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layce2015 · 1 year ago

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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

Masterlist

One Day Before Halloween

"Now how many razor blades did they find?" Sam asked Mrs Wallace while Dean and I were looking around the kitchen. Mrs. Wallace sighs and responds, her voice full if tears. "Two on the floor, one in his stomach and one was stuck in his throat. He swallowed four of them." she said then she looks over at Sam.

"How is that even possible?" She asked then she noticed Dean looking around the front of the stove and in the oven door. "The candy was never in the oven." she tells him. "We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace." Dean said and I turn to Mrs Wallace.

"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?" I asked her. "No, I mean, I don’t think so." she said as she shakes her head then sighs again. "I just – I can’t believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?" she said as she turns back to Sam. "More than you might imagine." Sam said and Dean emerges from the floor, and shows me first then Sam a hex bag, behind Mrs. Wallace’s back so she can’t see, and makes sure to keep her from seeing it.

Sam sighs and looks at her. "Mrs. Wallace, did Luke have any enemies?" He asked her and she looks at him. "Enemies?" she asked, disbelieving. "Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?" Sam asked her. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Co-workers? Neighbors? Maybe a woman." Sam listed off and I could see Mrs Wallace was taken aback about what he was suggesting.

"Are you suggesting an affair?" she asked, offended. "Is it possible?" I asked her and she turns to me, looking shocked and offended. "No! No, Luke would nev–" she stammers but Sam speaks up to get her attention back to him. "I’m very sorry. We just have to consider all possibilities." he said.

"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don’t you think they’d find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?" She asked and Sam looks over at me and Dean.

At the motel, Sam and I were sitting on a couch, with his laptop and a few books on the coffee table in front of us. I was flipping the pages of the books as Sam picks up something from the hex bag that looks organic, and holds it up. Dean enters the room and tosses his keys on the table under the window, and unwraps a piece of candy before tossing it in his mouth.

"Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?" I asked him. "It’s Halloween, man." he said and I shake my head. "Yeah, for us every day is Halloween." Sam adds as Dean sits down on the arm of the couch and looks at our research.

"Don’t be a downer. Anything interesting?" he asked. "Well, we’re on a witch hunt, that’s for sure, but this isn’t your typical hex bag." I said and Sam starts to indicate the hex bag that is open now on the table. There is a silver piece, the size of a coin, and something small and charred in addition to the organic thing, it kinda looked like a dried up flower.

"Hmm, no?" Dean said and Sam picks up the dried up flower looking piece. "Goldthread, an herb that’s been extinct for two hundred years. And this –" He said as he sets down the goldthread then picks up the silver piece. "..is Celtic, and I don’t mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real." he explains and Dean picks up the small charred item and smells it.

"And that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby." I said to him. "Ugh." Dean said and he puts the bone down, and looks disgusted while I chuckle. "Gross." Dean said, disgusted, while Sam picks up the bone.

"Relax man, it’s like, at least a hundred years old." Sam said. "Oh, right, like that makes it better? Witches, man, they’re so friggin’ skeevy." said Dean as he moves over to the chair next to the couch and sits down. "Yeah, well it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we’ve ever dealt with, that’s for sure." Sam said.

"What about you? Find anything on the victim?" I asked Dean. "This Luke Wallace? He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy." Dean said and Sam scoffs at their lack of leads. "I can’t find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead." Dean said and I let out a heavy sigh as I look over the hex bag items, as if the answers were all there in plain sight.

That night, we hear about a murder at a Halloween party. Some young girl has drowned and burned to death while doing the bobble for apples game. Two of her friends were there as witnesses. We make our way down the stairs to the scene of the crime, where the girl, Jenny, was killed.

There is a guy with a ‘Forensic’ jacket on taking pictures of the bobbing for apples tub, and a police officer talking to one of the witness, a pretty blonde girl that was wearing a cheerleader costume.

"Have you been drinking?" The officer asked her. "Yes." she replied and I look between the boys and said. "I'll go talk to her." They nod and I walk to the cop and girl while the boys walk over to the couch and start lifting the cushions, looking for a hex bag.

"It’s just so weird. The water in the tub – it wasn’t hot, I had just been in there myself." the girl said and I go up to her and the officer. "Your friend didn’t happen to know a man named Luke Wallace?" I asked her and she turns to me then I show her my badge. "Agent Seger, F.B.I." I said and she gives me a confused look.

"Um, who’s Luke Wallace?" she asked. "He died yesterday." I replied. "I don’t know who that is." the girl said, shaking her head. Then I look over at the couch, which was behind the girl, and see Sam holdong up a hex bag that he has found in the couch cushions. I nod at him and Dean before I look back over to the girl.

"I’m telling you, both these vics are squeaky clean. There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback." Dean said as he looks through his computer. We were back at the motel, trying to find anything on the victims; Dean was on his computer and Sam and I were reading through books.

"Maybe cause it’s not about that." Sam said and I look up to see him sitting up and looking intently at the book in his hand. Dean and I look at him, questioningly. "Wow, insightful." Dean said with sarcasm.

"Maybe this witch isn’t working the grudge, maybe they’re working a spell. Check this out." Sam said and he begins to read from the book. "Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st." Sam said and he hands Dean the book and I go over to stand next to Dean and look down at the book.

"Halloween." Dean and I said. "Exactly." Sam said. "What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?" Dean asked. "Uh, if I’m right, this witch is summoning a demon, and not just any demon – Samhain." Sam explained and my eyes widen at this while Dean gives him a confused.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean asked and I turn to him. "Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween." I said and Sam nods. "She's right. The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain’s night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago." Sam said.

"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck." Dean said. "Exactly, only now instead of demons and blood orgies Halloween is all about kids, candy and costumes." I said. "Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean asked and Sam sighs.

"Dean, this is serious." Sam said.

"I am serious." Dean said.

"We’re talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years." Sam said. "And the six hundred year marker rolls around…?" Dean asked and Sam gives him a serious face. "Tomorrow night." Sam said. "Naturally." Dean grumbles and he looks down at the book he has flipped to a page showing a demon on a heap of bodies holding a head in his hand.

"Well it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon." He said. "That’s because he likes company. Once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own." Sam explains. "Raising what, exactly?" Dean asked. "Dark, evil crap and lots of it, I mean, they follow him around like the friggin' Pied Piper." said Sam.

"So we're talking ghosts." Dean said.

"Yeah." said Sam.

"Zombies." Dean listed.

"Mm-hmm." Sam said, nodding.

"Leprechauns?" Dean asked and Sam scoffs while I roll my eyes. "Dean –" I said, exasperated. "Those little dudes are scary. Small hands." Dean said and I shake my head. "Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls, this sucker keeps on going, by night's end we are talking every awful thing we have ever seen. Everything we fight, all in one place." said Sam. "It’s gonna be a slaughterhouse." I remarked and the boys nod.

Later, Dean and I were sitting in the Impala outside of Mrs Wallace's house watching; well I was watching, Dean was eating candy. "You know you're gonna get sick if you keep eating those." I said as I gesture to the candy. “Oh please the worst I could get is a sugar rush.” he remarks as he stuffs another piece of chocolate in his mouth. "Or an upset stomach." I sneered at him and he gives me a pointed look. "And cavities." I added.

And he just rolled his eyes and kept eating his candy, while his mouth is still open, just to annoy me. "Hey, I just like my men to have all of their teeth." I remarked and he turns to me and I could tell he was thinking of a comeback but was stopped when his phone rings.

"Hey." he answered and I figured it was Sam. "Awesome, yeah, (y/n) and I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. We’ve been sitting out in front of her house for hours and we’ve got a big steamy pile of nothing." He explained to Sam and at that moment I noticed something.

It was that blonde cheerleader, Tracy, walking towards Mrs Wallace's house. "Yeah, well I hope we find ‘em soon cause I’m starting to cramp like a –" Dean started to say but I patted his shoulder and said. "Dean! Look!"

Dean looks over and his body freezes as he sees her. "Son of a bitch." he said, shocked. "No, Sam, I mean, son of a bitch." Dean said and we watch Tracy walk up to the door, knock, and Mrs Wallace opens it with the baby in her arms.

"Hey." we hear Tracy say. "Hi." Mrs Wallace said and Tracy looks at the baby. "Hi!" she said and Dean and I exchange a look.

"So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?" Sam asked as Dean and I enter the motel. Dean throws the motel room key onto the table and Sam was lying on the bed with his laptop open. "Tracy?" Dean said. "Mm-hmm?" Sam hummed, nodding. "The Wallaces' babysitter. Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace." I said.

"Huh, interesting look for a centuries-old witch." Sam said. "Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader?" Dean said then he goes to sit on the other bed. "I would, hmm…" he said and he gets lost in thought about that.

Sam and I look at him with a furrowed brow before I go and pick up a pillow and throw it at Dean. "Ow!" He said and he looks over at me. "What?!" He asked in an innocent voice and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well, Tracy’s not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging – apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school." Sam said and he hands me the laptop, and I sit down next to Dean and we see what is on the screen. Next to a picture of Tracy were these notes:

NOTE: Student was suspended for a violent act on a teacher.

STUDENT NAME Tracy Davis

ADDRESS 27 Lirewenshire Lane

PARENT NAME Jerome Walker Davis

PARENT NAME Mary Jane Kanoli Davis

STUDENT EMAIL [email protected]

PARENT EMAIL [email protected]

GRADE 11

HOME ROOM Mr. Goldwyn

COUNCELLOR Mrs. Parks

EMERGENCY CONTACT Mary Davis 555-0892

Later, we make our way into the high school to talk to the teacher Tracy attacked. We walk into a room full of art masks, and Dean looks up at a particular demonic looking one, and focuses on it. "Bring back memories?" I asked Dean and he jolts a bit then turns to me.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Being a teenager, all that angst." I said. "Oh." Dean sighs, almost sounding relieved, and I furrow my brow at him. "What’d you think I meant?" I asked him. "Nothing." Dean said as Sam comes up to us.

Then Dean looks over at a kid, who is putting a big bong-shaped piece into a kiln. "Now that brings back memories." Dean said, nodding to the kid, and I roll my eyes. "Dude, I need a bigger kiln." The kid said to his friend and they walk out as a man comes around the corner to us.

"You three wanna talk to me?" He asked. "Ah, Mr. Harding." Sam said as he walks up to us. "Oh, please, Don." Don said and he reaches for Sam's hand. "Okay, Don." Sam said after they shake hands then Don reaches for mine then for Dean's. "Even my students call me Don." Don said. "Yeah, we get it, Don." Dean said and I elbow his side before we pull out our badges.

"I’m Agent Getty, this is Agent Lee and Agent Jones. We just had a few questions about, uh, Tracy Davis." Dean said and Don gives a surprised look. "Uh, yeah, Tracy, uh, bright kid, loads of talent. It’s a shame she got suspended." He said.

"Uh, you two had a…uh, violent altercation." I said, questioningly. "Yeah, she exploded. If Principal Murrow hadn’t walked by when he did, Tracy would have clawed my eyes out." Don replied. "Why?" Sam asked. "I, uh, you know, I was only trying to rap with her about her work. It had gotten inappropriate and disturbing." Don said.

"More disturbing, than, uh, those guys?" Dean asked as he turns and indicates to the angry masks hanging on the wall and ceiling. "She would cover page after page with these bizarre cryptic symbols, and then there were the drawings. Detailed images of killings, gory, primitive, and she would depict herself in the middle of them, participating." Don said and Sam's eyes widen at this.

"Symbols, what kind of symbols? Uh, anything like this?" Sam asked as he shows Don a small bag with the silver Celtic coin in it. "Yeah, yeah, I think that might have been one of them." Don said.

"You know where Tracy is now?" I asked him. "I would imagine her apartment." Don replied. "Her apartment?" Dean asked. "Yeah, she got here about a year ago, alone, as I understood it, as an emancipated teen. God only knows what her parents were like." Don said and the boys and I exchange surprised looks.

Hours later, Dean drives up to the motel and parks the car and gets out as Sam and I walk up to the passenger side of the Impala from another direction. "So?" Dean asked us. "Tracy was nowhere we could find." Sam said. "Any luck with her friends?" I asked Dean. "Nah, luck is not our style. Her friends don’t know where she is. It’s like the bitch popped a broomstick." Dean said.

We make our way toward our motel room, and a kid dressed as an astronaut starts to walk toward us. "She could be making the third sacrifice any time." Sam said. "Yes, thank you Sam." Dean grumbles as the kid walks up to us and holds up a bucket of candy.

