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sansaorgana · 12 days

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I love soft Benny sm, but can we have some smut? 🥺 maybe he and the reader in the car after a picnic

hi, baby! 😘 thank you for your request and I am terribly sorry that you had to wait so long but I had lots of things on my head 😭 I missed writing and I missed writing for Benny so it's quite long and it's basically porn WITH plot 🤣😊 The Reader here doesn't have a good relationship with her family and her biggest wish is to run away somewhere with Benny – meanwhile his biggest wish is for her to marry him (Benny being Benny 🙄 lol)

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Benny wasn’t visiting you at work every day but when he was – it was your favourite moment of the day. He would always order the same thing and sit in the same place on the barstool by the counter. He was not a man of many words so sometimes he would just sit there and watch you work for half an hour before leaving and hopping back onto his bike. But it was enough for you – to just have him around. It made you feel safe, loved and appreciated.

You enjoyed the way the whole diner would go silent the moment he entered the place with those lazy, heavy steps. You liked the way you immediately knew it was him by the sound of his boots and by the smell of gasoline and cigarettes. His hands, dirty with grease, handing you a few crumpled dollar bills from the depths of his worn out jeans’ pockets. He was a dream come true for a girl like you. A girl who had never found anything exciting about all those ordinary guys your friends had been trying to trap ever since high school. Those proper guys, those football team captain guys, those college high achiever guys… No, they all lacked something for you. Benny had it, though, even though you couldn’t quite name it but it didn’t matter. He was not a man of many words anyway.

“Wanna go out with me later tonight? Join the picnic?” He mumbled on that day when you were taking an empty plate from him with a few toast crumbles left on it.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded. You had a day off on the next day so you didn’t mind staying up late. “You gonna pick me up?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna get a car, okay? You can wear a dress if you wanna,” Benny said and cleared his throat before standing up and throwing a few crumpled dollar bills on the counter as usual. Without any other word, he walked out of the diner slowly, making heavy and slow steps.

You grabbed the money and watched him through the window for a while. You smiled to yourself when you saw him hopping onto his bike and driving away while the engine roared.

You wondered why he decided to take the car and whose car was it but it didn’t matter, honestly. You liked riding a bike with him but cars were more comfortable and he was right – you could wear a dress. And Benny loved you in dresses even though he never actually ordered you what to wear. However, when you had met him, you were wearing a cute pink dress but as your relationship had been progressing, you had bought more and more jeans and black leather pants for bike riding.

Tonight, you decided to surprise him and wear the very same cute pink dress that you had been wearing on the day you met.

You were a little bit nervous waiting for Benny on your driveway. You knew that your mother was staring angrily through the half-opened window with a cigarette in her hand, squinting her eyes at the car your boyfriend had driven here in. You recognised it immediately as Johnny’s.

The sun was slowly going down and you were hugging your own self even though you didn’t feel cold at all but you were anxious about your mother watching you and about the dress you had worn. What if Benny would find it silly? He was not exactly a very romantic type even though he had proposed to you on the second date.

You had declined, of course. But you had been very tempted and sometimes you had regretted your decision. If you had been his wife, you wouldn’t have to live with your mother anymore and life with her was not easy. Especially now when she was angry at you for dating a man like Benny.

Benny didn’t leave the car, though. He parked the vehicle and his arm lazily hung out from the window. There was a cigarette in his hand and he nodded at you to come over.

“Won’t you walk out and open the door for me like a gentleman?” You giggled as you leaned by the car’s window.

“Not when your mother’s killing me with her hawk eyes,” Benny snorted. “Get your ass inside, dollie.”

You nodded with a chuckle and sat in the passenger seat. The moment you closed the door behind you, Benny started the engine and drove away as fast as possible. He placed his hand on your thigh and you grabbed it with both of yours to play with his long fingers and the rings he was wearing.

“Why did you take Johnny’s car?” You asked, looking up at him.

“He wanted me to do him a favour and I needed a car with a big trunk for that. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, yeah, sweetheart?” Benny answered without even looking at your face but you noticed his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel and you immediately knew it was one of the mysterious jobs he was being assigned to do around the club.

It was the source of his money and you never asked because you didn’t have to be a genius to know it was nothing legal and nothing safe. You didn’t want to know but you were awfully worried.

“I would go crazy if something happened to you, you know that, right?” You only asked and swallowed thickly.

