#and I proudly thought I'd find them again no problem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosesloveletters · 6 months

Text

help me find my way back.

pc: x

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 1,912

Warnings: Nudity, depictions/mentions of anxiety and depression.

Summary: ‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’ // Reader and Wonka bathe together, while Reader reflects on their own difficulties as they fight to determine whether true love is strong enough to make them not give up on themself.

Author's Note: This story was born from a long walk taken on a cloudy autumn day. All I had were my thoughts and that was enough. I never would have anticipated I'd be writing for this character, but life works in mysterious ways. I am just pleased to be writing again. Enjoy.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You knew when it became real love.

It started with a breath of fresh air you imagined taking, because you were so stifled there beneath the false canopy. You loved the sanctity of the factory, but just once would you have delighted in the feeling of warm sunlight sinking into your skin instead of the fluorescent lights recessed into the ceiling above your head. You missed having your head in the clouds instead of gazing up at artificial cirrus and synthetic cerulean blue.

You could have left any time you liked, but that would have been too easy. Some dreams were worth chasing, even if it came with certain sacrifices. You could make do without a lungful of outside air, but you couldn’t take a chance on losing out on yourself.

There was a time when you were the cause of the crushing weight on your chest; you would reclaim that time proudly, which coincidentally was the very heart of the problem.

If the heart knew what it wanted, then yours must have lost its way a long time ago. Perhaps that was why you’d been experiencing palpitations lately.

This would not be the first time your heart led you astray.

Even so, you hoped that this time might be different.

‘Could this be enough?’ you asked yourself. ‘Could he be enough?’

Your mind had been cloudy enough to make up for the lack of them in here. You felt trapped inside a mind and body that were not your own; you could not control your own brain and no longer could manipulate your thoughts. You hesitated when you spoke because your train of thought kept derailing.

It wasn’t enough to keep trying to save someone who was already lost.

That was, until the echoes of him came to exist within your very pulse. His cornflower blue eyes – you’ve been pining for that same shade of blue sadness for far too long – were reminiscent of ones you laced within your own hair as a child. His literacy reignited your hunger for knowledge and how you used to devour each page of the books you loved. His sarcastic wit reminded you of how you’d painstakingly perfected the art of elocution and used it to your advantage time and again.

He bridged the gap between your past and present and in the death of your disunity, you fell in love, both with him and with yourself.

His presence in your life cut through the fog in your mind like headlights glistening through the haze. You still had miles to go, uncharted territory to map out, before you could lie down and rest comfortably within his arms, but even though you had a long way to travel, he’d take every step with you as if the journey were his own.

Never would you cry yourself to sleep alone, feeling the weight of your misery pressing down on you rather than the warm body of your beloved.

You had known love before and felt it, deep within the presently vacant cavity of your chest. You knew it existed and, yet it came and went, changing like the seasons, traveling like a storm.

If love were meant to be that violent, then why was his embrace as warm as springtime sunshine? Why were his eyes clear blue like that of the sky after it rained? Why did his heart beat, not like thunder, but like undulating ripples of a quiet pond?

He filled your mind with poetry and it came spilling out of you now.

If you were to take the form of a golden leaf, nature’s waste discarded upon the ground, would your beauty be unique enough to make him pick you up and put you in his pocket? If you were a clump of moss growing steadily upon a concrete pillar, would you be able to feel the graze of his fingertips along your plush foliage? If the two of you were coffee rings left by two overflowing mugs staining the mahogany, would you overlap?

It was no question as to what had changed to make you think this way again; as often as you’d tried to fill the void in your chest with someone else’s heart, he made you realize the one you must nurture first is your own.

You would sink into yourself again, the same way you were about to sink into the bath you’d just run for you and Willy.

You reached for the faucet and turned it, shutting the water off, and watched the last few drops cling to the cold steel, then fall into the bath. You reached out and let your fingers delicately graze the surface of the water as you tested the temperature. You were delighted by how easily calm waters turned rough; Willy would say you’re halfway to a metaphor there.

Once you had deemed the water warm enough, you got off your knees and turned to face your lover as the bathroom door was opened.

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, turning around to meet your loving gaze.

You both undressed in the comfortable silence of the small bathroom. The air was thick with steam and drops of condensation clustered on the mirror above the vanity. You had lit several candles which smelled of honey and warm sugar and placed them strategically throughout the room to aid your vision without an onslaught to the senses.

With your clothing out of the way, you let Willy settle into the bath first.

Your eyes raked over him in the low light accentuating the curves and supple accents of his body and you took in the way the water rose several inches when he sank down into it. He extended an arm to guide you into him once he was ready and you gingerly lifted one leg over the side of the bathtub, letting him take hold of you by the hand as you eased your way towards him.

You lover’s warm hands were gentle as he helped you sit in the bath with him.

When your back connected with his front, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure at both the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies.

You both basked in the intimate glow permeating the darkened room and you felt the gravitational pull between your two forms. Your future was constellated, a string of stars wrapped around your hearts, connecting one with the other.

You were uncertain whether you believed in soulmates, but if you were asked to put how you felt for him into words, you would have said that you were sure you were made of dust from the same star.

“Are you comfortable, dear?”

The sound of his voice overwhelmed you with emotion and you turned to look at him. You met his strikingly blue gaze and the first thing you thought was how much you missed him.

You missed him, yet he was there with you.

You could feel the warm press of his body against yours, much warmer than that of the water because you knew what you were feeling was him.

It did not make sense to say that you missed him, but perhaps that tightness in your chest and the clenching fist around your heart and the tears that were burning the backs of your eyes were caused by the same culprit; it might be impossible to miss what was right in front of you, but you had somehow found a way, because it wasn’t Willy whom you had missed with all your heart – it was yourself.

You had lost yourself in the search for something better and you could have cried till you ran out of tears, screamed until you had no voice left.

The processional of time had not been kind to your brain. You were riddled with anxieties you did not remember developing and those rotten, malevolent thoughts were taking up space where your lover used to be. His face was shrouded in mystery not of his own doing.

You had taken him away from yourself before you’d been honored the pleasure of calling him yours.

You couldn’t see the forest for the trees because you had let yourself grow complacent.

When you recessed into yourself too far, Willy coaxed you out again. He would help you return to the person you once were and find yourself again in this changed world.

You nodded peacefully at his question, “yes. This feels lovely, thank you.”

His only response came in the form of a gentle hum and you felt yourself sink into him at that, his body, your vessel, and his love, your anchor.

Beneath the surface of the water, his arms encircled you, fingers linking together as he held you within the comfort of his embrace. He could sense that though you were quiet, your mind was loud and without hesitation, he began humming a tune. His melodious voice silenced your mind almost immediately and the only resounding thought inside your head was how lucky you were to experience a love like this one.

Willy hummed the verses to ‘Pure Imagination’ while the two of you laid in the bath. Though you had heard him sing the words too many times to count, there was something different about it this time, like he was trying to communicate with you about something important but lacked the right words.

Willy Wonka was in possession of one of the vastest vocabularies you’d come to know in the mo, so that wasn’t it, but in your weary heart, you knew what it was.

You needed a reminder that your mind was a great tool, not just one that tormented you.

And, if your own mind became too much for you, he would let you get lost within his for a while, where you would be free, if you truly wished to be.

That was enough to send one tear tumbling down your cheek as you nestled into him, hoping he would not notice, but he did. His hold on you tightened and his chin now rested on the top of your head. Arms that had previously been locked around you parted and his hand found yours under the water. He held you tight, keeping you on the ground with him.

‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’

There would be plenty of time to lose yourself in imagination. For now, your attention was his.

He continued to hum to you, held protectively in his arms until he could sense that you were calm.

There were times when Willy questioned his own mind and the things it did to him, never quite understanding where the thoughts came from, which were dreams and which were nightmares. He had mistaken one for the other on more than one occasion and needed to be brought out of his racing mind. With you there to remind him of that, he was able to differentiate.

If he could help you to better understand yourself, he would. He would travel the world over, do the impossible, think unthought of things and invent a way to return you to yourself if he could.

But, above all else, Willy wanted you to know that he loved you, fiercely, passionately, completely.

Perhaps this love would be enough to make you want to keep fighting to save yourself.

#willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagine #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #gene wilder #biblio :: 📖

106 notes · View notes

cubingciruitblog · 10 months

Text

What Speedcubing can Teach... #1

I've been cubing for almost 2 whole years now, and apart from finding a new hobby and passion, I feel that speedcubing has taught me much more too. This is a (lengthy) blog on what I've learnt through cubing. I'll be writing about a lesson that cubing has taught me every 2 days for the rest of the week so check back to see more. Short Intro - How I got into cubing Of course, the first big step would be finally solving your cube for the first time and seeing all 6 colours solved (not by peeling the stickers). But I really was fascinated by this puzzle. It looked so simple at first, but when I actually tried solving it, well of course I did not succeed. However, I was determined to solve my cube. I spent days trying to learn off YouTube videos. And one day, I did it. No more messing up in the middle of trying to return it to its solved state. I remember holding it up in front of my family proudly. So anyways, after that I saw some videos of speedcubers solving it faster than the time it took for me to type this sentence. And that's when I started trying to improve my timings and really learnt a lot from cubing... Lesson 1 To improve, I first decided, hey why not learn a faster method, knowing that probably wouldn't get far with the beginners' method. Like most cubers, I chose CFOP, mainly because it was similar to beginners' and therefore easier to grab the concepts. I started by learning cross, taking it a step at a time. So I tried making a white cross directly, instead of a daisy. I thought that I would be much faster at once. Who knew? It took me longer to make a white cross than a daisy. I was sort of disappointed but I decided to give it a chance. So I practised a lot and looked at other cubers' ways of making the cross, practised the techniques and a started getting the hang of it. I'll come back to this later but let me give another example. Now the next part I learned was 2-Look PLL, a set of algorithms. It was tortuous memorising them. Everytime I tried using the algs. in solves, I would just mess up. What did I do? I told myself to keep practising over and over again. I'd start the moment I had time, clocking in as much practice as possible. It was hard, but worth it. My times then, were now halved as compared to when I was still using beginners'. Back to cross, I just want to compare how I put in the effort to practise to my brother. My brother can solve a cube. He uses beginners' and I tried teaching him the cross. However, he too ran into the problem of his daisy being faster. He gave up. I tried convincing him that eventually, as long as he was willing to practise, it would help a ton. But I guess it's not easy to change someone's mind. Just because of our different attitudes, I'm 4-5 times faster than him. So what is my takeaway and the lesson here? I think it's quite obvious by now but here it is anyways : Although practice can never make you a perfect person at whatever you are doing, it can make you much better. Hard work pays off and overall, this makes me understand the concept behind delayed gratification. This is the end my blog for today

~ CubingCircuit, 18 July 2023 (from where I am)

#rubikscube #motivation #cubing #speedcubing #lessons learned #delayed gratification

8 notes · View notes

ksqwildwest · 2 years

Text

Surprise! It's My Birthday

----------

Thompson looks up from his small pile of paperwork as he hears footsteps approaching his office. Well, not real paperwork but Karl had asked him to look over his newly drafted story to see if he'd missed any grammar errors. It was still work on paper though. Even if the story kept sucking him in. Karl had a unique way with words.

Mason and Jack knock at the door politely instead of just walking in. They call him "Sheriff Thompson" instead of any of the countless nicknames they've given him. Neither of them sit on the desk. They don't mess with the paper. Not a single bacon pun between them.

"You two want a favor for me."

They both only look startled for a moment before sheepishly smiling at the sheriff.

"Told you we couldn't hide it from him," Jack whispered.

"No, I told you that," Mason argued. He elbowed Jack before grinning brightly at the sheriff, "and once you hear our plan, I'm sure you'll think of it as more of a favor to Karl than anything else."

Thompson raised a brow at that. He quickly went through a few possibilities. Had the three become a couple and they wanted him to give Karl a day off? No, he wouldn't have to guess if the three were together yet or not. Mason and Jack wouldn't let anyone in town not know if they were. Were they looking for a specific day off so they could ask Karl to get together? Maybe, though they both seem too calm if they were even considering asking Karl out. They both had smiles too mischievous to be asking anything normal but they were too calm and polite to be planning another prank or anything romantic.

He couldn't figure out what they were planning. It was as exciting as it was off putting.

"I'll hear you out but I ain't guaranteeing anything."

"Oh don't worry," Jack says confidently, "I am pretty sure you're going to love it as much as we do."

"..."

"This isn't anything like any of the things you're thinking of. We swear," Mason tacks on after a few seconds of silence.

"Yah. And the best part," Jack leans over the desk like he's telling a big secret, "we'll be goin' through a full day without breakin' any laws or causing mischief if ya say yes."

Thompson lets out a breathy laugh. Then a chuckle. The Bandits willingly not causing chaos? He must have fallen asleep at his desk again.

Jack mutters out, "I'd be offended but we're us, so fair's fair."

"It's for Karl's birthday tomorrow," Mason explains, "we found out about it today and we've been puttin' our heads together thinkin' of a good gift. It's too late to really buy him anything. So, we thought about doing something with him. Specifically, getting him to be a bandit for the day."

"But," Jack jumps into the explanation, "Karl would never actually break a law while you're in the role of sheriff. You're a bit too intimidating for that."

"So you want me to take the day off. I have a problem with that and it's the fact that if me and Karl are both not acting as sheriff, who will?"

Jack and Mason smile proudly.

"You two."

They nod.

"As Sheriffs."

Another nod.

"... What?"

"Think about it!" Mason starts listing off on his hand, "We both already know what needs to be put on the paperwork from the drills we help out with. We both already know just about all the laws from breaking them all so many times. We're athletic enough to hold our own in a fist fight and skilled enough with our guns to defend ourselves in a shoot out. We're perfect for the role!"

The Sheriff leans back in his chair as he mulls over the points in his head. They weren't wrong. He knew they wouldn't try anything, not unless they were willing to risk upsetting Karl on his birthday. They really were fit for acting as sheriff's for the day. Something about the concept felt so strange and unrealistic but it fit together so well.

"Is this goin' to be a regular thing?"

"Oh no no no, of course not," Jack reassures him.

"Well," Mason says, "unless Karl asks."

Thompson stands up from his desk and digs around in a side drawer for a few moments. Finding what he was looking for, he grabs it and walks smoothly around the desk to stand right in front of them.

"I can't believe I'm doin' this." He mumbles as he pins two sheriff badges, one for each, onto them. "Congratulations, Mason and Jack. You two are temporarily sheriffs of the town of Lazarus."

-----------

Hope you all enjoy this next part of the story! I'm planning on writing the continuation to this as a response to a prompt I've had in the inbox for literal months. So the next Plot Story will not be a continuation of this story. Instead, it kicks off the part of the story I've been wanting to tell since the beginning of this blog. I can't wait to share it with you all!

#tales from the smp #tftsmp #tftsmp wild west #writings from lazarus #jack kenoff #sheriff sherman thompson #tftsmp mason #karl jacobs

22 notes · View notes

1realityjones1 · 8 months

Text

A little vent post:

I don't know if I've ever truly felt like this before in my life. I know the emotion I'm plagued with, the tightness in my chest that restricts my breathing. Dread, the utter fear of something you can't run away from. The fear of something persistent that haunts you day and night.

I feel as though I walk through a warehouse in the black darkness of night. There is no light to look towards, no guide to light my way on the right path through my life. I grasp towards phantoms and figments of the imagination, of hope, in the void and hope to find something concrete. I hope to finally grab on to something that may put me onto a desirable path.

The things I used to hold onto are fading and crumbling apart. My family is breaking, dying. My home is disappearing, I must find somewhere else to lay my head in peace. I'm the rope in a tug-of-war, my family tugging one of my arms and my friends tugging my other. My family is pulling me further as they have more strings to tie me down with, but my friends know to grab my heart and hold tight. It feels impossible to live with my family without my heart, and yet itbis equally impossible for the heart to live without the body.

The struggle to hold my head above the waves of events has been the struggle of my life, and I've been barely keeping my nose out of the depths for years.

I hadn't struggled for most of my life. I had known where to go and what to aim for. I never thought to look into it, never thought to look past the pretty colours of the painting of my imagined future as a child and see the trials I'd have to complete before I could experience what the art depicted. When one looks at art, they see wishes. They see the rose-tinted photograph, even if the photograph is of the heinous. Sometimes, I think the art that hides the horrible is worse than than the art that shows it proudly.

I wish I had been taught better. Not that anyone in my life that had taught me did poorly. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I was the one that should have done better. A good student asks questions, they understand the art themselves and understand the background of the image. They understand without being told to understand. I shrugged and told myself and others I understood even when I didn't so I wouldn't take time from others nor would I lose my own time.

I regret much in my life. I regret not asking more questions, not taking the initiative in so many things and allowing so many opportunities slip through the fingers like quicksilver. I made so many choices that hurt others just because those around me made those very same choices. I regret losing contact with friends, I regret the time I spent with them. I regret how I tried to help others when they told me not to help, where I ended up causing problems for everyone around me instead of doing any good.

I'm in a hall of mirrors. Constantly looking for an escape, yet finding only memories of misdeeds, mistakes, and moments I wish to return to. I look to my left and see myself as a bully, making fun of someone simply trying to fit in. I wish I hadn't fit in so well by being a bully. I look to my right and see myself saying horrible things to people that cared about me and loved me just so that I could be what I believed others wanted me to be. I look behind and see myself as a child pretending I am a super hero saving the damsel in distress in a small home with warm sunlight that never felt too small and still feels perfect. I look forward and see someone. They are my height, my weight, my shape, they have my face, my body, my hands, my scars. They are me, yet they are not at the same time. I walk forward, I do not want to walk to the left or right again. I cannot turn around and go back, I fear I will never be able to leave the paintings of the past.

I like video games because most of them have a way point. A candle in that dark warehouse. They are paintings I can physically interact with, paintings I can choose to understand or not as long as I enjoy experiencing them. I can learn from them, I can learn from the others telling their stories and painting the pictures. I have always wanted to be the painter. I have always wanted to draw a picture for an audience to understand or not, to try to teach them and show the mistakes I made and prevent someone from becoming me.

My father spoke about many things, as many intelligent people with little outlets for their genius do. He once told me he didn't want me to be like him, he wanted me to be better. His bar was not difficult to pass. He was an alcoholic and a chain smoker, I am not. I am better. He wanted to be a writer as a child, and he always encouraged me to embrace what I loved, my creativity. He was always supportive. Would he be supportive of other things if he were still alive? Would he be proud I'm taking the steps to become the writer he never was? I do not know. I doubt he'd support my identity, but I cannot see him being unsupportive.

I know I want others to be better than me. I don't want anyone to struggle like I have, and I realize I've been blessed by not being a poor child. I never had to receive hand me downs from family to even have anything to wear. I never had to struggle for dinner or breakfast or lunch. I never went hungry. I have it better than most, yet I feel the contrary. I hate that feeling.