"Trick or treat." The kid said. "This is a motel." Dean said. "So?" the kid said. "So we don’t have any candy." Dean said. "No, we have a ton in the uh…" Sam said as he looks back and points toward the Impala. "We did, but it’s gone." Dean said and Sam looks at Dean, getting his meaning, but I roll my eyes and take my backpack off of my back.

"Not necessarily." I said as I dig in my bag and pull out a handful of candy. I see the smile form on the kid's face and I put the candy in his bucket. "There you go, kid." I said. "Thanks, lady." The kid said and I smirk. "Just don't eat it all at once." I warned and the kid's smile grows, nods and leaves.

I watch the kid then turn back to the boys and I can see Dean has a confused look. "What? I grabbed some candy before you could eat it all." I said to Dean and Sam and I head to the motel room.

We enter the motel room and, immediately, Sam draws his gun, and moves forward in an offensive stance, ready to attack, once we see a man inside. "Who are you?!" Sam asked as I got to pull out my gun but Dean rushes in, and tries to stop us. "Sam! Guys, wait! It’s Castiel." he said as he puts his hand on Sam’s gun and pushes it down, and I holster my gun as Sam stands there stunned.

"The angel." Dean said and I look at Castiel, remembering that he knocked me and Bobby out a few months ago. "Him, I don’t know." Dean said as he points at a figure that is standing by the window.

Sam looks at Castiel in wonder and a smile crosses his face. "Hello, Sam." Castiel said to him. "Oh my God – er – uh – I didn’t mean to – sorry. It’s an honor, really, I – I’ve heard a lot about you." Sam said as he steps forward and holds out his hand to shake Castiel's hand.

Dean goes and closes the door to our room, and Castiel looks at Sam’s hand like he isn’t sure what to do with it. Sam shakes it a little, and Castiel finally understands and puts his right hand in Sam’s. "And I, you. Sam Winchester –" he said. "The boy with the demon blood." Then Castiel turns to me.

"Hello, (y/n) (l/n). The girl with the demon blood. I'm sorry about knocking you out the last time I saw you." He said and I fold my arms across my chest. "Yeah, not a good first impression." I said as I fold my arms across my chest.

Castiel then turns to Sam. "Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities." he said then the guy, still facing the window, speaks for the first time. "Let’s keep it that way." he said and we all turn to the man. "Yeah, okay, chuckles." Dean said then he looks at Castiel.

"Who’s your friend?" He asked but Castiel ignores him. "This the raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?" Castiel asked him. "Why?" Dean asked, curiously. "Dean, have you located the witch?" Castiel asked. "Yes, we’ve located the witch." Dean said.

"And is the witch dead?" Castiel asked. "No, but –" Sam said but I speak over him. "We know who it is." I added and Castiel walks over to the table by the bed. "Apparently the witch knows who you are too." Castiel said and he picks up a hex bag and shows it to us.

"This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or all of you would be dead." Castiel said and he tosses the hex bag to Sam. "Do you know where the witch is now?" He asked us and the boys and I exchange a look

"We’re working on it." Dean replied and Castiel looks a bit disappointed. "That’s unfortunate." he mutters. "What do you care?" I asked Castiel. "The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals." Castiel said. "So this is about your buddy Lucifer." Dean said.

"Lucifer is no friend of ours." Castiel's friend said. "It’s just an expression." I clarified to him. "Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs." Castiel said. "Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is, we’ll gank her and everybody goes home." Dean said. "We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she’s cloaked even our methods." Castiel said.

"Okay, well we already know who she is, so if we work together –" Sam said but Castiel's friend speaks up. "Enough of this." he said and we look over at him.

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" Dean asked him and the man turns from the window and looks at Dean. "This is Uriel, he’s what you might call a…specialist." Castiel said as Uriel, a tall bald black man, walks toward us.

"What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?" I asked, suspiciously. "You – uh, all three of you – you need to leave this town immediately." Castiel said. "Why?" Dean asked. "Because we’re about to destroy it." Castiel said, leaving me speechless.

"So this is your plan, you’re gonna smite the whole friggin’ town?" Dean asked Castiel after a moment of silence. "We’re out of time. This witch has to die, the seal must be saved." Castiel replied. "There are a thousand people here." Sam said. "One thousand two hundred fourteen." Uriel corrected.

"And you’re willing to kill them all?" I asked him, angrily. "This isn’t the first time I’ve…purified a city." Uriel said. "Look, I understand this is regrettable." Castiel said. "Regrettable?" Dean asked. "We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already." Castiel said.

"So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?" Dean asked. "It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here." Castiel said and I roll my eyes. "Right, cause you’re bigger picture kind of guys." I said. "Lucifer cannot rise. He does and hell rises with him. Is that something that you’re willing to risk?" Castiel said as he walks up to me. "We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die." Sam said.

"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys." Uriel growls and Castiel turns away from the trio and turns to Uriel. "I’m sorry, but we have our orders." Castiel said and Sam and I jump at this. "No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy." Sam said

"Says who?" Uriel asked, venomously. "We have no choice." Castiel said. "Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?" Dean asked. "Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just." said Castiel.

"How can you even say that?" I asked, upset. "Because it comes from heaven, that makes it just." Castiel replied. "Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves." Dean sneers and Castiel turns to him. "Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?" he asked and Dean looks at Castiel and takes a second before responding. "Well sorry boys, looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel asked and Dean walks over and gets into Uriel's face. "No, but if you’re gonna smite this whole town, then you’re gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving. See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead, see how he digs that." he said. "I will drag you out of here myself." Uriel growls.

"Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me, then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." Dean said then he turns back and looks at Castiel. "We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning." he said.

"Castiel! I will not let these peop–" Uriel started to shout but Castiel holds up his hand at Uriel. "Enough!" he bellows then he stares at Dean for a second. "I suggest you move quickly." Castiel said.

Seconds later, Dean, Sam and I walk out of the room and towards the Impala and we enter inside. "What?" Dean asked Sam as I get into the backseat. "Nothing." Sam grumbles and I look over at him and see him holding the hex bag in his hands then he takes a breath.

"I thought they’d be different." Sam said, disappointed, and I nod. "Who, the angels?" Dean asked. "Yeah." Sam said. "Well, I tried to tell ya." said Dean. "I thought they’d be righteous." I said. "Well, they are righteous, I mean, that’s kinda the problem. Of course there’s nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he’s on a holy mission." Dean said.

"But this is God? And Heaven? This is what I’ve been praying to?" Sam asked, upset. "Look man, I know you’re into the whole God thing, you know, Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that. But just because there’s a couple of bad apples doesn’t mean the whole barrel’s rotten. I mean, for all we know, God hates these jerks. Don’t give up on this stuff, is all I’m saying. Babe Ruth was a dick but baseball’s still a beautiful game." Dean said and Sam looks at him, but I could tell that he lloved disappointed.

He starts to go through the contents of the hex bag in his hand, and picks up the bone. "Well, are you gonna figure out a way to find this witch, or are you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?" Dean asked, sarcastically, as he starts the Impala.

"You know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this, Dean?" Sam asked him. "No." Dean said as I think for a moment. "A lot, I mean, more than a fire or some kitchen oven." Sam said and I gasp as I realize what he was talking about. "Like a kiln?" I suggested and Sam nods then Dean has the Impala take off.

At the school, Dean and I walk over to a kiln in Don Harding’s classroom as Sam goes over to Don’s desk. "So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone, what’s the big deal?" Dean asked as Sam rifles through the stuff on Don’s desk as Dean and I walk over. "Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room, not after we talked to Tracy –" Sam said and I interrupt him.

"After we talked to the teacher." I said and Sam nods while he notices a bottom drawer of DON’s desk is locked with a latch. "Hey –" Sam said and Dean sees it and I kneel down, pull out a hair pin and use it to open the lock.

Once it unlocks, I open the drawer where there are bones in a bowl, one charred, the others not. I straighten up at this as we all stare at the drawer. "My God, those are all from children." Sam said. "And I’m guessing he’s not saving them for the dog." Dean said.

*3rd Person POV*

Don starts an incantation as Tracy was tied up with the rope and a rag wrapped around her mouth, stifling her cries as she struggles to get free. Don, standing in front of an alter, takes a knife and a chalice from the table and walks over to Tracy. He runs the tip of the knife down her neck, not drawing blood, but staring at her.

Don raises the knife above his head to stab her, and gets shot from behind three times. Dean, (y/n) and Sam come in, and Dean and (y/n) go over to Tracy to untie her as Sam checks Don’s body. Dean cuts Tracy down and (y/n) rips off the gag.

"Thank you, he was gonna kill me!" Tracy said, appreciatively, then she glares at Don. "Ugh, that sick son of a bitch. I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?" She asked and the trio look up at her.

"My brother –" Tracy revealed and the three hunters go to draw their guns again. "Always was a little dim." Tracy sneered and she throws up her hand and yells an incantation and the trio fly back hitting the ground, and writhing around in pain.

"He was gonna make me the final sacrifice, his idea, but now, that honor goes to him. Our master’s return? The spellwork’s a two man job you understand, so for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing, unbearable." Tracy said as she kneels down by Don and picks up the knife and the chalice.

"The whole time I wanted to rip his face off." she said and starts digging the knife into Don's bullet wound, and holds the chalice up to catch the blood flow. She looks back over to the trio, who are still writhing in pain on the floor clutching their stomachs.

"And you get him with a gun, uh, love that." she laughs and she gets up and goes back to the altar on the table. "You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you’ll all see what Halloween really is." Tracy said, with a smile. Then she starts another incantation and Sam, still clutching his stomach in pain, makes his way to Don’s body, putting his hand in blood and smearing it on his face.

"What are you doing?" (y/n) asked him as she sees him. "Just follow my lead." Sam said and he spreads blood on Dean’s and (y/n)'s faces as well, and moves back away from Don.

As Tracy finishes the incantation the ground cracks and black smoke pours out of it, and into the body of Don. Dean, (y/n) and Sam were not able to stop his rising, and another seal has been broken. As he opens his eyes, Don’s eyes have turned white with the pupil staying black. The three hunters lie still on the floor, their torture finished. Don, or Samhain now, rises off the floor, and looks at Tracy’s back that is turned to him. His vision is blurry.

He walks over to her and she turns around smiling at him. Samhain kisses her. "My love." she said, smiling with love and happiness. "You’ve aged." Samhain points out. "This face…I can’t fool you." said Tracy. "Your beauty is beyond time." Samhain said as he leans in and their foreheads rest together before he suddenly snaps her neck sideways and she falls to the floor.

"Whore." He growled with disgust then he turns around as he sniffs the air and sees Dean, Sam and (y/n) lying on the floor. He walks over and looks at them for a second and sees their eyes closed, and after a second Samhain walks past them and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Dean and (y/n) open their eyes and lean over to Sam, whispering so that Samhain doesn’t hear them. "What the hell was that?" Dean asked, quietly. "Halloween lore. People used to wear masks to hide from him, so I gave it a shot." Sam said and (y/n)'s eyes widen.

"You gave it a shot?!" She asked as she looks at Sam, not believing that they took a chance like that on an idea Sam had from reading lore.

Later, the trio walkout of the building and across the street toward the Impala, wiping the blood off their faces. "Where the hell are we gonna find this mook?" Dean asked. "Where would you go to raise other dark forces of the night?" Sam asked and (y/n) speaks up. "The cemetery." she said. "Yeah." Sam said and they get in the Impala and drive off.

"So, this demon’s pretty powerful." Sam said. "Yeah." Dean said. "Might take more than the usual weapons." Sam said then he glances over his shoulder at (y/n) and she realized what he was hinting. But Dean speaks up. "Sam, no, you and (y/n) are not using your psychic whatever. Don’t even think about it. Ruby’s knife is enough." he said.

"Why?" Sam and (y/n) asked him. "Well because the angels said so for one –" Dean started to say but Sam talks over him. "I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics." Sam said. "Well they happen to be right about this one." Dean replied, quickly. "I don’t know, Dean, it doesn’t seem like they’re right about much." (y/n) said.

"Well then forget the angels, okay? You said yourself, Sam, these powers, it’s like playing with fire." Dean said and he picks up the knife and holds out the handle to Sam. "Please." he begs and Sam takes the knife from Dean but doesn’t say anything. Then Dean looks over at his girlfriend through the rear view mirror.

"That goes double for you too." He said to her and she sighs and leans back against the seat then looks out the window.

Meanwhile, there is rap music coming from a room in the mausoleum, and teenagers are walking around in costume. Justin, one of Don's students, was standing there looking around. "Dude, I’m tripping balls!" Justin exclaims then someone starts to walk down the stairs and he took notice.