“I know,” he nodded but still didn’t look at you.

“Do you like my dress?” You changed the subject quickly and Benny finally laid his baby blue eyes on you. He looked you up and down with a slight smirk before looking back on the road.

“I do,” he answered. “You look fucking beautiful, (Y/N).”

“Thank you, Benny,” you felt your cheeks heating up and you had to look away, too. You kept holding his hand but your eyes were focused on the road now.

You loved those picnics. They made you feel like you were a part of something and that was a feeling you had missed your whole life. Your family was far from perfect and you had never felt like you truly had it – a family. They were just a bunch of people you shared some genetic code with. At school and at work you never truly had friends either. Not that you had been a complete loser, no. And those girls you had been hanging around with probably thought you were close. But you knew it was not true. You had never felt any deep connection to them and you had never been interested in what they were talking about because they mostly talked about boys. All those boys you didn’t find interesting at all.

But women here – the women dating The Vandals – they understood you. They all were here for different reasons but you all shared this one quality that made you attracted to men like those bikers. They were outcasts and it took lots of bravery and lots of rebelliousness to love a man like that.

Some of those girls were just like their men – dirty with grease, downing one beer after another, loud and vulgar. Some were party girls who wanted to have fun. Some were ordinary wives and mothers. You felt like you were all of them at once and none of them at the same time. But just like them – you were there and you were enjoying it. Sitting by the fire and sipping on the beverage Benny had brought you, gossipping with the women and laughing as the guys watched and talked by their bikes and cars. Sometimes they were showing tricks on their motorbikes or playing games.

The night was warm and you watched the sky as the sparks from the fire danced in the air. Nights like this should never end, you thought. And just when you were smiling to yourself about it, Benny approached you and put his hand on your shoulder to squeeze it gently.

“It’s time for us, baby,” he announced.

“So early?” You batted your eyelashes.

“Most people are goin’ back home now,” he pointed out and you looked around. He was right, you just hadn’t noticed, too distracted by your staring at the sky and daydreaming.

“Okay then,” you nodded and put down the coke bottle. “Bye!” You waved at the few girls who were still sitting there and they waved back at you.

Benny walked you to Johnny’s car and this time he opened the door for you like a gentleman. You chuckled and got inside but when the door behind you closed, you suddenly felt an odd and sad feeling deep in your gut. You realised that this night was truly about to be over now and you didn’t like it.

With a heavy heart, you watched Benny getting behind the steering wheel and starting the engine. He noticed your weird behaviour, though.

“What is it, doll?” He asked when you were on the road leading back to the city already.

“I don’t wanna go back home, Benny. Not yet,” you looked down and began to play nervously with the hem of your dress.

“We don’t gotta go home, baby,” Benny said after a short while of silence but you didn’t say anything to that. It was an empty promise if he hadn’t actually proposed anything. “I ain’t got a lotta money on me, sweetheart,” Benny sighed as he glanced at you nervously. The whole idea of him not being able to actually provide for you was a touchy subject for him.

“We don’t have to go to the motel, Benny,” you quickly said although you couldn’t understand how he could be broke after doing a job for Johnny. It was between them two, though. “We can simply ride around. It’s Johnny’s gas, right?” You bit on your lower lip and Benny chuckled at that as he nodded.

“Yeah, baby, it’s Johnny’s gas, so we can use it all and ride around,” he agreed and you smiled widely at that. “You wanna ride ‘round town or what?”

“Maybe we could go somewhere private,” you nodded. “To the forest?” You proposed. There was a secluded spot Benny sometimes was taking you to on his motorbike.

One thing about Benny that had been surprising to you at first but then it totally made sense later was that he loved nature.

“Sure, we can do that,” Benny nodded and you leaned back in the seat with a sigh of relief. With each passing moment you were more and more further away from Chicago and from your home with your mother waiting for you inside.

“I wish we could just ride and ride until we reach California,” you whispered. It was not the first time you mentioned it to Benny and you already knew what the answer would be like.

“I can’t. I got the club,” he answered and cleared his throat, a little annoyed by the fact you were constantly bringing this up. “Why are you so crazy about California, huh? Wanna be a movie star, baby?” He tried to turn it into a joke.

“It’s not about California, Benny,” you rolled your eyes. It was not about the California Dreamin’ at all. It was about running away to a sunny place with the love of your life to start over. “What about your cousin in Florida? Maybe we could go there?”

