#i have a friend whose birthday is the day after mine and i used to know a girl w the same birthday as me

[bilbao-song]

rb for sample size…….if u want

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Mine. || Simon "Ghost" Riley

For @glitterypirateduck's “GhostChallenge” writing challenge! I used the following prompts:

9. Alternate universe 100. You're Price, Gaz, or Soap's sister/brother 12. Brothers best friend trope 71. Reader or Ghost rescues the other from a bad date (but 'bad' is used very loosely) 34. Ghost in gray sweatpants. Just. Gray. Sweatpants. 90. Thigh riding 13. Car sex (also loosely) 48. "Is that the best that you can do?" 99. "You're mine."

Rating: E Words: 3.2k~ CW: smutty, thigh riding, no piv, no kissing, mean!Simon, toxic!Simon, fuck buddy!Simon, jealous!Simon, stalker(ish?)!Simon, possessive behavior. Tags: afab!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, rugby AU, friends with benefits/fuck buddies, unrequited feelings (or are they?), toxic-ish relationship?, lying, manipulation?, secret relationship, brother's best friend, creating/baiting jealousy. Summary: Ghost is a cocky, mean rugby player that you can't help but be pining over. But maybe it's not completely unrequited. OR Simon ruins your date with someone else because he's jealous. a/n: I had a plan. I executed said plan. Profit?

Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.

You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.

This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.

Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.

It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.

Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.

That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.

He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.

Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...

That's what he gets.

Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...

Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.

Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.

Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.

Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.

Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.

Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.

Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.

Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.

You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.

He's getting what he fucking deserves.

You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.

On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...

There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...

Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.

Really? Now? You don't think so.

So, you hang up.

Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.

Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"

"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."

You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.

"I don't think so."

"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."

Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.

"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.

"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."

With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."

Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.

"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."

"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."

"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."

And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.

As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.

You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."

"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"

"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."

"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"

Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.

Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.

"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.

"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.

"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."

Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.

You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.

"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."

Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.

"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.

You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.

"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.

Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...

You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...

And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.

"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."

"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.

You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.

"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.

"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'

"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.

"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.

"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.

His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...

You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.

You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.

"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...

Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."

Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.

Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.

"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.

"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?

"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.

"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.

There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.

"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.

"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...

"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.

"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.

After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.

His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.

"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.

"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.

"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.

"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."

"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.

"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."

Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.

His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.

His girl is so obedient.

[ Ghost Challenge Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[sunny44]

Lemonade for Carlos

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x wife!reader x mom!reader

Warnings: mentions of difficulties of getting pregnant

Summary: Your’s and Carlos daughter wants to sell lemonade to buy him a birthday present, so you help her set up a lemonade stand.

I was just finishing the pancakes for breakfast when I heard Eva's rapid footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mommy." She says, entering the kitchen. "Can I buy a present for Dad? For his birthday."

"Sure, have you thought about what you want to buy? We can go today if you want."

"But I don't have any money."

"I'll buy it for you, my love don’t worry."

"No, I want to buy it with my own money."

"And how are you going to get this money?" I asked, putting her in her chair and leaving the plate of pancakes on the table.

"I'm going to work." She says innocently.

"What are you going to work at?" I asked, pouring her a juice.

"Selling lemonade, a friend of mine from school said she got money to buy a doll by selling lemonade."

"Do you want to sell lemonade in front of the house?" She agrees.

"Please mommy, tell me I can." She looks at me with those same big brown eyes as her father.

"All right, we'll buy things after breakfast and set up your stand in front of the house."

...

After breakfast we get out of the house and went to the store to buy the necessary supplies, we bought lemons, sugar and colorful paper for a sign.

Eva couldn't contain her excitement as we set up a lemonade stand in our front yard.

After setting up we sat down and waited for the first people to come by and buy.

She wanted to write on the sign "Lemonade for Carlos" and when people came to buy she explained that she was selling it to buy a birthday present for her dad.

Obviously her cute face and speech moved people who ended up buying the lemonades and I had also made some cookies and brownies that she was selling too.

We were at the end of the day when Carlos arrived, as the race was here in Spain this weekend, the team was organizing here so he was in a meeting all day.

"What are you two doing?" He asks and as soon as she sees him she starts to smile.

"Daddy." She runs up to him who, after taking her in his arms, walks towards me and starts laughing at the sign.

"Lemonade for Carlos?" He asks.

"Yes, mommy and I sold lemonade so I could buy you your birthday present." she said excitedly and I could see that he loved her attitude.

"Oh baby, I love what you've done." She smiles and hugs him tighter.

"Well, we've finished work, so what do you say we go in, have a shower and celebrate with pizza?" They both agreed and that's what we did.

...

Eva was already asleep and I was lying on our bed sending the photos of the lemonade stand to Carlos' mother, who thought it was very funny that her granddaughter had come up with the idea.

"Are you going to sleep yet?" He asked, lying down next to me.

"Actually, I was going to read a bit, but if you want to talk." I say, putting the book in my nightstand and turning to him.

"Whose idea was that? The lemonade thing?"

"Your daughter's." I say and he smiles. "She came down today asking if she could buy you a present and I said I'd give her some money but she didn't want to and said she'd work to get the money."

"I love that little girl more than anything." He says sighing and smiling at the ceiling.

I remember very well the day I told him I was pregnant, we'd been trying for a while but it wasn't working. It had been a difficult few months for us, with the problem of getting pregnant, Carlos busy with work and stressed that the Ferrari wasn't good this year.

So I had tests done because I thought the problem was me and that I couldn't get pregnant but when the tests came back clean it added more stress to Carlos because he started to think the he was the problem.

So on the day he went for the test I stayed at home and took advantage of the fact that I was feeling unwell and took the test out of conscience and it turned out I was pregnant. I did a few more to make sure and when they all came back positive I spent the whole time Carlos was away crying and when he came back I told him and he started crying with me, both with relief and happiness.

"I know you do." I said, hugging him. "And I love you for it."

"Do you want more?"

"More what?"

"Children." He says, taking me by surprise.

It's not as if I hadn't already thought about having more children, but Carlos never showed that he wanted more. I think the fact that he gave Eva all the attention in the world made me think that he only wanted her.

"Maybe, do you want more?"

"Before Eva I thought about having more but then we had the problem of having her so when you got pregnant I was content that we'd just have her and I put all my attention and effort into making that little girl happy, but then over the years I started to think that I want to do it again and that I want her to have someone else with her when we're not here anymore." He says sincerely.

"I also want more children with you." He smiles."I never said anything because you never showed that you wanted more children and I see how dedicated you are to Eva."

"But if you wanted more children, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because as much as I wanted to, it's not something I'd regret if I didn't, I love you and our family so much and I am really happy with what we have."

"I love you too and we don't need to decide anything now."

"I know." He smiles and kisses me.

"Daddy." We hear that little voice at the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." He says, pulling away from me and looking at the door to see her come in clutching a Lightning McQueen plush Charles gave her since she calls him Uncle McQueen. "What happened?"

"It's just that I missed you and I was wondering if I could sleep with you and mommy." She says and I can see Carlos melting with love.

"Of course you can, my love." He says and she goes to his side, who picks her up and puts her in the middle of us. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yes, I love you too." She says, closing her eyes. "Good night mommy, good night daddy."

"Good night, baby." We kissed her forehead and all went to sleep.

Bonus scene!

Y/nsainz instagram post

Liked by @carlossainz, @charlesleclerc, @reysvdec and others 92730

Y/nsainz “Lemonade for Carlos”, who wants it?

@carlossainz can I have one please?

@y/nsainz yess you can daddy - Eva

@charlesleclerc can uncle McQueen have one too?

@y/nsainz yess you can uncle McQueen - Eva

@Thesainzfamily that’s the best seller ever

@reysvdec muy hermosa

Liked by @y/nsainz and @carlossainz

[venuscnjunctpluto]

My first astrology observation

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(Pls excuse the book at the end y’all I’m just sick of straight men)

*Black men w virgo rising either have dreads that they let hang in front of their eyes or they want dreads that they let hang in front of their eyes😭

*actors with mars-pluto aspects or Scorpio mars can play convincing psychopaths and villians (dacre Montgomery, drew starkey, ethan cutkosky)

*Saweetie and Mariah the scientist are Unconfirmed Taurus risings idgaf

*I have Pisces and Neptune in my 11th and when I tell you pisces can be so manipulative. I’ve been friends w all types of Pisces placements. Esp when Aries in is in mix they know exactly how to act like children and therefore literally be seen as children (zero accountability). For example chrisean rock whose a Pisces w an Aries mars.

* the biggest players are Scorpio/libra placement men by FARRR. They’ll flirt with anybody and they’ll befriend people who they know for a fact are interested in them romantically. You’ll know that they like when you they never “leave” you in any way, when they try to help you anyway they can, and when they change themselves for you (as terrible as that is that’s the truth). Lemme say after a break-up or any situation they feel wronged their hoe phase is terrible. They don’t gaf at ALL and my friend even got caught up (he spent the whole summer flirting w her after his gf dumped him and then ignored her once we got back to campus) she still doesn’t want to believe he was playing her.

*Im sorry but any prominent sag + Scorpio placements scare tf out of me. I had a stalker with a sag rising Scorpio Venus and mars and my cousin had an obsessive fwb w a sag rising Scorpio moon. Ted Bundy had hella sag and Scorpio on his chart. They have the humor and impulsiveness of a Sagittarius mixed with the intensity and passion of a Scorpio. I think it’s hard for people to realize how insane they are because they’re too busy cracking jokes😫

* 8h stellium natives we see the REAL in people like they come around us and act a mf fool

*women w Lilith inspecting ascendant🤝 Venus-Lilith aspects

*Me w an Aries rising 🤝 men w mars ruled venuses (Aries and Scorpio)

*Can we talk about why a lot of gemini Venuses have race fetishes😭 they’ll literally seek out certain races usually a group they’re not apart of

*8th house synastry is very strange to me. From my experience staring is very real, manipulative, and a lot of push-pull dynamics no thank you😮‍💨

*One really weird thing is I notice men who date younger women always have a cap mars like wtf. They seem to really like the power dynamics involved.

*Ok so me and my friend whose a female both have Venus conjunct pluto at like 2 degrees. I met a guy born a day after me and so did she (so they had Venus Pluto as well) We were intrigued because I’ve had my share of strange relationships but i noticed how light his energy was (the guys whose birthday was near mine). He didn’t really give off the same energy. i truly think it represents a guy’s relationship with women not necessarily him. I have seen women obsess over them but the women always had Scorpio energy in their natal chart already. also have a Madonna whore complex real mf bad so watch out. The WOMEN around them have Plutonian energy already and that’s why 8/10 they’re involved w Scorpio women. I’ve seen the same thing with women w mars-pluto (my mom has this conjunction and my step-dad is a Scorpio). Venus-Pluto men are not magnetic but with the way women (usually Scorpio influenced) act around them makes them think they are and they can become addicted to this attention. Yes other men can be jealous of how women act around them but sometimes they see the Venus-pluto man’s thirsty ways. I’ve seen men w this placement cross their friends for attention from girls. I met this guy w Venus square pluto and he seemed funny at first but he was so sleazy and childish when it came to talking to women I didn’t even wanna be around him. They also have a “type” usually. I’ve seen two men with this placements date girls who look like they could be sisters it’s very weird. I also believe Venus-Pluto men usually end up w women who have money *coughs* city boys or come from better financial situations than them while Venus-pluto women usually have the money they had before a relationship (even if through family). Ex: Beyoncé, Nicola Peltz, Ryan Destiny. You wanna see some real magnetism (and transformative chaos) find a woman w Venus Pluto and a man w mars Pluto🫦

[scarletqueenx]

chapter six - a very supernatural christmas

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean and you had dated for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for. You.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Henry Holloway hated Christmas. Well, he hadn't always hated them, in fact it was his favorite holiday, until his wife died on that tragic May night in 1994. From then on, Christmas became a nightmare. Everything reminded him of Laurel and Carter. Because they were both the biggest Christmas lovers, unlike you, whose favorite holiday had always been Halloween, and not just because it was your birthday.

Still, you had made sure to always celebrate Christmas so your little brother could experience a normal life. Receiving presents from Santa Claus like the rest of the kids, decorating the tree, baking cookies and watching movies. But since he was born, Peter couldn't remember a Christmas with his father. Henry always left the house during that month, leaving you and Peter alone. Well, in the care of a family friend.

"You spent Christmas with Bobby?" Dean couldn't believe your words. You nodded with a smile on your face, your arms resting on the back of the front seats of the Impala where Sam and Dean were sitting.

"Until I was 15, then I don't really know what happened. Bobby didn't come back that year nor the following and I became the adult in the house." You explained.

"That's weird."

"Something must have happened between them." Sam commented, turning to face you. You shrugged, not having an answer.

"Yet Henry called him when you disappeared." Dean pointed out.

"My father is not a hunter. I think Bobby is the only one he knows. He had no choice." You said.

You had been traveling with the Winchester brothers for almost three months. And after spending so much time with them and accepting them as part of your family, you knew that losing Dean would be much harder than you had first thought.

Now, three days before Christmas, the three of you were on your way to solve a new case. This had been the first year in a long time that Henry Holloway hadn't left his home on the last day of November. However, he was going to do it sooner or later. Peter had called you numerous times, frightened to be alone during this time of the year. You hated being away from him, and hated even more having to tell him that you wouldn't be able to make it in time to be with him on the 25th, so you had spent the last few days trying to convince your father to behave himself and stay by his side for the holidays.

So while Dean and Sam investigated and questioned the victim's family, you decided to stay at the motel so you could talk to your father.

"I know I should stay with him. But I see your mother everywhere during these days, it's like her ghost is haunting me." Henry explained as he ran a hand over his face in frustration.

"You burned her remains." You reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. But what if there's something left..."

"Dad, no ghost has shown up at that house during the Christmas that Peter and I have spent by ourselves." You cut him off. "Mom's ghost isn't haunting you. Okay? Peter can't spend Christmas alone..."

"He's 14 years old."

"Exactly, and you're his father. Act like it." You complained. "I've already spent his birthday away from him and he's spent mine away from me, don't do this to him."

"Maybe I can call Bobby..." Henry mumbled to himself, but still you were able to hear him.

"Forget it, Dean told me he was on a hunt." You said. "Dad..."

"I can't do it." He interrupted you. "I can't. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I'm disappointing you and him, but... I hear your brother's laugh from when he was little, running around the house covered in flour from the cookies he used to make with your mother. I see you, still innocent, decorating the tree while dancing to Christmas songs. Last Christmas by Wham was your favorite. And... I see her. And it hurts."

"It hurts us all."

"I'm sorry I'm not the father you hoped for."

"You are." You assured. "You were for 10 years. You still are, I know you are."

"No. That man died alongside your mother that night."

Before you could say anything to refute his words, Henry ended the call leaving you clueless as to what to do to make sure your brother didn't spend Christmas alone. An idea quickly popped into your head just as Dean and Sam began sending you the information they had gathered on the case.

With a quick search, you managed to obtain Maddie Lockhart's phone number. You didn't have any friends or family to call other than Dean, Sam and Bobby, so Maddie was your only option.

"I don't know. I told you I don't want anything to do with this." Maddie complained after hearing your request.

"You just have to spend Christmas with him. One week, until after New Year's. My father will come home then." You insisted.

"You hardly know me."

"Come on, I can read people, I'm a hunter. You're not a killer. And Peter will run all the necessary tests to make sure you're human before he lets you in the house. He's very thorough, believe me."

"Okay. I'll do it. But you owe me one." Maddie finally agreed.

"Whatever you want." You assured, letting out a sigh of relief.

After that Freya went back to research, hanging pictures of different demons that might fit with what happened in that city on one of the walls of the room, opening several of the books you had taken from your house and looking for information on Sam's laptop.

"So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?" Dean asked you, carrying a brown paper bag.

"Yep. It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke." You answered, causing Sam to chuckle.

"Who?" Dean looked at you two in confusion.

"Mary Poppins?"

"Who's that?" He frowned.

"Oh, come on. I thought movies were your specialty." You frowned. "Never mind. Did you guys find anything else?"

"Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?" You frowned.

"Don't know." Sam answered. "Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof."

Dean nodded, sitting down on the couch as he turned his attention to you.

"So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?" He asked.

"Actually, I have an idea." You admitted.

"Yeah?" Dean raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Uh, it's gonna sound crazy."

"What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to us?"

"Um... evil Santa." You replied with a nervous smile.

Dean paused, sharing a glance with his brother before turning his eyes back to you as he nodded. "Yeah, that's crazy." He stated.

You rolled your eyes, looking at Sam before getting to your feet and grabbed one of your father's books to approach Dean.

"Yeah... I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture." You explained, showing Dean some evil Santa pictures. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter." You turned to Sam the show him the book too. "Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."

"Saying what?" Dean asked.

"Saying... back in the day, Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked."

"By hauling their ass up chimneys?"

"For starters, yeah." You looked him in the eyes as Sam took a step back as he seemed to be left out of the conversation. It was as if you and his brother had forgotten about his presence in the room as you discussed the your theory.

"So, this is your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Well, ah – I'm just saying, that's what the lore says."

"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa."

"Yeah, I know." You assured with a scoff. "I mean... I could be wrong. I... just... Yeah, I gotta be wrong." You looked down, turning back to the table.

"Maybe, maybe not." Dean shook his head, taking the book from your hands in a quick motion when he saw the deception in your eyes.

"What?" Sam looked at him with confusion.

"I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched." Dean explained with a shrug.

"Where?"

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

"This is not exactly how I pictured the North Pole if I'm being honest." You said, looking at that little event called Santa's Village where Christmas music was playing and children were running around while various employees dressed as Santa's elves were trying to entertain people. It was quite depressing. "I told you one thing, if I brought Peter here he wouldn't talk to me for a whole year. This place takes all the magic out of Christmas."