"Yo, shh, be quiet, it’s the cops." Justin tells the other teens just as Samhain walks down the stairs and toward the room they are partying in. "Mr. Harding? I mean, Don?" Justin said, startled, once he sees his teacher coming in.

Samhain closes the gate to the room, and locks it. As he walks away he runs his hand across the gate. Justin tries the gate, but it doesn’t budge. "Don, you, uh, you locked us in." Justin said as he tries the door again, and it stays locked, but the doors to the crypts in the room start to shake.

The teenagers back away into corners, but Justin looks to one side, and begins to back to the other side. A door comes open, and hands reach out and grab his ankles. Justin screams as a zombie drags him off his feet and into the crypt, a second later blood splatters out of the crypt, squirting out and covering the ground in front of the crypt

The teens start to freak out and try to get the gate open. Sam, (y/n) and Dean come down the stairs then Sam looks at Dean and (y/n) and the people locked in the room. "Help them." Sam tells them but (y/n) grabs his arm. "Sam, you’re not going off alone." she tells him. "Do it!" Sam yells and he runs after Samhain and Dean and (y/n) looks after him for a second, but look back at the teens motioning for them to move.

"Stand back! Stand back!" Dean yells at them. The teens move away from the gate and Dean shots the lock, and kicks the door open to let them all out. "Go on, come on, get out, move!" (y/n) shouts at them.

After the teens all rush past them, Dean and (y/n) watch as a door of a grave in the mausoleum room crashes to the ground and breaks. A zombie crawls out of it, and stands up as another grave door crashes to the ground and the zombie in the next grave over starts to crawl out as well. The duo pull out a weapon as the second zombie gets up and holds up what looks like a silver stake.

"Bring it on, stinky." Dean yells and he and (y/n) began to fight the zombies.

Meanwhile, Sam is walking through the mausoleum looking for Samhain. He turns a corner and sees Samhain in a room facing the far wall. Sam tries to walk up to him silently, narrowing his eyes at the demon. Samhain turns around suddenly and throws up his arm, and a bright white light comes out of it. It dims, however, and Sam keeps walking toward Samhain.

"Yeah, that demon ray gun stuff? It doesn’t work on me." Sam growls and Samhain runs at Sam, and Sam throws an uppercut punch and they fight. Samhian finally pushes Sam against a wall by his neck, getting the upper hand.

There is a zombie with a silver stake coming out of its chest lying on the floor and Dean and (y/n) stab a couple more zombies to the ground with another silver stake right next to the first one. A pair of shoes walks up behind them with a pair of women's frail feet in them. The duo hear it and Dean grabs a stake before he turns around to stab her, but she flickers and disappears, and is behind him as he stands up fully.

He turns around and she motions both her hands at him and he flies across the room, sliding down the wall. (Y/n) runs at the ghost zombie but the creature motions her hands at her, making her hit the wall as well. "Zombie ghost orgy huh? Well, that’s it, I’m torching everybody." Dean growls while (y/n) shakes her head a bit. "I second that!" She shouts.

Sam manages to get the knife out, and tries to stab Samhain, and when it starts to cut into his skin, it sizzles and Samhain pushes it out of Sam’s hand, and whips Sam around and throws him into the wall across the room.

Sam gets up and Samhain looks at him, ready to attack, goes to run at Sam, but Sam puts up his hand, and uses his psychic power to stop him. Samhain struggles against Sam, but Sam manages to keep him from advancing too much.

After taking care of the ghost zombies, Dean and (y/n) come running around the corner and see Sam using his powers. Dean's face falls while (y/n)'s mouth drops in surprise. Sam sees Dean and (y/n) over the shoulder of Samhain, but continues. Sam has to use a lot more concentration than ever before, and his nose starts to bleed as blood pounds in his head and he grabs his head with the hand not holding Samhain at bay.

Finally, Sam exorcizes Samhain as his nose continues to bleed and the blood pounding in his head starts to slow down. Once Samhain is out of the body, Don’s eyes turn back to color and Sam can barely raise his eyes to meet Dean’s and (y/n)'s stare. This is the first time that Sam was aware of Dean and (y/n) being there to see him use his powers.

Last time, the duo was watching, but Sam didn’t know they were there until after. Dean looks at him sadly, and with a little bit of fear in his eyes, while (y/n) was surprised but also looked a bit impressed and alittle bit of fear.

One Day After Halloween

Sam is packing clothes into his duffel bag when (y/n) comes up to him, he turns his head to her. "Sam..." she said, softly, but he shakes his head. "(Y/n), don't..." he said. "I'm not gonna scold you, Sam. I just wanted to check on you." She said and Sam turns away and sighs.

"I'm fine." He mutters and (y/n) gives a sympathetic look to Sam's back. (Y/n) was about to speak up about what happened last night until a voice speaks up.

"Tomorrow." a deep voice said and both Sam and (y/n) jump at the voice and turn to see Uriel. "November 2nd, it’s an anniversary for you." Uriel said as he stares at Sam. "What are you doing here?" Sam asked him, angrily. "It’s the day Azazel killed your mother, and 22 years later your girlfriend too. It must be difficult to bear, yet you so brazenly use the power he gave you. His profane blood pumping through your veins." Uriel said and Sam narrows his eyes. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You were told not to use your abilities." Uriel said to Sam. "And what was I supposed to do? That demon would have killed me, my best friend and my brother and everyone." Sam argued. "You were told not to." Uriel said, sounding like what Sam said didn't matter.

"If Samhain had gotten loose in this town –" Sam argues but Uriel talks over him. "You’ve been warned, twice now." he said, being stubborn, and (y/n) scoffs. "You know? Dean was right about you, you are dicks." She sneered and Uriel turns to her.

"The only reason he's still alive is because he's been useful. The same is said for you, (y/n) (l/n). But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you two become more trouble than you’re worth, one word. One, and I will turn both of you to dust." Uriel said then he backs off, but keeps talking as he glares back at Sam.

"As for your brother, tell him that maybe he should climb off that high horse of his. Ask Dean what he remembers from hell." he said. "What do you--" (y/n) started to ask but then there was a sound and Uriel was gone. Sam and (y/n) turn around and try to look for him.

Dean was sitting on a park bench, watching kids play. Then he glances to his left and saw Castiel next to him. He looks the other way, quickly. "Let me guess, you’re here for the I told you so." Dean said to Castiel. "No." Castiel replied. "Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested." Dean growls at him.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." Castiel said. "Then why are you here?" Dean asked him, angrily.

"Our orders –"

"Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours –" Dean interrupts but Castiel shakes his head and speaks up again. "Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do." he said and Dean turns to look at him.

"Your orders were to follow my orders?" Dean asked him, confused. "It was a test, to see how you would perform under...battlefield conditions, you might say." Castiel replied. "It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive." Dean said and he sighs and shakes his head.

"So I, uh, failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call. 'Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken, hell I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here?" Dean said as he points at the kids playing. "These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother, my girlfriend and me.

"You misunderstand me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town." Castiel said. "You were?" asked Dean. "These people, they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art, and yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to hell on earth, for all creation. Now that’s not an expression, Dean, it's literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means." Castiel said and Dean looks at him a little pained, and sad.

"Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?" Castiel asked him. "Okay." Dean said. "I’m not a…hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t." Castiel said.

They share a look, and Dean looks out to the kids again. When he looks back, Castiel is gone.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

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midnight-fern · 2 years ago

Text

Cleaning with Tendou

... more or less

pairing~ tendou x gn!reader, can be romantic or platonic

word count~ 600

warnings~ none<3 just some fluff

a/n~ this has been sitting in my drafts but I've been trying to start posting the things I write so<3

How’d the room get this bad?

The current state of your bedroom is… messy, to say the least. Toward the end of the semester, you became too busy cramming for finals to bother taking care of your room. It seemed like a low priority at the time, and as the dishes, clothes, and misplaced nick-nacks slowly accumulated, it was easy to not realize how messy the room was getting. But now that the semester is over and you finally have a break, the unorganized state of the room has caught up with you.

Now, you’re sitting in the middle of your floor, piles of clothes scattered around you. It’s unclear which piles are dirty and which are clean, you lost track of that a few minutes ago, so you start piling them all into a basket to wash.

“You don’t have to completely ignore me, you know?”

Tendou, who is currently sitting on your bare bed, simply sighs as he flips the page of the comic he’s reading.

Earlier today, you asked him to come sit with you while you cleaned your room— assuming that having another person there would make you more apt to clean. The plan is working well enough, the pile of mugs that had taken over your nightstand have been moved to the kitchen and there is a tightly compacted trash bag by your door. The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t acknowledged you since the moment he sat on your bed (aside from when you had him get up so you could take off the sheets). You’ve made multiple attempts to get him to talk to you but he hasn’t budged one bit.

“Like, really,” you say, finally filling up the laundry basket, “I actually might work faster if you talked to me because now I’m trying harder to have a conversation than I’m trying to clean.”

He just sighs again, lying down on his back.

You huff, glaring at him. In retrospect, you should’ve known that he would pull something like this. You bring the basket of clothes down the hall to wash, deciding to just muscle through the rest of the cleaning.

After two hours, the room was finally pristine: The bed was made, the clothes put away, the floor vacuumed, and the shelves organized and dusted. It may be nighttime now, but at least you can go to bed tonight knowing that you’ve accomplished something. You decide to light a candle as the cherry on top of your clean room.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t think you were actually going to finish this today,” Tendou finally says, setting down his comic. You snort at his comment.

“Well yeah, if you were going to ignore me until I was done, I had some incentive to finish cleaning.”

“That was the plan," he shrugged. "Also, I thought the other day you said I talked too much?”

You lay next to him on the bed, draping an arm over his midsection. “You know I was teasing, you always make me happy when you talk to me. I love hearing you talk.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks.

“Yep,” you respond, “but not right now. Now I want to sleep.”

“Are you going to release me so you can sleep, then?”

“Nope,” you say, already starting to doze off, “you’re staying right here.”

Tendou watched you, waiting a few minutes to make sure you were actually asleep. He gently peeled your arm off of him, standing up. He pulls your blanket over you and turns off the light. Before getting back into bed, he makes sure to blow out the candle you lit. He shakes his head, silently laughing to himself.

"Can't believe they're trying to start a fire."

#kurapika-pika #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #this was extremely self indulgent lol

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newagesispage · 5 months ago

Text

JUNE 2024

THE RIB PAGE

*****

Climax Foods won at the Good Food awards for their vegan cheese but they were disqualified! The rules claimed the product had to be retail ready and could nnot contain kokum butter. PETA ended up giving them an award. Why does Ted Cruz pronounce it, “vagan?” ** Why is Cruz against Biden’s help for airline passengers?

*****

The Stones are still on tour. They played Jazz fest in NOLA. They sure did justice to Let it Bleed but Out of Time was a bit loooong!!

*****

Seinfeld’s movie, Unfrosted is not getting the best reviews but I did love what he said on Kimmel. With disdain he said, “I don’t do twitter.” Yes! ** But.. Jerry has finally brought some controversy into his life. Protestors are ruining his gigs and students walked out at Duke U for his commencement address because of his support of Israel.

*****

Days alert: The character Rita is fucking awesome. I am reminded of Elinor Donahue from earlier Dimera times. EJ needs an assistant who knows the secrets and puts up with no shit! ** Holly really is horrible. OD ing did nothing to help her attitude. ** Bring Jen Lilley back!! ** I couldn’t be more thrilled about Diedre Hall and Christopher Lloyd’s successful turn on Hacks!!!!! ** Hooray.. Lucas is back on the scene! More Please!! ** I miss Wendy and Tripp!! ** The gang is meeting up in Montana. Do we have a summer adventure?? Just don’t kill off Clyde.

*****

Protesters attempted to storm the Berlin Tesla factory. ** Neurolink’s first brain chip has malfunctioned.

*****

So loved Jodie Whittaker but also hooray for Ncuti Gatwa of Dr. Who!!!!!!

*****

Joe Manchin has registered as an independent.

*****

The French Open put an alcohol ban in place.

Giuliani thought he was so funny when he taunted those trying to serve him a warrant. It was the last day and he teased on his podcast that they could not find him. This made it easy to find him and the warrant was served.

*****

Judge Judy has sued the National Enquirer and In Touch magazine.

*****

Riley Keough and Elvis Presley Enterprises had to put a halt to a company called Naussany Investments and their attempt to auction off Graceland. Word is they had fraudulent paperwork that claimed Lisa Marie had taken out a loan and never repaid it. This company will probably be shunned, Elvis fans don’t fucking kid around.