I am running around in circles in my words and thoughts. I am reaching towards phantoms of my past and figments of hopes and dreams. I'm trying to find something to follow, and the things I'm finding are just memories leading me in circles. I'll find a memory of my father and it will lead me through the maze of mirrors again. I will take a left, a right, I'll turn around and go forward. I will latch on to one phantom and let it go just to chase another figment right before I get to something. I don't know what that something is. Is it the painful series of images of my father's conditions in the last few years of his life? Or is it flashes of happiness of my father, my mother, and I happy and enjoying each other's company. I don't know. I'll eventually go down those vortexes again, and again, and again. I will always find myself in that maze of mirrors of my mind, hoping to find a candle to use in the dark warehouse. I continue to search, even now as I write. I hope that perhaps I have found my candle.

TLDR: I don't know if I'd consider this a poem, but this is just me trying to figure my thoughts out. I have a lot going on, and I feel so overwhelmed. I'm hoping that I can keep my thoughts focused and deliberate if I write them down.

1 note · View note

opalimagines · 2 years

Text

Request: Perhaps 🌊 and 26 with Johnny Thunder where they're caught by another jsa member who doesn't know they're dating (sylvester maybe?) Thank you!

Character: Johnny Thunder

Requested by anonymous

Reader: Neutral

Warning: None

🌊 Getting steamy on a beach

26. "What if someone sees us?"

"Finally we get some time to ourselves."

You laid down on your beach blanket and pulled Johnny with you, making him let out a "Whoa!" as he landed beside you, the soft sand lessening the impact slightly.

Smiling, you rolled over on your side to face him. "I thought Ted would never leave."

Having a beach day with some of your fellow JSA members had been a great idea at first, especially since it included your boyfriend, Johnny, but there was a major problem. No one else knew about the relationship that had blossomed between the two of you, which meant you couldn't spend as much time together as you wanted to on such a beautiful day. After several attempts to sneak a bit of time away, you finally found some.

"Come here," you said, reaching out to him so you could pull him into a kiss.

And as much as Johnny wanted to kiss you, he stopped himself. "Gee, I'd really like to, but what if someone sees us?"

"It'll be fine, sweetheart." You leaned in close, your nose rubbing against his. "They're off doing other things. It's just us."

"Right. Just us." Johnny chuckled, a bit nervous. You had both agreed to keep things secret for as long as possible, not because either of you were ashamed, but because of any drama that it could start within the team. And as much as he wanted to proudly walk the town with you, Johnny understood. "Okay."

As soon as the word left his mouth, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled him in for a kiss. You could feel Johnny's cheeks burn beneath your palms, and his hands went right to holding you, not at all hesitant like they were for the first few months. Back then, he had felt more nervous kissing you than he ever did while fighting crime.

You pushed him to his back and laid on top of him, not minding the sand or the sun against your back. All you wanted to do was kiss the person who adored you and made your days so wonderful and full of joy. You didn't care what anyone else thought of him, because Johnny made you happy and he made it very clear that you did the same for him.

Distracted by the closeness, you didn't even hear the approaching footsteps on the sand.

"What the hell?!"

You quickly sat up on Johnny's lap and looked up to find Sylvester standing several feet away. Even with the distance, you could see the shock and disgust on his face.

Johnny carefully moved you off of him and sat up as well, looking up at Sylvester with wide eyes. "I, um, we...we were just, uh-"

Knowing you were caught red handed, you stepped in. "It's exactly what it looks like."

The horrified expression faded a little once you weren't literally on top of Johnny. "And when did this happen?"

"Almost a year ago."

Sylvester was impressed that you had kept it from the team for that long, especially when Johnny was involved, but mostly he was blown away that a knockout like you wanted a dope like Johnny Thunder. "The JSA-"

"You tell anybody and I'll tell them all about the time you-"

"Okay, okay!" Sylvester said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "But if I have to see you two doing that again, I might have to gouge my eyes out."

You rolled your eyes and threw some sand towards him. "Then go away!"

Once Sylvester was gone, Johnny spoke. "I guess the cat's out of the bag now."

"It was bound to happen someday." You scooted close to him again. "Now, Mr. Thunder, I believe we were in the middle of something..."

#johnny thunder x reader #johnny thunder imagine #dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dc x reader #stargirl imagine #stargirl x reader #my fics**#summer

1 note · View note

peachycoreroo · 3 years

Note

what about some haikyuu boys trying to explain how morning erection works to their s/o? if you could include Kuroo, Sugawara, Oikawa and Satori I'd be more than grateful 🥺

characters: kuroo tetsurou, sugawara koushi, oikawa tooru, tendou satori

genre: smut, a miiiini plot bc i can't control myself

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fem!reader but can be read as gn!reader, also kinda oblivious!reader?, established relationships, the slightest somnophilia (reader is just grinding while oikawa is asleep, he wakes up immediatly tho), handjob, morning wood (obvs), implied sex

authors note: omg this was my first ever request, thank you sm anonnie! i'm so sorry bc i'm pretty sure i got carried away and only kuroo and tendou really fit your request, but i still hope you'll like it<3 this was actually really hard bc i was so anxious about fucking up my first request, i also didn't really know much about morning woods (well now i do heh) and i find tendou kinda hard to write for but i really wanted to make anon happy. i stayed up till 4am for this🧍‍♂️here's a link to my masterlist<3

pt.2: kageyama tobio, haiba lev, hinata shoyo

kuroo tetsurou:

„your dick does what, why now?”

kuroo rolled his eyes. this is the third time he has to repeat himself and you still look at him as if you’ve never heard anything more complicated in your life.

sighing, the tall male leaned back against the headboard of your shared bed, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could, with you finally quenching your curiosity about his morning wood, and said morning wood pressing against his boxers and your sheets.

“one more time, y/n, there’s a number of reasons. first of all, the male body has its peak of testosterone in the morning. basically, the sudden increase of the hormone in the changing stages from being asleep to waking up, can get your guy up.” as he saw you open your mouth to ask a question, he immediately followed with: “yes, even without actually being aroused”, effectively making you shut your mouth again. the fact that he knew exactly what you wanted to ask, made him chuckle. kuroo knew you like the back of his hand.

“another one is that my body is aware of what’s going on, even when i’m asleep. if your ass grazes my dick, it’s gonna react.” grinning proudly, you sat yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“mhh, i’m glad you can’t resist me, even in your sleep. so… you want some help with that?”

the dark-haired male decided to play along, putting his large hands on your waist, pulling you closer and leaning in, just to stop a few inches from your lips and murmur: “you know, i could also just need to pee really bad”, making you lean back and stare at him dumbfounded.

as much as he wanted to actually teach you about this topic, kuroo would never pass up an opportunity to tease you.

sugawara koushi:

as suga jerked awake, he immediately became aware of his severe case of a morning wood. not only that, but he could also feel your ass pressed up snugly against it.

once the sleep slowly drained from the man’s eyes, he noticed that it was still dark outside and quickly checked the time to see his alarm clock reflecting the numbers 5:50 a.m. back at him. he knew he had to get up at 6 if he wanted to be an exemplary teacher and get to school earlier to prepare for class, but with the way your ass was pushing against his hard dick, his mind was too clouded by lust to care. he needed you, and he needed you now.

“baby, wake up”, in suga’s husky morning voice was the first thing you heard as you were gently stirred awake. when you cracked your eyes open, the silver-haired man was already kneeling between your legs, cock heavy and leaking against your panties.

yawning, you asked concerned: “kou’? what’s wrong? is everything okay?”

not being able to wait any longer, sugawara slowly started grinding against you through your shorts, making your breath hitch and legs spread wider.

“y-yeah, just a morning wood emergency. i can’t go and teach like that. let me use you quickly, princess”, suga almost whined, pained.

trying to hold in your whimpers to understand what led to this, your eyes jumping from the male’s handsome face to his pretty, hard dick, you wondered: “what’s gotten into you?”

at that, suga scoffed, amused at you wanting to know what led to his erection instead of getting to business right away.

“woke up to your pretty lil’ butt all snuggled up against my dick. you make me hard, even in my sleep y/n”, he rasped impatiently, but still wanting to quench your interest.

despite the fact that this was definitely not the most romantic thing you have heard from sugawara koushi, you couldn’t stop the butterflies erupting at the thought of him craving you this badly, even while asleep.

“c’mere kou’”, you softly murmured, pulling him down for a kiss, ready to help your boyfriend’s morning problem.

oikawa tooru:

tonight, wasn’t your night. you barely got a wink of sleep, while your boyfriend slept like a stone beside you. you knew it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t sleep, but that didn’t stop you from sulking like a spoiled child.

you were tired but also incredibly horny, and as if some gods heard the prayers you didn’t even direct at them, you noticed oikawa’s morning erection standing loud and proud under your shared sheets like every morning.

not wasting a moment, you ripped the sheets off him, straddling his lap and grinding your soaked panties against his erect boxer-clad cock. it’s not the worst feeling oikawa has ever woken up to, in fact it was definitely one of the best. everything’s better than being slapped awake by iwa-chan’s shoe hitting him in the face back in high school.

as the tanned man started to fidget and his calloused hands landed on your hips to guide you along his cock, your curiosity about his daily morning wood got the best of you.

“why are you hard every morning, tooru?”, you asked innocently, while not-so-innocently continuing to tease him with your hips.

