposed to be good or bad, because you can barely even see his eyes from all the sudden sheen of white over it. did all the smoke in the room just gravitate over his glasses conveniently or something?

you can spot the joints in his fingers twitching but oddly enough he remains stiff in front of you. uncharacteristically silent, which wouldn't really lead to good things.

"hello?" with your free hand, devoid of any flowers with the power of freezing a person. you wave it in front of his face which seems to have done a pretty good job with snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

the glasses slip down the bridge of his nose but he fixes them at record speed. admittedly with clammy fingers.

azul coughs. "thank you very much." he clutches them tighter, pursuing his lips.

"I know octavinelle is not the best place for warmer places," he starts and a flash of confusion on your face is something he misses. "but I will manage it and find an accommodation for these, around 34 or 35 degrees."

your brows furrow. what.

"hmm yes... a nice vase, I'll use the most pure water there is." he rants. "then I'll fill it up with two thirds of its container and make sure it lives healthy."

that's... concerning.

"I'll have jade clean it regularly." he says and you're honestly more scared for the flowers. "I cannot trust floyd either so I'll trim it by two centimeters at the right angle occasionally when it dries."

he says all that, with a pink face.

you awkwardly stand there taking in azuls apparent plans on how to ensure the lifespan of your 'thoughtful' gift will be extended as far as he can help in to commerce your honor.

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst fluff #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #gender neutral reader

[soobnny]

ten things bang chan says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, a tinge of angst

CHAN | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one. you know what i realized lately? i've been sleeping better. i think it started on the first night you moved in with me. i didn't know sleep could come so easy until i had you next to me. it's really nice to wake up and find you in my arms, too. and i think—i think i wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of my life.

two. your hair is longer these days. i think it suits you a lot, but i think i love it more because it's easier to run my fingers through your hair when you fall asleep on my lap this way, easier to play with them.

three. you used my shampoo today. i don't know why, but that made me love you even more than i did yesterday. maybe it's because my life feels so intertwined with yours this way. you feel closer to me like this. yeah, that must be why.

four. you've worked really really hard to get this far, and it shows. i'm so proud of you, angel. you're doing a great job.

five. i'm learning to love myself more because of you. thank you for loving me as i am. thank you for loving me when i thought i wasn't lovable. i promise i will love myself the way that you love me. promise you'll do the same for me?

six. i'm sorry if i get too in my head sometimes. i'm sorry if i don't listen when you tell me to take breaks. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. please stay with me. i promise i'm trying. i really am trying.

seven. a song called 'grows old' played on the radio today. it made me think of you. please also hold my heart until it grows old.

eight. you deserve a place in this world. i'm sorry it made you think for a moment that you didn't, but you deserve to take up your spot. someone's life is better because of you, my life is better because you're in it. i've been learning to appreciate small joys because of you. i love you.

nine. if there's no one to lean on, i'm always here.

ten. one day, i'll marry you.

#k-labels #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #chan fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids blurbs #stray kids reactions #chan drabble #stray kids chan drabbles #stray kids chan blurbs #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #chan scenarios

[zeezelweazel]

Pls for Lia she just seems so kind and innocent and imagine she had been having some vanilla sex with all her exes. R is basically a fuckboy and always talking about her latest sexcapade. Lia hears about it all the time and can’t stop fantasizing R doing those things to her.

Lia Wälti| Fantasise|

______________________________________

Goddd I love this idea anon you're a genius

First Lia fic let's goo (I got a few Lia requests and I'm so happy cuz this woman is so) honouring our swiss princess 🤞

Reader plays for arsenal

Part 2 → here

TW: masturbation, choking, scissoring, strap on use, bondage, spanking

____________________________________________________

Everyone in Arsenal knew how much of a fuckboy you are. As England's number one womaniser you're proud to say that you've slept with more than half of the country, regular people and footballers alike. Of course your teammates are more than aware of the situation. Some of them, especially a certain Irish defender, love hearing about your latest one night stand. You're not going to say no to a chance to boast about your skills so you give them all the juicy details willingly.

Lia loves hearing you talk about your sex life. Perhaps more than she should but she's past the point of shame. Lia has been with plenty of women in her life but the sex was more or less the same. A few fingers, a girl giving her head and the occasional dildo action.

So when the Swiss woman hears about all the exciting things you do to others she immediately feels heat gather in her core.

Now is one of those times, with numerous Arsenal players huddled around you as you talk about yesterday's one night stand. Lia is sitting on the floor, away from everyone else but listening just as intently.

"Rubbish! I thought that only worked in porn."

You shake your head and laugh at Katie's comment. You smirk at the brunette before shrugging.

"Everything works if you're good enough to make it work." Some of the girls whistled and clapped at your confident remark while Katie rolled her eyes at you playfully.

Lia on the other hand was bitting her lip hard, her pupils blown and her pussy wet just at the mere thought of you doing that. But this time she didn't picture you with the random woman you dragged to your apartment, Lia thought of you with herself.

Lia's brown hair was splayed out on the white sheets of your bed, one of her hands tangled on the soft material while the other was wrapped around your wrist. Your hand squeezed around her neck once more until Lia's eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth dropped open. You chuckled and positioned one of her legs with your free hand before lowering your hips. The vibrations of Lia's moans travelled through your arm when you finally connect your cunts. You groaned and rolled your hips, grinding down hard. Your eyes were locked at the sight of Lia beneath you, her wet pussy spread open just for you while she whined and moaned. You moved up just a little and you pushed your throbbing clit against Lia's. The brunette moaned loudly and tried to close her legs because of the intense pleasure but you squeezed her throat in warning. You sped up your hips and Lia whimpered when she realised you were using her to pleasure yourself like she was your favourite toy-

"Are you okay Wally? You're breathing heavily and your cheeks are all flushed." Lia almost choked on thin air and looked up to see Kyra, curious eyes and tilted head, looking down at her. Lia swallowed down her horniness and gave the young girl the best smile she could master.