*****

Vermont is the first state to require oil companies to pay for damage from climate change.

*****

Israel shut down an Ap news feed in Gaza. They later said they would return the equipment. *****

Ricky Stenhouse Jr. Was fined $75,000 by Nascar for a brawl with Kyle Busch. Busch knocked him out in the 2nd lap of the race. Stenhouse waited the race out to confront Busch. Stenhouse Sr. and 2 other teammates were also punished. Most think the $75,000 fine was too much. ** Christopher Bell won the Coca Cola 600. ** Stewart Haas racing will fold after this season.

*****

Watched a couple of Apple’s newer offerings. Sugar, with James Cromwell and Colin Farrel gave us that film noir vibe and held surprises. And Cromwell was lookin’ fine as hell!!!!Palm Royale took a bit for me to get into but once Mindy Cohn and Julia Duffy got going, forget it, I was hooked. Hooray for Carol Burnett and the cliffhanger that makes me suddenly very excited for this show to come back!!

*****

In Virginia, Stonewall Jackson high’s name was changed to Mountain View and Ashby-Lee was changed to Honey Run elementary. Locals have now voted to change them back. I guess they can’t celebrate their traitors enough.

*****

On her 18th birthday, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt has filed to drop the ‘Pitt’ from her name. Other siblings have dropped the ‘Pitt’ as well.

*****

An appeals court has upheld Steve Bannon’s conviction.

*****

An investigation is looking into Matthew Perry’s death.

*****

Camryn Manheim has left Law and Order. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! No Sam? No Camryn? Ok.. Tony Goldwyn makes sense to replace Waterston but Manheim was my favorite part of the new L&O. We were just beginning to learn her character’s story. She was perfect!!!!! Also.. NBC boneheads have moved Organized Crime to Peacock. Way to ruin a perfect line-up!

*****

I am so happy for Cole Escola and his Broadway triumph with Oh Mary!

*****

Every society gets the kind of criminal it deserves. -Robert Kennedy

*****

Daily weed use has surpassed the daily use of alcohol.

*****

Uvalde shooting victims families have a $2mil settlement with the city. They are now getting ready to file lawsuits against dozens of Texas department of public safety officers and the school district.

*****

Louisianna has approved a bill to classify abortion pills as a controlled substance.

*****

The U.S. has sued Live Nation to break up the Ticketmaster monopoly.

*****

Kristi Noem has now been banned from ALL tribal lands in her state of South Dakota.

*****

Carlo Acutis died in 2006 and is now on track to become the youngest saint.

*****

Farm Family Foods is opening a farm to table grocery in Benson, Il and hoping to expand. Small towns are slowly losing their grocery stores. Some are left with Dollar stores, convenient stores or nothing. Good luck!!!

*****

So.. Harrison Butker, who I had never heard of, seems like a real pig. The Kansas City Chief seems completely unaware that he does not live in1824. He attacked pride month, the transgender community and working women. His commencement speech at the Benedictine college has been poo poo’d by nearly everyone including the college itself and especially the Benedictine sisters. They released a statement: The Catholic, Benedictine, liberal arts college don’t believe this represents what the founders envisioned. Instead of promoting unity, his comments seem to foster division. One of our concerns was the assertion that being a homemaker is the highest calling for a woman. We sisters have dedicated our lives to God and God’s people including many women whom we have taught and influenced over the past 160 years.** The NFL has also spoke up to let us know these are not their views.** The only people afraid of a strong, financially independent and successful female, is men like this. And the only reason they are afraid is because it diminishes their power and their control. -Celeste Yvonne

*****

The International Court is requesting the arrest of Hamas leader Sinwar and Benjamin Netanyahu. Yes! ** What happened is not genocide. We reject that. -Joe Biden

*****

Get ready for a new Downton Abbey film with Paul Giamatti!!!!

*****

In Kansas, Ricky Alderete went to court for a stolen Jackie Robinson statue taken to scrap the metal. The community raised money to replace it but now MLB has replaced it.

*****

Frankie Valli and the four seasons got a star on the Hollywood Walk of fame.

*****

Roger Daltrey is working on a biopic of Keith Moon.

*****

Jordan Klepper has really been on fire lately. So you think you can Pence?

*****

The Arizona Senate repealed the 1864 abortion ban.

*****

Mystik Dan won the Kentucky Derby.

*****

On his visit to Biden : “The most legislatively successful President in my lifetime”. -Mark Hamill

*****

Trump only seems to pay attention in court when they are looking at clips of Trump .** Why do we have to hear about the gas and his general odor? ** I can see why the man looks up to President Jackson because this sounds familiar. “He assumed upon himself authority and power not conferred by the constitution and laws, but in derogation of both.” - Andrew Jackson’s Senate censure which was removed 3 years later. ** Does Fox news know how a trial works? They sure want special treatment for their boy. They kept up the mantra: “Is this America?” Yes, the process is working. Duh?! ** Rod Blagojevich endorsed Trump. A bunch of the minions put on their red ties and showed up at the trial. J.D. Vance who once called out Trump is now one of the biggest VP wannabes. Is he a psychopath or did he also drink the flavor-aid? ** It seems that this is what it all comes down to. So many people think they can do any fucking thing they want with no consequences. Was he more influenced by Nietzsche or Cohn? ** As the defense began, witness Robert Costello was a smart ass to the judge and the courtroom was cleared. There is no respect for anyone. Trump vowed to testify but he did not. ** Eric was there every day and Don Jr. Showed up on the final day of testimony. On May 30, Trump was found guilty on all 34 counts. He will be sentenced in July. I know we’re all glad that he is starting to pay for his sins but we can’t drop the ball now. November is coming. **“I’m a very innocent man.” -Scary Clown 45/34. The trump trial is done and the Hunter Biden trial begins. ** Chad Daybell was also found guilty May 30, a great day for justice.

*****

Now that Trump has been found guilty, his cult members are angry. They do not seem to want to face reality. Why is violence always their answer? ** Justice has been served. Donald Trump is a racist, a homophobe, a grifter and a threat to this country. He can now add 1 more title to his list- a felon. - JB Pritzker ** People keep saying, “How can he run for President when he can’t even vote?” I do not understand this because from what I can tell, When a Florida resident is convicted, the state defers to the state the conviction came from. In NY, he CAN vote IF he is not incarcerated. But, I mean it’s time.. Lock him up. ** Social media went crazy with pics of Hillary outside the jail cell and gold Trump sneakers with ankle monitors. ** I wonder how many people in here have cars? - Trump

*****

Colbert called Trump’s campaign The complaining for Applause tour. ** DC Weekly is a publication out of Russia. It is said to be widely read by republicans. The paper loves to call the Truth Social crowd, “useful idiots.” When I hear Trump trying to make sense of what they, “believe,” It seems like wrestling with dementia. ** I nearly escaped death. - Trump ** I often think that the left gets so perplexed by some of the right is that this country should have progressed so much more by now. People should be much more educated now and with more knowledge there should be less racism and differences to fight over. There should be some common ideas we agree on but ignorance keeps that from happening. It is like the old slavers and successionists have just begat Trumpers.

*****

Truth Social lost $328 mil. ** So what is it? Is Biden a mastermind or is he a dottering old fool? Trump claims both. ** Trump issued a cease and desist for the Trump movie that premiered at Cannes. Of course he did. The man lives for court! It will be great publicity. ** This is my country. This guy wants to destroy it. -Robert DeNiro

*****

Queer Planet sounds interesting!!

*****

Night Court was renewed for season 3. ** Hacks was renewed for season 4!!

*****

Randy Travis with the use of some A.I. has new music with More life!! And he still looks great!

*****

The Black Keys and J Lo have cancelled their 2024 tours.

*****

CBS is bringing Hollywood Squares back AGAIN!

*****

Thanks to Holly and Beekeeper Mel for restoring my faith in nice people.

*****

Jennifer Aniston is producing a reimagining of 9 to 5.

*****

New research shows that part of the River Nile was right near most of the pyramids at the time of construction. This would make transport so much easier. This answers one of the big questions.

*****

The Pace Program in Illinois is a new all -inclusive care for the elderly. The program, which should be available in June, will simplify access to services and prevent fragmented care. The elderly should be able to stay in their homes longer and things should be more streamlined. I sure hope this works because it can be a mess to get started in the system.

*****

David DePape who was found guilty of attempting to kidnap Paul Pelosi and was given 30 years.

*****

Every Rainbow Fades.

*****

El Califade Leon in Mexico City is the first taco stand to ever get a Michelin star.

*****

Richard Blumenthal informed us that Justice Alito had a ‘stop the steal’ sign at his house. He flew an upside- down flag outside his house in January along with other pro Trumpers to show support. Alito claims it was his wife (just like Menedez), retaliating against the Pro Biden neighbors. This is not the only flag that they flew. Other property flew the appeal to heaven flag. Dick Durbin has asked him to recuse himself from the Jan. 6 cases. He refuses! Pretty fucking unpatriotic Mr. Alito!! It figures that you would have no respect for our flag. ** Hey.. Thomas! Alito! Resign!!

*****

It turns out that RFK Jr. has a lifeless worm in his brain. A past divorce claimed he couldn’t earn much for the ex because of memory loss etc. from worm and mercury poisoning. Kevin Spacey and Rob Schneider have endorsed him. So... Candidates in their 80’s or in their 70’s with worm? What? ** RFK Jr. Says that he opposes gender affirming care and hormone therapy for minors. So.. Do you want the government in your life or not??

*****

Joe Biden is holding back some weapons to Israel just as Reagan and Bush did before him. ** The State Department gave $275 mil in aid to Ukraine. ** Oreos are being made again in Ukraine after the factory was repaired.

*****

Biden and Trump claim they will debate on June 27 and Sept. 10.

*****

Giuliani says that he is a pauper and can’t pay his legal bills. Why are these greedy fucks still free?

*****

The Green Goblin (MTG) is at it again as she tries to belittle others. The house got heated and in retaliation, she was called a blonde bad built butch body.

*****

The Florida Republicans wanted Barron Trump to be at the convention this year since he is 18. The Republican convention will be held in Milwaukee July 15-18. Scary Clown 45 gave his blessing but Melania’s camp said, “no.” Apparently, he has prior commitments. ** Mike Johnson and other court jesters showed up dressed like Trump to support him in court. Talk about showboating! ** Jeff Sessions was back in the news when Michael Cohen testified about trying to quash investigations into campaign contributions. ** Cohen was stealing from the Trump organization. Cohen still lives in a Trump building. What?

*****

Cannes brought controversy this year. Francis Ford Coppola with Megalopolis and Kevin Costner with Horizon have bet their own $ on their epics. Other films include The Apprentice, about a younger Trump that stars Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong as Roy Cohn. The film is having trouble finding a distributor. Bird and The Substance are getting lots of buzz! There is also Kinds of Kindness and All we Imagine as light. Meryl Streep and George Lucas received honorary awards. There are rumors that the French media would release a list of alleged abusive actors and directors. ** Black Dog won the Un Certain Regard, Anora won the Pale d’Or, the women of Emilia Perez won best actress and Jesse Plemons took best actor. Best screenplay went to the Substance.

*****

Red Lobster has filed for bankruptcy and closed dozens of stores. Everybody blames the endless shrimp. I am telling you, it’s the biscuits. Switching to using frozen and not fresh makes all the difference. Besides, middle of the road eateries are falling away.

*****

There was a Tom Brady roast. With tempers the way they are, it might be best to put those to bed for a while.

*****

The Conners will end after a shortened season 7.

*****

Turkey has halted trade with Israel.

*****

Camryn Manheim will leave Law and Order. NOOOOOO! She is the best thing there. Goldwyn is good but no Sam and no Camryn? Bummer.

*****

Now that Barry is done, A Gene Cousineau film from prison would be great.

*****

If my uterus shot bullets, would you stop regulating it??

*****

The late- night hosts make fun of local news that all repeat the same lines. The latest was,” I can’t believe it’s May1st.” I grew up with the people who said this stuff all the time. This generic dialogue really works for those people. I have never really understood those who say the same things every year, are surprised when the first snow comes or wonder at how it gets dark so early. These things should no longer be a surprise to adults!

*****

Kristi Noem seems to have gone down for killing animals. I guess there is a limit! ** Her book was changed before it even came out. She talked of meeting Kim Jong Un but she didn’t and won’t admit it but took it out of the book? What other lies are in there?

*****

Millie Bobby Brown married Jake Bongiovi.

