#i forgot to draw the seat of the backseat??? why are they floating

[enstars-syndrome]

i don't think i've shown this one yet

as you most probably know this was based off a famous draw your squad template i found on pinterest

i of course changed things a bit to fit them

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[evermoreweasley]

‘tis the damn season (george weasley x reader)

(all images are from Pinterest)

summary: you are a struggling actress living out in Los Angeles, California. every time you come back home to your muggle father and witch mother, you bump into George Weasley and the feelings reappear. this holiday season proves no different.

warnings: general angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut, jealousy, mentions of food, kissing, a fluffy happy ending!!

a/n: this is lightly based off of ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift! I know it’s not the holiday season anymore but I just couldn’t help myself from posting this.

taglist: @theweasleysredhair​ @witchyweasley​ please message me if you’d like to be added :)

“Thank you, uh,” The casting director paused, looking down at his clipboard for a moment. “Y/N Y/L/N. We’ll be in touch.” He said in a monotone with a weak smile. 

You immediately knew you wouldn’t be getting a call back for the role. This wasn’t your first unsuccessful audition and it certainly wasn’t going to be your last. Two years in Los Angeles and all you had managed to book was one single commercial for a local department store.

“Thank you.” You said through a forced smile as you closed the script in your hands. 

You walked out to your car on a crowded, busy street and saw a parking ticket waiting on your dashboard. You cursed quietly under your breath as to not draw attention to yourself. You picked it up, closely examining the fine before throwing it onto your passenger seat.

In less than one hour you were going to be getting on a plane to fly home for the holidays. Your muggle father insisted on you flying, (he was never a fan of you apparating), and you loved to fly so you didn’t fight it. And while you were excited to go home for a few days, you were also nervous and you think it had something to do with a certain red head.

Per your mother’s request, you went to Hogwarts, just like she did. Your father, a muggle pediatrician, wanted you to be apart of both the muggle and wizard world.

Which is why after your graduation from Hogwarts when you decided to move to Los Angeles to become an actress, your father supported you. Your father saw the way your eyes lit up when you watched The Sound of Music for the millionth time. Your mother, however, wasn’t as supportive as your father. She always asked you to work in the Ministry of Magic, like she did. You always said no.

One of the only positives that came from graduating from Hogwarts was that you met your best friends there. And that you met George Weasley. Two years ago, after graduation, you decided to see each other every holiday when you would come home. However, last holiday, it turned into something more when he kissed you. But you couldn’t make it anything serious because you had to go back to Los Angeles and didn’t see long distance working.

On the plane, you closed your eyes and tried your best to not think about it and to just sleep.

Getting off of your flight, you immediately noticed the change in weather. Los Angeles was warm, sunny, and bright and home was cold, cloudy, and gray.

You looked through the terminal for your parents but didn’t spot either of them. You turned around once more and a tall, red haired boy wearing a cheeky grin and carrying a small sign that read “Y/N Y/L/N” caught your eye. 

You grinned as you walked over to him, embracing him in a long hug. “George,” you sighed into his chest, inhaling his comforting and familiar scent of sage and mint. “You picked me up.” Your heart fluttered around in your chest and you swallowed hard in an attempt to try your best to ignore it.

“Course I did, babe. Let me tell you though,” He sighed as he lead you outside. “Your muggle father was not easy convincing, he thought I was gonna ride in on my broomstick to get you.”

You lightly rolled your eyes.

“I told him no of course,” He lightly poked you in the arm. “I just might’ve left out that I was going to be picking you up in my flying car.” He chuckled as he opened the trunk for you.

You giggled happily as you threw your bags inside before shutting it. 

“Good to see the Anglia again,” you sighed as you hopped in next to George. You looked up to see him making an over exaggerated pouty face at you. “You too, George,” you giggled. “It’s good to see you too.”

He smiled.

“Is anyone watching, babe? Let’s get out of this muggle airport.”

You checked around the car quickly. “No, we’re good.”

George pressed the tiny silver button on the dashboard and the Anglia disappeared.

You watched the shapes of the clouds float on by before focusing your attention back on the car, you tried your best to narrow your eyes away from the backseat. A flood of memories shot through you, you thought about George kissing your neck as your body lay underneath him in the backseat as the windows quickly fogged up. 

Suddenly, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye, a sweater you didn’t recognize was on the floor in front of you.