“Why would you even go with me anywhere, doll? I ain’t no good to you,” Benny pointed out but you froze at his words.

“What do you mean you ain’t no good to me?”

“If I was, you’d marry me,” Benny pointed out and now it was your turn to get a little irritated. He was bringing up the marriage subject as often as you were talking about running away.

“I would marry you if we got away from this place,” you crossed your arms and looked out of the window because you didn’t want to see his face at that moment. You were scared of his reaction – you had never made such a promise before.

“You know I can’t. I have my responsibilities here, I have the club,” Benny’s voice broke a little.

“Fuck the club,” you snapped and it made him speechless. You angrily looked back at his confused face. “You always talk about being so free and having no roots, whatever, but it’s all bullshit, Benny,” you huffed.

“You scare me, baby,” he only shook his head but he kept on driving. “You’re crazy-crazy.”

To that, you didn’t say anything and the rest of the drive was quiet. You knew he was right about many things – you really acted crazy sometimes. It was because you were a coward – too scared to change your life on your own. Too scared to go to the bank, take all your savings out and buy a greyhound bus ticket on your own to start a new life somewhere. You wanted to somehow use Benny to get away from this place. But it didn’t change the fact you loved him. You were crazy about him, in fact. And if your fate in life was to end up as his wife in some shitty rented flat in Chicago, you would end up as such.

“Come on, baby, I don’t wanna fight,” Benny sighed as he parked the car near your favourite spot in the forest.

“I don’t wanna fight either,” you sniffed your tears back but refused to look at him. Benny shook his head and put his arm around you to pull you closer and force you to lay your eyes on him.

He was staring at your face for a while with a mix of worry and curiosity in his blue eyes. You were sure that sometimes he would pay real money to find out what was going inside your head but you felt the same towards him so it was only fair.

Benny raised his hand to caress your cheek and wipe off all the tears before leaning in to kiss you sweetly. You kissed him back hungrily and nearly desperately, clinging to him with your fists tangled in the fabric of his jacket to pull him even closer.

“You’re fucked up but sweet,” Benny murmured after breaking the kiss and you chuckled.

“Would you want it any other way?” You asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“No way,” he shook his head before joining your lips together again. Benny deepened the kiss and you moved from your seat clumsily to sit on his lap, tangling your fingers in his golden locks to pull on them slightly as you moaned into his mouth.

You knew that Benny knew that you hadn’t wanted him to take you here to admire nature. Of course, you enjoyed it but when you wanted to go to such a place in the middle of the night it only meant one thing. You had usually been fucking on a blanket by the lake but now you had a car so you wanted to make a use of it.

Benny’s hands grabbed you by your waist and began to squeeze the soft flesh there, pulling the pink dress in the process and revealing more and more of your legs as you were spreading them open until you felt the hardening cock inside his jeans rubbing onto your clothed pussy, making it grow wet.

You reached out to the back of the dress and unbuttoned it there to make it loose around your arms. The stripes fell down immediately, revealing your bra. Benny’s long and skilled fingers unclasped it and threw it in the backseat as he groaned at the sight of your exposed breasts.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed out and you chuckled.

“So are you, baby,” you leaned in to rub your nose with his and peck his lips.

Benny watched your breasts in awe as if it was the first time he had seen them. In the meantime, your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans. When you could finally grab and squeeze his hardening cock through the fabric of his boxer shorts, Benny kept you balanced with his hands placed flat on your back before leaning in to suck on your breasts. He began with soft kisses around your nipples, scratching you gently with his facial hair, which was making you giggle playfully. Your hands kept working on teasing his cock as he sucked and bit on your breasts to turn you on even further and you could feel your pussy leaking already.

When you felt a small wet spot from Benny’s precum forming on his underwear, you pulled the boxer shorts down and freed his cock. He groaned at the feeling and you moaned at the sight before grabbing it in your hand. You pushed him back for a moment and his eyes widened at the sight of you leaning in and spitting slowly on the tip of his red and swollen tip.

“Fuck,” his eyes rolled back and you giggled before starting to pump his cock with your hand firmly, setting up a fast and steady pace. Benny started to dig his fingernails in the soft skin of your back but he was trying to stop himself from scratching you too much. Your free hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to open his eyes and focus them on you again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his gasps barely audible.