*****

Natasha Lyonne will join the Fantastic Four.

****

Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico was shot.

*****

Sexual assault news: Liam Neeson and others are starting to stick up for Kevin Spacey so he may come back. ** David C. Field has a new batch of allegations by 16 women. He has been accused of sexual abuse, lewd conduct, groping, drugging and rape. ** Video was released of Sean Combs beating and kicking Cassie Ventura. Big surprise.. Another lying abuser! ** Writer, producer Eric Weinberg has been charged with 28 counts of rape and sexual battery.

*****

The Met Gala came. The garden theme brought such interesting looks. Mindy Kaling and Demi Moore had such structure. J Lo showed it all and Cardi B needed 10 men. My favorites were Zendaya, Bad Bunny, Gigi Hadid, La La Anthony, Nicole Kidman, Lana Del Ray, Ayo Edebiri, Usher, Lily James, Cole Escola, Kieran Culkin, Jazz Charton, Sydney Sweeney, Michelle Williams, Meg Ryan, Daniel Levy, Cynthia Erivo, Odell Beckham, Josh O’Conner and Sarah Paulson. Greta Gerwig looked so uncomfortable. Tyla was in sand!

*****

Russia is apparently using North Korean weapons and Cuban soldiers to kill Ukrainians.

*****

Knives Out 3 with Daniel Craig is in the works.

*****

I want some Bob Schieffer art!!!!!!

*****

R.I.P. Duane Eddy, Taji the giraffe, Richard Tandy, Susan Backlinie, Darius Morris, Edgar Lansbury, Bernard Hill, Daniel Kramer, Andrew Davis, Susan Buckner, Sam Rubin, Bob Ellison, Rudy Moreno, Jim Simons, victims of the Houston storms, Gayle McKinney- Griffin, Pete McCoskey, Ian Gelder, Alice Stewart, Jon Wysocki, Bill Walton, Sam Butcher, Richard Foronjy, Iowa tornado victims, Chester, Pa. Shooting victims, war victims, Richard Sherman, Johnny Wactor, Memorial Day storm victims, Mexico election victims, Morgan Spurlock, Darryl Hickman, Haiti missionaries, Alice Munroe, Charlie Colin, Caleb Carr, President Raisi, Hossein Amirabdollahian, Jeannie Epper, landslide victims, Grayson Murray, Gujarat fire victims, Mark Damon, Dabney Coleman and Roger Corman.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year ago

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"'BULGE IN POCKET' LIKE HOLD-UP GUN," Toronto Star. July 30, 1943. Page 2. ---- Restaurant Man Tells of How He Was Robbed of $35 --- POLICE COURT CASES ---- B Police Court at City Hall. Magistrate Prentice. Charged with robbing Ada Shar- key of about $35. the property of Fred Levy, on July 15th. Vernon Dumphy pleaded guilty, but he denied a second count of robbing Wm Aiken, King Street restaurant keeper of $35 on the 13th.

Aiken, who said he could not remember the exact date he was robbed. said a man. whom he identified as accused, came in with his hand in his pocket which bulged as if he held a gun. "He told me give me what you got." said Aiken. "I gave him the silver of around $35 or more. He then went over to a customer, Alex Martin, and demanded his money but refused to take the few cents he showed when Martin said it was his lunch money. He then pulled the wires from the telephone and warning me not to make any moves left. I did not see him again until I picked him out of a police line-up as soon as I saw him."

"The man tapped me on the shoulder and turning I saw the bulge in his pocket and produced some silver," said Martin. "He told me keep it. I didn't see his face. I was scared."

Detective George Heron stated that accused, after being cautioned, made a statement which he would not sign, however. He had said he had had trouble at home and had gone to a restaurant to buy cigarettes and had held up the store.

"There will be a conviction," said the court.

Saw Him Enter Testifying against Dumphy on the charge to which he pleaded guilty. Ada Sharkey, employee of the restaurant, said she had seen accused enter the restaurant from beside a taxi outside.

"He appeared to have а gun. which he pointed at me," she stated. "He told the people in the store to keep quiet. He took money from the cash register and ran out. He tried to get in the taxi, which had started away. He slipped on the running board and fell back and ran along the street."

"I had noticed accused outside, but had paid no attention to him." related Russell Darwin. "But when he took the money I followed him out and with Corp. Wagman caught him on Strachan Ave."

Crown Counsei W. O. Gibson stated accused had a record.

"He will be remanded to Aug. 4 for sentence." said the court.

Frank Moore and Bruce Neish, teen-age youths appearing for sentence on a charge of theft of a motor car, received one year each.

Appearing for sentence on a charge of assaulting Patrol Sergeant Irving Smith during trouble on the grounds of the Ontario hospital. Queen St. W.. Thomas Sweet was given 30 days in jail: Grant Sweet. a brother, also convicted for assaulting P.C. Sill during the same disturbance and obstructing the police, was fined $25 or 30 days on each charge. Max Silver, convicted of obstructing the police. was sentenced to 30 days, and Pte. Tony Mastrangelo, convicted of assaulting Smith and Mitchell, was sentenced to 30 days. "Our officers must be respected." said the court in imposing sentence.

Convicted of failing to keep his registrar advised of an address where mail would reach him, Maurice Goode was fined $25 or 30 days. Guilty of Arson "I am guilty - I did it under the influence of wine," said A. B. Lewis, who pleaded guilty to a charge of arson. District Deputy Fire Marshal John B. Houston testified that at 4.18 a.m. on May 9 firemen were called to 1320 Bloor St, W., where fire had broken out in a barber shop owned by accused and in the rear of which he lived. Accused had taken out a policy for $600 a few days before.

"I am sorry, I got in with a bad crowd," said accused, who stated he had carried much larger policies for years without a fire.

"You will be remanded to Aug. 6 for sentence," directed his worship.

"You have admitted 12 charges of housebreaking and you have just finished doing two years less a day," said Magistrate Prentice, when W. Burton appeared for sentence. "There is not much that can be done for you," added the court. "You will go to the penitentiary for two years."

One Year Consecutively One year to run consecutively with a three year penitentiary term he is now serving was given Gordon Ferguson on a charge of forgery. Ferguson, with identification papers of Bert Leavens, which were stolen, sold a stolen car in Hamilton under the name of Leavens for $925. He received $500 cash and a cheque for $425, which he cashed.

Robbed Friend "The complainant in this case, a soldier, befriended you, and then you stole his suitcase and contents," said his worship in the case of Arnold Lavigne, up for sentence on a charge of theft. He was given three months.

On three charges of theft of motor cars and one of breaking and entering, Frank Hartley was given a total of 22 months. "I gave you a chance on probation a short time ago," said the court.

#toronto #police court #arson #housebreaking #housebreaker #stealing from friends #hold up man #hold up #repeat offenders #car theft #assaulting a police officer #kingston penitentiary #sentenced to the penitentiary #sentenced to prison #toronto jail #ontario reformatory #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

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Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @lsangyeons

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job.

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves.

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot.

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...”

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.”

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage.

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you.

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list.

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy.

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes.

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you.

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics.

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead.

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so.

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else.

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be.

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life.

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here.

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face.

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?”

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night.

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin.

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch.

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included.

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager.

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager.

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back.

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch.

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room.

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut.

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up.

Love,

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event.

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae.

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day.

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby.

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door.

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant.

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything.

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle.

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’.

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere.

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold.

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing.

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first.

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut.

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love, Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw.

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway.

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders.

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head.

Time stops.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling.

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in.

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut.

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises.

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV.

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours.

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you.

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes.

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed.

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair.

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck.

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you.

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground.

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped.

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him.

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg.

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip.

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you.

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat.

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair.

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much.

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close.

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin.

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel.

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you.

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do.

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders.

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels.

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips.

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace.

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act.

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again.

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him.

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving.

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.”

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head.

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now.

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest.

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down.

The guilt washes through you again.

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence.

You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away.

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative.

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver.

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.”

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers.

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow.

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it.

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing:

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little.

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

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mirisss · 2 years ago

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Even the Sun can’t see its own beauty

Hoseok x gn! reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: stress, low self-esteem, I think that’s it

Wordcount: ≈ 600

I know nothing about architecture so I am sorry this has taken so long to write and is probably going to be really bad, I tried my best!

Hoseok thought he was busy as a full-time idol working day and night on writing songs, practicing choreography, performing, and being on shows. But during summer he realized that his schedule was nothing compared to his partner’s schedule. His partner would wake up at 5 am and be gone at 5.30 to go study different buildings, go to museums to study art forms, and sit in some café for hours on end sketching in their book to come up with a good enough design to use for the university application. Thus, Hobi barely saw his partner. He tried to help out with anything he could but his beloved wasn’t very open to the help as they stressed about getting in. Hoseok knew he wasn’t the best cook so he rather opted for ordering food and making sure his partner ate, he was attentive to how many pages were left in the sketchbook and made sure to buy new ones when needed. Hobi was confident that his s/o would get into whichever university they chose because their designs were pure artworks and astonishing but they themself couldn’t see it.

“Jagi!” “Mm,” Hobi sighed at the low murmur from his partner, he tried to be cheerful and hoped for some attention yet he got nothing. “whoah! Jagi, that’s amazing!” Hobi looked down at the drawing that was laying in front of his partner with awe as he admired the well-constructed building. (Y/n) let out a sigh before crumbling the paper between their hands and throwing it in a trash can, “No, it’s not good enough. I’ll never make it at this rate. I’ve been working with this one design, this one idea Hope, and no matter how hard I try it just doesn’t turn out right,” Hoseok sat down and hugged his partner, while also caressing their hair. “Jagi, that was amazing. Every one of the designs I have seen you make has been incredible and unlike anything I have seen before, whatever you do turns out beautiful and would get you into any university. I know it can be driving to strive to become better but you are going too hard with this mindset. You need to be able to see your own talent,” “Hobi, I just… I want to make it. But I don’t think I can,” “Of course, you can! (Y/n) you are the most talented person I know and come on, I know a lot of talented people but none of them compare with your talent. I guess, just like the sun can’t see its own beauty you can’t see your own talent,” (Y/n) lifted their head and looked into the eyes of their boyfriend, all they could see floating around in Hoseok’s eyes was love, happiness, awe, pride, and all of this for them. “Thank you Hobi, you really are the best. I’m glad to have my own personal sunshine in life who can chase away any darkness that tries to bring me down,” “I love you too! Now, finish that design so that I can congratulate you on attending univerisity!” The two laughed as they stayed in each other’s embrace for a little longer. Perhaps I am more talented than I thought, (Y/n) said to themself after talking with Hoseok. And, thanks to Hoseok, (Y/n) came up with the missing detail for their design: A sun.

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leejeongz · 2 years ago

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i know it says reqs closes but maybe do this later or whenever u can but ummm yeonjun txt + prompt no. 11 (if u still do prompts, if not then a simple fluff C:) love you !!

“you weren’t supposed to see that” - choi yeonjun

pairing: boyf!yeonjun x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 600

warnings: toilet humour

a/n: i was very much in yeonjun hours when you sent this request so 😳 ofc yk i had to write it hehe tysm for being so sweet !!

summary: yeonjun attempts to make something for your birthday in secret and he almost gets away with it!

finally getting some time to himself while you called your long distance best friend, yeonjun grabbed the large yet unnoticeable black box from behind the suitcases in your parents’ dining room and placed it onto the table.

with your birthday just around the corner, your family (including yeonjun) had booked a trip away so that you could spend your special day with your best friend, your boyfriend, and your family, your only wish. even though yeonjun had chipped in to pay for the trip, he also wanted to get you a little something of his own to say how much he loves you.

unpacking the box, he pulled out a scrapbook, filled with decorated pages and tearful memories, alongside some ribbons and a pair of scissors. one by one he threaded each of the ribbons through the front and back covers over the scrapbook, squinting, biting his lip and then shaking his head at all of them.

“you’re running out of options, yeonjun, there’s no time to be picky,” he mutters to himself, which was apparently, a little louder than he wanted.

“huh?” you ask, creeping into your dining room through the door he’d pushed to “did you say something?”

yeonjun’s eyes widened before turning to face you, the scrapbook almost displayed in his hands as if it was something he wanted you to see.

“what’s this?” your eyes soften as you make your way over to your boyfriend who, in that time, managed to slump himself onto the chair behind him. “a scrapbook? happy birthday, my y/n” you read the cover, eyes welling up at this alone.

yeonjun’s bottom lip protruded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently pulling you to sit on his lap. “you weren’t supposed to see that,” he sulked, “yet.”

you looked back to see his disheartened face and smiled at him softly “that’s really sweet of you, yeonjun, i’m so lucky to have you,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips and he gave you a defeated smile as you pulled away.