“This is lovely,” you called out as you picked it up. “I wonder if Ginny will let me borrow it.”

George’s face fell for a moment as he looked over at you, his chocolate brown eyes containing nothing but concern. “Uh, actually,” he muttered out. “That’s Angelina’s, I forgot to give it back to her.”

“Oh,” you said back, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart sinking down into your stomach, you suddenly felt a little ill.

“Y/n, Angelina and I are not dating, it’s just a fling. I-” George started awkwardly.

“George,” you chuckled lightly to relieve the tension. “I don’t want or need to know, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed, smiling lightly at you as he rubbed his neck, his hair sticking up in the back. “How is LA going?”

“It’s fine!” you forced a fake smile before looking down at your hands in your lap.

You already knew George could see right through it and knew that you were lying to him.

“Yeah?” He looked over at you with a quizzical grin. “Well, would you want to go back to my apartment? We could order a pizza.”

“Would you mind dropping me off at my parents house first? I can probably sneak out to see you later tonight.”

“Of course, babe.”

***

Later that night, you had snuck over to George’s apartment and quite quickly one thing lead to another. You were now in his bed, legs and arms lightly tangled around each other. You were having a hard time sleeping due to the time change so you looked up at him, George was quietly snoring and looked like an absolute angel. 

You sighed happily, settling into the comfort of his sheets and blankets. You were sure it was the warmest bed you had ever known.

“I love you, George,” you whispered. 

You weren’t sure if you were just seeing things or not but you could’ve sworn he smiled.

***

The next day, you found yourself thinking about George nonstop. His adorable laugh, his charming smile. You thought about his loving chocolate brown eyes, his red hair that you loved dragging your fingers through, and his long, slender, delicate hands. His hands that seemed to fit perfectly inside of yours. 

You knew what you had to do.

“Scrabble?” Your father called out after dinner.

“I can’t, dad,” you said as you threw on your jacket. “I have to go see a friend about something, can I borrow your car?”

As you pulled up to George’s apartment, you saw George and Angelina standing outside, in front of the door. 

You turned off your engine and your headlights as you watched them, curious as to what was happening.

George was handing Angelina the sweater back, the one you had seen the day before. Angelina took it, and then quickly stood up on her tip toes to kiss George. Your mouth immediately fell open and in shock, you felt as if all of the air had been knocked completely out of you.

You looked down at your lap as silent tears fell down your cheeks.

You suddenly heard a tap on your passenger side window. Looking up, you saw George standing there. You quickly wiped your tears on your jacket sleeve and rolled down the window.

“Y/n?” He started, studying your face. “Did you,” He started to ask, looking rather upset, as if he could start crying too.

“It’s okay, George,” you interrupted. “Really, it’s okay. After all, I’m gonna go back to LA.”

“Y/n, please just listen to me.”

“George, I’ve really got to go.” 

“Y/n,” He breathed out, as tears now fell down his cheeks. 

You rolled up your window and drove away. Crying the whole way home. 

You couldn’t believe it. You had waited too long and now he was with Angelina, not you. You were going to go back to LA in three days and forget any of this had ever happened. Forget the way George kissed you. Forget the way George held you.

***

You sighed as you put your sweater on. You thought about going back to LA, where you didn’t have any real, genuine friendships. Where you’d leave George, the only one who can tell which smiles you’re faking. 

Your love of acting was quickly diminishing and you just wanted to have a normal day to day job.

You had your bags all packed and were doing one last check around your bedroom when the doorbell rang. “Coming,” you called, running down the stairs. Your friend told you they would give you a ride to the airport for your flight, and you were sure that was them.

You were wrong, however, when you swung the door open and were faced with George Weasley. 

“George,” you sighed as you leaned against the doorway. “I, I- wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Y/n, please let me explain the other night.” He offered a small smile.

You nodded before shyly looking down at your feet.

“The other night, what you saw, is not what you think.” He inched closer to you, his hands deep in his pockets as he shifted awkwardly, you met his gaze. “I called Angelina over and I broke things off with her.”

“But you kissed her.”

“She kissed me, y/n. And then I told her our fling had to end.”

Your heart once again fluttered in your chest.

“Y/n, I want to be with you. I’ve always just wanted to be with you,” He looked deep into your eyes. “But, you said you didn’t want anything serious because of the long distance,” George took a deep breath before continuing. “Anyway, after the other night, I knew I couldn’t let you go back to LA without you at least knowing how I feel.”