“And all yours, Benny, baby,” you assured him and at those words, he groaned and moved his hands back to your hips. One of his hands went lower to pull your panties aside and reveal how wet and sticky you were already for him.

You guided his cock to your entrance and sank on it slowly, savouring every moment as your walls clenched around his length, which was filling you up sweetly and stretching you out. You hissed and threw your head back as your eyes rolled and Benny kept squeezing your hips to keep you steady and control the pace.

When you finally had him whole deep inside of you, Benny gave you a moment to adjust. A moment filled with your deep and loud breaths and his face pressed to your chest as he went back to sucking on your nipples.

Eventually, you looked down and put your hands on his shoulders for balance as you began to roll your hips and ride him slowly. Benny was an impatient man, though, and he started to help you immediately by pushing his hips up and rutting into you, which made you gasp and moan as your fingernails dug deep into his shoulders.

Benny moved his lips up from your breasts to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there and leaving his hot and wet open-mouth kisses all over. You wondered what Johnny would say if he had known what you were doing inside his car but you shrugged this thought off quickly.

The driver seat was squeaking from all your fucking and you were sure that the car was bouncing itself in the rhythm of your hips but you knew very well that no one would catch you there in the middle of the forest. Parking lots were much more risky. But not this forest, not this place. In fact, it was your place. And perhaps you would be missing it if you managed to get away from Chicago.

You whined and trembled when Benny’s cock found your sweet spot after you moved slightly and he was able to fuck you in a different angle. You cupped his face to move it away from your neck and he looked up to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were hazy but yours were finding it difficult to focus as well since they were filled with tears of pleasure. You pressed your forehead to his and helped him to fuck you by rocking your hips back and forth.

“I love you, Benny,” you let out a quiet whisper from your lips to his, for nobody else to hear. “I’m gonna marry you, baby,” you promised, picking up the pace.

Your words made him groan and start rutting into you faster as well but his moves were growing chaotic. You didn’t mind, though, because you could feel a knot in your lower abdomen forming already and you were close yourself.

“I’m gonna be your wife. I’m gonna be Mrs. Cross, baby,” you were whispering promises mindlessly, knowing it would bring him closer and it seemed to be working for you, too.

You moved one of your hands down to between your legs to rub on your clit but Benny realised what you were doing so he took one of his hands away from your hip and pushed your hand away to take the lead instead. His fingers found your swollen and achy clit quickly before rubbing circles on it and making you let out choked out sobs as tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks.

You came with a loud cry of his name, arching your back and throwing your head back while your eyes shut close and your walls clenched around his cock. He came right after you, filling you up with a few grunts and chaotic thrusts.

You gave yourselves a short moment to come off of your highs. You waited for your heartbeat and breath to go back to normal before you relaxed your muscles and fluttered your eyes open to look down at Benny’s fucked out face.

“You look like a mess,” you chuckled in a raspy voice and caressed his face before fixing his ruffled hair.

“So do you, doll,” Benny winked and helped you to get off of his lap, letting his softening cock to slip out of you with a hiss. You felt his cum mixed with your juices leaking down your thigh but you didn’t mind and you just pulled your panties back into their place.

While moving back to the passenger seat, you reached to the backseat for your bra. You put it back on and buttoned your dress back up before fixing your hair nonchalantly with your hand in the mirror of Johnny’s car.

Benny wiped the sweat off of his face with the palm of his hand before pulling his boxer shorts back up and zipping his jeans. He got out of the car and lit himself a cigarette as he leaned on the hood of the car. You gave him a short moment of silence and peace before getting out of the car as well and sitting on the hood next to him. You didn’t say anything, you only put your head on Benny’s shoulder and you stared at the stars above with a loud sigh.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eventually. There was lots of insecurity in his voice and it was unusual for Benny to feel this way.

“That I’m gonna marry you?” You asked and he nodded after a while of hesitation. “Yeah, why not? I only said no back then because it was our second date. Not because you ain’t no good enough for me, you know?” You looked up and caressed his hair gently.

Benny turned his head around slowly to meet your loving gaze.

“You know, I don’t like all those things Johnny’s askin’ me to do for him these days,” Benny confessed and you furrowed your brows. “I might not ride with the club anymore after all, I dunno yet,” he shrugged his arms. “I been thinkin’ maybe we could go to California after all. Or Florida. Or wherever you want, baby, really, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you, yeah?” Benny joined your foreheads together and you grinned at him.