“u-uh, something about hormones a-and, oh shit, faster babe”, oikawa needily pleaded, not in the mood to be explaining the scientific reason behind his reoccurring morning problem.

unsatisfied with the answer, you stopped the grinding to frown at him and complained: “but i wanna know more, tooru.”

the brunet looked up at you, groaning but knowing you wouldn’t just let it go. “fuck, okay. how about this: you make me cum, and i answer all your questions about… morning woods, after. deal?”

“…deal.”

tendou satori:

you woke up before tendou, feeling his hard-on press against your naked thigh, making you want to continue the fun you had last night.

luckily, your boyfriend also woke up, though not as happy about his morning wood problem as you.

“’tori… i need you”, you seductively purred, letting your petite hand slide down to his erection, wrapping around it and giving it a few slow, lazy pumps. to your surprise, your usually vocal-in-bed boyfriend didn’t moan, but only tensed at your ministrations.

not thinking much of it, you attached your lips to the base of his throat, sucking and licking while giving his cock a hard tuck, hoping to get a pretty moan out of him.

what you didn’t expect however, was for tendou to jump up and run to your bathroom while squealing like a little schoolgirl. dumbfounded, you froze in the position you were in, leaning towards where your boyfriend was laying just a few seconds ago, with your hand in a half-fist.

after a few minutes, the red-haired man sheepishly re-entered the room, scratching the back of his blushing neck with a matching blush on his face.

“i-i uh…”, at his voice cracking, tendou cleared his throat before continuing: “i’m so sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to run off like that.”

finally breaking out of your stiffness, you looked at him, puzzled, before asking: “why did you run off? if you didn’t want to make-out, I would’ve understood a simple no.”

“it’s not that! it’s just… morning wood doesn’t always mean i’m horny, sweetie. sometimes it happens when you desperately need to pee.”

“oh”, you awkwardly remarked, “i didn’t know that ‘tori, i’m so sorry. i just thought…”

chuckling, tendou leaned down, kissing your forehead and reassuring you: “don’t worry angel, you never stop learning.”

2K notes · View notes

midgardianweasley · 3 years

Text

Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

#Natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff lfuff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanova #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov

338 notes · View notes

writemywaytoyourheart · 3 years

Text

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous › Next

A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

530 notes · View notes

chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

One with DCL where you're a football player for Man U womens team and you've never met Dom but there's a few fan pages of you two and there's a new event called idk the Prem Get Together or something which is basically like the met gala where all the premier league footballers (men/women) dress up and go and they do something like prom king and queen type of thing and call it Prem King and Queen where they have a vote for best dressed and you're chosen Prem Queen while he's chosen Prem King and the footballers that know of the fan accounts that ship you two, all call it fate and what not and he asks you out at the end of the event.

This is a really odd one that I just came up with and I love it, I might just write something like this myself but I'd actually like to see how you go about it as well. But if you don't want to because I'm planning to write something along the lines too, then trust me I totally get it, no hard feelings :)))) Xx

I absolutely loved the idea, I am not that good with descriptions and this request perhaps needed it more than anything else. But absolutely can't wait to read yours too, tag me in it if you haven't already written it x

Prem Get Together is the most anticipated event of the year, perhaps even more so than the weekly games. The excitement is in the air from the start of the week, everyone starts talking about it, wondering if the level of the year before will ever be topped or how the various players will perform. There are a lot of people within the football world who want to express themselves without being judged, and that event is the best opportunity. You personally can't wait, to see the reaction to your outfit or to hear the ideas behind other people's outfits or to laugh at some people's choices.

The red carpet is there for you, you walk proudly with your gaze high until you turn to the photographers and let them take as many pictures as they want. It's also their time not to hide behind bushes to get pictures of the footballer of the moment. You smile at everyone, stopping for a short interview, before entering the hall and starting to wander around to look at the competition. There were people who were certainly more excited than others, others who simply enjoyed having a different evening. And then there would be the proclamation of the king and queen of the event, whoever had thought of that event had made sure that everyone put a little effort into the competition.

"Oh my god you look fabulous!" you turn around smiling finding yourself in front of Tom Davies and Dominic Calvert-Lewin, the former has an excited look on his face and can't keep his eyes still studying every little detail of your outfit. It's a well-known fact that the two are passionate about fashion and this is reflected in their choice of clothes, which you can see they've put a lot of work into. Dom in particular strikes you, it may be simple but the simplicity strikes in an unexpected and unique way. You seem to have found who to vote for in the male audience.

"You guys are great too. It's almost a shame I can only vote for one of you two."

"Oh no vote Dom please, I just came for the art part"

"I can see that" you giggle bringing the glass in your hands to your lips. Tom sees one of their friends and drags Dom away unceremoniously, the boy turning quickly to give you a nod before disappearing into the crowd.

You approach a few of your teammates and together you gossip a bit about the boys, some of them not really applying themselves and some just wearing heavy makeup or dressing up like it was a simple Halloween party. But at least they tried.

Together you go to the voting booths and wait for the line to proceed so you can cast your vote. You never vote for yourself and you found a female costume that you liked, even if it belongs to a city player you make the cross next to her name. For the men's outfit you didn't have so many problems. Satisfied you go back to the common room where you enjoy the rest of the evening chatting and waiting for the proclamation.

The hosts of the evening are the king and queen of the previous year, who can change clothes for the award ceremony and in fact as they come on stage you notice that they have changed into their classic ceremonial clothes.

"Are you ready to find out the king and queen of Prem night?" the boy shouts and a round of applause and booing is heard loudly soon after.

"The wait is almost over, in this envelope we have the names of the winners"

"C'mooon!" shouts someone in the crowd raising a few laughs, you're nervous and you don't even know why. It's not like you're aiming for victory, you're already quite satisfied with the criticism you received for your outfit.

"Okay ladies first" the girl opens the envelope and nods finding herself clearly in agreement, "The Queen of the Prem is..." it feels like the last day of competitions where the games are all played at the same time and no one knows until the end. It's a strong, exciting feeling but you don't want to feel it on a daily basis.

Then you hear your name and a spotlight shines on you and the applause and whistles start up as you make your way incredulously towards the stage, with all those eyes on you and the crown and everything you feel a bit uncomfortable and you don't know what to say honestly but you try to act normal, thanking and waiting for the king to be proclaimed.

Shortly after you are joined on stage by Dominic and you find yourself agreeing with the popular choice, a wide smile greets him on stage from you. Even on his face there is some slight embarrassment as he tries to hold the crown balanced on the curly hair he has decided to keep natural for the evening and thanks his friend for representing the idea they had one night in the best possible way.

"Well our work here is done. We leave you with tonight's winners and next year's hosts, ladies and gentlemen the king and queen of the Prem!" you are immediately blinded by the flashes of reporters wanting as many pictures as possible of the two of you together and then alone and then together again.

"I voted for you" you murmur as they continue to take pictures, turning slightly towards Dom to see he's smiling at you.

"Me too" he murmurs, "I was so happy to see that you had won"

"Me too in sharing this with you" your friends don't miss a chance to congratulate you on your win and take a closer look at that crown, curious to see if it's cheap jewelry or what. Inevitably you walk away with your groups, but all it takes is for your gaze to briefly fall towards him to apologize to the girls to bring you closer to him again.

"Hey king, it's been a pleasure. I guess we'll see you again next year"

"Or we could start preparing as early as tonight" he says boldly, "maybe over coffee?" and you find yourself nodding accepting his offer, starting your journey that will take your complicity through the roof at the next edition of Prem Get Together.

#thank you #dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin blurb

22 notes · View notes

metvmorqhoses · 3 years

Note

Hey there! I'd like to hear your thoughts about this. Jkr never put a lot of thought into voldemort as a character did she? The fact that his villainy is oversimplified to be "conceived under a love potion and hence can't love" although there are instances where he has loved. The narrative that is put forth is that every child who was conceived through unhealthy relationships, abandoning parents and difficult circumstances is destined to be incapable of love. (There are problems/issues because of these circumstances but it's not a doomed-to-be-unloved situation)

The abuse he faced or the trauma was never explained and neither was his nature which can be either perceived as arrogance or as self-preservation in his formative years..