“George, I-”

“Oh,” He smiled. “And I love you too, y/n.”

Your cheeks felt hot, you were certain you were blushing. You weren’t sure if you had ever blushed harder in your entire life. “You- you heard me?”

George nodded. “I did.”

And without another moment passing, George leaned down and kissed you. You ran your hands up his arms and rested them on his shoulders. George’s hands found your waist and pulled you in close to him. The room was silent but you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beating in your ears, loud and eager. His tongue asked for entrance into your swollen lips and without hesitation you allowed him. 

George released his lips from yours. He looked you up and down, a smirk growing on his lips. 

“I- I don’t know what to say,” You giggled as your fingers flew up to feel your lips, buzzing with electricity and sensitivity. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” George chuckled as he pulled you back in again. “Just kiss me.”

Without hesitation, you pulled his lips down to meet yours once more. You swore you could feel George’s lips slowly turn into a smile as the kiss grew in intensity. Your heart swelled out of your chest.

Almost one year had passed since George Weasley kissed you in the doorway of your parents house and you couldn’t be happier. You moved out of LA and into an apartment down the street from George and Fred’s apartment. You also started working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

With the holidays quickly approaching you were working late into the night. You were on a ladder bringing the last box of Extendable Ears down from a shelf when a sudden burst of red confetti shot up at you from down below.

“George,” you giggled, slightly annoyed as the confetti pooled on your shoulders. You rolled your eyes. “At least let me get down from being up high before you do that to me.”

Your back was still to him as you climbed down the ladder.

“Alright,” you giggled. “What is it?” You asked before turning to him. Your mouth falling open as your sights fell on George on one knee in front of you.

“Y/n, all I want is to make you smile and laugh every single day, to make you proud, to make you mine forever. Will you please marry me?”

Your hand flew up to cover your open mouth as you looked behind him and saw the entire Weasley family huddled together in the corner of the shop, trying to stay as hidden as possible.

Fred with a huge smirk on his face, “Atta boy, Georgie!” He called out as Ginny playfully smacked him on the shoulder. And Molly was beaming with happy tears in her eyes.

“Yes, George. Yes!” You exclaimed as you leapt into his arms.

George’s face lit up into a beaming smile and he pulled you in for a kiss, and you thanked your hometown that lead you into his arms.

[xnoctua]

Playlist titles that doubles as prompts, feel free to use them

I got lost in finding names for things again. 

There is a lot, so I’ve put it under the cut.

Tag me or send it to me if you ever publish something inspired by this. I want to see and read it.

-------

The “those are straight up lyrics not titles/prompts” obligatory ones:

- Wake up you need to make money (Twenty One Pilots)

- I used to think the sky was made of blue flowers (The Seige)

- In the summer silence I was getting violent (Glass Animals)

- Would you be my little quarantine? (Twenty One Pilots)

- Everybody want a box of chocolates (Florence and the Machine)

- Since the death of god there’s been a vacancy open, you can fill that void (Captain Murphy)

- There’s really just one thing that we have in commun, neither of us will be missed. (Lincoln)

  It’s all about the feelings it gives you and the memories it brings back:

- In the backseat of your parent’s car at night with the radio on

- Alone in the train

- Drawing a perfect circle on your first try

- Sitting in class with cheap coffee at 6AM

- Dying your hair at 4AM

- The year is 2007 and emo anime hair is trending for no good reasons

- Cooking for others

- Finding a seat in the shadow in summer

- That summer when you were 4

- Early winter morning

- Home alone at 2AM

- Swimming 20 meters below the surface

- Sleeping with your windows open

- Playing that game for three days straight and not touching it for the next 6 months

- 36 hours without sleep

- Climbing rocks and trees when you were a kid

- The fork fell from your plate and threw food all over your clean bed sheet

- (You’re starting to think karma have bigs plans for you)

- You found your favorite childhood toy that you’ve forgot about

- The smell of rain on concrete

- Meeting with a friend you haven’t talked to or seen in years

- Punched by a leaf

- Printing pictures you took with your phone on polaroid paper

- If not for good lyrics I wouldn’t be where I am today

- That time I wrote from 1AM to 5PM non-stop

- It’s almost midnight and dinner hasn’t be served

- 43 hours without sleep

- Summer nights

Things that...