“can you at least wait until your birthday to look through it?” he asked.

you nodded in response and smiled cheekily “i’ll try!”

————

you followed through with your promise, finally reaching the day that you get to look through the scrapbook, a far more exciting event than your actual birthday, you thought. that morning, you woke up to it placed neatly at the foot of the hotel bed, surrounded by a number of questionably wrapped smaller gifts.

“good morning, beautiful,” yeonjun cooed, making his way over to you from the chair beside the desk. “happy birthday!”

you thanked him with a meaningful kiss. now sitting up right, you could reach what you’d been waiting for. you took the book in your hands and opened to the first page to reveal a picture that you recognised to be taken on your first date, a small note beside it reading ‘and to think, that evening we ended up going back to my place because they’d given you cows milk… very stinky.’ you rolled your eyes as you laughed, looking up to see your boyfriend giggling along with you, reliving the memories together all over again.

the rest of his efforts continued in the same manner, making you cry with laughter until you reached the final page, the writing smudged as the ink was yet to dry.

‘i hope that i get to spend the rest of my life laughing with you, you’re so precious to me, my y/n.’

#yeonjun #txt #tomorrow by together #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun imagines #txt imagines #txt fluff

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run-down-that-dream · 3 years ago

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It Couldn't Have Been That Easy To Forget About Me

It Couldn't Have Been That Easy To Forget About Me Tom Petty x ofc

Summary: Tom tries to process a lost love. The best songs always seem to come when they’re least expected to.

Word Count: 600+

Warnings: ✨angst✨

A/N: This is something I wrote a long time ago, I finally got myself to fix it up and post! It’s very loosely based on Even The Losers, tied with a hint of Fleetwood Mac’s song Tango In The Night (which I was listening to a lot around the time I wrote this) As always, let me know what you think! Feedback is very much appreciated 🤗 enjoy!

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It started on the brink of summertime, just before the days grew long and the nights stayed warmer. She drove a ‘67 Chevy with black leather seats and a trunk full of camping supplies. She lived her life in that car. The rundown apartment he found her living in was never really a home to her.

Tom wanted to take her in; he wanted to take care of her. If only she would have let him.

Instead he sat on the beach alone that night, wondering where she could have gone and why she ran away. The days were growing shorter again. Leaves fell to the ground and the night was cold and lonely there in the sand. He listened to the wind on the water and watched as the waves crashed on the shore.

The moon was nearly full - a spotlight in the sky to shine down on a broken world full of lonely people. He noticed those sort of things now. She would have loved that. Only now, he was one of them.

Just a month before, they’d taken her car and parked it in an abandoned field to sit on the hood and stargaze. He remembered it so well; the way she stared in wonder at the night sky. She could have talked for hours about the beauty of it all. He remembered thinking the most beautiful sight that night was her. So he kissed her on the hood of that car, in the middle of a dark empty field in August. And the way she kissed him back... that was something he could never forget.

A gust of wind blew his hair into his face and pulled him away from his thoughts. He brushed it away with one hand and pulled his jacket closed with the other. It was getting too cold to sit there any longer. And he was exhausted. It seemed weeks of sleepless nights were finally beginning to catch up with him. He took one last look at the moon and wondered if she was looking at it too.

It was difficult for him to stand up and walk through the sand. It’s true that sadness feels like a weight, and the amount of cigarettes he went through did nothing but make him feel weak against the subtle wind.

Someplace across the beach, the breeze picked up a crumpled up slip of paper. It blew across his path like a tumbleweed. With it came the same surge of sickness he’d been feeling since she ran away. It looked too much like the note she’d left at his doorstep.

“I can’t do this anymore,” it read. “I’m sorry.” Big block letters against a pastel pink background. It was the last he would ever hear from her. Still, deep down, he always hoped she’d change her mind.

Tom couldn’t sleep again that night. He tossed and turned until the sheets were tangled. He thought about her until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something to occupy his mind before he lost it completely.

So with guitar in hand, all those memories found their way into a song he never even set out to write. Maybe someday she’d hear it and know it was about her. That thought alone was enough to bring him some sort of peace.

Tom fell asleep at four in the morning. His notebook was seated on the nightstand, its pages now filled with thoughts and memories that had been keeping him up for weeks. He wasn’t content yet - he didn’t think he’d ever be - but it would do for then.

If he never knew anything else about her, at least he was right about one thing. She never could forget about him.

Forever Tags: @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @littledarlingwellaway

Tom Petty Tags: n/a

tag lists are open 🌻 lmk if you want to be added!

#tom petty x ofc #sunny writes things #tom petty

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sarahjtv · 4 years ago

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BNHA Chapter 312 Spoiler Analysis: Hero Turned Assassin

It’s Friday, my dudes! That means the leaks for the new chapter is out! This time, we’re focusing on our new lady assassin villain who we ended with last week. Ngl, I love her design and concept. I actually wouldn’t mind if she stepped on me 😳 All that aside, this was a damn good chapter, but I really hope Deku’s going to be ok taking her on by himself:

Alright, the chapter starts off with a little flashback of Hawks talking to Deku as Deku is suiting up to leave Central hospital. Hawks reassures Deku that he should be ok from AFO and Shigaraki for now since they aren’t at full power yet. Their best option would be to take Deku in alive rather than dead. Hawks can only think of one person who might be capable of capturing Deku: the assassin woman. Turns out, that woman was his senpai back at the Hero Safety Commision and she’s dangerous.

So, as far as we know, Deku’s most likely going to live several more days even if he does get captured. However, he’s being hunted down by a highly skilled assassin who was also Hawk’s senpai back in the day. The fact that Hawks of all people is warning Deku to run away from her if he can say something about her skills. I can only guess how good her skills are, but I’d say they’re probably somewhere in the S-tier range if Hawks is afraid of her.

The next couple of pages help properly introduce our new villain: Lady Nagant! A few points here: 1. The bullet is made from her hair which is colored dark blue and pink. I personally love those two colors, so I’m glad to see that color scheme used on her. Also hair bullets is such a great concept, 2. That rifle is definitely coming from her elbow which she can bring out and retract at will, which is badass as hell, 3. I looked up the word “Nagant” and it’s actually type of (Russian?) gun that ranges from a 7-shot revolver to a sniper rifle, so that’s a good Villain name for her, 4. She was a former hero under the Safety Commision who decided to go to the dark side for some reason. Like, did she see the bad side of Hero Society and that caused her to change? Did she see something in Villainy that caused her to change her POV? I want to know what?, 5. Again, love her design like hoo boy, Horikoshi snapped with her.

So, Deku’s on the run from her and he is completely on his own now that his phone is broken. He doesn’t even know what happened to All Might 😭! He’s also afraid that All Might and Hawks will be targeted by her. Deku’s debating wheaher he should run or face Nagant face on. With someone like Muscular, I wasn’t worried about Deku because he’s not only improved a lot since last time, but he’s taken on Muscular before so he knew what he was fighting. But, this is a brand-new villain. Not much is known about her and Deku has never fought her before. I’d say run, but someone has to take her out. Maybe Hawks will swoop in and have a reunion with his senpai. Though, he doesn’t have wings now, so I’m not sure what he can really do against her besides have a chat…

And Deku is shot! Not fatally thank god, but he did get hit. Turns out Lady Nagant can actually curve her shots. Even Deku’s Danger Sense couldn’t detect it in time good lord. So she can just straight up made bullets that can curve too that is absolutely insane. Any marksman would be jealous of her.

Fun Fact of the Day: Based on Horikoshi-sensei’s comment of the week, Lady Nagant and her curve bullet are actually based off the 2008 film Wanted staring James McAvoy and Angelina Jolie (he even thanked Ms. Jolie!)! I decided to IMDB the film to see if I remembered it and it turns out that I have actually seen a little of it before. You know that gif of McAvoy smacking Chris Pratt’s face with a keyboard and the loose keys spell out “Fuck You”? Yeah, that’s from Wanted. Also, the curved bullet Horikoshi is talking about is when Jolie manages to “curve” a bullet enough to kill a group of assassins who were standing in a circle. Look, I don’t know if physics can actually make that work in real life, but I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound badass.

Back to the story, we have a bit of flashback to an old TV special that interviewed 100 active Noteworthy Heroes. The 25th Pro Hero being interview is none other than Snipe, one of UA’s teachers! It’s been a hot couple of years since we’ve seen him around. Actually, we don’t even know if he’s alive… Let’s assume he is and continue with the story.

Anyway, Snipe was having some good friendly competition in the Long-Range sniping with Lady Nagant back in the day. He explains while his Quirk, “Homing” allows him to lock-on to anyone within a 600 Meter range, he can’t choose where his attack hits and the hit isn’t that powerful (Shigaraki could’ve actually gotten killed back in the USJ if Snipe wasn’t careful enough damn). Lady Nagant, on the other hand, has a range of 3 Kilometers with insane accuracy. I did some quick calculations and it turns out that 3KM = 3,000M! That’s 5 times farther than what Snipe can do. That is absolutely nuts!

Lady Nagant’s Quirk is called “Rifle”! Turns out that the secret lies in her bullets made out of hair. When she mixes her duel colored hair, it works like epoxy putty. Epoxy putty is a substance that hardens over time. It’s normally used as a seal for cracks and holes, and it’s both highly-resistant and unshrinkable when hardened. So, when Lady Nagant pulls strands out of her hair to mix and mould them, she can harden that hair into a bullet which explains the dark blue and pink fibers in the speaker bullet she fired at Deku’s phone. Apparently, she can make any kind of bullet she wants ranging from hollow bullets to curved bullets. She can then load and fire those bullets from her rifle into her right arm. God, there’s so much potential for a Quirk like this. The only limit I can think of for this Quirk is if she runs out of hair for bullets similar to how if Ibara Shiozaki from Class 1-B (or 2-B now I guess) would run out of hair to use her Vines. I wonder if Lady Nagant using her hair so much is the reason why it’s shorter now than when she was a hero.

I gotta say, I think this is one of the coolest and unique Quirks Horikoshi has come up with in a while. It’s just so unique and imaginative! I don’t think I could ever come up with an idea like this. I like that her Quirk is almost like a 2-in-1 thing: the putty hair and the rifle in her arm. They’re both different functions that work in tandem together. I also love Nagant hero outfit! She was rocking the long ponytail work, had a visor and antenna on her right eye for accuracy, and a belt holding her hair bullets. She’s also freakin’ stacked as hell, but I’ll let this one slide because her design is so freaking great.

Back to the present, Deku managed to catch the bullet, but his left gauntlet has been damaged. So, it looks like Deku won’t be punching with his left arm unless All Might has some backup Mid-Gauntlets. Thankfully he’s found out where Lady Nagant is based on where she shot from just twice. She’s only about 1KM away and Deku wants to get in closer. God, Deku is so freaking smart. I want to know his IQ because it must be insanely high for him to figure out where a trained sniper would be after just 2 bullets. Nagant also says that Deku’s the first one to deflect 2 of her bullets, so yeah, goddamn Deku!

Now we’re finally getting a look at Overhaul (I’m cool with calling him by his villain name instead of his real name for now btw). Dude’s broken. Just completely mentally broken. I don’t think he even notices Deku. All he can think about is how he wants to go back to his adoptive father, Eri’s grandfather, the man Overhaul put in a coma. I thought that Overhaul would be confronting Deku himself, but it looks like he can’t. Maybe him not being able to get his father out of his coma traumatized him real bad with a lot of guilt. He probably wants to go back to try to heal his dad. If he can do that, again, I wonder how now that his Quirk probably functions somewhere else besides his hands.

Anyway, Lady Nagant is kind of protecting Overhaul for now. She most likely has a plan for him later since she mentions helping Overhaul as soon as she’s done with Deku. Overhaul would be a useful ally since his Quirk can literally destroy and restore matter both living and non-living. There’s also that glowing effect on her arm again. If it’s not a taser like I thought before, then maybe it’s some kind of strength enhancer her Quirk gives her. That arm gun has to be heavy. IDK it’s not really explained.

Flashing back to the Tartarus Prision Break, AFO and his ugly mug are talking to Nagant, calling her the “Traitor Hero” and how it’s an honor to meet her. Again, Lady Nagant’s skills must be incredibly high enough to be recognize by AFO. Also, her turning her back on Hero Society must’ve been a big story at the time.