"I'm fine don't worry, just a little tired from training."

The moment Lia got to her apartment she made a bee line for her bedroom. She through her things on the floor hurriedly and got on the bed. She didn't even bother talking off all her clothes. Instead Lia shoved a hand down her pants and she groaned when her fingers were met with hot wetness. She breathed heavily as her mind swirled with yet another fantasy.

Lia's hands twitched and pulled at the restraints when you brought one of your hands to rub hard circles on her clit. Your hips were moving fast, the sounds of skin slapping skin echoing in the room. Lia teased her folds, simply running the pads of her fingers through her slik slit as she sighed softly and closed her eyes. Your dark eyes watched Lia split open on your cock, eight inches and thick, much bigger than anything the Swiss has ever taken before. Her legs kicked up at the spike of pleasure when you changed the angle slightly and you leaned down to take one of her nipples in your mouth. Lia slipped her free hand under her shirt and palmed at her breast, before twisting and pulling at the nipple. She finally dipped two fingers inside and she threw her head back with a whiny moan. Lia's head was spinning from all the stimulation and her voice was hoarse from moaning and yelling out for you. But you showed no sign of stopping until she came all over your cock. You removed your mouth from her tits and went to her neck instead while you bit and sucked marks on her pale skin. Lia was begging for you to go faster and harder and you did, using both of your hands to push her legs up and spread her open so your cock can hit her sweet spot. Lia used her palm as leverage and started grinding down on her fingers, her clit rubbing on the soft skin of her hand. Her back was arched and her mouth was open, whines and whimpers constantly escaping her throat. Lia yelped and whined at the power of your thrusts. The bedpost was hitting the wall repeatedly and the bed was creaking, the noises synchronising with her sinful moans. Her back arched of the bed and her thighs shook when she came, her pussy throbbing around your still moving cock.

Lia's hips convulsed as she came, creamy liquid drenched her hand and her bed sheets. Lia simply laid there panting for a while, trying to wrap her head around what just happened. She's never came so hard just from masturbating before which is both concerning and impressive at the same time. Lia bites her lip and her breath hitches when she removes her fingers from her dripping hole. She watches her glistening fingers and her mind starts wandering once more.

Lia squirmed in your lap and huffed when you pushed her head down on the mattress. She was about to start squirming again when your hand came down on her ass with a deafening crack. Lia chocked on a whimper and kept her head down knowing that it's better for her to just sit there and take what you give her. Your hand comes down again, this time on her other cheek and Lia hears your mocking laugh after she instinctively recoiled. She knew she couldn't complain, she broke the rules after all and Lia knows how much you hate when she touches what's yours. Your hand gives three consecutive blows on her ass and tears gather in the corners of her brown eyes. With her ass up her pussy is exposed for you to see and Lia can't hide just how wet she gets when you punish her. You won't do anything to help her though, that's what she gets for masturbating and coming without permission. You smirk and bring your hand down again.

Lia shakes her head with a tired groan when her fingers ich to move towards her pussy once more. She tries not to think about having to look you in the eyes tomorrow at training as she sits up from the bed and moves towards the bathroom.

____________________________________________________

#wlw #female reader #smut #woso x reader #woso #bottom character #dom reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #awfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso smut #arsenal women #woso imagine #lia walti x reader #lia walti #lia wälti #lia walti smut

[barcaatthemoon]

good enough ii || alanna kennedy x reader ||

you and mackenzie talk things out.

part 1

alanna's phone call had come first thing in the morning. you had spent your night catching up with the last bits of your schoolwork. it wasn't your ideal night at all, but you were glad to know that there was nothing else for you to worry about for the rest of the school year aside from a couple of exams at the end of the month.

alanna would be glad to hear that. she hated having to share her time with you and your schooling. it made her proud that despite the fact that you could just coast along as an influencer that you still worked hard to get your degree. even if it did take up a lot of time that she wanted to spend with both of your focuses solely directed towards each other.

"how did you sleep?" alanna asked you. she invited you over with the intention to make you breakfast. mackenzie was passed out in the hallway, as if she had attempted to go to alanna's room, but didn't quite make it. you noticed the way your girlfriend's body felt a little stiffer and wondered if she had joined mackenzie on the floor.

"okay. i had a bit of a late night finishing up assignments, but i'm all done now," you told her. alanna smiled as she leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek. "how was your night?"

"we argued, made up, drank, fought some more, and i guess cuddled on the floor. macca called kirsty at some point last night, which was not fun to sit through. whenever she wakes up, she's got something to tell you," alanna told you. she sounded very serious, which you weren't used to at all. the blonde rarely took anything so seriously, which kind of threw you off a bit.

"i haven't caused problems, have i?" you asked. alanna could hear the fear in your voice and was quick to reassure you that any problems weren't your fault.

"no, of course not. some people just don't know how to pull their heads out of their asses." alanna spoke softly, despite the small bite in her voice. you turned away from the eggs in front of you to give her a quick peck on the lips. alanna whined a little as you moved away from her.