"Speaking of." Dean spoke, gaining your and his brother's attention. "We should have one this year."

"Have one what?" Sam frowned.

"A Christmas."

"That would be great." You smiled.

"No, thanks." Sam scoffed at the same time.

"We'll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little." Dean commented towards his brother.

"Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know." Sam sighed.

"What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases."

"Whose childhood are you talking about?" Sam looked at him in disbelief.

The look in his eyes was all you needed to see to realize that this subject was not a pleasant one for the younger Winchester.

You couldn't relate to it. Despite your father's absence the last few years, you had always had good Christmases. Except, maybe, the first one after your mother's death and Carter's departure. Peter was still a baby at that time and didn't understand much, which meant you didn't have to pretend to be happy and make sure he had a good Christmas experience.

"Oh, come on, Sam." Dean insisted.

"No! Just... no."

"All right, Grinch." Dean scoffed, walking away to take a better look of the place.

You turned to look at Sam, who seemed lost in thought. Truth be told, you were a little lost too, feeling once again that knot in your chest at the thought that you'd left Peter alone for Christmas. Well, not completely alone, but without his family. You just hoped he and Maddie would get along.

"You'd think with the 10 bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow." Dean's voice brought Sam and you out of your thoughts

"What?" You frowned.

"Nothing. What are we looking for, again?"

"Um... lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets." You answered, looking around.

"Great. So we're looking for a pimp Santa." Dean sighed, which made you giggle. "Why the sweets?"

"Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?" You teased, moving closer to him.

"That's creepy." He stated, looking back at you.

"Yeah, I know. I just... have this tendency to try to cover everything bad with a joke or a sarcastic comment."

Dean nodded, totally understanding that.

"How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?" Sam asked as he walked with you.

"I don't know." You shrugged, stopping and staring at the man wearing a Santa Claus costume sits outside a small barn a few feet away from where they were standing. Like the fake Santa Claus in the malls, this one let children sit on his lap to tell him the gifts they wanted to receive for Christmas.

"So, Ronny, tell me. You been a good boy this year?" Santa asked the kid who was currently sitting on his lap.

"Yeah." The boy answered.

"Good. Santa's got a special gift for you." Santa answered him as cackled creepily, which caused you to cringe.

"Maybe we do." Dean answered his brother's earlier question after witnessing that scene.

"Yeah, as if kids were actually honest when Santa asks them that." You scoffed as you watched the mother grab her son's hand to lead him away from the fake Santa.

Just at that moment a woman in an elf costume walked up to Sam, Dean and you.

"Welcome to Santa's court." She smiled. "Can I escort your child to Santa?"

"Uh..."

"No. No. Uh, but actually my brother here" Dean spoke, cutting off his brother's mumbling as he smacked him on the shoulder. "...it's been a lifelong dream of his."

The elfin girl turned her eyes to the young Winchester, looking at him like he's a freak. "Uh, sorry. No kids over... 12."

"No, he's just kidding." Sam quickly spoke, trying to clear up the situation. However, his last words caused quite the opposite. "We only came here to watch."

The girl frowned before turning her eyes to Dean and you, as you tried to hide the chuckle that was about to escape you lips.

"Eww."

"I-I didn't mean that we came here to w—" Sam tried to explain, but she didn't pay him any attention as she walked away from them. Dean turned his head towards you, and when your eyes met neither could help but chuckle at the awkward situation the olderer Winchester had put his brother in. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that." Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance as you two continued to laugh.

"Hey, guys, Check it out." You spoke as you caught your breath, pointing to the fake Santa, who was standing up from his chair, walking with bad limp.

"A lot of people walk with limps, right?"

"Tell me you didn't smell that. That was candy, man." Dean commented when the man walked pass them.

"That was weed, dude." You stated. "I think. Had to be. That guy is definitely high. Who the fuck hired the people in here?"

"Okay, maybe you're right, but are we willing to take that chance?" Dean looked back at you. You shrugged.

No, you were not going to take it. You needed to be sure. That's why when night came you three found yourselfs inside the Impala, watching the house of the stoned and fake Santa Claus.

"What time is it?" Dean asked.

"Same as the last time you asked." Sam answered him. "Here... Caffeinate." He handed Dean a thermos.

"How come she gets to sleep and I don't?" He grunted, looking over to you as you lay on the back seats of the car.

Sam turned toward him with disbelief.

"Really? You're the one who told her not to worry, that we'd take care of it."

"Yeah, well. She looked tired." Dean shrugged, opening the thermos.

"Yeah, right." Sam scoffed.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Come on. What's that look for?" Dean asked in frustration.

"Nothing, Dean. It's just that you're so obvious." Sam answered, looking back at him.

"What are you talking about?" Dean frowned, trying to pour some coffee into the cup, but the thermos is empty. "Wonderful."

"I'm just saying that if you really want to keep your distance with her, you're not doing a very good job."

Dean looked up at him at his response, remaining silent for a few seconds. If he was honest his brother was right, but sometimes he couldn't help but fall into the habits of his time dating her. Besides, you were hard to ignore.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?" He then asked, changing the subject. Sam scoffs, directing his gaze back to the fake Santa's house.

"Dean..."

"I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids."

"'Bumpy'?

"That was then. We'll do it right this year."

"Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don't involve me."

Dean looked at him in disbelief. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great. Me and myself making cranberry molds."

"Well, I'm sure she will want to join you. She seems to love Christmas." Sam pointed to the you.

The car went silent again as they returned to watching the house. Just in that moment fake Santa, still in his red cap, but in a green tank top, looked outside and then closed his curtains.

"What's up with Saint Nicotine?" Dean frowned.

"Oh, my God!" A woman's voice was heard from the house, making the brothers jump out of the car and run to the house with their guns drawn.

At the noise, you couldn't help but wake up. You eyes immediately searching for them, seeing them enter the house with their guns in hand. Quickly you grabbed your gun and went after them. But the image you encountered was not what you expected. The stoned, fake Santa was sitting on his couch, watching what appeared to be a Christmas porn movie while Dean and Sam sang a very off-key version of Silent Night. You did your best not to laugh as you grabbed both of their arms to pull them out of the house, closing the door after.

"That went well." You sighed.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Arriving at the Holloway house, Maddie was alarmed to find that its door was wide open. Fear almost made her run out of there, but then she remembered that a boy was waiting for her. As scared as she was to run into those two demons again, she had to gather courage from wherever she could.

However, the girl didn't expect that when she set foot inside the house, a stream of water would be shot directly into her face.

"You have passed two tests, congratulations. Now let's see how you get out of that trap, demon." Peter spoke from the top of the stairs, shooting her again with his water gun.

"Whoa, whoa. Stop!" Maddie exclaimed, trying to cover her face with her arms. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Making sure you're not a demon or some other monster. You have past the salt line. This is holy water." He explained, pointing to the gun in his hands. "Now you need to get out of there." Maddie frowned as she watched him point to the ceiling. She then looked up, finding a circle with various symbols drawn on it just above the door of the house.

"It's a demon trap." Peter explained. "Although, if you're one of them you already know that." Maddie was about to speak, but he interrupted her before she could. "Now, move and go get that silver knife over there." He ordered, pointing to her right as he shot her again with the holy water.

"Quit it. What is this, the house from Home Alone?" Maddie asked in disbelief.

"You like movies." He observed with a little smile. "I like you. I really hope I don't have to kill you." Peter admitted, turning serious once again. "Move."

"Okay, okay." Maddie accepted. "God, what is wrong with this family?" She muttered to herself.

Doing everything as the boy ordered, Maddie finally managed to convince him that she wasn't a monster. After that Peter put away his gun and the silver knife with which he had forced her to make a small cut on her hand and joined her again with an innocent smile on his lips.

"How about ordering some pizza?"

Pizza was also what Dean, Sam and you had for dinner that night before morning came and you heard the news of another attack. As usual that forced you to put on your suits and grab their fake badges so they could interrogate the victim's family.

"So, that's how your son described the attack? 'Santa took daddy up the chimney'?"

"That's what he says, yes." Answered the woman, who had a bruise over her eye from the attack.

"And where were you?" Dean asked.

"I was asleep and all of a sudden... I was being dragged out of bed, screaming."

"Did you see the attacker?" You wondered.

"It was dark, and he hit me. He knocked me out." Mrs. Caldwell said with a shake of her head.

You nodded. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard."

"Yeah, um, Mrs. Caldwell, where, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Sam asked her as he pointed to it.

You and Dean frowned with confusion, looking at the wreath a little puzzled by Sam's question.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Caldwell looked at him just as confused as you two.

"Just curious, you know." He shrugged with a smile, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Forgive him, he is a just rookie and doesn't know how to follow orders." You excused him, resting your gaze on Sam. "I told you to keep quiet, remember?"

Sam wasn't amused by that, unlike Dean.

"Thank you for answering our questions." You looked back at the woman. "And we're sorry about what happened."

Mrs. Caldwell nodded as you left the house.

"Wreaths, huh?" Dean asked his brother as you walked back to the car. "Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer."

"We've seen that wreath before, Dean."

"We have?" You frowned.

"Dean and I, yes. At the Walshes'. Yesterday." Sam answered.

"I know. I was just testing you." Dean smiled making Sam scoff.

"Okay, but what does a wreath have to do with the case?" You looked at them with confusion. Sam shrugged.

"I don't know, but it was the exact same wreath. It's a connection between victims, it's worth a look."

"Fine." You shrugged getting inside the car.

Back at the motel, Sam was on the phone with Bobby while Dean cleaned the guns and you tried to contact you father. At least you knew your brother was okay, as Maddie had texted you the night before to confirm that you had arrived at the house. Accompanied by a threat that if Peter didn't behave himself she would end up killing him. She clearly wasn't serious, but she was close to it.

"I swear I will kill him. He just had to stay with his son for the holidays, is that so hard?" Dean looked up at you and watched as you slammed your phone down on the table. You looked back at him then, your eyes full of exhaustion and disappointment.

Unfortunately, Dean and Sam knew exactly what it was like to spend Christmas without their father, and certainly, though the kid was a pain in the ass, Dean didn't exactly wish that on Peter.

"Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." Sam spoke before hanging up the phone. "Well... we're not dealing with the anti-Claus."

You grunted, resting your forehead on the arm you had over the table. Dean sighed as he watched the state you were in.

"What did Bobby say?" He asked his brother as he turned to him.

"Uh, that we're morons." Sam answered, sitting next to you, which make you look up at him. "He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths.

"Wow! Amazing." You answered sarcastically. "What the hell is meadowsweet?"

"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore." Sam said, looking at his laptop.

"Pagan lore?" Dean frowned.

"Oh, I know that one." You raised you hand.

Sam looked at you with confusion before answering his brother.

"See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a... Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human."

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?"

"It's not as crazy as it sounds, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan."

"Christmas is Jesus's birthday." He pointed out with confusion.

"No, Jesus's birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the Church and renamed 'Christmas'. But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit – that's all remnants of pagan worship." You explained, letting your head fall back.

Sam and Dean shared a look at that. The younger one especially confused by your attitude, as he hadn't heard about the situation with your father.

"Wow, you really are a smarty, aren't you?" Dean smiled with amusement.

"Don't call me that." You harshly complained, looking back at him.

Dean looked at her startled by her reaction. "Okay, I'm sorry. But how do you know all that? What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" You rolled your eyes at his worlds as Sam stayed silent. "So you think we're dealing with a pagan God?" Dean then turned to his brother.

"Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice." Sam answered, looking down at his laptop.

"And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths..."

"Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying 'Come kill us'."

"Great."

"Huh... When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return." Sam spoke again.

"Lap dances, hopefully." You chuckled at his answer.

"Mild weather." Sam corrected.

You frowned, looking out the window. "Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."

"For instance."

"Do we know how to kill it yet?" Dean asked.

"No, Bobby's working on that right now. We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths."

"You think they're selling them on purpose? Feeding the victims to this thing?"

"Let's find out." Sam exhaled.

After visiting several Christmas decoration stores, you finally found the one that had sold those wreaths. From what the shopkeeper had told you, a woman named Madge Carrigan made them and gave them to him for free, saying that they were special. He had taken it upon himself to sell them, this time charging for them, and that is how they had arrived at the victims' houses.

"How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?" Dean asked, turning on the light as they walked back into the motel room.

"A couple hundred dollars, at least." Sam answered.

"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?"

"Well, sounds pretty suspicious." You said, sitting down on the couch as you checked the messages on you phone.

Dean and Sam nodded, taking off their jackets and siting on the edge of their beds.

"Hey, Sammy, remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?" Dean asked his brother.

"You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?" Sam frowned as you looked up at them with curiosity.

"Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans." Dean explained to you when he noticed your confuse expression. "That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."

"Sounds cool, I guess..." You didn't exactly know what to respond.

"All right. Dude... What's going on with you?" Sam frowned, looking back at his brother.

"What?"

"I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?"

"Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?"

"No, that has nothing to do with it." Sam shook his head as you began to feel a little out of place. You nerves increasing at the lack of messages or calls from your father or Maddie.

"Then what?"

"I-I mean, I-I just... I don't get it." Sam admitted. "You haven't talked about Christmas in years."

"Well, yeah. This is my last year." Dean pointed out, causing a knot to settle in your and his brother's chests.

Sam sighed, looking down.

"I know. That's why I can't." He finally admitted.

Dean's face turned confused at his little brother's words.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay, when I know next Christmas you'll be dead." Sam explained. "I just can't."

After that Sam left the room claiming he was going to get some dinner. Dean couldn't help but let out a sigh, glancing down at his hands before raising his gaze back up to you.

"You are not gonna say anything?"

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" You asked with confusion. "Honestly, I'm too focused on my own family problems to be focused on yours."

"Yeah, about that... Did your dad call you?" Dean asked with honest interest.

"I think he's avoiding me." You let out a sigh. "And I have this friend with Peter..."

"The same one you went to visit in Salem?"

You paused, narrowing your eyes.

"Is there something you want to say to me?"

"I know you were lying." Dean stated taking you by surprise. "I don't know what you went to do in Salem, but I know you weren't going to visit an old friend."

"It's none of your business."

"Some old boyfriend? Maybe a hook up budy? Friend with benefits?" He asked with a smirk.

"You're an jerk, you know that?" You said without amusement. "You and Sam aren't the only ones with family problems, you know? Maybe he's right and you should stop talking about Christmas, because this one's definitely the worst. Although I'm sure next year's will be even more so for him."

With nothing more to say, you stood up, grabbed your bag and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind.

Dean stayed there, sitting on the edge of his bed. Everything he did or said seemed to mess everything up even more with his brother and you. The only consolation was that maybe this way his death wouldn't affect you two as much. But that was a stupid thought and deep down he knew it.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The next day was not very productive for Sam, Dean and you, who all you could do was visit the woman who made the wreaths. Although the visit did serve to confirm that her and her husband were the ones causing the attacks. At least it seemed obvious to you because of their obvious weird energy with their meadowsweet and peanut brittle, their old-fashioned cardigans and their whole aesthetic of an old couple stuck in the 50's. Nice and happy.

After that you could only do more research and wait for Bobby to tell you three how to stop them.

Peter and Maddie however did have a much more productive day. Maddie was growing fond of the boy, who had dragged her to the nearest mall for last minute shopping, begged her to make Christmas cookies and tricked her into playing with some rubber-bullet guns around the house. If she was honest, she hadn't had this much fun in years. Peter reminded her why for years she had longed for younger siblings.

"I win. Again." Peter said, lowering his gun as the rubber bullet hit the Maddie's shoulder.

Maddie grunted with annoyance. "How are you so good at shooting?"

"My sister started teaching me when I turned eight."

"Your sister taught you how to shoot real guns?" Maddie looked at him shocked. Peter nodded, taking the plastic gun from her hands to put it away alongside his own.

"She wanted me to be prepared in case any monsters showed up at the house or if I encountered any." He explained. "She also made sure I brought a knife to school and taught me martial arts. I can teach you if you want."

"No, thanks. Hunting is not my thing." Maddie admitted with a nervous smile.

"And what is your thing?" He asked curiously.

"Photography."

"Why?"

Maddie shrugged. "I don't know. If you take the perfect picture at the perfect moment, you can live a moment over and over again. You can cherish the little gestures and little moments for a lifetime."

"Too deep for me." Peter sighed "But I guess I get it. I want to be a movie director."

"That's cool. But it's also deep."

"Yeah, I guess. Although my thing would be horror or fantasy films. I know a lot about monsters."

"I can see that." She smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Sure. What's for dinner?" He asked.

"Well, it's Christmas Eve and my mom had this tradition of making a turkey with mashed potatoes and apple pie for dessert. How about that? The turkey's in the oven." Maddie explained as she headed to the kitchen being quickly followed by him.

"My sister and I usually have ice cream while watching a Christmas movie after dinner, can we do that too?"

Maddie turned to him with a slight smile on her lips, appreciating that he hadn't complained about her plans.

"Of course."

"Great. I'll go get the movies." He said enthusiastically.

"You should also call your sister." Maddie reminded him before he ran off upstairs.

Peter stopped on his tracks letting out a sigh.

"Yeah, you're right." He admitted, approaching the wall phone. However, you weren't in a very comfortable position to answer his call at that moment.

After Bobby informed you that the way to kill the pagan god was wooden stakes, Dean and you had made sure to set them up while Sam learned that the old married couple had lived in Seattle last year where two similar attacks had occurred.

The house looked perfect, decorated for Christmas and smelling of freshly made food and cookies. Everything seemed normal, until you reached the basement of the house. Where you found bones covered with blood in a large bowl and many other disgusting things. The whole basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage room. And it was there that the couple took you three by surprise, knocking all three of you unconscious.

Now your phone was buzzing in your pants pocket as you lay on the kitchen island, still unconscious. Your hands and legs tied, preventing you from moving while Sam and Dean sat back to back in two chairs beside you, struggling with the ropes that held them.