“Yeah, Benny, I want the same,” you assured him. “Let’s get out of this place, we’re starting to waste here and we deserve so much more.”

“You surely do,” Benny chuckled and pecked your lips before moving his head away to take a drag of his cigarette.

You squeezed his arm tighter and chuckled sadly at his words before leaning to kiss his cheek lovingly.

“So do you, Benny. I’m gonna make you see that one day, baby,” you promised. “But until then, you just gotta believe me when I say that. You’re one of a kind.”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #*benny #lilysfiction

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underground-secret · 3 months

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is abducted by a family of cannibalistic hillbillies while he, Dean, and reader are investigating several decades' worth of missing people.

Warnings: Cannon violence, talk of kidnapping and crime, cannibals, cursing, detailed blood talk, again all cannon violence and so forth. Dean and reader bickering like friends or idiots in love you decide 😊

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool , @onlyangel-444 , @seninjakitey , @mystic-mara , @mxltifxndom , @stilesxreid , @chaotic-luvrs , @tiggytaylor

Word Count: 10,711

The Benders

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true,” Mrs.McKay points out, positioning herself closer to her son. Even in the dark living room, the curtains closed to block the bright sun, they looked alike, with similar big brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“Mrs.McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities,” Sam acknowledges, looking quite intimidating in his Sheriff get-up, the large brown jacket adding to it all. I’m glad I don’t have to be stuffed into those jackets, they don’t look super comfortable or flexible, and having to wear a khaki button-down was restricting enough. Somehow button-downs always wind up being tight for me in the chest area, this time no different. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so….” Dean adds.

“It’s okay if it sounds crazy, we’d rather get the full story,” I finish. The young boy looks at his mother for approval before answering, “I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asks.

“It sounded like…” he hesitates for a moment, either scared or worried we won’t believe him, “a monster.” His mother rolls her eyes and purses her lips, crossing her arms across her chest she says, “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla Vs. Mothra,” Evan answers. A wide, beaming smile places itself on Dean’s face, “That’s my favorite Godzilla movie,” he excitedly tells the kid, “It’s so much better than the original, huh?” He’s so cute when he gets all excited like this.

“Totally,” Evan nods, his eyes wide in that sweet childish way. “Yeah,” Dean nods to Sam, “He likes the remake.” A small laugh escapes my lips, of course he would take any chance he could get to poke fun at his brother. “Yuck!” Evan exclaims, causing me to laugh more. Sam glares at his brother, clearing his voice he gets us back on track, “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr.Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car,” he answers, looking a little scared again. “Then what?” Sam pushes.

“It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like?” I ask carefully.

“Like this…whining growl,” he answers and I make a mental note.

Sam nods, “Thanks for your time.”

I sip my Shirly Temple, a perfect mix of cherry syrup and soda. Meanwhile, Sam sips a beer before me, and Dean plays darts just behind me. Surprisingly he didn’t really touch his beer, I figured by now he would be on his second, but no he was just a little more than halfway done with his first. I wonder if it has to do with our conversation the other day, not that I didn’t trust him when he drank. I hope he knew that. I just didn’t like drinking, and bars weren’t my favorite place but as long as I was with others then I was fine.

I push my hair behind my ears and with it push those thoughts out of my head, “Okay, so, local police haven’t ruled out foul play because there were signs of a struggle,” I inform, looking down at the research papers that Sam had circling him.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig,” Dean says, another dart swooshing past.

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam points out, rearranging the papers so that he could push his Dad's journal closer to me and subsequently Dean, “Dad marked this area.” Dean looms closer, standing right behind my chair with his hands on the back of it; his hands dangerously close to my exposed arms or more specifically, shoulders. It isn’t a big deal I remind myself, it was perfectly normal in fact. I took off my cardigan because it had gotten warm in here so naturally with the short-sleeved dress I was wearing my arms were exposed.

He leans forward slightly, peering at the book from above my head, his body heat radiating around me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker,” Sam continues.

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes at night,” Sam explains, “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too–” he turns to a different page, “this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“Alright, that’s weird. But if that’s the case how aren’t there more leads on any of these especially if there’s a pattern?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers truthfully.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, Phantom Gassers,” Sam reminds, “They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow,” Dean plans.

“Right,” Sam says as he pulls out his brown leather wallet, “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean says, holding his hands up, “Let’s have another round.”