AFO tells Lady Nagant of his plan to capture Deku as he predicted this earlier. So, either AFO is stupidly good at predicting things or he has a future-sight Quirk like Nighteye had. I want to say it’s the latter since AFO probably did pick up a Quirk like that sometime in the past.

Lady Nagant originally refused to listen to AFO in a very sassy way LOL! But, AFO seems to have made a deal with her. He even mentions that Nagant killed many of her fellow heroes to cause the fall of Pro-Hero Society. Yeah, killing your fellow colleagues will definitely get you sent straight to Tartarus… I REALLY need to know what made her turn to the Dark Side Anakin Skywalker style.

Also, personal theory that I highly doubt is true, but I wonder if Lady Nagant is the real “UA Traitor” not any of the students. If she can make bullets that she can remotely talk through, then she could probably make bullets that can eavesdrop on people. Maybe she listened in on UA and told the LoV about the training camp. Or she was locked in Tartarus before then and I’m just projecting my hopes/fears onto her. That could be it too.

Actually, I just realized that she could probably wrap objects around her bullets and fire them. So, she probably wrapped a speaker around her hair and that’s how she remotely spoke to Deku. Eh, she could still wrap some listening device around her hair and eavesdrop that way. I’m just Pepe Silvia’ing the possibilities of Rifle at this point.

AFO uses Overhaul as an example of someone who became a victim of Pro-Heroes. This give him enough leverage to make a deal with Lady Nagant. So, as part of the contract, AFO granted her his Air Walk Quirk! On paper, a passive Quirk like Air Walk doesn’t seem very useful. But, this series has proved to us time and time again that passive/support Quirks can be just as/if not more amazing than raw-powered Quirks. So, a Quirk like Air Walk can get Lady Nagant to so many places for her to fire her bullets. It’s an incredibly useful Quirk for a sniper. I do wonder what the limits of it are (because all Quirks have some sort of limitation), but I guess we’ll find that out later. I really do wonder how Deku’s going to handle Lady Nagant and Overhaul though. That’s going to be interesting.

Oh boy, that the chapter! Solid chapter per usual. Gah, my fingers hurt after typing so much. I’m glad we got to know more about Lady Nagant! She was a mystery for weeks, but we finally got some backstory on her. So, some answers, but a lot of questions are left behind. I’m actually glad we’re still sticking with Deku so far. I still want to see Bakugo and Shoto, but we also haven’t gotten a purely Deku-centric arc for a while, so this is good. Horikoshi truly doesn’t miss! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be screaming about the next anime episode and Shoto Todoroki sakuga for the next week I will not apologize.

Me @ Horikoshi every chapter:

Also, this is the Wanted scene I was talking about before:

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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spicedcinnamoncake · 4 years ago

Text

Heartbreak and Renovation

‘ pairing: George Weasley x Reader summary: the yule ball was approaching, and everyone was finding dates. Your itching crush on a certain redhead had your stomach in knots whenever he passed by. Your friend had finally convinced you to ask him to the ball, but you were too late. Or, so you thought...? TW: Fluff, Angst 💞💖

Warnings: crying, not feeling good enough

Your dress: https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=kv8L07lG&id=25ED1A9E74CCFD9AABEFCE4C32A43AB285382D25&thid=OIP.kv8L07lGHxMLrZMiSNgQ1wHaKo&mediaurl=https%3A%2F%2Fd23gkft280ngn0.cloudfront.net%2Flarge%2F2020%2F5%2F21%2FEllie-Wilde-EW22048_0030.jpg&exph=862&expw=600&q=red+ballgown&simid=607987947465147396&ck=121D50F146F518C40C40E206969B5B4E&selectedindex=22&form=IRPRST&ajaxhist=0&pivotparams=insightsToken%3Dccid_0gfGc2zG*cp_A3E50AB790301AEED9B2B393A1ED60F2*mid_7A2976864398A86F3D59D0D8E8BFB525EDD80AEB*simid_608036914410227013*thid_OIP.0gfGc2zGMDBdpLbRQK3zPAHaJc&vt=0&sim=11&iss=VSI&ajaxhist=0

The corridors were filled with excited students buzzing about the Yule Ball. You were sick of hearing about excited girls in your year squealing over their dates, you seemed like you were the only person in the entire year who didn’t have one yet. It made you feel lonely. You confided in your friend Neville Longbottom, who always listened to your rants and comforted you the best he could. Even he found a date, he was going with Ginny Weasley.

You too were attracted to a Weasley, a certain redheaded twin that always seemed more down to earth then his rebellious brother. Something about him made your knees weaken and your heart flutter. The thought of the two of you going to the ball together constantly danced around your head. It seemed like a fairytale, a beautiful girl, the guy of her dreams, and classical music playing as they slow danced the night away.

The feeling itched and tugged at your heart constantly. The thought of George occupied your thoughts nearly all the time. You two had a steady friendship, and the thought of ruining it seemed almost devastating. Are you being overdramatic? For a year five girl with a soul-crushing attraction to one of her dearest friends, probably not.

You two had met when you were in your second year, in potions class when you were put together for a herbology project involving taking care of this magical plant. You friendship blossomed like the blue flower that sprouted from the plant you two had taken care of.

You began to catch feeling of the boy only a few months of knowing him. He was always so nice and comforting to talk to, and you didn’t want to ruin that friendship you two had worked so very hard for. imagine how awkward it would be if he didn’t return your feelings. Everything would be ruined.

Twisting a quill between your fingers, you sighed in frustration. The snow fell outside the window of the library as you and Neville did your homework. Neville looked up from his paper and sighed. ‘George again? I don’t get why you won’t just ask him out Y/N, it’s starting to drive you crazy.’

You rubbed at your eyes and gazed out the window. Neville’s words danced around your brain before you finally spoke. ‘It’s not that easy, Nev. George and i, well, we have been friends for a while now, and i don’t want to ruin it all because of some silly little crush.’

Neville looked down at his parchment and sighed. ‘look, maybe you should take a break. Meet me in the common room before dinner, sound good?’

You looked up at him. He was your absolute best friend ever since first year. You would have already gone mad if it wasn’t for him. ‘Thanks Nev, see you.’

Sliding out of your chair, you gathered your parchment and quills and left the library. You walked to the Gryffindor common room and up the steps to your own dorm. Hermione was sprawled out on her bed with a book in hand that she was deeply engrossed in. You slammed the parchment down on your desk and flopped onto your bed, sighing into a pillow. You clutched it over your face and half-screamed half-grunted.

‘George again?’ Hermione asked, eyes still hooked on the pages. You turned your head and nodded. As if she sensed it, she sighed and sat down next to you. ‘I don’t get it Y/N. You love him so much. You should really ask him. The ball is only a month away, and you are running out of time.’

Time. The one thing that we never have.

She is right. Well, she’s always right, but this time her words dug deeper. Time was running out. If you didn’t ask him, you might lose him. Someone else could ask, someone else could become his love, someone else would get to have all that you dreamed of. You sighed and sat up. ‘i’ll do it tomorrow. I won’t say i like him, i will just ask.’

Hermione smiled and flipped the pages of her book to where she left off. ‘That’s what i thought.’

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

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

George was re-taking a potions test, so you went to find Fred. He was sitting in the common room working on a parchment. ‘Hey Freddie, could i ask you something?’ You felt your throat start to close as you mentally prepared to ask Fred if his own brother had a date. You knew that Fred was going with Angelina Johnson, but you still had no idea about George.

Fred looked up from his parchment and gave you a quick smile. ‘Hey Y/N, what’s up?’ He said before ducking his head down and going back to scribbling on his parchment. You took a deep breath before asking. ‘Is.. Is George going with anyone to the ball?’

‘No, don’t think so. Why, thought of asking him?’

You bit your lip as a blush creeped over your face. ‘Y-yeah, I’m thinking about it. Don’t say anything to him though... ok?’

Fred looked you dead in the eyes and swore he wouldn’t breath a word. You sighed and went away.

Once you were out of sight from practically anybody, you quietly closed your dorm door. Once you had shut if, you ran to your bed and jumped on it, beaming and laughing hysterically. You had not been too late! ok, tomorrow. After lunch. In the common room. Perfect!

Your cat had jumped up on your bed nuzzled against your ankle. You picked him up and held him in front of you. His bright hazel eyes looked at you while his little pink nose twitched. You held him close, stroking his soft grey fur. He purred while you pet his head and you sighed contently. ‘Oh Clyde, if he says yes? You will never here the end of it.’

Clyde looked up at you an blinked, as if he was wishing you luck. You sat up and began thinking of how you would ask him. You decided to wing it.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Hermione was fast asleep and you were wide awake. Clyde and Crookshanks were asleep in the space between your beds. The moon shone through the crack in the curtains, creating a thin white line that split the room in half. You finally managed to shut your eyes and fall asleep, the thought of George being the last thing on your mind.

You could barely sit still during herbology. Neville looked at you with questionable eyes and you just winked. ‘I’m planning on asking him after class.’ you whispered, eyes gleaming. Neville smiled and gave you a thumbs up. ‘Good luck!’

Once class ended, you ran out of the classroom to go and wash any dirt off of you. You had a rose in your hand for when you asked him. Weird? Maybe. Thoughtful? sure. Totally you? Hell yeah.

You skipped out of your room, and pat Clyde on the way out. ‘wish me luck buddy.’

The common room was empty, except for George who had just walked in to grab something from his dorm before lunch. You took a breath and was about to walk over, when Alicia Spinnet came running in and caught up to him before you could. Flustered, you ducked back behind the wall, edging out to peek.

Alicia and George talked for a while, and it tugged at you when she slipped her hand into his. That’s when a bomb dropped, and so did the rose in your hand.

‘Hey, do you want to go to the ball with me?’

After the words left her lips, time seemed to slow. You eyes widened and the rose left your hand, dropping onto the floor. You felt your throat close and you felt the tears begin to form. Mouth hanging open like you wanted to jump out and scream ‘no’ but your feet remained in its place. Instead, you covered your face with your hair and went up the steps, back to your dorm. You didn’t stop to pet Clyde, you didn’t stop to take off your shoes, you didn’t stop to pull the covers over your head. You just fell flat on the bed, tears streaming down your face. You cried into your pillow, soft sniffles and whines muted against the soft fabric.

Clyde jumped on your bed and began licking the salty tears off your face and you buried your head deeper. Most people might have felt heartbroken, but you just felt hollow. Like a piece broke when you heard that you were too late.

A few minutes passed before you heard a knock on your door. Must be Hermione to collect another book for her classes.

‘Come in, ‘Mione.’

‘It’s Neville. Where were you at lunch?’ He asked, pushing the door open. When he saw you, he rushed over and sat next to you. ‘Y/N what happened?’

You sat up and attempted to collect yourself. You gazed out the window before mumbling. ‘I don’t think I’m going to the ball, Nev.’ you looked down.

‘Why not?’

‘Its nothing ok!? Leave me alone, please.’ You snapped. Neville looked hurt and you immediately felt awful. There was no need to be mean to Neville, he was just trying to help. ‘Wait, Nev.’

He was halfway out the door when he turned over his shoulder. ‘Mm?”

‘Im... Im sorry.’

He looked away before sliding all the way out. ‘It’s ok. See you.’

Once he left you completely broke down. You were mean to your friend, you were too late to ask George out, and everyone else had a date but you.

You looked at your dress in the closet. Beautiful deep red material, with a delicate beaded lace corset with small silk roses sewn into the flowy skirt. Well, that was a waste.

You shut the closet door and crawled into your covers. Not bothering to take off your boots or take your hair out of its ponytail. You just wanted to disappear for now.

The next few weeks were a living hell. Love was in the air, yet there seemed to be a depressing bubble surrounding you that prevented any of it to come inside. You felt miserable. People walking around hand in hand, flirting, talking about matching outfits, and you didn’t get any of that sensation.

When the night finally arrived, you slumped down on your bed and stroked Clyde while eyeing your dress. Hermione went down early because she had to get ready for when she went out with Viktor Krum.

A knock on your door drew you from your thoughts. ‘Come in!’

Neville stepped in, all dressed in his new dress robes and hair neatly combed. He looked fantastic. ‘Y/N, i need to talk to you.’

‘If this is some type of operation to try and convince me to go, then give up now.’ You said =, rolling your eyes. Neville wasn’t having it. He went right over and sat next to you. ‘Listen to me Y/N. This night will only come once, and i don’t want you to waste it.’

‘Nev, i’ll be the only one without a date!’