"Hey. Sweetheart, you need to wake up." You could hear Dean's voice in the distance. With your eyes still closed and dazed, you tried to turn your head toward his voice. Dean grunted as he kept trying to get free from the ropes around his wrists, watching as you grimaced in pain when you moved.

"Dean?" You asked in a quiet whisper, still not opening your eyes.

"Yeah, is me, sweetheart. I'm right here. We're here." He assured.

"You okay?" You asked, slowly opening your eyes.

"We should ask you that." Sam answered, giving you a slight smile. You tried to return it, but your whole body ached with every movement. "I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God." Dean nodded. "Nice to know."

In that moment the kitchen door opened and the Carrigans came waking in, dressed in colorful Christmas themed sweaters.

"Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff." Madge giggled.

"Miss all this? Nah, we're partiers." Dean cockily replied.

"Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey?" Mr Carrigan looked at his wife before turning his gaze back at him as he smoked his pipe. "You're hunters, is what you are."

"And you're pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?"

"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?" He laughed. "I don't think so."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?" Sam commented.

"Oh now, don't get all wet." Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes.

"Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact." Madge spoke, putting a napkin on Dean's lap before doing the same with Sam. "Now what do we take? What, two? Three?"

"Hardy Boys and their girlfriend here make six." Her husband pointed out.

"Now, that's not so bad, is it?"

"Well, you say it like that, I guess you guys are the Cunninghams." Dean answered, smirking at his own comeback.

"You, mister, better show us a little respect." Mr. Carrigan said, looking back at him.

"Or what? You'll eat us?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

Mr. Carrigan was about to answered him but his wife's voice interrupted him. "Oh, honey, don't try so hard. It's no use." Madge said as she noticed how you shifted, struggling with the ropes on your wrists trying to get loose while letting out slight grunts of pain with each move.

"Don't touch her." Dean stated, clenching his jaw.

"Well, guess we've just figured out whose girlfriend this young lady is." Mr. Carrigan commented, stroking your cheek. You looked up at him threateningly.

"I will kill you." You declared. Mr. Carrigan raised his eyes, sharing a glance with his wife at your response.

"What a mouth you have, young lady." Madge said, approaching you with a knife and bowl in her hands. "I think you need to learn some manners."

"All I need is a wooden stake. I'm going to enjoy driving it into your hearts, believe me." You replied, clenching your jaw.

Without missing a beat Madge slid the knife down one of your arms, collecting your blood in the bowl. You couldn't help but grunt in pain at the piercing sensation. But still, your tolerance for it was impressive. Especially for the couple of Pagan Gods, who were used to the cries of despair. But unlike their other victims, you had already experienced a situation similar to that and it had been much worse.

Dean screamed your name with desperation. "Leave her alone, you sons of bitches! I'm going to kill you."

"Hear how they talk to us? To Gods?" Mr. Cardigan looked at his wife. "Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."

"Times have changed!"

"Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our–our altars are being burned down, and we're being hunted down like common monsters."

"Maybe because you are." You replied.

"But did we say a peep? Oh no, we did not." Madge continued, ignoring your words while her husband added something to the bowl of blood. "Two millennium. We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. Wh-What was that word, dear?"

"We assimilated." He replied.

"Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We're just like everybody else." She spoke as she took another bowl and the knife to sliced up Sam's arm.

"You're not blending in as smooth as you think, lady." Dean answered, clenching his fists as he heard his little brother screaming in pain.

She ignored him as she stood in front of him to slide the knife down one of his arms. "This might pinch a bit, dear."

"You bitch!" Dean screamed out.

"Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar." She looked at him with offense. "Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? 'Fudge.'"

"I'll try and remember that!" He panted making her smile.

"You guys have no idea how lucky you are." Mr. Carrigan said, picking up a pair of pliers. "There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are."

You turned to look at him as you noticed how he stood at your left side, holding your hand. Panic invaded you as you remembered the most painful and terrifying night of your life. It was then that Mr. Carrigan's face seemed to change into your own older brother's for a few moments. Confused, you blinked several times. For a brief second, it seemed as if you had returned to your home, to that night in 1994 when everything changed.

"What do you think you're doing with those?" You looked at the tool once you came back to reality. But Mr. Carrigan didn't respond, he just smiled at you. A shiver ran down you spine.

Watching that scene play out before his eyes Dean turned to Madge. "You fudging touch her again and I'll fudging kill you!"

"Very good!" The woman smiled.

"No. No. Don't." You looked at Mr. Carrigan with panic when you understood what he was going to do. For the first time that night, you felt the pain for real. You body ached since you had been knocked unconscious, but this was much worse. Though nothing compared to what Carter had done to you. A scream left your mouth when Mr. Carrigan pulled the nail of your index finger.

"Oh, we got a winner!" He said, holding up the nail.

"What else, dear?" Madge asked him as they put all the ingredients in the bowl and stirred them.

"Well, let's see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh... Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick. I forgot the tooth." He laughed.

"Merry Christmas, guys." Dean said, making Sam and you groaned. Mr. Carrigan picked up a different time of pliers and walked towards Dean.

"Wait! Wait!" You exclaimed. "Take one of mine."

"Aw, how cute, protecting her boyfriend." Madge commented, looking at her husband.

"Please." You insisted while Dean shook his head. "I can take the pain."

"We know, honey." Madge assured. "But we actually like the screams."

"Open wide... and say, 'Aaah.'" Mr. Carrigan grabbed Dean's chin.

Despite trying to resist, Mr. Carrigan managed to put the pliers into Dean's mouth. Then suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Somebody gonna get that?" Deas asked with the pliers still in his mouth. Madge and Mr. Carrigan looked at each other. "You should get that."

"Come on." Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes before leaving the kitchen with his wife. At that, Dean couldn't help but sigh in relief and run his tongue around his teeth.

To their luck, the two gods had left a knife on the island countertop, just inches from your left hand. But Sam and Dean had more experience getting loose from ropes, handcuffs and chains, so before you could reach the knife they had already broken free.

"You're a little slow, sweetheart." Dean walked over to you, starting to undo the knots in the ropes on your wrists while Sam did the same with the ones on your ankles. "'Take one of mine', really?" Dean whispered, holding you by the waist to help you down.

"Oh, leave it. I was trying to save you the pain." You sighed, putting an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

"And keep it all for yourself?"

"Well, I've had worse." You admitted, turning your head toward him. It was then that you noticed the short distance between your faces, causing you to gulp nervously. You could feel his breath against your lips, his body against your, how his muscles tensed at your touch, how his eyes roamed your face.

"Hey, lovebirds." Sam snapped you two out of your daydream, opening the other kitchen door so you could get out. "Come on."

Dean nodded quickly, following him into the hallway of the house as he helped you walk.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." You said, releasing your grip, but Dean kept his arm around your waist, hesitant.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's okay. I promise." You smiled reassuringly at him. Sighing, Dean took a step back, letting go of you.

"Now, where were we?" Madge spoke as she and her husband walked back into the kitchen. A gasp escaping her mouth when she noticed that Sam, Dean and you were no longer there.

Splitting up, each of the Winchester brothers closed the two kitchen doors. You staying with Dean and dragging a drawer to the door as the Carrigan's started banging on the door, trying to escape. When you two finally managed to block the door completely, you both rushed to join Sam so you could help him hold the other door.

"What do we do now? The evergreen stakes are in the basement!" Dean exclaimed.

"Well, we need more evergreen, Dean!" Sam answered with obviousness as you rolled your eyes, stepping back and looking around the room they were in, the main living room of the house.

"I think I just found us some more." She spoke, looking at the Christmas tree.

"Good idea." Sam admitted. "Dean, help me get this." He pointed to a cabinet. Dean nodded and help him pushed in front of the door. Meanwhile you snapped a couple of branches from the tree to use as stakes.

Suddenly the house fell into silence. The brothers and you couldn't help but share a look of confusion as you tossed them two of the stakes. Just as Dean caught the stake in his hand, Mr. Carrigan appeared out of nowhere and tackled him. Madge walked behind her husband, straight toward you.

"You little thing." She growled, her face momentarily distorting to her true form. "I loved that tree."

Sam raised his stake but Madge hit him so hard he crashed into the couch and onto the floor. You moved quickly towards her, pushing her far from the young Winchester and thrusting the stake into her heart.

"Madge!!!" Mr. Carrigan screamed, stopping the punches he was throwing at Dean. You pushed the stake deeper and she groaned, falling to the ground, dead. Meanwhile Dean toke the opportunity and hit Mr. Carrigan, stabbing him with his stake. He screamed in pain before Dean pulled out to stabbed him again. Mr. Cardigan then thumped to the ground, next to his wife, dead.

Helping the Winchester brothers get to their feet, you sighed with relief.

"Merry Christmas." Sam said looking at you and Dean with a brief smile on his face.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

After what had happened that night, you just wanted to take a shower, change your clothes, call your brother and go to sleep. It was Christmas Eve, but your Christmas spirit seemed to have disappeared. What the pagan gods had done to you had reminded you of that 1994 night. Even in the warm, comforting shower, every time you closed your eyes you felt like you were back home being chased by your older brother.

"Hey, sweetheart, do you want something particular for dinner?" Dean's voice could be heard through the bathroom door. Your rooms were adjoining, so he must have wandered into yours.

Turning off the water, you stepped out of the shower. "No. Whatever you bring will be fine. Thank you."

"Okay. I'll be back in 20 minutes." Dean was about to leave, but stopped short before doing so, leaning against the bathroom door with his eyes fixed on the floor. "Are you all right?"

The question took you off guard. Your hands shaking slightly as you wrapped a towel around your body.

"Yes." Your voice came out shaky. "I'm fine."

Dean knew you were lying, but decided not to insist. "Listen, uh... I'll buy something and when I get back I'll patch you up, okay?"

You nodded not realizing he couldn't see you.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me something for my headache too?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." A hint of a smile tugged at your lips, but it quickly disappeared.

After hearing the door close, you reached into the sink to grab your phone. Your father had not yet returned your calls or messages, but you did have several texts from your little brother.

Leaving the bathroom, you dialed his phone as you sat on the edge of your bed. "Are you okay? Did something happen to you? I'm going to kill those..."

"Hey, hey, hey. I'm all right." You cut him off. "It's okay. You don't have to kill anybody." You reassured him. "How are you? How are you doing with Maddie?"

"Fine, I guess." He shrugged. "I still miss you."

"I miss you too, kiddo."

"You know, Maddie's agreed to watch a movie with me. And we're going to eat some ice cream."

You smiled wistfully. "Sounds like the perfect plan."

"It would be if you were here." Peter admitted sadly. "What are you and those idiots going to do tonight?"

"I really don't know. I'm really tired." You answered.

"Come on, it's Christmas Eve."

"Yeah, I know. I know." You sighed. "I don't know, maybe I'll watch a movie too."

"Great. Tomorrow you tell me which one. I love you." Peter said in a hurry as he watched how Maddie had just put the movie on the TV.

"I love you too." You answered. "Say hi to Maddie for me."

"Yeah, sure. Bye." He said a quick goodbye before hanging up and leaving you alone in that motel room, just as you had been before calling him.

You knew Peter was right. You couldn't stay all depressed and alone on Christmas Eve. Sam might not want to celebrate the holidays, but Dean sure would want to take a walk with you and celebrate together.

What you didn't expect was that after getting dressed and walking through the door connecting your and their room, you would find Dean and Sam already celebrating Christmas. A very improvised celebration due to the cheap decorations that had been put up.

"I brought you what you asked for." Dean spoke as he saw you enter the room, holding up a bag. You turned to him, giving him a slight smile of gratitude though still confused about the whole situation.

"Ah, uh... I thought it would be nice to celebrate Christmas." Sam explained when he saw you confusion. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I know it's not much..."

"It's perfect. I love it." You assured him.

Sam smiled. "I brought some movies too."

"And there's ice cream in the fridge." Dean added making you look at him with confusion.

"You bought me ice cream?"

"I know you love it. It's not your favorite flavor because they didn't have it, but..." You cut him off as you wrapped him in a hug.

"Thank you. Thank you both." You spoke, hugging Sam this time. Both brothers couldn't help but share a look and smile at your reaction.

"We also have gifts."

"You do?" You looked at them with surprise as you separated from Sam. Dean nodded. "I... I have something for you too." You admitted then. "I didn't know if I was going to be able to give them to you because Sam here seemed so sour about Christmas, but... I'm going to get them."

You quickly left the room and returned just a few seconds later with two small packages in your hands.

Sam and Dean gave you their gifts first, both of which they had bought quickly at a gas station store, but for you they turned out perfect. Sam had gotten you a book so you wouldn't get bored in the back seats of the car during drives while Dean had won you a stuffed animal in one of those claw machines. Their gifts were so them that you couldn't help but smile with amusement.

"I love them." You assured. "Now it's my turn. They might be a little more personal, and you might think it's stupid, but..."

"Freya." Dean interrupted you as he noticed how you started to wander.

"Sorry, sorry. Here you go." You handed them the packages.

As they opened them, you decided to start explaining the reason for them. "Years ago my brother made me one of those braided bracelets out of purple fabric." You showed them the bracelet on your wrist. "The next year I made him one with a different color fabric. It turns out that this fabric is a special kind. In some cultures they believed it provided protection from darkness and evil. I thought red and blue would be your colors. You don't have to wear them. It's stupid..."

"We love them." Dean interrupted you. "Right, Sammy?"

"Yeah. They're pretty cool." He assured you.

You looked at them doubtfully, but smiled slightly as you watched them put them around their wrists.

Keep Reading: Chapter 7

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[strangerthingslover69]

The birthday present

18+ minors do not read!

Warnings ~ swearing and smut ~

This isn’t what you imagined life for yourself. Unhappily married. Your parents said you got married too young, you were naive and thought nothing of it. Of course they were right. Today ended up being a the worse day ever. However a knock at the door was about to make it a hell of a lot better

‘Jason!’ You shout your husband as he’s still getting ready upstairs. ‘Honestly you take longer than me!’ You huff walking into the kitchen. ‘Well Y/N it takes a long time to look this good’ he says walking into the kitchen behind you. Jason Carver. Yup he was your sweetheart from high school. After him and Chrissy broke up it didn’t take him long to worm his way to you, you fell for it of course. He was a jock, good looking, smart, all that. Only a year after you started going out he proposed. You said yes and we’re so excited. However your family were not. ‘You’re too young to be married!’ Your mother would say on a daily basis as the days got closer to your actual wedding. Your parents chose not to come. That’s the day you lost them pretty much. You hadn’t seen them since marrying Jason and that was six years ago. Six long years. You couldn’t leave him even though you wanted to, you had no one else. Jason had managed to trap you, it felt like anyway. You had no family. No friends of your own. Just him. All the time

You roll your eyes before turning around. ‘You ready to go?’ You ask grabbing your bag. He looks at you with confusion. ‘Go? Go where?’ He asks putting on his jacket. You huff again. ‘Seriously?’ You say putting your hands on your hips. The doorbell goes, ‘Whose that?’ You ask not expecting anyone. ‘Babe now are you being for real? C’mon it’s guys night. We’re going out and I’m crashing at Patrick’s.’ He says walking away to answer his school jock friends. Yup he’s forget. You don’t know why you even got dressed up you should have known he’d forget. You put down your bag and slide off you heels pouring a large glass of wine. You hear Jason leading the others through. You turn and welcome them putting on a ‘good wife show’ it wasn’t worth Jason’s melt downs when you weren’t one. ‘Andy. Patrick. Trey. Always a pleasure. Beer?’ You offer walking to the fridge. ‘They’re good babe we’re going now. Oh almost forgot I had to call an emergency mechanic out. My cars been playing up’ Jason says looking at his watch. ‘They should be here in an hour. I used your card, couldn’t find mine. Will pay you back next week.’ He says like it’s nothing. You bite down on your inner lip hard trying to keep composed. ‘No problem honey. Have a great time out’ you say with a fake smile. He comes over and kisses your cheek and smacks your ass, the others all make animalistic noises and laugh. Just like that they leave. ‘Prick’ you mutter finishing you wine. You take the bottle upstairs and begin to run a bath, knowing you had at least an hour to relax before someone turns up to look at your charming husbands car. You take off your new dress, which you look amazing in by the way, a black strapped dress with some black sequins running along the bottom. You sigh as you throw it on the floor. You put your hair up so it wouldn’t get wet in the bath. You add some ‘calming’ bubbles and start to relax. The hot water already making you feel slightly better. You wash away your freshly make upped face when you hear the doorbell. ‘Fuck sake. He’s forgot his pissing keys again.’ You sigh leaving your bath and grabbing you towel wrapping it around your body. The doorbell goes again. ‘I’m coming!’ You shout making your way down the stairs, you swipe Jason’s keys from the bowl unlocking the door, ‘here Ja-’ you sentence is cut short when you realise it’s not Jason who is in the other side of the door