I love your blog and analyses btw!🖤

i couldn’t agree more. i don’t know if you are familiar with what i usually write about voldemort as a villain and as an all-around character, but what you are talking about is not only something i always mention when i discuss him in a more complex, adult manner, but much more importantly is deeply linked to what i think about the hp series in general and to the one, major issue i have with it in particular. this is something i consider very important and, honestly, a topic that is never stressed enough: jkr wrote an overly black and white children book, where oversimplification is the fundamental fabric of everything and i find it all very problematic, to say the least.

i understand the series started as a children book and that characterizing so generically and so stereotypically serves as a great advantage to sell copies, since virtually everyone can draw their own conclusions about pretty much every single character of the series and therefore identify, but hp more often than not proudly poses as a moral compass, as a good-vs-evil lecture, aiming to accompany children into adulthood hand in hand (both the books and the movies literally grow in tone, length, targeted audience and themes with the children who are consuming them), so it’s not unfair of me to be concerned about what exactly these morals have been teaching children and then teens (myself included) for more than twenty years about reality, even as a fantasy series.

i often say the characterizations of its heroes is the thing that scares me the most about the hp series. the entirely of the “good guys” in these books lack basic normal human reactions. they all went through hell one way or another, harry constantly witnessing every last one of his family relations dying/growing up abused and hated/discovering he was raised literally to be slaughtered by the man he looked up to the most, ginny being possessed/forced to kill/almost murdered in tender age by the literal devil and whose trauma is never mentioned again, hermione having to erase the memories of her parents - you know, the list goes on and on. the one thing that all of them have in common tho, is their non-consequence to horror. and that’s wildly unhuman. aside from a little sadness, some stubborn dementors chasing bad memories and sporadic plot-serving nightmares, none of the heroes is really effected or damaged by what happens to them. when normal people would have spiritual crisis, ptsd, depression, manic episodes, you name it, jkr is feeding us the idea that really good, brave, strong, valuable people remain unaffected by trauma and that only the weak, wrong, damaged and therefore evil ones are. and i find it beyond disturbing.

paradoxically enough, voldemort is the only prominent example (probably along with snape and draco, but in a very different way) of “normal” human behavior when a child is exposed that much to trauma and abuse in tender age. jkr never really explains voldermort beyond her rhetorical “he’s wickedness personified” motto, yet the little characterization she gave him is entirely built around trauma - a trauma that she openly equates to evil. voldemort is a child born out of rape (there’s a metaphorical love potion and therefore he’s unable to love - leaving aside the idiocy of it, how sick is that? as if a child should carry the faults of his parents, as if all children born from rape were emotionally disabled or soon to be psychopaths! what exactly she wanted to prove with this point will forever be beyond me), a child abandoned to abuse and poverty in the middle of ww2, a child i’m sure shunned for his magical powers if not worse, a child without a single resource on the planet but himself, a child to whom no one, ever, not even later in the wizarding world, ever gave a helping hand or genuine affection (he was literally sent back to a world war because “no one can live in the school in the summer”, i mean!). of course he had to react to survive, of course all that left him scarred, because it didn’t leave him annihiliated! tom and harry share the condition of the orphan, but while harry was loved by his dead parents, glorified and rich and adored, voldemort was unwanted, discriminated against, bullied, poor and ignored. had dumbledore treated tom as he had treated harry (not that he treated harry that well if we really analyze it, but still), had his mother not abandoned him and died, jkr herself said lord voldemort would have probably never existed.

is this a correct way to stereotype human nature? is this a good message to give children? the only plausible human in there is the psychopathic super villain who is physically unable to love?

i like to think voldermort differently. i do think he could, of couse he could, actually love - as we all can if we allow ourselves to. he’s too complex, too intelligent, too whole as a character to lack anything, both for the good and for the bad. i like to think that maybe amortentia (aka the entirety of his early life experiences) left him dissociated and unable to *understand* his feelings in general and love in particular. maybe he didn’t dare to love anyone. maybe he dared once.

i like to think this way because the way jkr characterizes is nothing short of a disgrace.

the question people ask me the most is precisely this, if i think i’m giving voldemort much more depth than the author actually intended in the first place. my answer is always the same - yes, of course i do. voldemort is beautiful the way i imagine him, as a real plausible person, as a deeply flawed and multifaceted and scarred human being who turned to darkness in search for a home and a reason and that had ultimately found one, as terrible as it was. he certainly deserved more, from a literary point of view. yet i understand it was convenient and safe for jkr to only ever play with his godly, evil, black and white facade.

#lord voldemort #hp #tom marvolo riddle #bellamort #asks/replies #anon #one and one thousand stories lis told #thank you dear <3

50 notes · View notes

caranfindel · 3 years

Text

Fic: You don’t know how it feels (to be me)

gen, s6 | about 3600 words | pg for language | characters: soulless sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: Soulless Sam tries to deal with his brother's feelings about, well, everything. Including his hair. Set in season 6, before "You Can't Handle the Truth."

An idea I had a long time ago, resuscitated by Jared's Walker haircut. The title is from "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

. . . . . .

It's a stupid case.

The manager of the county fairgrounds is a stooped, gnarled old man wearing one of those ball caps veterans wear sometimes. Gold embroidery on the dark blue hat proudly displays the name of his ship or submarine or whatever. Sam doesn't care about his ship or submarine or whatever. He doesn't care about this guy's service at all. Most days, old Blue Hat here got three meals a day and a warm, dry place to sleep in exchange for whatever he gave up. He got a pension when he was done fighting. Sam gets to scrounge for cheap food and sleep in crappy hotels when he's lucky enough to actually land someplace other than the back seat of the Impala. Sam's service to his country earned him a trip to Hell. Sam will get to stop fighting when he's dead. His only pension will be a pyre.

Sam doesn't even get to sleep any more.

(This should bother him. But the truth is, it doesn't.)

Blue Hat frowns at Sam's ID and snorts derisively. "You don't look like a Fed. You look like a goddamn hippie."

He rolls his eyes at the old man, even though he knows Dean hates it when he does that. It's something he didn't do Before, no matter how annoying or insipid the witness. Sam doesn't give a good goddamn what this guy thinks about his hair, but apparently his brother does. "He's been doing some undercover work," Dean says. "Sometimes you've got to look like a goddamn hippie to blend in."

Blue Hat sniffs his disapproval and ignores Sam for the rest of the interview, directing all of his answers to Dean. Which is fine. The old guy doesn't seem to have anything useful to add anyway. Sam leaves his brother to the pointless interview about the stupid case and wanders around the building, taking pictures of the unexplained runes that brought them here. He's bored. The sudden appearance of mysterious runes on the bland metal exterior of a county fairgrounds building feels witchy, and Sam really doesn't care about witches. Two measly deaths, quite possibly from natural causes, and now he's out here standing in cow shit. Or goat shit or pig shit. This entire day has been shit, literally and figuratively.

Dean joins him after a couple of minutes, apparently done with Blue Hat. "What do you think?" he asks.

Sam shrugs. "Too early to tell. If these runes are what Bobby thinks they are, they'll change under moonlight, but moonrise isn't until 9:05 pm."

“Jesus," Dean moans. "I can't stay awake that long. I've already gone almost two days. Let's go back to the motel and crash, and we'll hit this place again tonight."

Or not, Sam wants to say. I think you jumped on this paper-thin excuse for a job just because the alternative was sitting in a motel room with me waiting for an actual case to come up, Sam wants to say. But neither of these are things he would have said Before, and Dean is so goddamn twitchy about Sam being different than Before.

As they turn back to the Impala, Dean glances at Sam with a slight smile. "Dude's not wrong, you know."

“What?"

“You do look like a goddamn hippie." Dean's hand twitches toward Sam, like he's going to smack him on the back of the head or ruffle his hair, but he pulls back without touching him. Because they don't do that now. Casual, good-natured, brotherly contact isn't a thing now. Dean doesn't touch him unless there are injuries involved.

(This is another thing that should bother Sam. It would have, Before.)

. . .

Dean hangs his suit in the closet, sets an alarm, and collapses on top of the covers. Sam stares at his own bed. The threat of spending hours pretending to be asleep makes his skin crawl. If Dean falls asleep quickly enough, he can skip the whole charade.

“Hey, I think I'm gonna shower first," he says.

Dean doesn't open his eyes. "Just don't wake me up when you get out."

In the bathroom, Sam turns on the water but doesn't get undressed. He stands at the mirror, staring at his too-long hair. Why has he bothered to hold onto it? He remembers caring about his hair. He remembers it being a small fuck you to John, the one area in his life where he was able to cling to some autonomy. It's not that he's forgotten about that; he just doesn't give a shit any more.

And like Dean said, Blue Hat wasn't wrong. He does look like a hippie. The hair is a hazard, and it does clash with any kind of law enforcement disguise. Maybe it's time to do something about it. He has time to kill anyway, while Dean sleeps.

(Sam should care that he doesn't need to sleep any more. Dean would definitely care, if he found out. Dean cares so much about any aspect of Sam that is less normal than he thinks it ought to be. Even if it's something that makes him a better hunter. Dean didn't appreciate it when Sam could exorcise demons without killing the host, and Dean wouldn't appreciate that Sam can get so much done when he's not sleeping. He could never understand why this version of Sam is so much better than the way he was Before. It's a shame Dean hasn't discovered the option of Not Caring.)

(Sometimes Sam wonders if getting back with Dean is worth the trouble.)

(And that should bother him too.)

Sam shuts off the shower and pulls out his phone. He needs to find a barber shop in walking distance. Dean will get all pissy if he wakes up and the car is gone; less so if only Sam is missing. Luckily, there's a shop that might still be open. It's one of those ridiculous sports-themed places that presumes men are fussy toddlers who need to be distracted from the ignominy of a hair cut. At least they tend to be staffed by women, and those women tend to be prettier than average. With any luck, he can kill two birds with one stone.

When he opens the bathroom door, Dean is either asleep, or pretending to be. Sam scrawls couldn't sleep, back soon on the motel notepad and closes the door behind him as silently as possible.

(He misses his car. He didn't have an emotional attachment to it, like Dean and the Impala, but it was convenient and it suited him.)

(He doesn't actually have an emotional attachment to anything. That should bother him.)

. . .

Two stylists, both predictably prettier than average, look up when he walks in. The redhead says "sorry, sir, we're just about to close up," and continues sweeping up hair trimmings. But the brunette looks him up and down and smiles. And Sam's partial to brunettes anyway.

He gives her a once-over in return and smiles back. "Do you have time for just a quick cut? I'd be eternally grateful."

She stares at him for a minute, appraising. "Well, how could I turn down an offer of eternal gratefulness?" she says with a wink. She turns to the redhead. "Why don't you go on home. I've got this."

The redhead dumps her clippings into a trash can. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. You mind locking the door behind you? I don't want any more last-minute customers walking in."