Sounds nice (to me):

- Stargazing from the bottom of the sea

- Reverse gravity

- Floating on the ceiling

- Fighting giants with a sword

Doesn’t:

- Last sunset before the bomb hit

- Drowning on air

Unnecessarily ominous:

- Your roommate isn’t thinking out loud

- Don’t give your name to people

- The streetlights just went off

- People disappearing once you turn your head away

- You’re not supposed to be here

- Stop screaming and close your eyes

- Killing a mosquito with your bare hands

- Turning in the wrong paper

- This isn’t nail polish.

- You’ll come back, I know it.

- Are you sure you locked the door?

- Using « legends say » to refer to common knowledge

- Time as no meaning here, it’s a good thing- Can you stop screaming please?

- Semi-consciousness

- The city’s empty, I can finally breathe.

- The feeling of forgetting something but not knowing what

I might need to chill:

- Then beg.

- Is there a patricide-like word for gods?

- Bring back the guillotine

- Staring contest with the sun

- Binge reading Wikipedia

- The king is dead the people are feasting

- We’re all born at the wrong time because there’s never been a right one to begin with (probably not from me, can’t remenber if I thought of it or not. So just in case tell me if there is an original author I’ll tag them in)

- You’re not born in the 80′ and thoses songs aren’t from it so stop saying that

I definitely…

Should go to sleep:

- Did you forget something?

- Why did you come in here?

- You haven’t blinked in 8 minutes

- Is it Tuesday or Saturday? Never mind, it’s July

- Did you eat today yet?

- What’s a “today”?

- The sun is already up

- Wait no, it’s starting to get dark again 

Should get therapy:

- Ending friendships because you’re afraid of the friendship ending

- The constant need to be in control but letting others make the decisions

- Are you dreaming or is all of this actually happening?

- Something is wrong and i can’t find what it is again

- This isn’t real, right?

Actual prompts:

- Alternative Univers

- Go home you’re drunk

- What’s your name again?

- Someone’s knocking at the door but you’re in space

- Someone’s knocking at the door but all humans are dead, you made sure of that

- Someone’s knocking at the door but it’s the closet and you’re on a boat

- People knocking on doors

- People who don’t knock on doors and still come in like they own the place because they’re your parents and they do, in fact, own the place

- Mutinerie in the spaceship but you’re the captain

- The plane is crashing, again.

- Mafia boss who have an affair with the bodyguard of the rival family

- I had a dream where I warned you about them, I’m sorry it wasn’t real

- Maybe burning everything is the right solution to all your problems

- Most people wouldn’t go back in time to fix their mistakes if you told them they’ll have to return to school first

Bad ideas:

- Whales in the sky

- Crocodiles in forest

- Birds of prey underwater

- Blob fish instead of rabbits

- Rabbits instead of mosquitoes

- Mosquitos with claws

- Swimming in lava

Yes, this is a ref:

- Michael and Helen in the corridor

- Daisy with a gun

- This tiny 15 yrs just punched god in the face

Facts (???):

- Magenta doesn’t exist and yet we can see it

- You have no way to prove that the color you call red isn’t someone else green

I need to send a message playlist:

- i ain’t straight ma’am. A playlist for you’re in a car with dense straights

- I’m gay too, please notice. A playlist for when you’re in the car with your closeted friend or are the closeted friend

Yes, I do name my playlists and chapters this way.

YES, don’t hesitate to add more to it or suggest songs or OST that filled these names.

[maggiemaybe160]

Driving With You

Also on Ao3  MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING

You know that feeling? The one you get when you look down and see the speedometer climbing effortlessly under your foot’s idle insistence, the engine humming with your heart as you slip past 100? You had been on a hill, looking upward, your foot pressed down, and somehow you forgot to let up when you began the descent. You hadn’t meant to go that fast, but here you are with the scenes outside going by too quickly, and you can’t be bothered because you’re in the car with him.

How about the sound of his rushing wings and your heart beating so loudly that you’re sure everyone can hear it too? The sound of his feathers against the air, announcing his arrival is as sweet to me at the sound of my car’s engine purring, and that sound used to be the only one that had ever been able to calm me before.

I look to the mirror, and I see him, sitting in the backseat as if he had been there the entire time. He looks as if he were made to sit in my car with me as I speed down empty roads, but I remember a time when he didn’t. I’m not sure when that changed.

The music playing on the radio fills the car, and I move to turn it down because I’d rather listen to him. I want to hear his deep voice mixing with the sounds of the engine as the wheels on the pavement. I want to hear him say my name.