‘Eddie?’ You say feeling very surprised, he was the last person you’d expect to show up and yours and Jason’s house. The look on his face matches your too as he most definitely didn’t expect to see you either, especially just answering the door in a towel. ‘Shit Y/N is that really you?’ He asks clearly checking out your barely covered body. You and Eddie were close at school, believe it or not. Well you were before you and Jason were together. Then he just took you away and you let it happen. You feel yourself turning bright red as you see Eddies eye nearly pop from his skull. You pull the towel tighter across your body and clear your throat, ‘what, what are you doing here?’ You ask feeling flustered. He still looks the same but more tattoos, facial hair and most definitely more toned. He looks good. Very good. ‘Emergency mechanic?’ He gestures to his uniform and tools. You hadn’t even noticed the overalls that say ‘EM Mechanics.’ ‘Wait, Jason called you?’ You ask surprised. Eddie can’t help but chuckle. ‘Well not directly me. My company yes. I do not think he realised I owned it. The receptionist answered it and I was on call out for today’ he says scratching the back of his neck. ‘Impressive Munson, own company. Always knew you’d do well’ you say with a small smile. Eddie blushes at your compliment. ‘Thanks very much, so erm, the car?’ He gestured to Jason’s car outside. ‘Oh shit yeah, I’ll get the keys. Please come in’ you say walking off to find Jason’s keys. Eddie steps into yours and Jason house closing the door. He looks around as sees Jason’s basketball trophies smack bang in the middle in a display cabinet. Eddie rolls his eyes, ‘Still an obnoxious asshole’ Eddie mutters to himself. As he walks further into your living room he can see many things definitely owned by Jason, it just screams him. He stops at the fireplace when he sees your prom photo and wedding photo next to one another. You looked so happy. Smile reaching up to your eyes. Now you seemed different, even a small conversation and Eddie can tell your not as happy. He still knows you like the back of his hand. He hears you opening draws and closing them. ‘God damn it! Where are they?!’ You say slamming the last draw. Eddie comes into the kitchen seeing you rubbing your eyes clearly stressed. ‘Everything okay?’ He asks slowly walking to you. Your shoulders slump and you sigh. ‘No Eds. Far from fucking okay’ you say with tears welling up in your eyes. He can’t help but smile as your you say your nickname for him. His smile soon drops when he sees your tears coming down your face. He rushes to your side. ‘Hey sweetheart what’s wrong?’ Eddie asks worryingly. You bury your head in your hands and cry. Without hesitating Eddie brings you in to his chest and hugs you. He soothingly runs his hands up and down your back to help you calm. You cry into your old friends chest for a good five minute before calming down. Eddie just let’s you cry, you clearly need to

Once he can’t hear your tears he moves you, he places his hands on your shoulders. You lift your head up and meet his eyes. ‘Sweetheart tell me what’s wrong’ Eddie says using his old nickname for you. You sigh. ‘What’s the date?’ You ask in a sad voice. Eddie looks confused but answers. ‘September 6th?’ ‘Exactly. September 6th. Do you remember anything significant about this date?’ You ask him. Eddie thinks for a minute before it clicks. ‘Your birthday. Shit. Happy birthday! Wait. Where’s Jason?’ Eddie asks confused. ‘Exactly. Where is my so called husband? He’s gone out with his friends and staying out the night. The asshole forgot my goddamn birthday. Even you remembered! After all these years you remembered.’ You say feeling teary again. Eddie brings his hands to your cheeks, ‘He’s not worth your tears Y/N’ Eddie says in a kind voice. ‘I’ve cried for him too many times Ed’s. I, I don’t love him. I haven’t got a long time but how can I leave him? I have nothing of my own.’ You say your eyes filling yet again. ‘Hey, no more crying. We can’t have a beautiful girl like you crying. Especially in your birthday’ Eddie says wiping a single tear that’s fallen down. You give a small smile. ‘How can you be so nice to me after all this time? I, I left you. You were the one person who was there for me and, I. I fucking left. I’m so sorry Ed’s. I wish I never left you. Fuck I wish I never said yes to that asshole’ you say as the tears fall down again. Seeing you after all these years in such a broken way it is breaking Eddies heart. He never hated you even when you did leave him. Even when Jason was still a dick to him. You weren’t. He couldn’t never hate you. ‘Princess. I could never hate you. Ever’ Eddie says resting his forehead on yours, he closes his eyes and it’s like you’ve gone back in time. Your touch. Your smell. You. He was really here with you.

You’re not sure what came over you but as Eddie rested his forehead on yours you leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips. Eddies eyes open as he feels your lips. He doesn’t kiss you back. You move away feeling stupid. ‘I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was inappropriate’ you say stepping back from him. Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just moves closer to you and pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips connect once again but both kissing one another this time. When growing up with one another you never crossed the line but little did you both know how much you wanted to and all these years later here you are. The kiss quickly deepens as Eddie moves his hand down your waist pulling you in closer. You fingers desperately grab any part of him you can. It happens to be his overalls that are tied around his waist. You undo them and pull at the bottom of his vest hinting for him to take it off. The kiss breaks as Eddie lifts the vest over his head. You quickly find each others lip again, a hotter needier kiss. It had been months, possibly years since Jason kissed you like this and when he did it never felt this good. Your hands reach into his hair pulling at his curls. He moans into your lips. ‘You like that?’ You say smiling into his mouth. Eddie takes the opportunity and pulls your lips into this biting down on your bottom one causing you to moan. ‘You like that?’ He says teasingly just like you did. You move him off and take his hand leading him to the sofa. You push him down and he sits down legs open. You drop your towel and bare you naked body in front of your old friend. Eddie licks his lips as his eyes wonder up and down your body, he wipes his palms on his overalls. ‘Fuck Y/N, your beautiful. Come here’ he says pulling you onto his lap. His lips latch onto yours and he kisses you hungrily, you open you mouth and let out a moan as you feel his growing erection on your bare pussy. With your mouth open Eddie invites his tongue into your mouth as you start to grind on him. Eddie disconnects from your mouth and your about to complain but he starts to kiss down your jaw slowly to your neck, kissing that special place under your ear. ‘Fuck Eddie’ you moan as his hands come to your chest and tenderly palm your breasts. His calloused hands rubbing across your nipple making you moan. ‘Ed’s. Need to to fuck me’ you moan as you feel yourself getting more wet on his overalls. His lips leave your neck and he looks up at you with those big brown eyes. ‘Fuck princess, are you sure?’ He asks. You smile at him and grind again on his clothed dick. ‘I’m sure’ you say biting your lip

You move off Eddie slightly so he can take off his overalls and boxers, as he does this you begin to kiss his neck like he was doing to you. He moans as he feels your teeth sink into his neck sucking it hard. ‘Fuck Y/N’ he says pulling your by your hair off his neck so your lips can meet again. With Eddies overalls and boxers off you climb back onto his lap, lips never leaving. You move down and wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. ‘Fuck Eddie, your big’ you say into his lips as you begin to pump him slowly up and down. ‘Bigger than Jason?’ Eddie says with a wicked smile. You smile back and lean next to his ear. ‘Much fucking bigger’ you whisper as you line his cock to your entrance and slowly push him into you. You both moan together as he stretches you out a lot, it stings but Eddies words make you feel better. ‘Such a good girl, taking me so well’ You finally fit Eddies cock into your pussy, you begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth getting into a steady rhythm. Eddies hands hold onto your waist as he moves with you. ‘Fuck Y/N your pussys so fucking good’ he moans into your chest. ‘You fill me up so good daddy!’ You moan loudly picking up the pace. Eddies cock twitches at his new name. He takes your breast and brings your nipple into your mouth as he slowly starts to suck it. His tongue swirls all around it making it harder and even more wet on his cock. You move faster back and forth as you feel yourself getting close. ‘Eddie, fuck!’ You moan pulling him by his hair bringing him in for a messy kiss, tongues and teeth bashing into each other but either of you care. You bounce up and down in Eddie cock as he moves down slightly changing the angle and hitting you in a new place you didn’t know existed. Eddie takes control as he holds onto the back of your legs and pumps himself in and out of you fast and hard. ‘Ed, Eddie fuck’ you moan out as you feel your orgasm coming, Eddie does too. ‘Fuck Y/N, need, to c-cum’ he says digging his fingers into your legs hard enough to leave bruises. ‘Eddie in me. Cum in me!’ You scream out as your orgasm comes crashing around and you cum all over Eddies cock, you feel his cum shooting up into you. Eddie slows down the pace as you both finish cumming together. Both breathing heavy catching your breathes, you rest your head on Eddies chest and he draws patterns around your back. Eddie says your name name making you look up. ‘Happy birthday’ Eddie says bringing you in for a kiss. By far this was the best birthday present you could of asked for

[lilacmuse]

September Sunshine

Thursday was my best friend's birthday, so i threw a little surprise dinner at her favorite Mediterranean restaurant with her sisters and a few close friends... I wasn't sure i'd be able to pull it off, but it worked like a charm :) She was completely shocked, stunned, and delighted when she saw us. One of our longest-running inside jokes is roasting each other about how old we're getting, so i skipped over the usual Happy Birthday balloons and got her "Happy Grandparents Day" and "Best Grandma Ever" balloons instead 😄 Overall, it was an absolutely beautiful night, and my friend's happiness made my week.

I've always had an idealistic view of love, but my idealism doesn't come from a place of naivete, it comes from genuine experience. Every form of love God has shown me has been so rare, i've never learned to crave the ordinary, and the bond between my best friend and i is an especially hard one to explain. To put it simply: God happened to place her on the street right next to mine when we were 12, and she ended up being the one person in my life who has loved me in a way that feels closest to His love.

I heard a cynical man say once that most people disappoint you once you get to know them better; that time always makes us tire of people once the initial excitement fades. I know that this might often be the case, but when your soul truly, deeply clicks with someone else's, it's a different story. Even after all these years, my best friend and i practically glow with happiness every time we're together; when we're not holding back, it's as if the energy of the entire room shifts purely from the love between our hearts. It's strange, because our personalities are opposites- she's practical, street smart, socially aware, and in touch with the real world; i'm the dreamy, head-in-the-clouds poet who's more at home in the realm of ideas than the world of the tangible.

When we were growing up, she was the rebellious one who would leap without looking, and i was the shy over-thinker who would look too long and forget to leap; i admired her bravery, and she loved my innocence. But our hearts are nearly identical- we're both wired to give people the benefit of the doubt too often, we both want to see the best in people no matter how many times they've shown us the worst, and we'd both do anything for the people we love. The longer i live, the more i recognize that there aren't many people in the world who exist like this, and it feels like a miracle that we have each other. I know many people don't believe in soulmates, but God gave me one in the form of a best friend, so i can vouch that they do exist :)

Last year, we were having a deep, vulnerable conversation about love, and i finally got the courage to be completely honest with her about how differently i see it. I'd always avoided having that conversation because we're so different; she had grown up dreaming of marriage and the white picket fence; i had always viewed marriage as something potentially beautiful but non-essential to my happiness. I was afraid she might not understand, and she was the one person whose understanding i wanted. But as soon as i explained that i can't bring myself to consider marriage unless it's to someone who has the spiritual depth i yearn for, she got it instantly- she said it wouldn't have made sense coming from anyone else, but she understood because it was coming from me.

The conversation made me realize that when someone truly loves you, they learn to step outside of themselves and into your reality for a bit; in their quest to understand you, they learn to experience life as you experience it, and understand the inner workings of your heart from the inside out. All my life, i've been wired to do that for everyone i meet, but i've rarely ever experienced it in return; most people just don't look or feel that deeply. When i do experience it- when someone just *gets* me as if we're momentarily the same heart beating in two different bodies- it's a completely transcendent, incomparable feeling, and it perfectly describes the way my best friend and i love each other. In a nutshell, that's what i imagine when i think about the kind of love i want; i'd like to be with someone who can see through my eyes as easily as i can see through his. I think what i'm describing is pure empathy- of a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual nature.

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

When my best friend and i were catching up last week, i opened up to her about a jarring experience i'd had the weekend before: there was a major Sunni convention here last weekend, so my friends and i decided to check it out on Saturday. Unfortunately, the convention itself was sold out, so we ended up perusing the bazaar for a few hours instead (people offered to sneak us in bc i was dying to hear Yasir Qadhi & a few others, but i felt like cheating to get into an Islamic lecture would be like gambling to go to Hajj 🙈). After the bazaar, we stood in the lobby for a moment, and i noticed a guy sneaking a glance at me while subtly pointing me out to one of his friends. I was going to ignore it, but he circled back and did it again. I glanced up surreptitiously, thought he looked familiar, then realized who he was with a mild pang of fear.

Several years ago- while in the midst of being intensely pressured by everyone in my immediate vicinity to get married- i decided to download one of the apps to see if i could meet someone at my own pace. I lasted about two days before the sheer number of notifications overwhelmed me, so i deleted the app and never looked back. After my cousin's wedding in June, i briefly downloaded it again purely to have something to point to when people bother me about not being married, and i realized i had tons of matches and messages i'd never looked at. One of them was a guy living in my city who had sent me multiple messages in 2019, then again in 2023, then again more recently. Though i'd never responded, his messages were nice- he seemed sweet, polite, and eager to meet me, so i decided to look at his profile because i didn't know anything about him. What i found there made my jaw drop. This is a small sampling:

...the rest of his profile was equally disturbing, as if he had somehow absorbed the terrible personality of every alpha male podcaster and condensed it into the most offensive, humorless drivel imaginable. He's allegedly a comedian, but i've met corpses with better comedic sensibilities. What i don't understand about men like this is- why would you behave like this and still go out of your way to try to talk to a practicing Muslim woman for marriage? Why would any self-respecting woman willingly choose someone so openly corrupt and mannerless? This man doesn't need a wife, he needs the guillotine 😡

After my friend and i were done being alarmed that a man like this exists and is apparently free to terrorize women, she asked to see all the other guys i've matched with who have messaged me. Her reaction was pretty much what i'd figured; she was stunned by how good-looking they are and insisted that i at least respond and give them a chance. I admitted that i've never replied to a single message, and i probably never will- i know how foolish that is, but my heart won't let me.

It's nothing at all about them- these men are incredibly handsome, capable, and well-rounded beyond anything i could ask for- the problem is always me. The superficial things mean nothing to me, and i cant bring myself to talk to dozens of different men with the hope that one of them might surprise me and turn out to have the depth i'm looking for. Until God sends me my person, i'm happy as i am. I know people malign singleness, but i think there's beauty in every season of life, and i've never taken my independence for granted. Marriage is beautiful, but so is having the freedom to truly meet yourself as an individual; to explore the inner workings of your being, and produce beautiful things as a direct consequence of that introspection. I guess what i want out of marriage, more than anything, is someone whose presence feels as satisfying and safe for me as solitude.

On a lighter note, i think my friends and i might go on a roadtrip and rent a cabin later in the Fall iA; i haven't been camping at all this year, so i can't wait. Wedding season is also around the corner, as is Mawlid- i absolutely love this time of year :)

As always, i'm praying for the state of the world, and for the liberation and safety of Palestine- may Allah (swt) hasten their freedom and aid the oppressed all over the world. To all the Palestinians who have messaged me on here: i'm doing my best to help as many people as i can, but please forgive me if i can't. May God be with you, half of my heart is always with you. ❤️

x r

[smaptain-smerica]

Beauty School Dropout - Part IV

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader

Summary: When Bradley is called back to Top Gun, he is reunited with a long lost friend from high school. Through their strenuous time leading up to the mission, the two friends relationship becomes complicated by external forces.

Warnings: Cursing, sexual innuendo

Master list

A/N: I have decided to change the present setting of the story to first person, and any flashbacks will still be in third person.

The pilots returned back to the base one by one after they had enough drinking and fun. I was one of the first ones to leave, the first thing I wanted to do was shower.

I rummaged through my clothes and picked out a random combination consisting of an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and wandered my way to the showers. As the hot water hit my back, I thought about the last time I had seen Bradley. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how to react when I saw him. I hadn’t seen him since that trip to Mexico our senior year. I was relieved when he was happy to see me, though I still harbored some ill feelings that he never tried to contact me after all these years. 

My mind traveled to the last time I saw Maverick. I was coming home from that trip and had to go over to Bradley’s house and get my stuff. I thought back to a conversation I overheard between Maverick and Carole. As I was trying to scramble in my mind for the words, a loud bang drew me from my thoughts. 

Male voices echoed into that bathroom that startled me a bit. Though the actual restrooms and shower were separate from the men, there was a communal sink room. Though I knew they wouldn’t come into the showers where I was, it still made me panic. 

I walked back to my room while drying my hair, getting to the door and opening it when a voice caught my attention. 

“Y/n.” 

I turned around and saw Bradley standing there, I gave him a gentle smile. 

“Hey B.” I responded back gently. I watched his eyes travel down my body and back up. I suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed even. He smiled at me once he returned his gaze to my eyes. 

“That’s mine.” 

I furrowed my eyebrows together, looking down at the towel in my hands and holding it towards him, questioning thoughts lacing my brain. 

Bradley let out a low laugh and shook his head. “Not the towel, my shirt. That’s my shirt.” 

I looked down at the Van Halen shirt that I had kept over the years. Truth be told, it reminded me of Bradley every single time I put it on. I hadn’t even realized that was the shirt I put on because I was in such a rush to get to the bathroom. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” I pretended to be astonished, which caused them to both share a chuckle. 

“I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” 

“Of course, vintage Van Halen t-shirts go for a lot now.” I teased him, leaning against the doorway. 

“Vintage? That sure makes me feel old.” He chuckled before a saddened expression suddenly waved across Bradley’s face as he looked down at his feet. “It’s been a long time.” He spoke with a gentle voice, a voice I had only heard one other time, that day of his Dad’s birthday. 

The words stung my heart. All these years he could have reached out, could have stayed in contact with me. He could have done things differently on our final blow out. I suppose I could have too. I could have reached out too. But my emotions got the better of me before I thought deeper. 

“Yeah? Whose fault is that?” 

I turned around to head back into my room when a strong hand caught my bicep. 

“Y/n,” Bradley said rather sternly. I turned around to look at him and raised an eyebrow as a warning to let me go. Bradley looked up and down the hallway quickly before pushing us both into my room and shutting the door. 

“Bradley you can’t-“ 

“No, hush.” Bradley insisted, pushing me back to sit down on my bed. 

“I’m serious we could get in tro-“ Bradley interrupted my sentence by pressing a finger to my lips. I was astonished that he had the nerve to do that to me. 

“Before you kill me,” he hesitantly removed his finger from my face and slowly got down, one knee at a time. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, scared for what was to come next. 

“Vanity. I am sorry for everything. Will you please, please forgive me.” 