"not now, i don't want to burn breakfast," you told her. alanna pouted, but moved around the kitchen to help where she could. she took great delight in using the blender to make some smoothies for the three of you. you knew that one was just to give mackenzie a harsh wake up, no doubt knowing that the woman would be hungover.

you had expected mackenzie to come shuffling into the kitchen, not for her to tackle alanna onto the ground. you watched as the two of them rolled around the kitchen floor, finally breaking it up after a couple of minutes. you were quick to reach down and pull alanna back as she tried to wrestle mackenzie into a chokehold.

"this isn't helping," you told her. alanna gave you a sheepish look as she grabbed the plates you had set out and placed them at the table. "thank you."

"sorry," alanna mumbled quietly. mackenzie glanced between the two of them before making a subtle whipping motion at alanna. "ahem."

"i'm getting there. let me wake up a bit first, fuck's sake," mackenzie said as she leaned against the counter. she took a moment to sort her mind out before she turned towards you. "i am sorry for acting like a cunt yesterday. i shouldn't have judged you so quickly, and it is very obvious that you're good for alanna. it's really sweet that you both love each other so much, even if she's acting like a fucking sap all the time."

"thank you for apologizing." you didn't really know what else to say, so you followed alanna into the dining room. it was a bit tense for a while, but alanna was quick to make the two of you talk to each other. you were still understandably apprehensive about mackenzie, but by the time that mackenzie had to leave, you did feel sad about that.

alanna seemed relieved when mackenzie left. she immediately pulled you into her arms as the two of you settled back on the couch. you knew that aside from games and training, the two of you weren't leaving alanna's apartment for the week. she loved getting to spend time with her friends, but that was a mere afterthought whenever she got into one of her clingier moods.

"i am so sorry for noticing earlier," alanna apologized. you were sick of apologies and just wanted to put yesterday behind you. "i should have been paying more attention. if i had known, it never would have gotten that bad."

"you don't have to always be paying attention to me. i am a big girl, i can handle my own problems sometimes," you reminded her. alanna huffed as she shifted on the couch, the new position making it hard for either of you to look anywhere else. "you don't let me solve all of your problems for you. i just have to trust that you'll come to me when you need help."

"you don't think that i don't trust you, do you?" alanna asked. you shook your head. you knew that alanna trusted you. at times, you thought alanna could be a bit too trusting, but it was part of why you loved her. she kept herself well guarded, but the moment that someone slipped through, her walls came crashing down. "because i love and trust you so much, more than anybody else in the whole world."

"i know that you do. i know that you just want to protect me, but some things i need to learn to handle on my own. i know we're keeping this private right now, one day, people will know and i don't want there to be any doubts that i can't stand up on my own." alanna let out a small sigh at your words, but she understood. it would be a slow process, but you knew that eventually, you'd learn not to depend on her so much.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alanna kennedy x reader #alanna kennedy imagine

[gyu-effect]

could i request a dk fic where the reader is a lresenter at an awards show and has to read out the winner for one of the daesangs ( like mama album of the year award where they won!) and how all of it goes down and stuff ( like the reader and dks relationships public knowledge so it makes jt even more fluffier!!)

PAIRING || Seokmin x Female Reader

GENRES || Fluff, Idol!Seokmin, Idol!Reader

WARNINGS || none

WORD COUNT || 0.6k

A/N || i'm so so sorry this took me so much time. but i really loved this idea tbh it was just so cute! i hope you like this fic. requests are open !!!

TAGLIST || ​@romeosbreastmilk @y00nzin0 @cecedrake2217 @candidupped @ashkuuuu @hanicore @alyssng @weebotakuboy @angelfeverdream @aaniag @sea-moon-star @thepoopdokyeomtouched @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @mnstxmnbb [if you want to be added to my taglist, fill in this form!]

[00:08]

“wait, what? don’t tell me-” seokmin gasped, staring at the stage with eyes wide open as you walked in with a bright smile, bowing and greeting the audience seated.

“didn’t you know?” seungkwan asked, to which seokmin shook his head in negative, mouth still hanging open in surprise. how come you had never told him this before? even yesterday when the two of you had talked before going to bed, you had not even mentioned it in passing when he had said that he hoped that they would win a daesang this time.

but now that seokmin thought more about yesterday’s conversation, he realised that you had said that you had a surprise for him. was this what you had meant?

“i didn’t. i didn’t know at all. ” he replied. “but y/n did say she had a surprise for me.” 

you smiled at the crowd once more before greeting into the mic. “good evening, everyone. a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

seokmin smiled involuntarily, feeling his heart melt at the sweet way you were talking. then the he heard the scream, causing him to finally tear his eyes away from you and look at the screen. to his surprise, the camera had panned to him to capture his expression, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“don’t make it so obvious.” minghao snickered beside him, causing him to elbow him lightly. but some of his members like soonyoung had begun pointing at him and then at you, before making hearts, causing the crowd to go more wild.

seokmin felt his heart burst out of embarrassment even more as he watched you too faltered at your speech a little, biting your lips so as to not smile too much. 