“Dean.”

I’m not driving. I open my eyes and see the smooth ceiling of the inside of my car. The engine is making my favorite noise that accompanies speed. I feel light-headed and don’t understand why I’m lying here on the backseat instead of driving. When did that change?

My eyes fall to the window. Trees are flying past us, or we’re passing them. Green fills my vision. Green and black. The edges are all fuzzy and dark. My eyelids feel heavy. I feel cold and tired. I want to hear him say my name.

“Dean.”

My eyes open again, and I’m looking up into the deep blue eyes that I belong to. He doesn’t know. If he does, he doesn’t say a word. If he were mine, I would reach up and stroke his face. I would tell him how beautiful he is in this moment with his hair falling forward as he looks down into my face. I would run my thumb over the worried lines in his face and remind him that everything is fine.

“Stay awake.”

There is no music playing. I can only hear the sounds of his voice and the roar of the tires on the road. I don’t mean to let my eyes close, so I open them again. My head has fallen to the side. I realize my head is in his lap, cradled by his hands.

I cough, my eyes closing. I forget to cover my mouth. I’m too tired to care. I’m too tired to open my eyes again or keep listening. I’m too tired. I will never be too tired for him. He wants me to open my eyes. He wants me to stay awake. I open my eyes.

“I’m losing him!”

I don’t realize I’d fallen back asleep until a jolt wakes me. I’m not in my car. I want to go back to my car. There’s a mask over my face and the high tinny sound of small wheels rattling coming from somewhere. I don’t know.

The mask feels strange. It’s heavy, and I’m floating. It’s the only thing keeping me down. I groan as I lift my arm. My hand falls on my face to swipe the mask off. I can’t understand, but someone is talking. It’s so loud. Please be quiet. Please let me sleep. Please.

“Dean!” One voice above all the rest. The only voice that matters.

Am I hurt? Am I in trouble? I don’t feel hurt. I can’t feel any pain. I don’t feel sick. I just feel tired. So tired. My eyelids are too heavy. This damn mask is too heavy. Let me fly. Wait, if I’m not okay, why doesn’t he heal me? Am I okay?

He’s warded against something. He said something like that in the car. It was muffled and far away, but I remember. What is he warded against? Cas? Are you there?

“Dean,” I hear him cry. Do angels cry? Can they cry? Cas.

I can’t keep my eyes open. I can barely move. The world is slipping away. It’s time to go to sleep. How long have I been awake? I want to go back to my car. I want to feel the pedal under my foot. I want to roll down my window and laugh as the air rushes past me.

A hand on my face wakes me again. His palm is warm. Why am I so cold? I open my eyes and there he is. Blue eyes behind a screen of tears. I’ve never seen him cry. Even crying he’s beautiful.

My mouth tastes weird. It tastes like someone filled my mouth with pennies while I was asleep. Weird prank to pull. Where am I? Where’s Baby? I want to be in my car.

I need to take Cas to see the World’s Biggest Ball of Twine. He will hate it and make that face that he does where his eyebrows draw close, and he squints because why am I doing this to him? It’s the stupid things in life that make it worthwhile. Doing the dumbest shit while your angel rides shotgun.

Not mine. Never mine. Just Cas.

“Dean.” I’m awake. Turn the volume down. I love your voice, but it’s so loud. What is that beeping noise? Why is this mask still on my face? Where’s my car? Someone help me. Where am I?

“Dean, it’s okay. Dean. It’s alright.” Cas.

Goodnight, Cas.

You know that feeling? The one where you have an open road to yourself, and you deliberately push past that 100, ready to feel the engine roar beneath you? How about when you realize you don’t remember when you started driving, the thrill and calming nature of driving just taking over for you as you push further and further, driving farther and farther from home? Wherever home is. You know that feeling when you grin because everything feels perfect and you have to share it with him, so you look up into the rearview mirror and…

Nothing is there. Where is he? The seat next to me is empty too. How long have I been alone? Nevermind.

You know that feeling? The one where you’ve definitely been on this road for too long and haven’t seen another driver, so you push the pedal into the floor, racing to catch up because surely someone is out there? The one where panic starts to rise in you as you come to the realization that it has been midday for roughly 20 days. The sun is too bright, and the colors are all sharper than they used to be.

The best music in the world is playing on a loop, and I know I’ve seen that bush before. Am I driving in an infinity pool? What the fuck is happening?