The redhead raises her eyebrows, but gathers her purse and jacket and makes her escape as Sam settles into the brunette's chair.

“I'm Marianne," she says, as she starts to drape a cape over his shoulders.

“I'm Sam. But listen. I get too hot under those capes. Would it be okay if we skip it? And I just take my shirt off so I don't get hair all over it?"

Marianne smiles like the cat who caught the canary. "Not a problem, sweetheart."

Sam slips out of his dress shirt and drapes it over the empty chair next to him. Marianne watches him the whole time, eyes roving over the muscles exposed by his snug white undershirt. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

He sits back in the chair and Marianne stands behind him. Her chest brushes against his shoulders. "So," she asks, "what are we doing today?"

“Shorter. Off my collar, above my ears."

She slips her fingers through his hair, measuring its length. "You sure? This length looks pretty good on you. Just needs to be cleaned up a bit."

“It's for a job. The long hair doesn't fly any more."

“Aw, that's a shame." Marianne's still running her fingers through his hair. "If you've got a lady in your life, I bet she'll miss it. A girl likes something to hold onto."

Well. The best lies are based on a kernel of truth. Sam looks into his lap and lets his smile go sad and soft. "That's kind of why I'm here. My girlfriend died and I thought I'd try to start over. New place, new job, new life. But yeah, that's always been one of my favorite things. A girl grabbing my hair in the heat of the moment. I should have tried to find someone to do that one more time before I had to cut it off."

Marianne leans forward, pressing her breasts harder against him. When he looks up, she meets his eyes in the mirror, then flicks a glance toward a door marked Employees Only. “You know," she says, "that could probably be arranged."

Seriously. Fish in a goddamn barrel.

. . .

Dean's awake when Sam gets back to the motel room, but he doesn't look up from the laptop. "Couldn't sleep?"

“I guess I napped a little in the car on the way down here," Sam lies. "And then, you know, a lot of caffeine this morning."

“Whatever. I'm not the sleep police. I hope you brought food, cause I could —" Dean looks at Sam and stops mid-sentence, mouth still open. "You cut your hair?"

“Yeah."

“Why?"

“What do you mean, why? Like old what's-his-face said, I looked like a hippie, not an FBI agent. And you've been telling me to cut it for years."

“Yeah, I have. I've been saying that for years and you've been ignoring me for years. Now some random witness calls you a hippie and you go running to Supercuts?"

Sam sighs. Dean may not be the sleep police, but he's awfully eager to step in as the hair police, enforcing his own set of laws about Sam's hair. "Why does it matter? You wanted me to cut it. Everyone wanted me to cut it. And I cut it. Can we move on now?"

It's a statement almost guaranteed to make Dean bow up in anger, but instead, he deflates. "It's just… nothing. Fine. Moving on." He closes the laptop and pulls his keys out of his coat pocket. "We've still got an hour or so before moonrise. I'm gonna go run through McDonald's. You want a chicken sandwich, or is that something else you're not interested in any more?"

Jesus Christ. This is what passes for moving on. But Sam needs that shower now, and none of this is worth arguing about.

(Few things are any more. That seems like it should matter.)

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks."

By the time Dean gets back, the sandwich is cold and the ice in Sam's drink is mostly melted. He pretends to enjoy it anyway.

. . .

Their drive back to the fairgrounds is quiet. Dean occasionally steals an unhappy glance at Sam's hair, but doesn't say anything. Sam ignores it.

They pull into the parking lot in front of the marked building. Without even getting out of the car, they can see that the runes have changed. The broad strokes are softly luminescent, glowing a pale blue in the moonlight.

“Okay, so that answers that question," Sam says. Thank God. Now they can leave without wandering around the grounds, soaking up the barnyard smell again. Wrap this up and start working on something more important. But Dean gets out of the car and looks at Sam expectantly. Well, crap. Sam dutifully follows him closer to the building and tries to think of how he would have felt about this development Before.

“Cool," he says. Dean narrows his eyes at him. "I mean, cool that our theory was right. Not, you know, cool that someone is using this kind of spellwork to make sure their pig wins a blue ribbon at the fair. That part's… pretty awful." But Dean's still looking at him funny, so he probably overcorrected on that one. It's just hard, any more.

Dean rubs the back of his neck as he examines the glowing runes. "If that's all they're doing, more power to them. I couldn't care less. But we need to make sure that's all they're doing. I mean, people died, Sam. We need to figure out if this is why." He pulls out his phone. "Gonna take some pictures to send Bobby." There's no reason to remind him they already have pictures. If Dean thinks additional pictures are more effective and efficient than "just like this, but glowing blue," that's up to him. Sam will most likely solve the damn case later tonight anyway, while Dean sleeps.

And he almost does. Dean knocks back a couple of glasses of whiskey when they get back to the motel, and falls asleep pretty soon after that. Sam doesn't bother to feign sleep — Dean doesn't seem to care, right now, whether his brother gets any sleep or not. But when Sam realizes his own photos missed a crucial corner of the building, he opens his brother's phone and finds his last text to Bobby. There's only one picture, and it's not glowing runes. It's him. Just a dark, slightly blurry picture of Sam, obviously taken earlier that night at the fairgrounds. And a text conversation.

See, I told you, it's short. I don't know what's going on. I swear he's just different.

Yeah, I get it. It's different. He's different. But what'd you expect? Of course he's not the same as he was. Hell changed him.

It didn't change me this much.

His Hell wasn't the same as yours. I know it didn't last very long, but remember, he was in the cage with the devil. We don't know what happened to him in there. Give him some time.

Well. Fuck. Dean's talking about him behind his back. Dean doesn't trust him. Dean thinks, once again, that something is wrong with him.

(That would have hurt, Before. Now it's just an annoyance. A distraction. Something to be dealt with.)

Yes, Hell changed him. Hell burned away all the crap, all the useless feelings, the guilt and shame and fear of failure. Hell purified him. Hell carved out the weakness and left nothing but pure, strong hunter. Dean, of all people, should appreciate the result. But Dean does not, and now Sam has to cater to his tiresome attachment to everything Sam was Before.

Fine. He can make that work.

Sam quietly puts Dean's phone back on the nightstand. He strips down to boxers and his t-shirt, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed. Pretending to sleep is tedious, but a couple of hours of boredom right now might spare him weeks of Dean's moodiness about him being different.

(As if Hell could leave you untouched. As if anyone in their right mind would expect that. As if Dean himself didn't know this first hand, for fuck's sake.)

. . .

Sam spends the next day focusing on acting the way he did Before. When his alarm goes off he stretches, yawns, and pretends he had a good night's sleep. He goes for a run, brings back coffee, showers quickly, and rolls his eyes when Dean makes a crack about him being able to spend less time in the shower now. At breakfast, he smiles at the (cute, definitely worth a bang) waitress, but doesn't flirt or even check her out as she walks away. He's figured out that Dean wants Sam to want to get laid (but not too much; he's definitely not supposed to want it as much as Dean wants it) but for some reason doesn't want him to actually get lucky. And he definitely would have gotten lucky. He spends the day looking empathetic, acting like this whole thing hasn't been a colossal waste of time. Like he cares about everything. About anything.

(God, it's exhausting.)

It turns out the deaths probably don't have anything to do with the witch at all. They return to the fairgrounds one last time, where Sam plants hex bags and paints runes on the corners of the building that will block the witch's simple spells - not that he cares whether the witch achieves anything or not, just on principle. His own runes are small and subtle enough that this novice witch (they must be a novice; no one with any experience would be naive enough to make their work so noticeable) won't even know they're in place. And if the witch escalates, well, that's not exactly Sam's problem.

When he's finished, he wipes his hands on his jeans and says "We should get Chinese for dinner. When's the last time you ate a vegetable?" Because monitoring everyone's vegetable intake is something he did Before.

They're finishing Chinese takeout in their motel room (beef with broccoli for Dean, eggplant in garlic sauce for Sam, because occasional bouts of vegetarianism were also a thing he did Before) when he catches Dean looking at his hair, very clearly wanting to say something.

So. It's go time.

Sam tries to make his eyes big and sad. The puppy dog look, Dean always called it. It was never intentional Before, but now he has to work at it. "Listen," he says. "I owe you an apology. I haven't been telling you the whole truth."

“No shit," Dean says. He's trying to sound nonchalant, but his body language screams that he's bracing for something. "So, spill it. What's your big confession?"

(That I don't care about any of this. This piddly little case. My hair. You. Nothing. And you can't imagine, Dean, you cannot even begin to imagine the incredible freedom of not caring. I wish you could, but you just can't.)

No, he can't say any of that. But the best lies are built on a kernel of truth.

Sam takes a deep, anxious breath and looks at Dean. No, wait. Look away. "You know, I told you I don't remember Hell. And I really don't. Not consciously, anyway. But when we were fighting those demons a couple of weeks ago, one of them grabbed me by the hair, and I felt something… it was a sense memory, I guess. It felt like Hell, for some reason. Like it was something that happened to me in Hell, someone grabbing my hair and pulling my head back and getting ready to cut my throat or… whatever."

He doesn't have to elaborate on whatever. Dean knows the whatevers of Hell better than anyone. He's probably dealing with a little sense memory of his own right now, of clutching someone's hair and pulling their head back in preparation for whatever. And now Sam does look at his brother, who is staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Ever since then," Sam continues, "I just feel like I've been on the verge of remembering something. Something I don't want to remember. And I'm tired of worrying that I'm gonna have a Hell flashback every time I wash my hair."

Dean looks like he's going to vomit. Perfect.