“hey.” chan said, his eyes lighting up. “maybe the surprise was that the winners of album of the year-”

“and the award goes to…” you said, carefully opening the envelope. then your eyes crinkled as you smiled even more brightly, before leaning into the mic once again. “seventeen!”

the roar around him was almost deafening. he felt someone yank him up by an arm and pull him into a hug, as he tried processing what was happening around him.

they had won? they had won? but wasn’t he just staring at your face a few seconds ago-

the next thing he knew he was being pushed on to the stage with the entire group. he could feel people still applauding them and congratulating them from behind and he felt his heart swell with happiness. 

they had won. after all these years of hard work, they had finally won a daesang. 

as he approached you, he could feel himself getting giddier and giddier. you were beaming at him with such a proud smile, that seokmin felt like he was in heaven. he could not have been happier than ever. he had the best members, the best fans, he was doing what he loved and finally being rewarded for his hard work. and he had you.

you, who had tears in your eyes right now as you carefully handed the prize to jeonghan, before he indicated you to give it to seokmin instead. you, who loved him and cherished him so much.

and right now, the entire screaming of the crowd died down to nothing as all the lights dimmed around you, causing you to practically glow as you silently whispered a congratulations. seokmin felt his own eyes prick with tears a bit, being brought to reality only when his own members ‘ooh’-ed with the crowd when the two of your hands met. 

as you bowed to the members one last time and made your way out, seokmin saw you secretly wave him a tiny goodbye. 

turning back to the crowd, he let out a happy sigh. he had to thank you for your surprise later on.

© 𝐆𝐘𝐔-𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

#╼ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 #╼ [𝟎𝟎:𝟎𝟖] #╼ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 #caratlibrary #seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x reader #lee dokyeom x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #dk fluff #dokyeom fluff #lee dokyeom fluff #lee seokmin fluff #seokmin fluff

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

#asks #not aurora

[cuubism]

thinking about that meta about the endless not really transforming into different forms but rather being all forms simultaneously and just being perceived differently from different points of view. and yeah

--

"So, Death was telling me something interesting about you yesterday," Hob says, sipping on his coffee.

Dream pouts, though he would probably deny that that's what it is. "You are gossiping with my sister behind my back?"

"You know we talk."

"Gossip," Dream mutters again, steps taking on a pace adjacent to an irritable trudge. "What unseemly things does she say about me?"

"Why do you think she says mean things about you?"

"Every time we speak, she calls me an idiot," Dream says, and Hob lets out a startled laugh.

"That's what siblings do," Hob reminds him. "You know she loves you."

"Hmm." Dream plucks Hob's coffee from his hand, taking a ponderous sip. "What praises does she heap upon me, then?"

Hob shakes his head in fond exasperation. "She says that you -- Endless, that is -- can like... change your appearance for different people? Or creatures? Like. If you met a cat you would appear as a cat to them?"

"You do not quite have the right of it," Dream says. He hasn't returned Hob's coffee, despite having insisted that he 'did not require mortal sustenance' when Hob had offered to get him his own.

"What's the right of it, then?"

"It is not for human minds to comprehend."

Hob groans. "At least humor me and try to explain? Do you turn into a cat or not?"

"I do not turn into anything," Dream says, offended. "How base and common."

"Shapeshifting is base and common, I'll make sure to tell all the shapeshifters I know," Hob tells him seriously.

Dream lets out a sigh that Hob recognizes as meaning fine, I will answer your inane questioning about the nature of my existence. The funny thing is, now that they've gotten over the six hundred year barrier of what's your name and what do you do for work, Dream delights in talking about his creations. He will speak at length about his work given half a chance.

It's the personal -- whether that's something as mundane as how he takes his tea or as fundamental as what an Endless even is, exactly -- that's been hard to get at.

"I am a cat," Dream explains.

Hob stares at him, looking up and down at the very man-shaped figure walking beside him as if he needs to double-check. "You're definitely not a cat."

"Yes, I am," Dream says. He does not appear to be joking.

And apparently Hob is still thirteen years old all these centuries later, because he says, "Prove it."

"You cannot see it because you are not a cat," Dream sighs, as if this is truly a tragic occurrence.

"Maybe I am a cat," Hob suggests, tucking his hands in his pockets, all casual. "How would you know?"

Dream gives him a sidelong look. "You are not a cat. Though perhaps you would be more peaceful as one."

"Doubt it. But wait, so, if I was a cat I would be able to see your cat form?"

"In essence, yes. But. You speak as if I would be donning a coat. These are not forms. Merely fragments. Simultaneous angles on a whole."

"Fragments," Hob repeats. He works it through like a particularly hard math problem. "Hang on. So. You're also a cat now. If we met a cat they would see a cat."

Fuck, this is getting weird.

Dream looks proud of Hob for getting it. "Yes."

"Could have attempted to explain that instead of just saying I am a cat," Hob tells him. "I also still maintain that you are not actually a cat."

"I am as much a cat as I am a human," Dream says.

"So, not," Hob says.

"No," Dream agrees. "Because I am Dream."

"You're a nightmare, is what you are," Hob mutters, and Dream smirks.

"That, too."

They've been walking in silence for another few minutes when Hob asks, "What's your real form?"

Dream frowns. "All of my forms are real, Hob."

"Sure, you look like this or that to different people. What do you look like to yourself?"

"All of my forms are real," Dream insists.

"So what I'm seeing now isn't some kind of default? Are you just always different? Is this like that we don't know how other people see colors 'cuz everyone's eyes could be different thing? Or is there any internal consistency to you?"

"I don't know what thing you're referring to."

"What I'm trying to find out is did I invent this version of you in my head?" Hob asks, getting stressed about it now. Did his subconscious somehow decide this was what Dream should look like? Presumably Dream knows what he looks like to Hob. What if he doesn't like it? "Did I just decide yep that's what dreams should look like in 1389 and you've been stuck wearing black ever since?"

Dream chuckles. Probably amused Hob would ever think he had that much power. "No. There is what you call internal consistency in my appearance. Different creatures, cultures, and so on will see different aspects of me, but there is not a different aspect for each person. It is not infinite."