There he was, my childhood best friend, who I was in love with, on his knees, apologizing. Begging for my forgiveness. The same way he begged me to go on that trip with him all those years ago. I remembered that feeling the same as I was now. The same impure thoughts about what else he’d do on his knees for me. 

I smirked a little, an idea popping into my head. 

“On one condition.” 

Bradley dramatically folded his hands together and shook them towards me. “Anything.” 

“Dinner.” 

“Dinner?” 

I nodded my head with a smile. 

“Dinner, and you’re buying. Gives us a proper catch up.” 

Bradley unfolded his hands and held them out wide at his sides.

“That’s it?” He asked suspiciously. 

“That’s it.” I nodded with confirmation. 

Bradley rose to his feet, gesturing his hand out to me to help me up. I took it, standing as he pulled me up and to my feet. 

“Thank you.” He said to me sincerely. I responded by pulling him into a hug, burying my head into the familiar smell of his musk. Bradley rested his hands on my upper back and squeezed me against him. He rested his head on top of mine and let out a sigh. 

“I’ve missed you.” He said sullenly. 

“I’ve missed you, too.” 

We pulled away from our hug and I looked up at him with a smile. I noticed his soft brown eyes had tears lining the bottom of them. 

“Are you crying?” I remarked, pushing away from him. 

“No, and if you ever tell anybody I’ll suffocate you!” Bradley jokingly grabbed me by the waist and lifted me into the air. He squeezed me so tightly I actually felt the air leaving my lungs. I still laughed the entire way through it. 

“Okay I won’t tell!” I choked out in between laughter. Bradley set me down with a laugh and we continued to walk towards the door. I opened it and let him pass through. 

Bradley looked at me, an expression of fondness on his face as he looked me in the eyes. “You’re too good for me.” 

I took my bottom lip into my mouth, containing myself from smiling like a complete idiot. 

“I know.” 

“I’ll have to get back to you on dinner. But soon, I promise.” Bradley held out his pinky finger to me. I looked down at it with a smile before taking it in my hand with my own pinky. 

“You can’t break that now.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Goodnight, Rooster.” 

“Goodnight, Vanity.” 

I watched Bradley walk down the hallway, shamelessly memorizing which door he stepped into in case I wanted to find it later. 

Motion in my peripheral caught my eye and I looked the opposite way down the hallway at Bob. He had on a pair of long basketball shorts and a shirt that looked way too big for him. He smiled a little at me as he passed. 

“Goodnight Bob.” I casually said in passing. 

Bob looked at me with wide and happy eyes. His eyes then shifted to confusion as he pointed to the door number next to the left side of my head. 

“Is this your room?” He asked. 

I twisted my face up in confusion, looking at the empty room behind me. 

“Yeah, why?” I asked. 

Bob looked at me for a moment, then shaking his head and waving his hand. 

“No reason, I thought it was somebody else’s. Goodnight, Vanity.” After bidding me goodnight, he hurried off quickly. 

Confused, I turned on my heel and shut the door behind me. 

“Attention on deck!”

The pilots in the room stood in attention at the entrance of Admiral Warlock. I glanced over from where I sat at Bradley’s right. 

“Morning.” Warlock gave everyone a tight lipped smile and nodded. 

“Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated.” 

All the pilots took their chairs. As Bradley looked behind him to find his chair his eyes met mine, giving me a gentle smile. I reciprocated it, reveling in the view in front of me. Something I never thought I’d see again. 

“I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve.”

“Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death.” 

I heard footsteps behind me walking up the aisle. I turned around to look, excitement washing over me at the sight of an old friend.

“I give you captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: ‘Maverick.’”

“Good morning.”

Maverick surveyed the pilots in front of him, his gaze lingering on Bradley. I noticed Bradley stir in his chair. I looked over at him, his expression twisting in distaste. I figured his reaction would have been the opposite, I thought he’d be excited to see Mav. 

“The f-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out.”

“Damn right.”

“Damn straight.”

“You got it.”

“So does your enemy.” Maverick smirked at counter to his own question. Still cocky as ever I see.

“But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of.”

The pilots were dismissed to go and get ready for their flights. Up first was Rooster, Fanboy and Payback. We walked out onto the tarmac toward our planes. My stride fell in time with his as I looked up at him through the sunglasses. 

“You okay B?” 

“Yeah.” He responded, giving me a tight lipped smile. 

“Good luck today.” 

“You too.” I said quietly, breaking off and going towards my plane to prep it. 

My plane was next to Hangmans. I glanced in his direction, noticing that he was intensely staring toward the aisle of the planes. I followed his gaze, noticing Maverick and Bradley caught up in an intense conversation. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. 

“Do you know anything about them?” Hangman asked me. I looked over at him with eyebrows raised. I shrugged my shoulders. 

“He was around a little during the time I knew him. They’ve always been close as far as I knew.” I explained. 

“Huh.” Hangman said with a little chuckle before turning on his heel to head to the rec room. 

I did the same, confusion clouding my brain as I tried to think about what might have been wrong. Then it hit me, hit me like a train. The conversation I overheard between Carole and Maverick. Guilt suddenly washed over me. I had carried this information with me my entire life. I completely forgot about it when I stopped seeing Bradley regularly. I don’t know what ever became of that, but it had to have something to do with whatever tension was obviously between the two. 

I opened the door to the rec room and saw a couple of the other pilots playing pool, a couple others gathered around the radio. I found the mini fridge and grabbed myself a bottle of water, taking a seat on the couch. I looked out the window at the tarmac below before looking to the sky. I could hardly see the two planes in the sky, tiny little dots in my field of vision. 

The couch next to me shifted. I looked over to see Hangman had plopped down and made himself comfortable on the couch. He looked over at me and smiled. “How are you?” He asked. 

“I was better before you got here.” I replied back sassily. 

Hangman fake pouted and put his hand over his heart. “Oh you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. I hate you.” I replied back before returning my gaze out the window. Hangman’s presence leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear. 

“That’s not what I thought two nights ago.” He almost growled. 

I shifted my weight back to put space between the two of us, my face most definitely displaying disgust. I punched him lightly in the shoulder. 

“That’s disgusting. Never say that again.” 

I was a decent pilot. Obviously, I graduated from top gun. I could hold my own. But up there in the sky today was a whole different story. Maverick’s skill was a different kind of level I didn’t even know existed. Warlock was right, he is the best pilot. 

Grateful to be rid of the sweaty bowl on my head and back in the air conditioning, I made my way back to the rec room. I opened the door, defeat following suit as I threw myself onto the floor. 

“You good, Vanity?” Payback asked, leaning over from his spot on the couch to look at me on the floor. I met his gaze, giving him a small smile. 

“Five more minutes, mom!” I exaggeratingly wined. This caused the room to fill with laughter. 

From my spot on the floor I could hear Hangman's smug voice trying to psych Bradley out. 

‘What’s the story with you and Maverick? It seems like he’s got you rattled.’

‘That’s none of your business.’ Bradley snapped back. ‘Now where the hell is he?’

‘Been here the whole time.’ 

I heard Bradley cuss, I immediately jumped up to look out the window to try and see what was going on. I couldn’t see anything, they were too far into the training grounds to be spotted from the building. 

‘Come on, let’s get it over with.’ That was Maverick. His voice sounded like he was anticipating this flight, like he had been waiting for something to happen and this was the moment. Though he didn’t sound excited about it, more eager to be done with it. 

‘Fight’s on!’ Bradley shouted. 

I knew the exact face Hangman made when saying this sentence, sucking his tongue on his top teeth and shaking his head.

‘What is with these two?’ 

Now was one of the times I desperately wished that I could see what was happening. By now, everyone had gathered around the radio to listen to the situation that Maverick and Bradley put themselves in. My heart dropped to my stomach at Hangman's announcement of them hitting the hard deck. I heard the familiar automated woman telling both of them to pull up. My heart was racing, I’m certain a look of horror was plastered on my face. 

The round ended with Bradley getting shot down first. He had returned back to the tarmac for his push-ups. I watched him out the window, counting his push ups as he did them. He was over 200 now, I could tell from here he was pushing himself out of frustration. I needed to make sure he was okay. 

I exited the building just in time to see hondo leave. Bradley did a few more pushups with trembling arms before collapsing onto his hands and knees. He rotated his body to sit down on his rear end, looking up at me as I approached. 

“Are you thick in the head?” I demanded angrily. 

“Naturally.” He grumbled back, looking down at the pavement below him. 

I knelt down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention. 

“What happened out there?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“No.” I said very sternly, now sitting down fully next to him. 

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to beg me to forgive you then not tell me what’s going on. Ever since the briefing this morning something’s been off with you.” 

“He pulled my papers.” 

I asked who, though I already knew the answer to that. 

“Maverick pulled my application to the naval academy. He set me back four years.” 

I knew it. I was right. This definitely had something to do with that conversation I overheard. Guilt came onto me again. Should I tell him? Is it my place to tell him? Would that change things between him and Maverick? I had just gotten him back, what if that changed things between us? Before I could let my mind fall into even more of a spiral, Bradley stood up, offering a hand down to me. 

“Come on. We both need to shower. You stink.” Bradley have me a crooked smile in an effort to lighten the conversation. 

I grabbed his hand and let him pull me upright. 

“Hey, at least I somehow managed to avoid doing 200 pushups.” 

Bradley slugged an arm over my shoulder as we walked and scoffed a little. "200, I did over 400 today!” 

I looked up at him with a devious smirk. 

“Guess that tells us who the better pilot is.” 

Bradley’s mouth gaped open a little in shock. He then grabbed my head and smashed it into his sweaty, smelly armpit. I struggled against his hold on me, pushing with all my might. 

“Ew, let go!” 

My friend listened, releasing me from his grasp as we shared a laugh.

Next Part

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@khaylin27 @heartzforkam @lt-spork @railmerooster

[satvrngyu]

Hold On / theo x fem¡reader.

warnings: mention of self-harm, suicide, smoke and drinks.

++ english is not my first language, i wrote it and then translated it but it’s not the same, sorry </3.

plot: y/n and theo fell in love, but their story’s not working.

type: angst.

we were all at intak’s party that night, people were so many that you couldn’t go from one room to the other of the house without colliding.

as soon as i arrived i met keeho at the buffet who, as usual, cheered up to greet me while he was sitting on the table talking to another guy with raven hair:

« hello y/n, did you finally come despite the stress of the tests? how is it going with the faculty? » he asked me, coming down from the marble he was sitting on.

i smiled instinctively, passing a hand on my arm to massage it slowly trying not to blush.

« everything’s great, i’m just a few sessions away and then i’ll finally be free from this hell. » i answered.

i lied, i lied shamelessly.

i had given up for months now, i had completely run out of stimuli and every day there seemed endless.

i had tattooed on my wrist a sentence to overcome just this emotional breakdown: "hold on", hold on and go on with your head held high.

« i find you well... oh, by the way: he’s taeyang, my classmate. » he said to break the silence that the latter had created around him.

i think had a gift from god: i could create an accurate portrait of the person in front of me only with a glance, ninety-nine percent correct.

the guy whose name i had just discovered was certainly introverted and shy at first glance, a person to know deeply to discover the world inside and beyond.

i stretched out my hand and joined it with his, interlacing them and touching our fingers for a few moments.

we took them off at infinitesimal speed because of the discomfort, it almost seemed like we didn’t want this or as if we both had so much to say that we wanted it swallowed up by the black hole inside us.

i walked away smiling and went upstairs to the balcony, where I knew no one would come.

intak knew me like the back of his hand, he knew i’d be there a few minutes after the party started, and i’d just come down and taste a slice of cheesecake with all my childhood friends, so he even stopped coming for me when i disappeared.

i pulled out of my pocket the pack of blue winstons i was always carrying behind me and i lit one up, taking it to my mouth and inhaling some smoke.

unexpectedly and most importantly, suddenly, i heard someone coming up behind me and sitting in the seat next to mine:

« you shouldn’t run, you know?

"hold on", right? » said the feeble voice that sounded angelicly in my ears.

« we hardly know each other, indeed, we do not know each other at all... what do you know about me, mh? » i said in response to the guy.

« this world sucks and you’re carrying it all inside, you can read it in the galaxies in your eyes. » said poetically and resting a hand on my leg, continuing to stare into the sky and never meeting his gaze with mine.

« you know, taeyang, my heart told me something’s wrong.

since we are finished in this moment of confessions, how about talking to me about what keeps you down? » i asked.

« can you see that much?

it’s nothing, just a bad ending relationship, don’t worry about this nonsense. » said, smiling wistfully and staring at a particular star in the sky.

i tried to look at him too, then i put my head in the hollow of his neck and breathed his cinnamon scent.

then he whispered his phone number.

it was intak’s birthday again, it had been exactly a year since the day i thought i was finally happy after so long.

i thought that tattoo, "hold on", had really brought luck to my poor tormented soul, giving me the arrival of taeyang in the moment of discouragement.

in those months we learned to know each other, perhaps even too quickly, and to love each other as no one else could have done, creating a story that would only be ours and unique.

taught me to cook, i showed him my world of writing and music and we spent unforgettable moments, traveling, making love...

then, like everything beautiful, it all began to fade away and slowly eclipse.

there was not a real trigger event that put a stone over our relationship, we simply understood that in addition to doing so much good we were doing so much harm, taking away opportunities that we should not in any way waste.

he suddenly decided to leave, left nothing, except the sweatshirt that i carefully kept on my bed, the one that still had its perfume.

i thought that maybe we had raced too much, that i should give time to the time, and yet i wasn’t replaying anything we had had because i had finally had the strength to go on and not give up, to hold on and even resume with my studies.

after he left, however, i dropped everything again, as if all the progress i had made had been flushed down the toilet suddenly.

i arrived and greeted my friends with swollen and tired eyes, i probably hadn’t slept much and i had just finished crying looking at our photos and our messages.

as always, i went to the balcony and lit my cigarette, sitting on that deck chair.

this time i had taken much longer to get there, before i had drunk at least six gin tonics, or at least, many enough to get me drunk.

i took another one with me for safety, but i hadn’t touched it for the moment.

then, i felt a presence beside me, one of those you know so well that i didn’t even have to ask you in mind who it could be:

« the wolf loses his hair but not his vice. » he said with a smiling and sad voice at the same time.

« yes, it is indeed so. » i said, fading my words with difficulty.

« why did you drink so much y/n?

it’s not good for you, especially when the doctor told you to stop smoking. » he continued, looking me in the eye.

i looked away, i didn’t want to burst into tears again, even though i knew i was going to do it any minute.

i was completely drunk, i knew i had to pay attention to what i was going to say to not regret it, but i didn’t care enough.

« why did you leave taeyang?

why did you leave me without saying anything? » i said whining.

« it wouldn’t have worked y/n, you know that.

we loved each other so much, but i felt it would be better for both of us to stay away for a while. » he replied.

liar, it wasn’t just that.

was someone else?

you didn’t like me anymore?

i had so many questions for my head and the pain was getting stronger because of the alcohol.

« i loved you so much, and i’m still doing it, but if you decided to leave so maybe it wasn’t the same for you.

do you know how much i tried to hate you?

no, you don’t know.

i tried every fucking way, but i couldn’t and i kept crying about us for too long.

but that’s enough, i don’t want to see you anymore, despite i would pay gold to touch one last time those damned lips of yours. » i said all in one breath.

he moved a strand of hair behind my ear and made my sobs continue as i held my head in the hollow of his neck, his hair leaning against mine looking at the stars, just like the last time together.

« tomorrow you’ll forget everything, and maybe it’s better this way, my beautiful y/n.

i don’t want you to remember the moment i’m telling you that i still love you and that i would never leave you if i didn’t realize i was taking away a part of you.

i was the bad guy, and you didn’t even realize it, but that’s okay.

you’ll meet someone better than me one day, you’ll finally be fine.

now, please..."hold on". » he said and then laid his rosy lips on mine, uniting them in a kiss full of hope and destruction.

i wanted to forget, something actually managed to remove it, but those words of his remained engraved in my heart for the rest of my days, until i could no longer hold on and went to discover those stars that we had observed so much together.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 22

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3206

Warnings: Swearing, grief, death

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also happy birthday @shanimallina87!!

Chapter Songs: State of Grace (Acoustic) Labyrinth

****

Ghost

After the catharsis of finally admitting all her troubles, concerns, and self-loathing for having felt the way she did for so long, a small weight lifted off of Ghost's shoulders. Juliette, the saving grace that she was, had listened so graciously and consoled her distraught friend when needed. She had validated the fact that Ghost had endured a severely traumatic experience, and while Ghost herself recognized this, she had never truly been able to accept it because why had no one else reacted similarly to her after enduring such a horrific event? Why had others been able to move past such awful circumstances, whereas she held onto this grudge for years?

Maybe because I technically lost two people I loved that day...

The realization did not help lessen the knot in her throat, but Raptor laying next to her with his head on her knee while she built the crib certainly eased her anxiety. Add in Juliette's uncanny ability to keep Ghost talking while avoiding any topic where Hangman would be brought up, she found herself wholly at ease again. Not long after, the first crib sat fully constructed on the girl's side of the room.

Ghost and Juliette stood, admiring their handiwork and teamwork. The latter inquired, "How long do you think this would've taken the boys?"

"Oh, at least a week. In their defense, they only had the Chinese instructions. We found the English ones. That did help."

"True, but we're not going to tell them that, are we?"

"Oh, hell no. We'll make them think we're just that good." Ghost grabbed the instructions and crumpled them up. "Hey, is my makeup okay? I'd be amazed if my earlier breakdown didn't ruin it somewhat."

Juliette studied her friend's face. "Yeah, we might want to touch up your eyeliner. It's smudged enough that the boys might question it. Come on."

The girls headed to Juliette's bathroom, the dogs on their heels. Sure enough, when Ghost caught her reflection, she grimaced at the messy eyeliner. It definitely gave away her tearful confession. Juliette dug through her makeup bag and handed Ghost her concealer and pencil liner.