‘That does not matter, Y/N. Atleast come and see the champions come out. Talk with your friends, have a good time! Even if it’s only for half an hour, it’s better then nothing.’

His words swirled around your brain for a moment, processing what might happen. You concluded that you will stay for one song, just enough for the champions to come out, dance, and then you would be free to leave. You look a deep breath and looked at Neville.

Before you could open your mouth, Clyde jumped off your lap and ran over to where your dress was hanging, batting a paw at it and meowing. Neville smiled and pointed at the little grey cat. ‘See, he get’s it!’

You let a small smile edge onto your lips. Walking over, you picked up the dress and looked over to Neville. ‘Let’s do this thing.’

You sprinted to the dressing room where all the girls were finishing up, fixing their makeup and putting small flowers in their hair. You found Hermione and did a double-take at her outfit. She looked amazing in her pink floor-length dress and her hair all done up. She looked like a princess.

‘Y/N! you came!’ She said, hugging you. Her face became serious. ‘Hurry, there’s not much time left before we go down.’

‘I know that. Let me hurry up.’ You smiled and slipped into a stall. The dress slid on nicely, hugging your figure and the flowy skirt spilling out down your waist to the floor, gently brushing it.

You stepped out of the cubicle and all the girls heads turned to look at you. You felt yourself blush when you felt Hermione grab your wrist and haul you over to a table that was covered in makeup. You felt Hermione powder your face, prod at your eyes and finally sealed the deal with some smooth sparkly lip gloss.

You looked in the mirror and gawked. Was that... You? Pretty dress, Pretty hair, pretty girl. You felt amazing. You wore your hair down and it flowed off your head beautifully, slightly curled at the ends.

‘Come on! Their lining up!’ Hermione tugged you over to the long line of girls gathered at the top of the stairs, their dates waiting at the bottom. You joined the girls, you all looked like Princesses. You watched as Hermione and Cho went with two of the champions, Viktor and Cedric. You gave Hermione a thumbs’ up and she beamed. Fred looked awestruck as Angelina paired up with him. Your eyes laid on George. He had his arm linked with Alicia and you thought you would break down right there and then. Hold it together. You got this.

The music played and the champions began to go out into the hall, they all looked so amazing. The rest of the couples started to dance, and you stood there awkwardly. You smiled as you watched Hermione and Krum, Neville and Ginny, they all looked like they were having such fun.

You felt like you were being looked at. You scanned the ballroom, when your eyes met George’s. He turned red when your eyes met. You felt your heartstrings pull and you looked away. It hurt to see him. He looked so handsome, his hair neatly done, dress robes, the whole package.

You felt your throat begin to close when Alicia came up to him. No, you can’t cry. At least, not here. You picked up the front of your dress slightly so you could walk out of the room with ease, catching one last moment of eye contact with George before sprinting down the corridor and out into the garden. You erupted in tears and slumped down onto a stone bench next to a rose bush. You held your head in your hands and sobbed. You were so lonely.

You heard footsteps crunch on the stone but you didn’t care. You saw a pair of feet parked right in front of you. You looked up and saw the redhead that had your heart for the past few months. He looked awkwardly at you, running his hands through his hair.

You wiped your face and looked up. ‘Yes?’ George sat down next to you. ‘You ok?’

You rolled your eyes. They fell on the crescent moon above you. ‘I’m brilliant George.’ ‘Look, Y/N, there’s something i need to tell you. I’m really sorry for not telling you sooner, but when i heard that you weren’t going to the ball, i thought i felt something inside me break a bit. I was going to ask you to be my date. And if i am being completely honest,’

He looked into your eyes and took your hand. You gulped. Is this a dream?

‘I fancy you.’

Without thinking you pulled him in for a kiss. You clutched his shoulders, tears rolling down your face. You felt his arm wrap around your waste and the other cup your face. You felt safe. He pulled away and wiped a tear from your face. ‘You look beautiful.’

You blushed and sighed. ‘Funny story. I was going to ask you, but then i heard Alicia ask you first. I sort of broke a bit.’ You said, feeling weird about the whole situation. George smiled awkwardly and squeezed your hand. Your ears perked up as you heard a slow song playing from the great hall. George stood up and held out his hand. ‘Y/N Y/L/N, may i have this dance?’

You grinned and took his hand. You two danced slowly in the moonlight to slow music paying in a different room surrounded by floral scents that wafted through the air. You two danced past a rosebush and George plucked a rose and tucked it gently behind your ear. You leaned up and locked lips.

Music, the moon, sealed with a kiss.

Bliss.

#george weasley #harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #hogwarts #fanfic #yule ball

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imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

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“My Favourite Patient.”

Gotham One Shot

Summary: you’re Jerome’s psychiatrist and new friend. But before he gathers the courage to ask you to be his, he grows upset when you get assigned to a different patient after the Arkham Asylum head office labels your relationship with a patient as inappropriate.

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Author’s Note: inspired by Harley & Joker, obviously—but more angsty & definitely not the way the Joker treats Harley in paralleling to Jerome x y/n. this is a 600 follower special!!! like i said, one shots requests are not open, but i’ll be opening them and taking a few once i hit 1k!! [milestone masterlist]

“IS that a diary?”

Jerome nodded excitedly and slid the small book over to your side. You examined the cover, noticing how he had decorated it with letters and kiddie stickers, and what really stood out was the giant ice cream centered.

“Do you update it daily?” you ask, half opening it.

“Meh, I try to. Often times I find myself just doodling the hell out of the margins.” Jerome watched you flip it open completely, skimming through. You were surprised to see how crazy Jerome went with the writing and cartoon doodles scribbled everywhere.

Most of them included his dreams of how to get back at Bruce Wayne, getting into depth of how he was gonna do it, and there was a drawing of him getting tortured with bees.

You flipped to the recent page he last worked on, and your eyes fixated when you spotted your name being written at least five times, then the giant heart drawn around the initials

JEROME + Y/N

“Uh...”

Jerome cackled. “Hope you don’t mind being featured?”

You shake your head and slid the diary back to his side, chuckling. “I don’t mind at all.” You jotted a few things in the clipboard, noticing at the corner of the folder Jerome’s mugshot taken for the second time after escaping, dying, resurrecting and being brought back to Arkham, this time his face was cut and sewn back on respectively.

You wouldn’t enjoy gushing about it, because the thought was downright odd. But you also couldn’t deny it. You and Jerome developed a close bond, and soon the tension between you two were hints that it was leading to something more than just a psychiatrist-patient relationship.

Jerome shared the same age as you, and you were one of the gifted people to get your Ph.D at a fine young age. You were so close to luring Jerome to something bigger in hopes of taking good care of him and helping him become better than the kind of guy he was known to be.

When it was simply you and him alone in the room during his appointment, you got glimpses of his character, and he was falling for you. Who would have thought you would have reciprocated those feelings without even telling him first.

But, you weren’t here to win yourself an inmate boyfriend. Your job was to help him.

Glancing at the clock, you gathered all your things and heard the buzzer of the room go off. Two guards walk in to escort Jerome back to his cell.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Jerome winked at you and obeyed orders. “See you next week, doc. Oh! Can I bring my diary to our next appointment?”

“Of course you can,” you smiled.

He smiled, the recovering stitch from his sewn face stretching out a bit, making you cringe. “Man, you are the best, y/n! The best doctor to cure me in this funny farm, at least still on the journey of doing so.” He laughed and he was tugged away to leave.

You smiled back again, without realizing your last words would mean all the galaxies and stars to him like magic. “Anything for my favourite patient.”

The following week, Jerome skipped down the halls when the line to the recreational room cut short, and he was stopped when he was told that it was time for his appointment. Beaming with excitement, he grabbed his diary just like he was promised to be allowed to bring with him, and he was taken down the corridors and into the familiar office.

Just days before, Jerome worked like a surgeon preparing the next page of his diary dedicated just for you. It was much more detailed and there were more smiley faces and hearts doodled around yours and his name. The words “BE MINE?” were scribbled at the bottom of the page as he planned on surprising you with the proposal as soon as you would open to the recent page.

The guard unlocked the door with the known buzzer blaring, and Jerome hopped in like a showman.

“Hello again, dear! Good to see ya-”

He stopped. Someone was sitting in your spot opposite to where he was supposed to sit in. There was a doctor in the room, but it wasn’t you. The doctor was middle aged, more experienced, but gave off the unwanted, boring vibe. He looked up from the report he was reading and shot Jerome a blank stare. There was nothing friendly in his greeting unlike how you greeted him like a friend whenever he showed up.

“Mr. Valeska, have a seat.” His monotonous voice almost made Jerome’s skin crawl.

“Who the hell are you?” Jerome asked.

“Your psychiatrist.”

“I think I’m at the wrong appointment. Y/n is my psychiatrist. Where are they?”

“I’m afraid y/n has been assigned to a new patient. It was arranged at such short notice, but they’ll no longer be requiring their time on you. So I’ll be replacing them.” The doctor frowned at Jerome’s diary held in his hands. “Oh, you can’t bring that in here.”

Completely baffled, Jerome tries making his way out the door, however the guards caught on quick and restrained the angry ginger down in his seat. The whole time, all Jerome could do was stare at the psychiatrist so angrily and hungry for revenge. It’s not like the doctor was at fault, but seeing him and not y/n made Jerome’s blood boil.

Several days pass, and Jerome did not see y/n until one stormy afternoon when walking down the halls. It was a new corridor he had yet to explore, and he couldn’t help but take a peak through the slot. He squinted his eye, and felt his heart drop to his gut.

He saw you, but you couldn’t see him. Your new assigned patient was speaking to you in slow mutters, something you had yet expected when dealing with Arkham asylum inmates. Jerome couldn’t believe it, why did you have to go? It wasn’t common for Arkham psychiatrists to just switch patients.

“You! Valeska!”

Jerome glared at the guard who incompetently showed up at the door they were supposed to, well, guard. “Keep moving.”

As soon as his name was called out from the halls, you shot your eyes at the door, ignoring the patient you were with. Jerome was quick enough to grab the keys from the guard’s belt, unlocking it and barging in.

“Jerome?” you jumped.

“Yeah, hi. Quite a surprise to see you with...” Jerome glanced over at the inmate, who had drool running down his mouth. “That thing.”

“Jerome, I’m with a patient right now, and this is a confidential session. You can’t be in here.”

“Not until you and I figure out why I’m no longer your weekly problem anymore.”

Your face fell, and something from your look tells Jerome that you knew the answer to that. The guard goes to grab Jerome, but you stop them. “Wait! Give us a minute.” Jerome grinned while shooing the officer out the door.

You sighed. “Last week, I got called into the head office. The person who owns this hellhole told me I can’t be your psychiatrist anymore.”

“Why?” Jerome asks, taking a step closer.

“They said they found our friendship to be inappropriate. I know the point of this job is to engage with my patients and develop a bond while treating them. But after monitoring us in the session room, they weren’t too happy. They threatened to revoke my license and fire me, but I told them they could just assign me to another patient. So they did.”

Jerome’s world collapsed like an apocalypse. What a ridiculous reason, he thought. They’re just jealous that they didn’t have a strong connection with anyone the way I did with y/n. You were such a positive impact ever since he was locked up, and now the positive was all being taken away.

But what tore his cold heart to broken icicles was the fact that you found an alternative, and that meant you couldn’t see Jerome anymore.

“That is just childish,” Jerome said in a low voice. “I care about you so much, y/n. But you could of came up with another idea instead of treating some rando who drools like a baby.”

“I can’t lose my job, Jerome,” you tell him. “And besides, you and me being a couple? It can’t happen. Not here.”

“Oh, it can.” Jerome stretched out a smile. “I am your favourite patient after all.”

You shook your head. “Jerome...”

He took another step and took your hand, as if he was preparing for a waltz. You stood stiff. “You and me, we can get outta here. We can be together and turn Gotham upside down and play with it like a tether ball. We just gotta think of a plan. That’s only if you wanna be with me.”

Finally, you were able to say those words. “I do wanna be with you, J.” He smiled and pulled you close to his dirty and distressed sewed face, and kissed you passionately, ignoring the patient that sat in the chair like a lifeless statue.

Pulling away, he still held onto you. “Don’t worry, toots. I escaped before, and I’l do it again with pleasure. I’m a man with a plan, and you, y/n, are mine.”

You smiled and kissed him again as thunder and lightning struck outside the gothic window. Just like the initials and hearts written in his diary, Jerome was a man of his word.

—

tag list: @lotsoffandomimagines

#jerome valeska one shot #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham jerome #gotham one shot #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #reader insert #one shot #imagine

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