Oh, thank god. "So, you want to look this way."

"I suppose."

Never a straight answer with him.

"Well, just for the record," Hob says, "I fell in love with the entity but I happen to quite like the shape as well."

"The shape," Dream repeats, with a smile.

"Here's where you're going to tell me you're also a triangle or something."

Dream is silent.

Fucking hell.

"I'm not even going to ask," Hob decides, forcibly moving on. "I have another question."

"You have many," Dream observes.

"That's what you love about me," Hob says, and Dream tilts his head as if conceding the point.

"If there was a human culture that thought of dreams as represented by cats," Hob starts, "they might see you as a cat?"

Dream sips at Hob's coffee, considering. "I suppose."

"And was there ever one?"

"No."

Hob lets out a long breath. Dream is frustrating as hell to talk to sometimes, but Hob can't say he doesn't enjoy it anyway, doesn't enjoy the puzzle. "Was there ever any culture like that, though? That saw their dream representation as something other than a person?"

"There was one that thought dreams lived in bubbles, therefore I was the reflection of light along a bubble's curve," Dream says, expressionlessly. As if that isn't wild and fascinating. "However, that civilization has since disbanded and morphed into different forms."

"Which civilization was that?"

"You would not know it," Dream says.

Hob tips his head back and groans. "God, you're like an edgy teenager who knew that indie band before they were cool. Oh, which band? No, you wouldn't know them, they're too niche, too underground."

"Underwater," says Dream. "It was a civilization of dolphins."

Hob trips over a crack in the road and just manages to catch himself. Dream stops by his side, watching him with some concern, like he worries Hob might break himself in his clumsiness.

"The way the world looks to you must be insane," Hob says, staring at Dream.

Dream's lips tip up in the faintest smile. "Human perspective is narrow."

"Clearly. I wish I could see all your other forms. Must be amazing."

"You wish to see them?" Dream sounds surprised.

Hob scoffs. "Of course. But it's not sounding very possible."

Dream inclines his head in agreement.

Then a thought occurs. "Wait." And god, Hob has said a lot of stupid-sounding things in his life but this is about to be one of the worst. "If I pretend to be a cat, can I see your cat form?"

Dream can never answer a simple question directly, but apparently this absurd query is fine. "I suppose it is possible in theory for you to see it. But pretending is not enough. You would have to wholly assume the perspective of a cat. I do not know if it would be possible in practice."

Hob's never needed much more encouragement than that to try something. "Alright. Hold my coffee."

"I am already holding it," Dream points out.

"Hush. I'm being a cat."

How he's supposed to do that, Hob doesn't know. He paces back and forth before Dream, squinting in the sunlight. He looks at him from every angle. He tries to imagine what cats might dream of. Mice? Freedom? Sleeping in warm places? Their dreams must be feeling and instinct-driven, not intellectual.

Hob crouches down, looking up at Dream from as close to a cat's height as he can manage. Dream merely raises an eyebrow.

"Are you going to meow at me?" he asks mildly.

"Meow," Hob says, and Dream's mouth pops open in a round o of surprise that is one hundred percent worth the indignity of kneeling on a public street and meowing. "What do cats dream about, anyway?"

"World domination," Dream says solemnly.

"Haha," Hob says, but Dream doesn't take it back.

"Alright, I'm channeling megalomania," Hob tells him, shutting his eyes. "I'm channeling my inner despot."

"And an imposing one at that," Dream observes, looking down at him.

"Quiet, subject, can't you see I'm in the middle of ruling with an iron fist? Or paw?"

"I am quaking in my boots," Dream says. "Please, show mercy."

Hob squints back up at him. God, he's really trying, but it's hard. Cats live close to humans, but they are still so alien. Off in their own worlds, their own battles and hierarchies.

"Will it work if I lick you?" he asks. "Like how cats groom each other."

Dream blinks at him, once, twice, slowly, catlike, which he must be doing intentionally, because he's a bastard like that. "This is, as I believe you would say, getting odd."

Yeah, it is getting fucking odd.

"Perhaps you should try imagining my female form," Dream suggests, and if Hob weren't already on all fours on the sidewalk he'd have fallen over. "It is human, and may be easier."

"You have that?" Hob squeaks, scrambling back to his feet. "But I thought it was like, a species perspective thing? Do women just see you as a woman, then?" Then he shakes his head. "No, that's way too simplistic."

"Women can see me like this as well," Dream says. "Or however their culture dictates."

"So why would someone see you as one gender or another, then? Just a culture thing? Preference?"

"Why do some people see God as a woman?" Dream asks the air.

Hob groans. "You are impossible."

Dream smirks.

"Or maybe you just like being unknowable," Hob guesses.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps. Yeah, perhaps. I'm sure." Hob cracks his knuckles. "Alright, my unknowable cosmic entity of a significant other, let's see if I can turn you into a woman."

Dream stares at him flatly, but Hob can see the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth.

Hob still doesn't know what exact perspective he needs to see Dream as a woman. Maybe if he just believes really really hard he can make it happen. Force of will. It's how he'd always planned to make himself immortal, anyway, absent a fortunate encounter with one prickly dream entity.

He stops looking at Dream, and tries to look through Dream. Tries to imagine how it feels to see the true depths of his eyes, how the cosmos in them go straight to infinity. He tries to see around the way the light reflects off of and shapes Dream's form to the shape within, like a sculptor seeing the body in the marble before it's carved. Hob is no artist, but he tries.