"You're a lifesaver in so many ways today," Ghost said, leaning forward to apply the makeup.

"This is what friends are for. Besides, you saved mine when I passed out at the Hard Deck."

"Any of the Daggers could've done that."

"Yeah, but you kept Rooster calm at the hospital. Trust me, that's not an easy feat. He's distrusted doctors ever since they misdiagnosed his mom's cancer, and he's not trusting them with me either. Seriously, you kept him sane."

"Maverick helped."

"Maybe, but they're still working through some things, relearning each other after over ten years of not speaking," Juliette said, leaning against the counter, "I'm honestly not sure Maverick could've calmed Rooster down the way you did."

"How are they doing?"

"Compared to when the mission training started? It's a million times better. They're still working each other out, seeing how much the other wants them around, how much they can prod without pissing the other off, and it's mainly Maverick being hesitant. He doesn't want to bother Rooster and inadvertently cause him to withdraw from him, but then Rooster still knows when Maverick isn't telling him everything and starts thinking he's hiding some big secret again, and it's a... whole thing."

"Sounds like this happened recently," Ghost noted, putting away the borrowed makeup.

"This morning," Juliette confirmed, shaking her head. "Rooster thinks Maverick is hiding something because he went to the hangar without telling us like he normally does, and I agree with Rooster; I do think Mav is hiding something, but he's also a grown man who doesn't need to tell us everything. I think Rooster's paranoid that his dad's keeping another life-altering secret from him again. I'm trying to convince him that's not going to happen, but you know Rooster: once he gets an idea stuck in his head-"

"It won't go away unless he's proven firmly right or wrong."

Juliette nodded. "Exactly."

"Speaking of Rooster, has he or Hangman texted you about where they are with dinner? I'm starving," Ghost said. Her stomach growled in agreeance with uncanny timing.

"No. I should probably check on them," Juliette mused, taking out her cell phone. As if their ears had been burning, the garage door opened, followed by the irked voices of Hangman and Rooster. Sharing dubious glances, the girls went to greet them and to check what had taken so long. Upon seeing the men, it took no time to figure out why. Paint splattered their jeans and shirts and speckled their faces, hair, and Rooster's mustache.

Ghost looked them up and down in disbelief. "Did you have a fight with a paint can?" 

"Actually-" Rooster started, setting his bag of food on the counter and glaring at Hangman- "you wouldn't be far off."

"They shouldn't have had an open paint can on an unstable ladder," Hangman grumbled, setting his bag on the counter.

"You shouldn't have been near said unstable ladder!"

"It was either that or us getting barrelled into by that biker gang, and I'm choosing the damn paint, Bradshaw."

"You could've pulled us in the other direction," Rooster pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was farther. You're the one who tripped on your own damn feet and caused us to start falling in the first place."

"You're lucky they love Juliette so much; otherwise, I don't think we'd be allowed back there." Rooster turned to his fiancée and said, "We went to Home Depot to get them a new can of paint, and it was a bitch to find. That's what took so long. I'm sorry."

Juliette laughed. "I always know to add an extra hour onto whatever errand you're running when it's you two. Why don't you take off your clothes, change into new ones, and I'll try to get these stains out?"

"Honey, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask," Rooster teased, winking playfully at his future wife while stripping off his shirt. Hangman followed suit, and Ghost tried to avert her eyes so she wouldn't be caught ogling his Adonis build, but a few sneak peeks happened. 

The two men hurried to the master bedroom to grab some new clothes. Juliette and Ghost both peered around the corner, watching them go. The girls glanced at each other, then burst out laughing and hurried back to the counter before Rooster and Hangman caught them.

"What are you two giggling about?" Rooster asked when he returned, wrapping his arms around Juliette's waist from behind and resting his head on her shoulder. Hangman stopped on the opposite side of the island, watching the couple with an unidentified emotion.

"Nothing," she and Ghost said simultaneously.

"I find that hard to believe," Hangman jested. He grabbed some of the to-go containers and placed them on the table. Ghost followed with the remaining ones, purposefully putting her food next to his to reserve her spot. She wouldn't separate Rooster and Juliette because of her feelings toward Hangman. She would take the high road and continue being as cordial as possible with him in front of others. 

The group sat down and dug into the food, chatting amiably about wherever the conversation led them. Ghost tried to bring herself to ask Hangman questions directly but choked on the words every time. What could she ask? What could she say? How could she even think about attempting to reach out when she couldn't think of a simple thing to say to him?

Ghost listened to the bantering between Hangman and Rooster, but Juliette fiddling with her necklace caught her attention. After commenting on how pretty the dainty anchor locket was, Juliette responded, "Thanks! It was the first gift Rooster ever gave me when we started dating. It has our saying on the back: India Lima Yankee."

"India Lima Yankee?" Ghost repeated, perplexed.

"Means 'I love you' in the phonetic alphabet. It's how we used to say I love you when we were just friends, so our other friends wouldn't read anything into it. Of course, then we started dating, but we let it stick."

"That's so sweet!" 

"Yeah, I had a crush on her for the longest time," Roosted admitted, jumping into the conversation. He placed his hand on Juliette's thigh. "I meant the saying romantically for most of the time we started saying it, but I never realized she did too until we finally admitted our feelings for each other."

Ghost smiled nostalgically, the story reminding her of what she and Hangman used to say to each other. Without thinking, she said, "I had a similar situation with a friend. We loved each other, albeit only platonically, unlike you two, but still kind of similar. We had a saying we reserved for each other only, too."

"What was the saying?" Juliette asked, her gaze flicking momentarily over to Hangman.

"Forever and always. I would say, for example, 'I've got your back.' He would respond with 'Forever,' and I would say 'and always.'"

"Oh, that's adorable!" Jules gushed. "I'm blanking right now, but what would that be in the phonetic alphabet?"

"Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Hangman said, staring at Ghost with a mixture of confusion and wistful reminiscence and the silent question: why are you bringing this up?

Ghost held no answer for him because she had no clue herself. The memory popped into her head and rolled off her tongue before she could consider the consequences of voicing it. Maybe this was her sign to rekindle her friendship with Hangman. Maybe she had to suck it up and accept that she would never get an explanation from him about that fateful day. Or perhaps she had to start the friendship again in order to get the explanation. It was worth a shot. 

"I like that: Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Juliette said, standing up from the table and grabbing her empty container along with the others'. 

"People might think you're referring to the Federal Aviation Administration," Roosted joked. Standing up, he added, "I'm going to work on the crib some more, see if I can make heads or tails of those instructions. Hangman, you coming?"

"Right behind you." Jake followed Rooster to the bedroom. Juliette and Ghost locked eyes and silently waited for the impending interrogation about the newly built crib. Sure enough, hardly five seconds later, the boys returned, and Rooster said, "Now, I could've sworn when Hangman and I left, the crib had not been built."

"Maybe it was the dogs," Juliette suggested innocently, popping a missed fried crawfish into her mouth.

"I might believe that if they had opposable thumbs, but they don't. Please tell me you did not build that by yourself."

"Don't worry, I sat the entire time. Ghost did all the heavy lifting. Literally."

Rooster sighed. "Fine, fine. Did you find the English instructions?"

"No, we followed the Chinese ones," Ghost lied easily, standing up and stretching. "I don't know what you two found so difficult about them. Y'all need help with the second one?"

"We could probably use some supervision," Hangman said, meeting Ghost's gaze. Unless she was mistaken, she saw a glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

"Count us in," Juliette chirped. They all headed into the nursery and sat down to build the last crib. Juliette, now wholly outnumbered, sat in the recliner and watched. She asked, "By the way, Ghost, how's Jackie?"

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot to tell you about that!" Ghost exclaimed, straightening in surprise. She dove into the story of her sister's woes and broken marriage. Hangman, Juliette, and Rooster listened intently, aghast at the flimsy excuses Ryan had given Jackie for ending their relationship so suddenly.

"That smells fishy," Hangman declared in distaste. "Sounds like there's someone else in the picture."

"I started wondering the same thing. However, I didn't want to say anything when she was already distraught. We'll likely find out if it's true sooner or later. See, this is why I don't trust marriage. Outside of you two-" she waved the Allen key at Juliette and Rooster- "I see so many problematic marriages. Hell, even my parents briefly split up about a year before I was born, if only for two weeks, but still. Now Jackie and Ryan, so many people from high school-"

"Oh, yeah, I saw Braxton and Paxton were getting divorced. Guess they couldn't come up with a kid's name that rhymed with theirs," Hangman joked.

Ghost chuckled. "See, the one that shocked me was Nelly and PJ. They seemed so smitten."

"Did you go to the ten-year reunion?"

"No. I wasn't friends with anyone, and I didn't want to stand around awkwardly while everyone else caught up. Did you?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't wait to get out of high school. Why would I want to go back?" Hangman finished tightening the last screw, and the group stood up. "Well, looks like we can get a lot done with the girls watching over us."

"And when we have English instructions," Rooster added, glancing at the aforementioned packet lying on the floor next to his feet. 

Juliette joined the group to admire the handiwork. "Thanks for helping you two. We owe you."

Hangman waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, this is on the house for our future niece and nephew. I think Uncle Jake and Aunt Annalise have a good ring to it." 

"Agreed. If y'all need help with anything else, you know who to call," Ghost said, checking her phone. "I should get going. I promised I'd talk to Jackie later to see how breaking the news to Mom and Dad about her divorce went."

Jake turned his attention to Rooster. "Bradshaw, it's been fun."

Rooster frowned. "No, it hasn't."

"We make a good team," Jake continued, offering his hand to shake.

Bradley took it and broke into a grin, replying, "No, we didn't. It was a disaster."

"I look forward to the next project." He and Ghost headed to the front door with Juliette and Rooster behind them. Bidding the couple farewell, the two aviators left the house and walked silently down the sidewalk to their rides.

"You okay getting home this late?" Hangman queried, unlocking his truck. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Ghost said, wondering where the question had arisen.

"You feel safe getting home by yourself?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Hangman rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been worried about you ever since you told me about Kyle. I don't trust him not to stalk you because his behavior is obsessive already. And look, if you're saying you feel safe because it's me and you want me to leave you alone, then just let me know, and I'll get Coyote or Rooster-"

"Jake-" Ghost interrupted- "I'm not saying I'm fine to get you off my back. I'm telling you that because it's true. If I felt unsafe, I would rather have you escort me home than potentially risk my safety."

Hangman nodded. "Good, good. I, uh, I'll let you go. Enjoy your night, Annalise. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around." Ghost turned toward her bike and then stopped, an idea popping into her head of how she could potentially break the ice between them and set them on the road of reconciliation. She took a deep breath and called, "Hey, Jake?"

He whirled around instantly. "Hmm?" 

"Something dawned on me earlier-" Ghost stepped toward him with her hands clasped tightly in front of her- "you and I are both close to Juliette. We're not going to be able to avoid each other because of it, and I don't want Jules to feel like she has to choose between us. It's not fair to her. I understand I'm the one who cut contact between you and me, so I felt the need to be the one who tried to reestablish it. I'm not- I'm not saying we need to hang out outside of other people's invites-"

"Then what are you saying? Because I know it's not that you want to be friends again."

The sadness in his eyes added the missing emotion to his stoic tone, and Ghost ached to reach out for him, to embrace him and confess how much she'd missed him all these years, that she did want to be friends again but didn't know how or where to begin repairing what had been broken between them. Ghost forced herself to stay rooted to the spot and mulled over what to say. Hangman would sense if she lied, so she twisted the truth. "I'm not sure we can be friends again, not in the way we once were, but I do believe we need to find a way to at least become friendly acquaintances. For Juliette's sake and our future niece and nephew's."

Hangman nodded. "Agreed."

Ghost offered her hand, and he shook it. She barely managed to stop herself from shivering at the contact and the tingling sensation engulfing the parts of her hand where his skin touched hers. Snatching her hand back before her mind traveled down the road of desire, Ghost cleared her throat and said, "Good, good... well, I should, uh, I should get home. See you around?"

"Yeah. Are you going to be at dogfight football this Saturday?"

"I don't know." It sounded better than saying, 'I haven't gotten an invite from Maverick because, despite his cordialness to me the other day, I don't think he likes me.'

"Why not?"

Ghost shrugged. "The invite was a one-time thing last time. I don't want to show up uninvited."

"Then this is me inviting you. Besides, if you say no-" a cocky smirk spread across his chiseled face- "I'll tell Juliette, and then she'll call you asking where you are. We don't want her thinking it's because of our fall-out."

Ghost narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you using my own argument against me?"

"Yes," he said unabashedly.

Ghost tried but failed to bite back a smile. "Fine. I'll come."

"Great. I'll pick you up at nine. That way, we can swing by Starbucks on the way there."

"I can drive myself." Despite her protest, Ghost couldn't ignore her heart fluttering in anticipation at the idea of being alone with Hangman in his truck. A flood of memories washed over her: singing along to country music while cruising down roads in his passenger seat, sitting in the bed of his truck while star-gazing, and chatting while they drove through the hills of the Smoky Mountains to escape the Academy and see the fall foliage among so many others.

"Yeah, but then you can back out at the last minute, and I'm not letting you do that. I'll see you Saturday at nine sharp." Not giving her the chance to respond, he winked cheekily at her before getting in his truck. Ghost smiled to herself while she went to her motorcycle, simultaneously elated and nervous about the new situation she'd put herself in with Hangman. This plan would either take off or crash and burn. Right now, she couldn't tell which way was more likely, but Ghost knew what she hoped for.

****

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[the-rewatch-rewind]

Here it is! My most frequently rewatched movie! Thank you for coming on this journey with me.

Script below the break

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies in a 20-year period. Today, at last, we reach the end of that list as I discuss my number one: MGM’s 1940 comedy The Philadelphia Story, directed by George Cukor, written by Donald Ogden Stewart with uncredited contributions from Waldo Salt, based on the play by Philip Barry, and starring Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and James Stewart.

Two years after the disastrous end of her first marriage to childhood friend C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant), socialite Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn) is preparing for her second wedding, to George Kittredge (John Howard), general manager of her estranged father’s coal mining company. Eager to cover this story but knowing that Tracy loathes publicity, Spy magazine editor and publisher Sidney Kidd (Henry Daniell) enlists the help of Dexter to get reporter Macaulay “Mike” Connor (James Stewart) and photographer Elizabeth “Liz” Imbrie (Ruth Hussey) to the Lord house the day before the wedding. In those 24 hours before her second marriage begins, Tracy is prompted to rethink not only her choice of husband, but also her entire attitude toward people and life.

This must have been one of the first old movies I saw in 2002 because the only thing I remember about my initial experience of it was that I expected Tracy to accept Mike’s proposal, and if I’d been an experienced old movie watcher by then I would have known that obviously Katharine Hepburn was going to end up with Cary Grant, not James Stewart. I certainly did not immediately fully appreciate this movie, although I was intrigued enough to keep revisiting it until eventually it became my favorite. I watched it five times in each year from 2003 through 2005, four times in 2006, twice in 2007, 2008, and 2009, three times each in 2010 and 2011, five times in 2012, once in 2013, once in 2014, twice in 2015, once in 2017, twice in 2018, four times in 2019, once in 2020, twice in 2021, and once in 2022. Part of why I watch this so much is because it has three stars whose birthdays I celebrate almost every year, so I often watch it for Cary Grant’s birthday and then either Katharine Hepburn’s or James Stewart’s (their birthdays are only about a week apart so I don’t usually watch it for both). I think part of why I didn’t watch it in 2016 is because I watched it in late December of 2015 for the 75th anniversary of its release, so Grant’s birthday in January felt too soon to revisit it, and that May I decided to watch through all the Fred and Ginger movies starting with Astaire’s birthday, so I was less focused on Kate’s and Jimmy’s birthdays that year. And then later in 2016 I was too obsessed with Poe Party to watch much of anything else. But to make up for that, the reason I watched it so many times in 2019 is because Mary Kate Wiles used to host readings of plays and movie scripts with her actor friends for her Patreon, and I offered to transcribe the script of Philadelphia Story so she could do a reading of that one, and even though I knew the movie very well by then I decided to go through it a few more times to make sure I got all the details right, so eventually my love of Poe Party led to more rewatches of this. And the current Shipwrecked project, The Case of the Greater Gatsby, takes place in December of 1940 so there are lots of Philadelphia Story references in it and they make me very happy. Anyway, I’ve put quite a bit of effort into not watching this movie too many times too close together because I don’t ever want to overwatch it to the point of getting tired of it, like I did with a few other movies I’ve mentioned on this podcast, and many more that I burned out before they could make it into my top 40. While the stars’ birthdays have contributed to the view count, mostly this is my number one comfort movie that I know I can always turn to when I need something to watch, and I’m afraid of pushing it to the point where that no longer works. Although the fact that I sat through it 51 times in 20 years – the same number of views as number two plus number 40 on this list – and haven’t come close to getting tired of it yet indicates that I probably never will.

I don’t think I can really articulate what exactly it is about this movie that makes it my favorite to revisit, but I’m going to try. Certainly the fact that it features three of my favorite classic film stars helps, although a big part of why I love those stars so much is because of what they did in The Philadelphia Story. Every single member of the cast gives an absolutely fabulous performance. There isn’t a ton of action, but the dialogue is a perfect example of everything I love about the best Old Hollywood scripts: snappy and witty and clever on the surface, with real human emotion and intriguing philosophy underneath. The movie features many different kinds of brilliantly executed comedy, but the more serious moments still hit without feeling out of place. It deals with taboo subjects like divorce, infidelity, and alcoholism in ways that complied with production codes but still don’t feel too watered down. Basically, it has all the aspects I love about the other old movies on this list, only more so.