I switch pedals, slamming down on the brakes as I turn the wheel all the way to the left. There is no screech of tires. There is no danger of flipping or crashing. There’s no jolt. There’s no strain on the engine or commotion from any birds that should be living in the trees on the side of this road. I turn off the music and it’s too quiet. There’s no bugs, talking, animals, or distant traffic. There’s nothing.

“Goodnight, Cas.” I say it out loud and it doesn’t make sense to say. When did I go to sleep? When did I say that? I didn’t say it. I thought it. I thought it as I felt his tears hitting my hand, his lips pressed to my fingers. He kissed my hand? He held my hand?

I turn on the radio again, but music doesn’t play. A loud beep fills the speakers. It’s drawn out and steady. It sounds like those monitors on those medical dramas. Patient dies and beeeeeeeeep. Wait. No. No.

I remember my hand above my face right before I tried to take the oxygen mask off. My entire hand had been red and wet. I hadn’t noticed then. Whose blood was it? It couldn’t have been mine. No, no, no.

I start her the car again. The engine is silent as the beep continues. I floor it, but there is no destination. There is no running away from remembering the warded bullets filling my stomach.

He couldn’t heal me.

“Cas!” I scream it and feel his name tearing up my insides. This is where he appears with a woosh of wings and says my name. This is where he looks at me like I’m being paranoid and tells me that I would know if I was dead. I do know. Cas.

@destielhoneybee @thekingofselfloathing @k-lewis @telefunkies @aestheticallydyke @samatedeansbroccoli @anarchiana @lily-t2019 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @soloarcana @destiel-honeypie @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @spn-bad-bitch @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @skittles-rainbow-cat @castibella-shipper-of-the-lord @righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver @deanwinchesterswitch @adventurous-blob @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @royalrowena @ain-t-bovvered @blueeyesandpie

[imagining-supernatural]

Avenging Angel: Part 40

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: Just some feelings

A/N: I think there’s actually an end in sight for this series! I have a few more chapters planned and an epilogue (of course it might take me another year to write them) but still! 44 chapters is a fucking lot. This series is nearly at 70,000 words as it is. That’s almost how long the first Harry Potter book is.

Avenging Angel Series Masterlist

“Okay, sorry, what?”

“Why is that so difficult to believe?” Braxton asked, watching your reaction with a secret smile toying with the corner of his lips.

“You… I just… You’re trying to tell me that you’re a rich, trust fund baby and you’ve never gotten high before? Isn’t that, like, a right of passage for snobbish people like you? You have to act out because you’ve never had to have any responsibility? So you get high and crash a Bugatti or something? Then your dad waves a stack of money and you don’t even get booked? The police just pat you on the back and tell you to behave.”

He leaned forward, trying to act offended. “You think I’m snobbish?”

Matching his posture, you raised an eyebrow in challenge. “So what if I do?”

The staring contest lasted a moment longer. Just before you were about to lose, you closed the rest of the distance and pecked him on the lips.

“C’mon. Let’s go find something to get you high. I can’t believe you’re thirty years old and you’ve never gotten high before. It’s tragic.”

“You don’t really strike me as the druggie type. More like the hacky type.”

“I was in an improv class in college too,” you mentioned, flashing him a grin as you pulled him out of his chair and led him out of the beach cottage in search of drugs. It was Bali. There had to be something somewhere, right? “And I am a hacky person. I have layers. Like an onion. I know my way around the dark web, and there’s a reason it’s not dot-com on the dark web. It’s dot-onion.”

“That sounds fake.”

“Google it, genius. It’s real.”

Okay. So getting high with Braxton in Bali wasn’t really serving a means to an end. It wasn’t like this was going to help you get your father out of prison. But you were actually enjoying this vacation with him. It felt like, for the first time since you’d met him, neither of you were fishing for information. You were just… normal. He was just your boyfriend. You were just his girlfriend. He wasn’t a mark. There was no agenda.

It was nice.

*****

*****

You weren’t the last person to have stepped foot in your father’s lab. It was obvious that someone else had come through, looking for something. Probably George’s people. Or Victoria’s. Or Braxton’s. They hadn’t found what they were looking for, though. Anything of value was locked away in your storage locker.

Still though, even as ransacked as the place was, it was achingly familiar.