And he knows Dream. He may not know all these angles on his form, but he knows Dream, the entity, the person. They have had a long friendship, Hob and the concept of dreaming.

And just like that, the perspective shifts. For a split second, Hob sees an infinity before him, the eternity of all existence condensed in all its brilliant, glowing facets--then his brain skids around it to avoid going mad, latches onto an angle, and slams back to earth.

Hob sways, rubs at his eyes, and then laughs hysterically. "Fuck!"

"Hob?" Dream sounds uncertain now. "Are you well?"

"I think I just glimpsed cosmic knowledge never meant for my mortal eyes, or whatever," Hob tells him, somewhat maniacally. His ears are kind of ringing, eyes swimming in the afterimages of a very bright light. "You're incredible, do you know that?"

"As you judge," Dream says.

Hob finally drops his hands from his eyes.

And immediately slaps them over his mouth, letting out a sound so high-pitched and manic he hadn't thought his vocal cords could manage it. "Holy shit."

Dream frowns. "Are you well?" he asks again. "Perhaps I should not have allowed--"

"I fucking did it," Hob whispers, mostly to himself. "Oh my God. You're a woman. I think? You look like one. I guess?"

Dream looks down at himself. Hob wonders what he sees--does he see what Hob sees? Or does he see the incomprehensible mass of everything that he truly is under the human trappings?

"Ah," he says, and presses a single fingertip to one of the breasts that he now has, prodding it curiously. "It appears that I am."

Okay, so he can see what Hob sees. Good to know.

"Yup," Hob says. He can't seem to steady himself whatsoever. "Yup, yup. You are."

"Impressive, Hob," Dream remarks, looking up at him again with a smirk. His jaw is narrower now, his lips plusher, but God, it's that same fucking smirk that drives Hob insane.

Hob wonders if Dream's female form is also bound by some limitations on appearance the way his usual form is. He hopes so, because it if turns out he managed to manifest Dream's tits to fit his own subconscious desires, he might just have to choose Death at last.

Hob still has his hands over his mouth. He makes himself drop them.

Dream frowns at his silence. "Are you not pleased?"

"I'm very shellshocked and reorienting my view of the universe," Hob tells him. "Also, you're very beautiful and it's just a lot all around."

That smirk again. Whatever minor amount of immunity Hob has developed over the centuries is obliterated by the new shape of him. "Ah."

"Ah," Hob echoes. "Can I kiss you?"

"You may."

Hob does so with his usual enthusiasm, perhaps more, as he does so love novelty. Dream tastes much the same, feels much the same to his hands, and yet not, like Hob's different perspective on him has altered the angle of his touch. Hob runs his hands indulgently over the softer curves of him, settling them on Dream's waist.

"Dear heart," he murmurs into Dream's mouth. "Most beautiful thing."

Dream makes a soft sound and rests his face against Hob's.

They stay there for a long moment, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Then Dream asks, "Would you have still kissed me if I was a cat?"

"On your little furry head, yes," Hob says, and pecks his cheek. "I thought you were a cat."

"I am," Dream says.

Hob groans. "Enough, I'm getting confused again. Let's stop with the metaphysics and go home and do something less headache-inducing."

"Like playing with the new toy you've found yourself?" Dream asks, raising an eyebrow, but obligingly lets Hob wrap an arm around his waist and tug him along down the sidewalk.

"Pretty much!" Hob agrees. "If you're amenable."

"I suppose I can bear it," Dream says solemnly, as though being kissed and coddled and worshiped is the greatest hardship of his eons-long existence.

Then he says, quietly, "You are singular, to perceive me thus."

"As..." Hob looks at him as they walk, looks at the elegant cut of Dream's cheekbone and the sweep of his eyelashes, the longer fall of his hair. "You mean, in more than one... facet?"

Dream nods. "You... see me. The truth of me. And still, you look upon me kindly."

"What other way is there to look at the one you've loved your whole life?" Hob asks, throat tight.

Dream leans into his side, and Hob presses a kiss to his temple, holding there for several steps. And he continues to hold him close as they go on, keeps his unfathomable boundless entity within the circle of his arms, where he can keep on fathoming him.

#really a toss up what's making hob lose his mind more. the eldritch vision of dreaming as a concept? or dream's tits? #listen he's a simple man #a simple and very bisexual man #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing

[lovingyoulovinme]

reader is best friends with lily/alex/lando and charles is in love with her

yourinstagram

Liked by lilymhe and 238,746 others

yourinstagram born to slay, forced to watch lily and alex golf for hours

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lilymhe forced? thought you loved me....

— View 34 replies

yourinstagram i do...its him that's the problem...

alex_albon 😒

ynfan1 ate & devoured

landonorris Glad I left before you arrived 🙏

— View 242 replies

yourinstagram 🖕

ilpredestinato 🤍

— View 2 replies

yourinstagram if you really wanted me you'd simp on main

ynupdates cart girl era

charles_leclerc

Liked by danielricciardo and 1,543,476 others

charles_leclerc Traveling in time

View all 5,367 comments

f1 🥵

danielricciardo Is he single?????

— View 835 replies

charlesfan1 LOL

alex_albon He wishes he wasn't

user3 alex.....🤨🧐

landonorris James Bond is that you

yourfriend @yourinstagram 👀

— View 8 replies

yourinstagram ........................

georgerussell63 Baller

— View 689 replies

user2 stop saying that he doesn't know what it means

charlesxferarri do you need a dog i can bark

yourinstagram

Liked by charles_leclerc and 564,358 others

yourinstagram he thinks fancy trips around europe is the way to my heart when really i just want flowers and a single stuffed animal

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lilymhe Take it easy on him!!