Several of my very favorite movie scenes of all time are in The Philadelphia Story. One is when Mike has had a lot to drink at a party and decides to visit Dexter in the middle of the night. The way drunk Jimmy Stewart and sober Cary Grant interact is hilarious and makes me desperately disappointed that the two of them never appeared in another movie together. At one point, Stewart makes a noise that’s kind of a mix of a hiccup, a cough, and a burp. Grant, thinking that Stewart has ruined the take, goes, “Excuse me,” sounding a little annoyed but trying to make a joke out of it, but then Stewart drunkenly responds with, “Huh?” indicating his intention to go on with the scene. Grant looks down, stifling a laugh, and then they continue with the dialogue, and I love that instead of reshooting it, or editing around it, they kept that in the movie. There may not be a blooper reel, but we still get to watch Jimmy Stewart almost break Cary Grant, and that’s good enough for me.

Another of my favorite scenes comes a bit earlier in the film, when Tracy and her younger sister, Dinah, played by Virginia Weidler, meet Mike and Liz for the first time. Tracy immediately saw through Dexter’s story that they were friends of her older brother’s and knows they’re reporters, but agreed to play along when Dexter informed her that Sidney Kidd intends to publish a story about Tracy’s father’s affair with a dancer unless he gets a story on her wedding. To protest the situation, Tracy and Dinah decide to put on a show for Mike and Liz, who don’t know that they know they’re reporters, and it is maybe my favorite comedic scene in any movie. First Dinah dramatically stumbles in wearing pointe shoes and some gaudy jewelry that was a wedding present she previously insulted. She then puts on an overly posh voice as she explains that she spoke French before she spoke English – “C’est vrai absolument!” – and boasts that she can play the piano “and sing at the same time!” She makes her way to the piano with the least graceful toe walk possible, and then bangs out a very silly rendition of “Lydia the Tattooed Lady,” a song mainly associated with Groucho Marx. While Mike and Liz are staring at her in bewilderment, Tracy peeks into the room and beams like she’s never been prouder of her sister. Once the song is finished, Tracy enters and praises Dinah in French, comparing her to Chopin, and then saying Dinah looks ill and she hopes it’s not smallpox, which freaks out Mike and Liz, but the audience knows it’s a private joke because earlier Tracy told Dinah that the only way she could postpone the wedding was to get smallpox. After Dinah leaves, it’s Tracy’s turn to confuse the reporters, and it is truly brilliant. The dialogue and the way it’s read, as Tracy turns the interview around and starts asking them invasive questions, is so good. Like when Tracy’s talking about how they don’t let any reporters in, “except for little Mr. Grace who does the social news. Can you imagine a grown-up man having to sink so low?” or when she’s welcoming them to Philadelphia and says, “It’s a quaint old place, don’t you think? Filled with relics, and how old are you, Mr. Connor?” It’s the seemingly accidental but actually very deliberate insults that get me. And then on top of that, there is some incredible yet subtle physical comedy going on throughout the conversation. Tracy accidentally-on-purpose pushes Mike and Liz into each other as she offers them seats, and there’s a whole very long bit between Tracy and Mike involving cigarettes, matches, and lighters that I didn’t even notice the first few times I watched it because I was too focused on what they were saying. It’s a thoroughly enjoyable scene all the way through, and every time I watch Tracy exit that room, leaving the reporters to ponder their bafflement, I have to applaud.

But the movie also excels at mixing some drama and seriousness in with the comedy. There’s a lot of focus on how Tracy demands perfection from herself and everyone around her, and as a result is missing out on the joys of human messiness. She makes a big deal about never drinking alcohol, although Dexter reveals that she did get drunk one time when they were married, and later remembered nothing about it. But after Dexter tells her that being married to her felt like being a high priest to a goddess, and George tells her that he worships her like a queen, and her father, who showed up uninvited, tells her she might just as well be made of bronze, Tracy gives in and starts drinking heavily at the party the night before her wedding, which was where Mike also got very drunk. Tracy and Mike meet up at Dexter’s house, then go back to her place, and dance and argue for a while until Mike kisses her and tells her that he sees her as a human being, which is a wonderful change of pace for her, so she suggests they go swimming together. Later, Dexter and George see Mike carrying Tracy back to the house, both of them in bathrobes, and George assumes the worst. The next morning, Tracy can’t remember what happened, but Dinah tells her that she saw Mike carry Tracy into her room – which is another excellent scene, Virginia Weidler was one of the best child actors of all time and people barely ever talk about her anymore, but she and Katharine Hepburn do a fabulous job of getting the point across that they both think Tracy slept with Mike the night before without breaking production codes. And then after that when Mike appears, he and Tracy have the most excruciatingly awkward conversation, and it’s so painful but so good. Dexter also shows up trying to comfort Tracy, and I love the way he doesn’t accuse her or condemn her or even ask her what happened, partly because he knows she doesn’t remember, partly because Mike told him nothing happened, but partly because you get the feeling that he wouldn’t think any less of her if she had drunkenly hooked up with Mike. And maybe that’s reading too much into this, but his reaction is certainly quite different from George’s, which I guess makes sense because technically she would have been cheating on George and not Dexter, but George doesn’t even let her explain before breaking up with her by note. He does finally show up in person as she’s reading the note aloud to Dexter, Mike, and Liz, and their confrontation is so well done – I particularly love Liz’s “Say something, stupid!” to Mike, who is just standing there listening to George accuse Tracy of having an affair with him. But after a while, Mike does eventually reveal that their so-called affair consisted of exactly two kisses and a rather late swim. Tracy and George don’t believe him at first, and then Tracy is offended, until he points out that she was very drunk and he didn’t want to take advantage of her. And like, I know that this movie was made in 1940, so the censors weren’t going to let Tracy actually have sex with another man the night before her wedding anyway, but I still can’t help loving the way they handled this. Tracy makes a bit of a fool of herself and learns that George is not the right man for her without going too far, and Mike demonstrates that it’s not that difficult to respect a woman’s autonomy and recognize when she is unable to consent.

I have a lot of mixed and complicated feelings about this story from an aroace perspective. On the one hand, it is very focused on romance and marriage. Also the whole thing about characters describing Tracy using phrases like “virgin goddess” and “perennial spinster, however many marriages” to illustrate her coldness and lack of human understanding is…not exactly an ace-affirming metaphor. On the other hand, I always appreciate stories about adults who have the chance to sleep together and choose not to, even when I know it’s at least partly because of production codes. And somehow, something about the way Dexter, Tracy, Mike, and Liz all interact give me hints of queer found family vibes, even though they end up paired off heterosexually. Maybe it’s the fact that it was directed by a gay man and features at least two probably queer actors that’s giving me that vibe, I don’t know. Another of my favorite scenes – I know, I have way too many – is when Dexter and Liz return to the Lord house after writing a blackmail note to Sidney Kidd. It’s a fairly short scene, but the way the two of them interact as platonic friends who understand each other but clearly don’t like each other romantically is not something I’m used to seeing in a scene featuring a man and a woman alone, and it makes me happy. Mike also has some great moments with Dexter, as does Tracy with Liz. I like to think that the four of them maintain their friendship after the events of the movie, rather than amatonormatively going off and doing their own thing with their spouse and forgetting about their friends. This movie does portray sex and romance as part of the human experience, but I don’t feel like it portrays them as the only important part. The message is all about pursuing the life that’s right for you, and not looking down on people who have different priorities, and when you look at it from that perspective, it actually is kind of ace-affirming, albeit probably unintentionally. But as I’ve indicated multiple times in previous episodes, asexual representation is so rare, and aromantic representation is even rarer, that if you can find an approximation of affirmation by tilting a story and squinting at it, even that feels exciting. That’s how low the bar is.

With that being said, as a teenager I definitely did relate to Tracy Lord, at least in terms of the way I was perceived. I think a lot of my peers thought that I thought I was better than them, when it was mostly that I just didn’t understand them. I don’t remember anyone calling me a goddess or a queen or a statue, but other middle and high schoolers definitely teased me for being “perfect”, which told me that they didn’t really see me as a person, so I felt Tracy’s pain and confusion when she got called out like that. I do think that like Tracy, I had a lot to learn about letting myself make mistakes and not judging other people too harshly for theirs, but I also still strongly feel that some of the criticism leveled at Tracy – and at me – was unwarranted. I can’t tell if the movie wants us to agree with Tracy’s father when he blames his philandering on not having the right kind of daughter, but I think that’s entirely unreasonable of him, and Tracy absolutely does not deserve that. And I’m not sure it’s fair of Dexter to blame her for contributing to his alcoholism, but at least Dexter takes some responsibility for his actions, unlike Seth Lord. I think my peers didn’t understand me any more than I understood them, but I probably could have cut them more slack and tried to get to know them better before writing most of them off as too different for me to possibly get to know. The circumstances in this movie are very different from being a high school misfit, but as a high schooler who often had trouble relating to movies that were actually about high school misfits, somehow this movie spoke to me. It was an escape from high school that also helped get me through high school. The story helped me become a less judgmental and more forgiving person toward others while also helping me feel better about being who I was unapologetically. I also got similar messages from other sources, so I don’t want to give this movie too much credit, but at the same time, I don’t think any single movie affected my teenage years more than this one, so I would certainly be a different person if I had never seen it.

The story of how this movie came about and what it led to is also very important to me. After appearing in several box office flops in the late 1930s – several of which made it onto this list – Katharine Hepburn left Hollywood for Broadway to star in and financially back the stage version of Philadelphia Story, which Philip Barry had written specifically for her. Howard Hughes purchased the film rights as a gift for Hepburn, with whom he had been romantically involved, although it seems like the romantic part of their relationship was over before that, so this is like My Man Godfrey in that it turned out the way it did partly because of exes who were still friends. Katharine Hepburn then sold the rights to Louis B. Mayer for only $250,000 on the condition that she would have input and veto power over producer, director, screenwriter, and cast. She got the director and writer she wanted, but her first choice for the two male leads – Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy – were unavailable. Gable reportedly hated George Cukor and was rumored to be at least partly responsible for the director being kicked off of Gone with the Wind, so it’s probably just as well that he wasn’t involved. Future lovers Hepburn and Tracy hadn’t even met yet at this point, so it would have been interesting if this was their first movie. But ultimately, Cary Grant came on board, under the condition that he would receive top billing, which feels a bit strange to see because Hepburn is clearly playing the main lead, but Grant also donated his entire salary to the British War Relief Society, so we can’t accuse him of too much selfishness. And James Stewart’s performance as Mike would earn him one of the film’s two Oscars, although he apparently thought that Henry Fonda should have won for The Grapes of Wrath, and that he had only received it as belated recognition for his performance in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington the previous year. Donald Ogden Stewart also won for Best Screenplay. The film was also nominated for Best Picture and Cukor was nominated for Best Director, and the performances of Katharine Hepburn and Ruth Hussey were nominated as well. The fact that Hepburn didn’t win – and lost to her rival Ginger Rogers, no less – indicates that Hollywood was still a little reluctant to welcome her back. But this movie crucially changed the public’s perception of Katharine Hepburn, transforming her from box office poison to a box office draw. They were calling her a has-been in 1938, but with The Philadelphia Story she showed them that she still had more to contribute, and her career took off in the 1940s, and lasted into the 1990s.

Even now, generations later, twenty years after Hepburn’s death, it’s easy to tell just by watching this movie why it was such a turning point for her. She completely embodies the spoiled socialite, but she makes Tracy sympathetic enough that when she is taken down a few pegs, as she needed to be, the audience feels sorry for her rather than gloating. Tracy is radiant enough that we understand why George worships her, yet she is down to earth enough that we understand her yearning to be seen not as an object of worship, but as a human being. Hepburn nails both the comedic scenes and the more serious dramatic scenes, with no hint of the desperately-trying-too-hard actress who comes across too often in some of her earlier films. While I obviously still love many of those films, watching this one feels like we’re seeing a Katharine Hepburn who has finally come into her own. There certainly was an element of trying to get the public to like her, but there’s no desperation about it. She gets this character, and knows how to make the audience get her too. I don’t think I could have found Tracy so relatable if she hadn’t been played like that. And listen, I’m thrilled that Ginger Rogers won an Oscar, especially because Hepburn would end up with four and didn’t really need this win, but if I had to pick one single all-time favorite film performance, I can’t think of any that would beat Katharine Hepburn’s Tracy Lord. Although I also have to say that I think Cary Grant’s performance as Dexter is incredibly underappreciated. I’ve said before that sometimes I have trouble taking him seriously in dramatic roles, but this was the ideal blend of seriousness and silliness for him, and he nails every emotional beat. He does an excellent job of showing the audience that he has grown and learned from the mistakes of his first marriage and is ready to move forward with healing his relationship with Tracy, which makes this a much better remarriage story than His Girl Friday, for example. There were a lot of movies made around this time about a divorced couple reconciling, mostly because that was the only way the Production Code allowed the scandalous topic of divorce to be addressed on film, but Philadelphia Story feels different from most of those. It’s more like Pride and Prejudice, if Pride and Prejudice started right after Elizabeth turned down Darcy’s first proposal. Both are about a couple who needed to grow and reflect before they could be happy together. I think those are my favorite kind of romances because they have less to do with attraction, which I don’t really understand, and more to do with trying to become the best version of oneself, which everyone can do regardless of how they feel about romance. Anyway, I’m a little sad that this was the last time Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn worked together, but I’m so glad they got to make this masterpiece before their careers diverged.

In 1956, The Philadelphia Story was remade as a musical film called High Society, which I watched 12 times. I enjoy that version too, although obviously not nearly as much as this version. It’s a fun romp, and the Cole Porter songs are great, but it doesn’t quite pack the same emotional punch as The Philadelphia Story. Strangely, considering I don’t think anything can touch Hepburn’s original portrayal, my favorite part of that movie is Grace Kelly’s performance as Tracy. She put her own spin on the character and was clearly having fun – probably at least partly because she’d already decided to retire from acting and marry a prince, and was wearing her actual engagement ring in the film. My biggest objection to High Society – and yes, I know I’ve complained about this too many times on this podcast but bear with me one more time – is the age gap between Dexter and Tracy. They’re supposed to have grown up together, but Bing Crosby was 26 years older than Grace Kelly, and their dynamic is just all wrong. The story doesn’t work if Dexter is old enough to be Tracy’s father! Whereas in Philadelphia Story, we’ve got Cary Grant who was born in 1904, Katharine Hepburn who was born in 1907, and James Stewart who was born in 1908. They were all basically the same age! It can be done! John Howard was born in 1913, so he was a bit younger, but I think that works for the way George looks up to and admires Tracy, and still that’s a relatively small gap. Anyway, we can add “getting actors of appropriate ages” to the long list of things The Philadelphia Story did right.

So there we have it. I’ve talked about all of my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies of my first 20 years of keeping track. Thank you so much for listening to all my rambling! I hope you’ve found this entertaining and informative – I know I have. I’m planning to do one more epilogue episode in a few weeks summarizing what I’ve learned from this project, so stay tuned for that if you’re interested. I also have lots of other ideas for movie-related podcasts that may or may not come to fruition, we’ll see. Since I don’t know what the next movie I’ll podcast about will be, I’ll leave you with one last quote from The Philadelphia Story: “We all go haywire at times, and if we don’t, maybe we ought to.”

[msanonymous]

Soulmates. I think of you whenever I come across that term. That's what I thought we were. Before everything came crashing down. I miss you often. More often than I'd like to. I see you, in every other person I come across. I miss you after every book I finish. And also before every book I start. I miss you everytime I see the sun set, the day end. Just like we did, beautiful but still sad. The world has turned 0 times since I haven't missed 'before', since I haven't missed the time when 'before' wasn't before & since I haven't wished for this after to un-exist. And I hate how every 'is' about us has become 'was' now. And how the things we used to call 'our's' are no one's now. How I have to start every sentence about us with "We used to…". Hate how I still accidentally take your name when they ask me about that term, despite knowing the fact that now you don't, that you've replaced mine with someone else's. Sometimes I wonder about that diary page, where you've listed all the birthday dates of the people you love and next to mine was written 'Soulmate'. Did you erase that too? It hurts when I think about it. Recently I read somewhere that 'Sometimes you're not your soulmate's soulmate'. It hurts a little but maybe it's true. Maybe you were meant to find that new person, who is better than me. In every aspect. And I'm glad you did, I'm really glad that person is the one whom you can lean on, whose hands you can hold, till the very end. But it still hurts. Because in some way I always thought that when readers will reach the end, of my life story. They will find you there, by my side. As my soulmate. But I guess you were only here for a few chapters only. The chapters I always find myself re-reading. They're my favourite, they'll forever be, no matter how many pages go by. And I hope you know that. And maybe, I think, in some other universe you make it to the end. In some other world, maybe, our bond is still intact, you're still my home, my best friend, my crime partner, my soulmate. And maybe, there, I'm yours too...