“I'm sorry," Sam says. "It threw me, and I just didn't want to talk about it. But I shouldn't have kept it from you."

For a second, he's sure he has gone too far. Dean is going to say what's this bullshit, Sam, you would never apologize for something like that, so tell me what's really going on. But he doesn't. He stares at Sam for a minute, then looks away and wipes a hand down his face.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. You, ah. You good now? Is it working?"

Sam shrugs. "Hard to say. It hasn't been very long. But yeah, I feel a little more… stable, I guess."

And then it’s time to go for the kill.

Sam gives him the sad smile. (He never used to think of it as a sad smile; never used to think of it as anything at all. It was just what his face did. Every expression requires so much thought now.) "Listen. I know things are weird. I know I'm weird. Different. I know it's hard for you. If this is all more than you want to deal with right now, I understand."

Dean frowns. "What are you saying?"

“Just, I can go back with Samuel and his crew if you don't want to do this any more. You and me, I mean. No hard feelings, I promise."

Dean's face crumples. "What? No, fuck, no, Sam. I don't. You and me, we're good. I'm just getting used to things. That's all."

“Okay." Sam gives his best approximation of a grateful smile.

“So. Uh." Dean looks around the room nervously, like he's waiting for the other shoe to fall, then stands. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink. You wanna come with, or…"

Even if Sam believed Dean really wanted him to come along — and he doesn't; this is obviously Dean's way of retreating from a situation he doesn't want to think about — pretending to sleep when Dean's gone is one of the easier ways of making it look like he actually does sleep sometimes. "No. I'm beat," he says. "I think I'll just go to bed."

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea." Dean takes his keys out of his pocket and anxiously tosses them in his hand. When he finally does turn to Sam, he looks at his hair, not his eyes. "Hey, you know, it does. It does look good on you."

Sam ducks his head shyly, like someone who's not used to praise. Who doesn't think he deserves it. "Thanks." When he looks up, Dean is already halfway out the door, putting as much space between himself and his little brother's hellscape as possible.

(Seriously. Fish in a fucking barrel.)

#my fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #soulless sam is my spirit animal #spn #season 6

62 notes · View notes

fashournalist · 3 years

Text

Conquering the Crown: Who Will Be The Next Miss Universe Philippines 2021?

Are you ready, Universe?

Tomorrow, the next Miss Universe Philippines will be crowned in Bohol, and I'd like to share my bets with you (as well as my thoughts on more candidates other than my Top 6. :)

But first, I have to admit I do have a bias for Cavite, Aklan, and Laguna because

1) Cavite is my birthplace and where I spent the first 16 years of my life;

2) Aklan is where my five dear brothers are from;

3) Laguna is where I spent seven eventful years as a UPLB student.

However, these biases aren't the sole reason I'm rooting for these representatives. I believe Victoria Velasquez Vincent, Leren Bautista, and Christelle Abello are really among the best candidates of this year's batch! VVV is actually my top one, followed by Katrina Dimaranan, Maureen Wroblewitz, and Ayn Bernos.

One of the smartest and most eloquent candidates of this batch, Victoria Velasquez Vincent from Cavite has emerged as the Interview Challenge winner, and rightly so. But she caught my attention even before that phase; her Runway Challenge was really impressive as well. As a heritage conservationist and architect, she's committed to solving environmental problems across the globe.

I really wish the winner would be a pure Filipino, but it so happened that VVV impressed me the most. She's half-Irish and half-Filipino, raised in New Zealand.

Now this one's a powerhouse. A pageant veteran, model, actress, and television host, I think (and thousands of others think, too) Katrina Dimaranan from Taguig is the most prepared of them all. She was appointed as USA's Miss Supranational 2018 and finished as 1st Runner Up at the world stage. She was also one of the title holders way back in Binibining Pilipinas 2012.

Kat's charming, authentic personality captivates anyone watching her or listening to her voice. You can see this through the way she nailed the challenges. And though she grew up in the US, she is a pure Filipina.

This woman needs no introduction--Maureen Wroblewitz, the winner of Asia's Next Top Model Season 5. Born in Saudi Arabia, she's a half-Filipina, half-German model and actress who is now representing Pangasinan as she fights for the crown. She has emerged as the Casting Challenge winner, but aside from that, all the results of the other challenges prove how excellent and enthralling she is as a model. Her intelligence can also be seen with every answer she delivers during Q&As.

The most inspiring candidate of all, Ayn Bernos of San Juan, proves that barriers can be broken and stereotypes can be shattered. Proudly standing at 5'3 with morena skin, Ayn represents the majority of Filipino people who are not influenced by foreign blood. I've closely followed her journey from the day she submitted her pageant application, and I'm so happy for her every step of the way. Her millions of followers on TikTok surely feel the same. We feel seen, we feel represented, we feel inspired to also reach for our dreams--no matter how impossible they may seem.

Ayn is a natural Filipina beauty, and she glowed further as she embarked on the road to the crown. Her wit, intelligence, and cheerful personality radiate in every appearance she makes, whether it's an interview or a commercial special by some of MUPH's sponsors.

With enchanting eyes, a driven attitude, and several beauty pageant titles under her belt, Leren Mae Bautista of Laguna is one of the most prepared candidates to represent the nation at the Miss Universe pageant this December.

I started knowing her through the tarpaulins in LB eight years ago. I was still in college, and Leren just won the crown of Miss Los Banos. She conquered the Binibining Laguna title as well. Since then, I knew this classic Filipina beauty and brain would one day captivate the world. Years later, she has placed as a 2nd Runner Up in Miss Globe 2019 and won in other pageants, too. Today, she's aiming for the universe and we all know she's ready.

Armed with an unstoppable grit, this dreamer put her life in the US on pause to once again fight for the crown of Miss Universe. Christelle Abello of Aklan has placed in the top 16 of last year's MUPH, and she has come back stronger this time around. Though she wasn't part of the Top 7 in the Interview Challenge, I think she's one of the most fluent and confident candidates.

Although she was born in America, she embodies the beauty of a real Filipina. I have to mention that I'm not a fan of her evening gown's design, but she still carried it well.

So there, now you know my Top 6! :) They've been my Top 6 for several weeks now, but this doesn't mean I'm not impressed by other candidates.

Michele Angela Okol of Siargao Island nailed the Preliminary Interviews! I haven't watched all the interviews since the KTX pass is just too expensive for me, but I was able to see a few on YouTube. And of them all, Michele's answers were the best. She was certain with her answers. Ingrid "Sam" Santamaria of Paranaque and Chela Grace Falconer of Misamis Oriental are some of the smartest and most fluent candidates as well. Sam placed second in the Interview Challenge.

The Filipina beauty of Janela Cuaton of Albay, Maria Corazon Abalos of Mandaluyong, Mirjan Hipolito of Angeles City, Simone Nadine Bornilla of Marinduque, and Princess Krista Singh of Pasig are some of the most outstanding in their batch. But I think the most outstanding beauty of all, is Jasmine Umali of Manila. She's like a living Mulan, or Barbie. And all these phenomenal women are smart and graceful, too!

Anyhow, if Gianne Asuncion of Cagayan Province wasn't diagnosed with COVID-19, for sure she would make it here and she'd be one of my bets. I hope she comes back next year, same with Maica Cabling Martinez of Nueva Ecija, who didn't make it in this year's Top 30.

You might be wondering why I haven't mentioned Steffi Rose Aberasturi of Cebu Province yet.

Honestly, I can't deny she's gorgeous from head to toe, well-prepared, talented, and confident, but I just cannot stomach supporting someone who supports Rodrigo Duterte. If she wins tomorrow, I will not bash her--I can see why she's one of the frontrunners--but I just cannot see myself rooting for her because of her political stance :( If she was not a DDS though, she would easily be one of my top bets, maybe my top 4 or top 5.

Steffi carries every outfit effortlessly, and her beauty can go from sweet and endearing to regal and fierce. I wish, before the national elections, her eyes would be opened to the atrocities of Duterte's war on drugs. (I also find Bea Luigi Gomez beautiful, but she said during the preliminary interview that the government is doing well. So, I'm afraid she might be a DDS, too. I hope not)

I know, people tell us to separate the pageant from political views, but the thing is, when a DDS gains more influence, they can influence voters to support Duterte, too. That's a real danger our country can no longer afford.

As for Kisses Delavin of Masbate, I'm inspired by her drive to pursue her dreams, not letting bashers stop her. But I just cannot see her wearing the crown, sorry :( I'm not a basher, I acknowledge she is beautiful, sweet, talented, kind, and smart. But I just don't see the fierce, palaban aura that we all need in a Miss Universe candidate. Never thought being baby-faced could be a disadvantage.

But anyway, if Ayn is slaying while breaking barriers and stereotypes, why can't Kisses, right? Kisses did well in every interview she handled. Although, I really didn't like her runway challenge where her hands were stuck on her waist. Good thing her walk improved in the swimsuit competition. Despite getting bashed and doubted, she fights with courage and passion, and that's something we can all learn from--whether we're part of Kissables or not.

Who will win tomorrow? I just can't wait to find out :)

I really wish I have the budget for a KTX pass so I could watch the coronation night in real-time. Sigh. That's 600 pesos! I'd rather spend it on samgyup. HAHA my love for food beats my love for pageants, even when I once dreamt to be Miss Universe myself lol.

How about you, guys? Who are your favorites? Who are your bets? Comment down below :) (wow youtube lang? haha)

Regardless of who wins, let's support her way to the crown. :) Go, proudly raise the Philippine flag, Miss Universe PH 2021!