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yourinstagram no 😘

yourfriend euro girl summer

ynstanacc make him work for it queen 💅

charles_leclerc 📝

leclercfan1 he's so deep in his lover boy era im sick

landonorris He never takes me on trips around Europe 💔

— View 432 replies

yourinstagram maybe bc im hotter?

user4 i'm not sure who to be jealous of

yourinstagram added to their story.

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourinstagram and 2,313,378 others

charles_leclerc Mon coeur 🤍

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yourinstagram on main? for free?

lilymhe don't let her fool you she's next to me giggling her ass off

— View 434 replies

yourinstagram you're supposed to have my back...

alex_albon About time 🥰

— View 313 replies

yourinstagram i'm still gonna make out with your gf don't get too excited bro

danielricciardo What about what we had...

landonorris 🥳

charlesfan2 he's been putting in the work for so long i'm proud

ynfan5 y/n is for the girls only please delete this

yourinstagram

Liked by alex_albon and 782,939 others

yourinstagram #dump #ad

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charlesfan3 obsessed with her pretending she doesn't want charles and him straight up being in love with her

pascale.leclerc.355 Des tourtereaux (lovebirds) 🦢🤎

— View 54 replies

yourinstagram i'm sorry for giving him a hard time i promise i love him

charles_leclerc 🥹🥰

ynupdates the pic of their glasses i'm broken we've lost her

charles_leclerc On main?

— View 657 replies

yourinstagram not for free 💅

lilymhe Obsessed with you both 🤭

ynfan8 her tweeting what she did yesterday and then posting this why is she so funny

#f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic

[glorismorningstar]

PREGNANT

A/N: thanks for the request anon, can't wait to receive more <3 part 2 is out here

Pairing: Vox x fem!angel!reader

Summary: Vox is about to be a father, and the mother of the child is an angel.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Around the end of the third trimester, VOX is all over the place trying to make you feel comfortable

He does everything in his power to take time off work and be with you

Before he used to ask Velvette to drop by on you once in a while because she was certainly less busy than him

Ever since he had noticed your baby bump shaped a little different than usual, he had been trying his best to fit in time with you in his jam-packed schedule

The way your belly was round at the upper and lower swell, but had four edges and was flat at the front made it clear that the child had inherited his technological head

While he was absolutely over the moon, you were flipping out, wondering however in the nine rings you were going to give birth to a flat screen TV

As he empathized with your distress, he did whatever he could to help you feel better

He made whatever compromise with Heaven he possibly could to let you stay with him and the Vees until further notice

Vox made an agreement with Velvette to keep Valentino away from you, he didn't want you or his future child anywhere near his colleague's filth

Of course she agreed, Val and his obscenities wouldn't even breathe the same air as you as long as she or Vox were around

Time seemed to fly by so fast, in his eyes it felt like yesterday you were showing him the pregnancy test, and now you're in labour

"Vox... I- I think I'm having a contraction..."

He immediately drops whatever it is he's doing and rushes to your side, screen lagging and stuttering as he tried to get his shit together

On the way to the hospital he lets you clench his hand as hard as you need, somehow he comprehends that you're feeling a pain that no man will ever experience

As you're taken to the delivery room, he can't find it in himself to leave your side

He holds your hand while you attempt pushing, clearly in vain

It was physically impossible to push the screen through your cervix, the only thing visible being the tiniest glimpse of the edge of the screen

But through all your attempts to push the baby out, you grip his hand a little too hard and accidentally bruised the bones in his hand

While you're whisked away for the C-section, Vox gets a scan of his hand to make sure nothing's fractured

When it's finally okay for him to see you and the baby, he rushes in and absolutely showers you in affection and praise

"You're wonderful, darling. You did so good, I'm so proud of you."

"If it's possible, I think I love you even more right now."

"Do you understand how strong and amazing you are?"

You just giggle, exhausted, and let your head fall to his shoulder, allowing him to brush stray curls away from your sweaty forehead

"You want to meet your daughter?"

"Of course I do, darling- oh, it's a girl?"

His heart is almost exploding, especially when the little girl is handed to him, cocooned into a fluffy blanket

He's almost scared to pick her up, not wanting to cause any harm to his child

"She's so beautiful..." he whispers, smiling down at the tiny baby

"Of course she is, she's all you." You reply, gazing up at him with utter admiration

He presses a loving kiss to your forehead at the comment, moved by your affection for him

"What do you want to name her?" He asks.

"Pixel."

You had come up with the name a little while after your baby bump grew screen-shaped

Vox adores it

While raising Pixel, he's still dead set on protecting her from Val

Him and his special movies had their own place in the world, and he sure as hell knew it wasn't anywhere near his daughter

Heaven allows you a few more months of maternity leave, which had even surprised Emily

They never took kindly to angels even associating with demons, imagine being impregnated by one

But regardless, you don't pry, opting to spend the time you had left with Pixel and Vox rather than wondering to what degree you're valuable to Heaven for them to grant you such an exception

He finally has his own little family, and he's going to do everything in his power to protect it

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

A/N: Hi guys. I've been overwhelmed with love these past few weeks. Just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. You guys are fucking awesome; I'm so grateful. I hope y'all enjoy this week's episode! Asks/requests/taglists are open!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?” 

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking. 

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said. 

“Why?” 

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.” 

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges. 

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered. 