~ms.anonymous (via Instagram)

{Excerpt from the diary/ I can't read without crying}

[himynameisobed]

mid-may.

i've been having a pleasant string of almost-summer days that make me grateful. last saturday, amber and i went to cirque du soleil and had what seemed to be a life-changing and eye-opening experience - at least in the immediate aftermath, when we talked about leaving our boring, everyday lives to join the circus. (my toxic trait is believing that i can develop the capabilities necessary to be a cirque du soleil performance if i wanted to, even now, in my close to middle age) the human body is an absolute marvel. we saw mesmerizing contortionists, a man stacking chairs to an unbelievable height while also performing acrobatics, a man whose feet were strapped to one long stilt, who was launched into the air and did several flips before landing in perfect balance - it was insane and thrilling and now i truly believe every one should see one of these performances at least once in their life. after the circus, we went to my friend beth's 30th birthday party and it was cute. i'm trying to live more of an alcohol-free life, but it's difficult when i say i'll only drink on special occasions and every occasion seems special. got a bit tipsy, played with a dog, stood outside smoking a cigarette and talking about the upcoming movie, "killers of the flower moon." and when a friend of mine gets tipsy too, sometimes we get closer than we probably should. easy affection, a strange pull, some yearning for a deeper intimacy that might not be wholly appropriate given the context of everything. or maybe just a little bit of a harmless flirtation. the next day is sunday and i'm too hungover to go to church. i meet my sister at my parents' house later though, and we head to bang bang to stand in line for 20 minutes and get ice cream. we walked all the way there, which was impressive, but maybe a bit unnecessary. i'd invited conor out for ice cream, but he flipped it over on me and instead invited me over to a little party he and his friends were having at Tommy and Ronan's place. i wanted to go just to properly meet one of their friends, Shane, who had just immigrated to Toronto a couple of days before and has maybe the coolest natural hair colour i've ever seen. my sister and i get to their party, which is happening on the shared patio space on their building, so there's a bunch of random people there, and we find everyone talking to a group of australian girls. i play it cool with shane, pretending to be just noticing him, and strike up a nice conversation. he seems sweet, and a bit shy and sensitive, but also like he can have a good time. a nice addition to the group, in any case, but i guess they've all been friends forever. later we go to stackt market, and shane confides in me that he thinks it's overrated and he's bored, so i suggest going to crews. to my delight, he seems excited about the idea, but conor and i had been texting renee and she said she was at karaoke, so we went to meet her there instead. it might've been the wrong move since we ended up having to get a separate room anyway and barely seeing renee, and crews honestly probably would've been more fun, but it is what it is. shane leaves early saying he's tired. he leaves without letting most people know, and i feel bad he didn't have more fun, but there's always next time. the next day i meet my david, amber, and michael (+ michael's wife) at the beach. it's a nice day out and we walk along the board walk for a stretch before heading to a barbecue restaurant for lunch. my friend liam, his friend william and william's room mate meet us there. i feel kind of bad because i think liam thought we were going to have an actual beach day - a day of casual drinks on the shore, playing beach volleyball or some other sport - but really we just wanted to be outside in the nice weather and go get food. i think i accuse him of misunderstanding what i said when i invited him, but really i should've just apologized. in any case, he said he'd be ready for next time - that he would get some sort of ball himself and we'd all be able to play. he lives in the beaches but apparently rarely goes to the beach, but next time we'll make a day of it. our waitress at the restaurant is unnecessarily rude, making mistakes and accusing us of them and refusing to answer questions in any helpful way. it's honestly astounding, and i make a loud remark about how she needs to learn how to just do her fucking job that i hope she hears while she's walking downstairs. at one point she'd brought us what she says is a pork sandwich, which none of us ordered. she goes, "well, it's someone's, i wrote it down," and we say none of us ordered it so she goes back to the kitchen and comes back saying it's a brisket sandwich. our friend asks to confirm if it's pork or beef (since he can't eat pork), and she dismissively says something along the lines of, "i can't tell just by looking at it." so we ask her to go to the kitchen and check. and it was on her way back to the kitchen that i make a loud remark, and honestly after that she was quite a bit nicer to us so i think it worked. it's crazy how service can truly make or break a dining experience. we were 9 customers who were just trying to have a good time and enjoy the long weekend, and it seemed like this waitress with a stank ass attitude was making it her personal mission to ruin everything. to be honest, i think she was also a little bit racist or ignorant. maybe she was just a basic white blonde girl whose spent all her life in the beaches ever only with other white people, so she has no grasp of any possible experience beyond that. two of the people we were with were from cameroon and were asking her very reasonable questions that she was treating as stupid. i want her to try going to cameroon and ordering in french off of a menu that she doesn't understand. she literally had no patience or empathy, but i'm hoping she's just young and will grow out of that. after lunch, we walked along the beach some more and when we parted ways, i went home and took a nap until 9pm. all in all, it was a nice weekend with nice weather, and now i'm going to go back to trying to finally finish my portfolio.

[purplesurveys]

1633

What color was the last nail varnish you wore? Can’t remember all that well as I rarely have my nails painted. It might have been purple, maybe? Purple with some glitters. I kind of remember getting that done a few months ago.

^ Do you own any shirts in that color? I don’t look too good in purple so I don’t have any clothes in that color.

What color was the last lipstick you wore? Burgundy.

^ Have you/would you ever dye your hair that color? Sure, why not? I’m open to any color as long as it isn’t a neon shade.

How long have you owned the mobile phone that you currently use? Just over a year.

How about your laptop? And what brand is it? This laptop has been going strong since 2017, man. Six whole years and counting. I made the most use out of it throughout college and in my first working year, but given that I only ever use it for doing surveys these days it’s enjoying a much longer lifespan than I expected it to have.

I got some nice new mugs recently. What does your favorite mug look like? It’s this one from Starbucks:

Do you own any mugs with a picture of an animal on them? Yeah I availed a fanmade kit from a local shop in celebration of BTS’ anniversary two years ago, and a mug was part of the inclusions. It has a number of the band’s symbols as designs, like stars and a whale.

Do you own any items that have your initial on them? No I’m not a fan of personalizing my things.

Do you own any items that have a Disney character on them? As far as I know, no.

When was the last time you had a box of chocolates? What kind were they? My mom’s godmother recently visited the country after 25+ years and she got a box of chocolates for us. I haven’t gotten to checking it out much as I’m not a super big fan of chocolate haha but it’s essentially different variations – there’s chocolate with coffee filling, another with caramel, another with coconut, etc.

How long have you had the headphones/earbuds that you currently use? It’s been at least a couple of months.

^What color are they? White.

The last time you checked the mail, was there anything for you? Nope.

Is there anyone you’ve had regular video calls with, during the pandemic? No, I hated video calls at the time. It’s only been recently when I started to be more comfortable with them.

Do you remember what you were doing at 8PM on Saturday? I was having dinner with my family.

Of all your relatives & close friends, whose birthday is closest to yours? Dev’s is just a day before mine.

Did you have a cake on your last birthday? What kind? Nope. I opted for ramen instead, haha.

What were some of your favorite foods/meals as a child? I couldn’t get enough of Pancit Canton as a kid that eventually my mom stopped getting it for a time because of how unhealthy it can be to be eaten regularly. 

What were some of your favorite drinks as a child? Eh, just water. I’m not so adventurous when it came to beverages.

Are there any foods/drinks that you loved as a child, but dislike now? For the most part it’s the opposite for me because I used to be a REALLY picky eater and now I’ve learned how to eat and love everything, hahaha. A favorite 180º change of mine would probably be curry; I used to dread it when I found out that’s what was for dinner, and now I could have it literally everyday.

Which of your physical features do you receive the most compliments on? My figure, hands, and eyelashes. What traits/qualities do you have, that you believe others appreciate? I’m good at reading people, so I go ahead of them in terms of things they might be needing help with but might be too shy to raise. It’s stuff like, “Do you need a ride home?” “Do you need me to pay for this first?” “Do you need me to go talk to her?” and the moment their eyes light up that make me think they do appreciate the initiative to an extent.

Do you have any friends that you communicate with every day, in some form? Angela is the person who best fits this. We do talk everyday these days.

When you woke up today, what kind of mood were you in? So groggy. I slept at around 3 AM, so when my mom woke me up to prepare for church I wasn’t exactly awake awake yet.

What was the last food or drink you had, that you hadn’t tried before? Wasabi powdered fries. Turned out really good and not spicy at all!

What was the last song you listened to, that you hadn’t heard before? Bittersweet by Seventeen’s Wonwoo and Mingyu, and LeeHi. Instant fan.

When do you next plan to eat something? Do you know what it will be? Probably in a couple of hours and most likely it’ll just be something light to pass the hunger.

So, to finish, what’s your favorite position to sleep in? On my side, clutching a pillow.

[thealleydog]

TL,DR at the bottom. I'm gonna talk alot.

🎆✨️ And with that, the 2022 season has come to an end. What do I say about that? ✨️🎆

Life's wild, ain't it? This time last year, I had covid. Had to quarantine for two weeks in my apartment and settle for watching the distant fireworks throughout the neighborhood from my living room window.

It was the beginning of many things. I took the two weeks to try to be more than a human whose whole personality was working all the time. I started to learn how to cook. I began to practice yoga. I watched a LOT of YouTube video essays.

Shortly before I got covid, I was trying to watch all the relevant Marvel movies and shows to see No Way Home in theaters. Depression really liked to eat my memories and keep me from watching any of the Tom Holland Spider-Man movies. Which broke my heart because Spider-Man was my first and favorite Marvel character for the majority of my life. I'd never seen Doctor Strange (2016) before, and after six years, all I got out of it was my dilf fetish and comfort character, Doctor Stephen Strange. Armed with a new fictional boyfriend and time on my hands, I got back into ❤️‍🔥𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓❤️‍🔥.

Reacquainted myself with ao3 and eventually followed my favorite writers back here.

Tumblr. The Doctor Strange fanfiction community. The Benedict Cumberbatch fans. You guys truly make this place feel like a site I WANT to be on. How happy you are to interact with your readers. How you actively crave and encourage it. How you'll talk about your real-life problems and stresses. How you remind me every day this site is horny jail, and we love that for us. People like @wint3r-h3art and @dino-fart have become people I enjoy seeing a message from.

Its been said before, but fuck it. Reading your writings has been a spot of brightness in my life. A breath of fresh air after working inside a stuffy room all day. A candle you protect with your hand against the wind on your way to light a birthday cake. You people took a strictly completed works only, explicit rated smut reader and have me equally as happy reading about queer platonic dynamics with this old white man. Can't forget to shout out a little love for my Namor y Attuma homies, too. I want to sit on Attuma meaty thighs and be baby girl. 🎀

I'm very behind on a lot of stories from various people on here. But my goal is to catch up a little every night so I can enjoy all the hard work and love you guys pour into each one.

Most of my life, I felt limited. I didn't deserve love, kindness, boundaries, or space to express myself freely through my bedroom or clothes. Dad died of cancer when I was two, and I had an abusive stepfather until I was seventeen. I never traveled outside of Chicago or the Chicagoland area in general more than once every five or six years. I worked jobs since I was sixteen to struggle to pay to have some sort of life. I had some wack ass core beliefs about myself.

I'm currently in New York with a good friend of mine and fellow artist Claü. Her Instagram is @claudiarts because we support the people we love, goddammit. We celebrated the new year at a dive bar, eating grapes under the table so I can finally get some decent dick or pussy from a decent human this year. Maybe a real cool friend with benefits. Maybe a Splenda Pappy that I can work some unresolved issues out on his dick.

After that, I had a nice blackout that led to us losing half the next day and finally trying New York pizza.

New York is Chicago with organized chaos. Surprisingly, the people are not as mean as I was led to believe. It's like how everyone talks about all the gun violence in Chicago. Meanwhile, Peoria, IL, is sitting in the corner hoping nobody notices it. Everyone looks so fashionable. The food is mouth-watering. The architecture is spectacular. This place is ALIVE. It makes me want to travel even more. Become more cultured. Worldly.

Gotta make sure to go take a selfie in front of Doctor Strange's place.

I've been tattooing for a little over two years now. Managing it for a year and a half. It pays more than enough. I can afford insurance. I have an apartment by myself. My fridge is always full. I still sometimes can't believe I'm a real successful tattoo artist. I've debated posting my art and tattoos on here or linking my actual Instagram. I'm grateful every day I get to do my dream job.

I still daydream of affection and love. But, I have a small group of coworkers at the shop who I can truly call friends. I have male friends who actually like me as the perverted, all black wearing, tomboy who likes to draw dicks. They're some real ones. With the support system I'm building, I can eventually tackle dating dating. Just gotta keep working on myself and wait for the thumbs up from my therapist.

Unfortunately, a few minutes into the new year, my mom's apartment was part of the apartments in her building that got damaged by a fire. A fire started by a 90 something year old neighbor lady who never thought leaving a candle next to a Christmas tree was somehow a bad idea. So that leaves my mom, brother, and sister without a place to stay. Except now, they're sleeping over at my apartment, and I knew I should have put my dildo and Hitachi away before I left. Fuck my life, Bing bong. It be like that sometimes.

Anyways, I've been typing this for over an hour already. So Happy New Year, wishing everyone a better year than the last, and to never lose sight of who you are.

TL,DR: Happy New Year, Tumblr writers make the world a better place to be in, tattooing, Doctor Strange, I deserve things, and my mom's homeless.

[jordanandegypt]

Preparing to go...

Aug. 27, 2024

It seems like a long time since Mark and I took off on a big adventure because is that been a long time since Mark and I took off on a long adventure. Oh - we have had adventures but they did NOT have itineraries or guides. For example, my Mom's house got struck by lightening and burned on June 25. NIGHTMARE!!

Without any itinerary or even a guide book, I flew to Florida the next day and stayed for a month. I most definitely could have used a road map. The fire did immense damage but the worse - by far - was the water damage. Anyway - everything was gone. We lived in a hotel, a VBRO, then a rental for most of July and on August 1st, our older son, Grant and I moved Mom into the house she will close on in 2 days. I had never been busier in my life!!!

Her new house is just 3 houses from her old house - I call the old house the "fire ruin." So she kept her neighbors and her neighborhood, her friends and her hobbies (going to the American Legion a couple nights a week.) Her new golf cart is parked in her garage and as she prepares for her 98th birthday, she is once again in her own home.

Mark was not to be outdone this summer and got a lovely stent in the ol' widow-maker artery in June and then took a gentle fall on his bike (stopped and just fell over - Biden style) that resulted in a brain bleed that went undiagnosed for almost 10 days. Again, no directions or guidelines but scary as hell. Our plans were to head to Spain, Italy, Austrian and Switzerland on August 11 but Mark was released from the hospital after a procedure in his brain on Aug. 8 with a "no go" order, so cancel, cancel, cancel and that brings us to now.

Mark is much improved and has dropped 40 pounds since the stent due to exercise and diet and a little boost during hospitalization of 3 days with ZERO food. He looks great! Here he is with our 16 yr old granddaughter - whose birthday we would have missed had we not canceled our trip. (Where did the time go?)

We have been making the best of this cancellation attending LOTS of soccer games, hosting sleepovers and cousin playdates and a big family bonfire to kick off the school year.

And who among us doesn't like a tea party!

I adore spending time with our family - but I'm not gonna lie, I am ready for some travel where the dust, floor condition and meal preparation is not mine to worry about. I like my bed made without me doing it too! So - our clothes from the cool alpine weather came out of the suitcase and only the hot weather clothes remain.

Our route to Jordan is a little convoluted because I had put together a very complex trip that had us in Switzerland and Liechtenstein for a week before we joined our friends in Amman, Jordan pre-cancellation. But as I explored my options I discovered that we could save a little money and grab back part of our pre-Jordan itinerary if we started our trip in Zurich, Switzerland. That is the plan.

On September 9 we will leave Michigan and head to Zurich - but for only 2 days. From there we will fly to Athens. Greece for a day and then to Amman, Jordan where we will meet our friends and guide on September 13. On September 18th, we will all fly to Cairo, Egypt until October 2. Below is an general "overview path" of our air plans.

You all KNOW I love maps - so be prepared.

We are going to spend most of this trip in the Eastern European Time Zone or 7 hours ahead of Michigan. Our 2 days in Switzerland we will only be 6 hours ahead but that won't really matter to our Circadian rhythms 🙄.

We will be using Swiss Francs, Euros, Jordanian Dinars and Egyptian Pounds. The US Dollar is worth 0.84 Swiss Francs , 0.89 Euros, 0.70 Jordanian Dinars and 0.49 Egyptian Pounds. Anyway you look at it this is going to be complicated - and expensive. Most likely we will not get Swiss Francs or Euros since our stay will be so short - instead we will just use the ol' faithful credit card and let them make the conversion. BUT we need Jordanian Dinars to buy our visas at the airport upon arrival and for that reason, I ordered some from our bank. Like most countries we have visited, their money is beautiful.

The denominations are different colors and sizes. The larger the bill the bigger the value. Well, that makes sense - for sure.

On to our first destination - Zurich, Switzerland. Switzerland has a population very close to that of Michigan - around 9 million. But land wise, it is a lot smaller.

Switzerland is a landlocked country home to numerous lakes, villages and the high peaks of the Alps. It is not a member of the European Union nor NATO but has trade agreements with the EU members and is a member of the Schengen States. What is the difference between EU and Schengen States? you ask. Good question. I didn't know until we started traveling. The answer is: The EU is a political and economic union with its own parliament - political structures - and governance whereas the Schengen Agreement is a treaty that allows for the free movement of people between participating countries.

It used to be a trip to Europe would fill you passport up quickly - but not now. Fly into France and get your passport stamped - but then feel free to travel in all 29 Schengen states and leave that passport in your bag. Instead of a boarder crossing, you might see a sign that says "Welcome to Slovakia" although you are more likely to see nothing.

Switzerland is a neutral country and has maintained that neutrality officially since 1815. Some might argue that they have been neutral since 1515 and frankly given their location that is an amazing feat. Being in the Alps is certainly helpful!! As a neutral country they are not part of NATO but are supportive of NATO and belong to the NATO Peace Project.

We will visit only one city in Switzerland - Zürich.

I figure the people who live there spell know how to spell it - so I will follow their lead. It is Zürich! You gotta have the beloved umlaut! It is the largest city in Switzerland but it is not the capital - that is Bern. We have never been there and I'm confident that we will find plenty to do - but right now no itinerary. We are winging it.

The Swiss franc symbol “CHF” is an abbreviation that stands for the Latin name of the country “Confoederatio Helvetica,” and the “F” stands for “franc." We would use $ 875 to indicate prices in US money, countries in that EU that use the Euro use € 875 to indicate prices in Euros but in Switzerland a price would look like this ₣ 875.

Have you ever seen this symbol before?

₣

Cool huh?

Their money is beautiful as well - plus the size changes with the domination.

That is it for now - stay tuned for more.