PS. Photos came from Miss Universe Philippines' page, Philippine Star, and PeoPlaid. And I thank MS Paint because that's where I combined some of the photos haha.

7 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Chapter 27

Who's still reading this? Have fun!

CW : character death (This spoils a lot I'm sorry but I have to put it.)

THE ROAD SO FAR

Previous Chapter : What's behind door number two?

Staying in Shape

John Price

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow, Scotland

It has been almost three days since the culmination of the New York Attack and most of his contacts regarding Nero and Shepherd's movements were quiet. He was getting anxious to step back into the fight, but without sufficient intel, or even better weapons, they couldn't do anything.

Price scanned the room, everyone else started to pair up with each other, a dynamic he expected to happen anytime soon. With all the challenges they've been through, finding love within each other was inevitable. And Price was fine by that. Heck, when he was younger, he had his fair share of romance during missions.

With the thought of Nero and Shepherd resurfacing any moment soon, Price devised a plan, to keep his crew in shape and always prepared to deploy as soon as sufficient intel is presented.

With the help of Jack, they created a training and endurance exercise schedule, where the soldiers, including Price himself, would follow to still continue to stay in shape and prepared for battle. They asked permission from Soap who was more than willing to help, an excited grin all over his face.

"I'll help you set up." he said, gaining a nod from the old man.

"France will train at the basement gym." He added and Soap nodded.

From that moment, the team started training, improving their physical abilities and endurance. Weapons training wasn't possible at the moment as they left it all in Brazil.

Jack overlooked the team from afar, Samantha and Maxine were at the gym helping out France's version of the training. They did the regular set of training from standard 141 protocol, using everyday materials in exchange for some of the equipment Soap didn't own. Price also instructed a specific dietary plan for the soldiers instead of just eating whatever they liked.

While on break, the two girls, Samantha and Maxine approached Price with an excited look in their eyes. Priced raised an eyebrow and asked what they were up to.

"Everyone's doing their best and We both wanted to offer our help." Samantha explained as Maxine inserted.

"We'd like to apply as the team's dietician and health consultant. My resumé is that I have vast knowledge in cooking along with their nutritional information." She grinned.

"And Samantha here has little background on tending to physical wounds and pain. You could see how fast Alex's face healed!" Maxine added. Price was more than happy to accept their offer, it goes to show that they were willing to give whatever it takes for the people and cause they cared about.

"Alright. Guess you're both hired." he chuckled as the two cheered and made their way to their respective 'partners', probably out to share the good news.

Wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel, he looked around the main room where everybody was. Jack was by the office, looking up something on the laptop or probably just playing solitaire. Soap and France were at the gazebo, he could barely see them by the angle he's at but he couldn't miss that flashy mohawk.

To his left, he saw Samantha sitting on Alex's lap as she carefully cleaned Alex's bruise, Roach sat on the other end of the sofa, chugging a bottle of Gatorade while Maxine stood behind him, he could barely hear it, but it looked like the newly hired dietician was already lecturing him about the benefits of said drink, saying the word 'electrolytes' somewhere in the sentence.

He felt proud that this team stood by him ever since he made that choice. He was very grateful that he had someone whom he shared common goals with.

"Price. It's for you." Jack called from the office, causing him to immediately get up and answer the call.

"Aye, this is Price. Got anything for me?" he muttered.

"John. Looks like your friend is on the move." Kate Laswell spoke on the other end of the line, her voice was authoritative as always.

"Which one?" he chuckled, it was about time he received some news.

"Shadow Company. Looks like they're brave using the same car again. Same plate and all." she informed, giving Price the last route they went before going cold once again. It led them to an empty warehouse just by the docks.

"Just what are these bastards up to…" he muttered.

"I have no idea. Think you'll do recon? It doesn't strike as a threat to warrant an official team, this leads really calling your name, John."

Laswell hinted. Despite him being out of the force and one of Fbi's most wanted, Kate insisted to use such perk for further trapping the suspicious Shepherd.

"I worked hard forming the 141 and he easily disbands it like it's nothing…" she added, her voice sounded very bitter.

"Now now, Kate. Take it easy. We'll get him. He's bound to fuck up anytime soon. Keep in touch, mkay?" he said as they both said their goodbyes and ended the call.

"A little recon mission won't hurt, right?" he nudged to Jack who grinned proudly at the solitaire victory screen, cards bounced all around the edges of the screen.

John Price found himself unable to sleep. It was either he's actually excited to do some missions or he's too worried about what they're about to discover, what would Shadow Company be up to and what is the quiet Nero planning behind the scenes? His thoughts raced to a dozen possibilities, all calling for drastic measures and sacrifices. He knew he had allies by his side, allies that are always ready to do whatever it takes to fix this mess.

He lazily dragged his feet to get a glass of water in the kitchen, despite being huge, the house was awfully quiet. Too quiet that he could hear every soft rustling from the halls.

He wasn't one to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but hear soft murmuring near MacTavish's bedroom.

"So.. um.. same time tomorrow?" said a low Scottish voice a chuckle followed. It was obviously Soap and Price thought only enemies were doing something behind the scenes.

"You wish.." a female voice giggled.

"But seriously… Thanks for tonight John." she added.

"No problem, Francine. So.. what's stopping you from staying overnight?" he chuckled. Price knew this was wrong but his glass of water was still half full.

"You know that I'd love to… but Maxine also needs me right now. Especially that she's slowly recovering bits and pieces of the past." she reasoned and Price knew it was time to head back to his room quietly.

Maxine Winters

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow, Scotland

It felt real. She looked around and felt that this was more than just an ordinary dream. The vision was too dark with a small ray of light peeking from the slightly ajar door.

She knew where this was. She liked hiding here, her parent's closet.

She was waiting for Francine to find her, Francine always knew where she hid. But in this certain memory, she wasn't there.

She giggled quietly and hushed herself as soon as the door opened, France was going to find her. But instead, what she heard was her Dad saying words of assurance followed by heavy breathing. She was curious enough to peek through the small opening.

Her dad carried her Mom to the bed, his hands held hers tight, wiping the sweat off her forehead as her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath was labored and her eyes looked tired.

"Hang in there, love. The doctor's on the way." his father assured, making his wife comfortable as they wait for help to arrive.

"I don't think I can make it anymore…" She whispered.

"No no no. Don't do this to me Coraline, don't you want to see our angels grow up?" he sobbed, tears fell on her hands as he kissed it. Maxine remained still, she wanted to cry but she just sat inside the closet, peeking, frozen in a mix of fear and worry.

"I do , Love … but it looks like my body can't make it to that day… I'm sorry…"

"Don't! Please Coraline, stay strong, for me… for the kids…"

"I am… and I know that you know it." she exhaled, panting heavily after the last sentence. Her Dad hugged her until her breathing stabilized, while Coraline weakly raised her hand and hugged him back.

"Promise me you'll see the kids grow up…

Promise me to tell them how much I love them every single day…

And promise me that you'll never forget how much I loved you… Francis Maximus Winters." tears fell from her tired eyes. Her dad held her cheek and wiped it off, sobbing as she slowly closed them.

"I'm not sure if I could keep all of those promises… but I will try… I love you Coraline Winters, I always have and I always will, until the time we'll meet again." he muttered. Maxine witnessed it all, the way her father's face frowned when he realized he just lost his wife. It was one of her saddest memories.

Maxine gasped and opened her eyes, touching her face as soon as they opened. Tears. She was crying while asleep. She flicked the lamp and looked around her, France wasn't around. Just as she pulled the sheets so she could leave the bed, the door knob slowly turned and a soft creak was heard. It was Francine.

"France!" Maxine gasped and immediately ran to her side, hugging her tight as she began crying. France smelled different, almost masculine, but she didn't mind.

"Max! What happened? Are you okay?" France quickly hugged her, rubbing her back as she quietly bawled out her emotions.

"I saw… " She panted.

"I saw… Mom…"

"Mom died…" She exhaled as Francine escorted her downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to calm her heart.

"You were in the closet. We were supposed to be playing hide and seek." France muttered as Maxine turned to her.

"Francis… Maximus Winters." she recalled.

"That's dad's name. It's quite long, right? Mom actually liked him because of it." France enlightened, trying to make Max calm down.

"Yeah… is he ?" Max asked.

"Yeah… but he's kinda forgot about us now. Every time we visit he just looks for Coraline."

"Mom."

"Yes."

"He kept his promise." Max said.

"Huh?" France tilted her head.

"Mom's last words. Promise me you'll see the kids grow up…

Promise me to tell them how much I love them every single day…

And promise me that you'll never forget how much I loved you…" Max recalled from her dream and as more words were added, France's sobs were louder.

"He… he did them all…" France cried as they both hugged each other. And it was the moment that Maxine remembered what France looked like when they first met, her smile… It was the smile of someone who was finally reunited with her only family, and it was painful how the only ones she could cling to couldn't remember her.

"What's that smell?" Maxine asked as she killed the mood of the sisterly hug. France's face turned red, even in the dimly lit room, Max could tell that she was blushing.

"N-Nothing… I don't smell anything." She laughed nervously.

"I swear I passed by that scent somewhere…" she looked at her suspiciously and laughed, shrugging it off which actually made France relax her shoulders.

"Let's go back to sleep." Maxine invited her sister and they both got back to their room.

Next Chapter : Docked and Loaded

Notification Squad my Beloved

@beemybee @enderio @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

#horrayfic #codmw #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes

13 notes · View notes