Memories of make-believe danced around on the floor. Late nights when your father got so caught up in his research that he forgot to enforce your bedtime floated from wall to wall. This used to be your happy place. Your Land of Hollen. A place for you and your father only.

But he was dead now. And Hollen had been invaded.

“What did you find?” You asked, striding towards where Dean was crouched on the floor. It was best not to dwell on what could have beens and memories that would never happen.

“You said three feet in, six feet left, two feet down, right? Then your dad said to switch the numbers. Well, six feet in, three feet left, and two feet down, I found this.” He handed over a lockbox and reached back into the hole he’d dug. When he brought his hand out, it held three vials of liquid “And these.”

“What are they?” Sam asked, coming up beside you and placing his hand on your back for support.

This wasn’t your Hollen anymore. The only man who could answer that question right away was dead. And the person who killed him was most likely on her way here right now. So you handed the lock box to Sam and started whirling around the lab, grabbing various paraphernalia. “We’ll figure it out a few hundred miles from here. Dean, can you grab that bag over there? I need to put some of this equipment in it if we’re going to figure out what’s in the vials. We have to test them.”

Your father had died protecting this secret. His last words led you to these items. You could mourn later. But for now? Dean was right. You needed to finish what he had started.

So you ordered the Winchesters around until you had everything you thought you needed, then they led the way back to the Impala. Before you left the lab, you took one last look at the sacred space. It was as if you could see the ghost of your father standing at his table, bent over a microscope. There was a wisp of a young Y/N sitting at his feet, playing with some old wires that Kemuny had deemed probably not prone to electrocution, and definitely an acceptable toy for a small child.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the space. “And best of luck to the inhabitants of Hollen.”

It was the last time you would recite your standard parting remarks. Somehow, you knew that you would never again lay eyes upon your Land of Hollen again. This would be the last time you ever came home. The only reason you’d kept up on the payments to keep the house from foreclosing was your hope that one day you and your father would once again live there together.

You never imagined it would all end like this.

“You okay?” Sam asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern when you joined them at the Impala.

You just shook your head, dumped your armload of equipment into the backseat, and climbed over Sam so you sat between the brothers in the front seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

For the first hour, there was silence between you three. The ever present classic rock crooned softly in the background, but you were content to stay safe under Sam’s arm with Dean’s hand squeezing your fingers comfortingly every so often.

After an hour, Dean cleared his throat. “You know, that stuff wasn’t the only thing I found.”

“What?”

“Look in the backseat on top of the hot plate thing.”

After eyeing him curiously for a moment, you twisted around and saw a plain black binder lying atop the mound of scientific crap. It was bursting with pages of… whatever it had inside. You grabbed it and sat back down. “What is this?”

“Look inside.”

Slowly, you opened the front cover to reveal a simple white paper with your name written in marker in your father’s handwriting.

Y/N Entropy Y/L/N

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots, the other, wings. ~Hodding Carter

Already, you were holding back tears. Sam’s arm wrapped around you again, giving you the strength to turn the page. Inside a plastic sleeve was an ultrasound.

June 24 – Victoria and I are expecting. The doctor told us it is a girl. You’re going to be the most precious baby ever, Y/N. We’ve already picked out your name. I wanted Entropy to be your first name, but Victoria threatened to dump water into my solution I’ve been working on for three months. You should probably thank her for that. Either way, you’re going to be quite the pistol. With parents like us, who wouldn’t be?

A picture of your nursery followed, along with another handwritten note from your father explaining how they chose the decorations. It was no surprise that the walls were adorned with beakers and colorful pictures of solutions, a rainbow of vials, and all other kinds of science décor. You supposed there was never any hope that you would turn out as anything other than a geek.

Picture after picture of the day of your birth, the first month of your life, all of the landmarks of growing up. The first step. First tooth. First word. Carefully documented by your father with the precision of a scientist. Each and every drawing you brought home from school. Handwritten documentation of the new tales that emerged from the Land of Hollen. The ribbon for winning the spelling bee in eighth grade. Your acceptance letter from MIT.

“He loved you, Y/N,” Dean whispered after half an hour of you poring over the scrapbook. “He was so fucking proud of you.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks without abandon. “I loved him too. Still do.”

Sam pulled you closer, kissing the side of your head. “And now you’ll always have a piece of him.”

Quickly, you shook your head. Sam was wrong. “No. I’ll always have all of him with me.” You tapped your chest, just above your heart. “Right here.”

Part 41 of Avenging Angel

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