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled. 

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied. 

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back. 

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.” 

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute. 

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[eminems-skittles]

finals season

pairings: lando norris x college student!reader warnings: reader is stressed, finals week, bad writing, fluff a/n: this is so incredibly self indulgent because i am writing this at 5:43 in the morning and have yet to sleep yet. this is not really good because as i said i am incredibly sleep deprived <3

"babe?" lando called as he walked into the living room. he found you, hunched over the dining room table, music playing softly from your laptop in front of you. there were papers scattered around the table as well as empty cans of your favorite energy drink. lando sighed, glancing at the time in the on his. 5:15 am. he padded up to the table quietly, moving to stand behind you. his arms found your shoulders, the pressure easing the tension in your shoulders. "honey, it's almost time to wake up. come to bed."

"did my music wake you up?" you asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook in front of you. lando could just barely make out the notes scrawled across the paper.

he leaned down to rest his head on you. pressing a kiss to the top of your shhoulder, he mumbled, "no. you not being there woke me up. you've been working since yesterday morning, love. time to rest."

"lan, i can't. i have too much to do," you sighed, leaning against the back of your chair and looking up at lando. he could see how tired you were and sighed again.

"when is it due?" he asked quietly.

"i have this assignment due in an hour and then the rest are all due later tonight," you explained as you shifted your attention back to your notebook and laptop.

"mkay," lando mumbled. his hands moved from your shoulders down to one of your hands and he pulled you out of your seat.

"lando! i said i have to finish this," you huffed.

"i know. i'm gonna sit here with you until you're done with this and then we are going back to bed. and you're sleeping in," he explained. he sat down in the chair you previously occupied before pulling you down into his lap. his arms found their place around your waist and his head fell onto your shoulder. "wake me up when you're done."

soon after settling into that position, lando had dozed off on your shoulder. you quickly finished your assignment and nudged lando softly. he woke up easily, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "lan, baby, i'm done."

"m'kay," he whispered, his breath tickling your neck. "'m proud of you. let's go to bed, yeah?"

the two of you made your way back to your shared bedroom, lando glued to your side as he trudged back. laying in bed felt like the biggest relief after sitting in the dining room chairs for hours on end. lando pulled you against his now bare chest, allowing you to curl into his side.

"get some sleep, baby. you earned it, yeah?" he told you. "so proud of my girl for working so hard."

"thank you, lan," you smiled at him. he leaned down to press a sleepy kiss to your lips. he pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair.

"'course, baby. love you," he said just as he was drifting back to sleep.

"love you too," you told him. enveloped by lando's warmth and the steady sound of his breathing, you fell asleep almost as easily as he did.

#cassie's masterlist #writing #masterlist #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #{ lando norris x reader } #formula one x reader #formula one blurb #x reader #fluff #blurb #lando norris blurb

[yourdarlingalina]

labyrinth | nico hischier | social media au

liked by sabrinacarpenter, gracieabrams, nicohischier, and 89,274 others

musicalyn I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

user27 mother making new music?

user52 are we in for a love album?

user16 i'm not calling him dad

user22 i might if he treats mom right user31 I'll call him dad lhughes_06 parental figure that's dating mom nicohischier 🤔 jackhughes she's not your mom dawson1417 mom and dad! nicohischier no jackhughes cap and potentially mrs cap? user16 OH MY GOD user31 hi dad!

sabrinacarpenter is this about a certain captain?

musicalyn 🤭 user42 sabrina said fuck a soft launch, it's captain nico hischier

user29 lyrics?

user24 is it nico? It's nico right?

user78 the love song we've been waiting for 🙌

maisiepeters 👀 **** ********?

musicalyn ***

liked by gracieabrams, nicohischier, jackhughes, and 92,754 others

musicalyn uh-oh, i'm falling in love

oh no, i'm falling in love again

oh, i'm falling in love

user79 mom we know who it is

user46 soft launching someone we already know you're dating?

user21 it's iconic and she loves to do iconic shit

user98 acting like we don't all know it's nico 🤭

user45 this song is gonna destroy us all

user54 I needed this released yesterday

user76 imagine it's not nico and they were just fucking with us

user62 I have a masters in nico hischierology and that is definitely nico's hand

gracieabrams she's in love 😭

sabrinacarpenter we lost her for real this time

dawson1417 never giving him his photo creds?

user17 OMG user78 give nico his photo creds petition user45 this soft launch really goes hard

user97 hopes are high for this one

user4 dad don't let us down!

user51 the soft launch era is everything

user6 fuck the soft launch! I need the song

liked by maisiepeters, sabrinacarpenter, nicohischier, and 98,458 others

musicalyn labyrinth out now on all streaming platforms

nicohischier so proud of you

musicalyn ❤️ user41 when he supports your work 🥺 sabrinacarpenter you hurt her, you die gracieabrams I second this

sabrinacarpenter so talented love!

maisiepeters love love LOVE this

user82 making this song my entire personality for the next year

gracieabrams kisses for that talented brain of yours 😘

musicalyn 🥰😘

user66 mother is mothering

user19 the way he looks at her 😭

user21 mom and dad

jackhughes 🔥

user64 screaming crying ALL THE EMOTIONS

user50 quick guys act cool so that we don't scare him off

user45 nico all of sudden becoming the y/f/n's dad user7 dad, we're cool! I promise!

dawson1417 still no photo creds

musicalyn you can literally see him holding the camera

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier social media au #dawson mercer #jack hughes #luke hughes #nj devils #alina writes #nhl imagine