“We should get an early start,” Sam counters, placing a twenty on the table.

“You’re very responsible,” I point out.

“Someone has to be,” he smirks, sassy as always.

“Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?” Dean remarks. I turn around in my seat to peer up at Dean, he meets my eyes looking down at me, “I’m pretty sure you could still have fun at a motel,” I say, confused. I mean motels were fun, sort of, as long as there were no bed bugs and it was like a game of ‘how poorly designed will this be!’ Dean cocks an eyebrow, a devilish smile on his face, “‘That so?” he eyes me, teasing me.

The implications of my sentence hit me…I laugh nervously, “No...I mean…cause, like, I didn’t me…I mean–” I stammer but his smile only widens. I whip my head towards Sam for help but he’s also smiling, “You’re on your own with this one,” he shrugs. I turn back, slowly, to Dean to find him still staring, “You know what I meant” I say.

“Do I?” he counters. My face feels all warm, I hear Sam’s chair move and the collecting of papers. He was leaving me! My nervous laughter continues as I try to come up with something but it’s broken letters that leave my mouth instead, I stand up abruptly, tugging down the skirt of my dress as I do so, “I’m gonna go…”

He removes his hands from my chair, and I grab my cardigan, throwing the soft material on. I meet his gaze again but this time he’s just smiling softly. “Wait for me, sweetheart, gotta take a leak,” he says, finished with his teasing. “Ok,” I answer, and he heads to the back of the bar. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself I would have commented on his gross choice of words, but I did so instead I down the rest of my sweet drink.

Hardly two minutes later Dean is back, he throws his jacket on and swings an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side as we head to the front, “So, about that motel…” he tries to continue his teasing.

“Dean!” I groan, “Stop, alright I get it was funny, whatever, it’s over now.” He laughs, swinging open the door for me. I roll my eyes, he was never going to let this down.

The chill Minnesota air cools down my warm cheeks as I exit the bar, Dean following behind, “No, no, I think you were on to something, sweetheart,” he muses and I can hear that stupid smile on his face. I turn around swiftly, facing him, “I am going to beat you up,” I threaten despite the smile on my face. His stupid, cute, smile drops all of a sudden, his eyes somewhere over my shoulder. I frown, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes focused behind me, he moves around me and I spin around immediately noticing the cause of his changed demeanor. There’s no Sam. He’s not by the car at all, and if he went back into the bar we would have seen him. I follow Dean to the Impala, my tall boots clicking against the asphalt, he picks up something from the roof holding up his Dad’s journal which Sam had in his possession when he left. That’s not good.

I pull my phone out of my cardigan pocket, immediately scrolling down to Sam’s contact. Dean opens the car door, peering inside before shutting it and shaking his head. I click call, waiting impatiently with the phone to my ear, it rings a couple of times before going to voicemail. “Frick,” I redial his number and this time it goes straight to voicemail, was it shut off? Why would he shut it off?

I shake my head at Dean, this was bad.

Dean moves away from the car asking a drunk couple by the bar, but they have no answer. I call his phone again as if this time would be different, but it isn’t.

“Sam!” Dean suddenly yells, frantically calling for his brother. “Sammy!”

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Greene?,” Deputy Kathleen asks, looking at our fake IDs. She didn’t seem so amused as she looked at us with those piercing grey eyes. “We’re working a missing persons,” Dean answers, worry still etched on his face.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police,” she acknowledges, perhaps growing suspicious.

“No, we’re here about another missing person. ‘Could be related though,” I reply. Dean adding, “It’s my cousin. We were havin’ a few drinks last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?” she asks logically.

“Sam?” he scoffs, “Two beers and he’s doin’ karaoke.”

“He wasn’t drunk. And the time frame in which he was left alone was far too short for any wanderin’ off, if by chance he was intoxicated more than my partner here witnessed,” I inform, adding on. Dean looks at me with a little surprise, as if I wasn't capable of being serious and professional which was stupid because I knew more about criminology than he did and as of right now we had to look at this in that frame of light. Kathleen nods, moving to her computer and turning it halfway so that we could see too, “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester,” Dean answers.

“Like the rifle?” she asks somewhere between skepticism and amusement. “Like the rifle,” he confirms.

She types away, pulling up his police record, and she scans the file before clicking on Dean’s file (thank god there were no pictures with it). “Samuel Winchester, so, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder.”

Memories of that hunt creep into the back of my mind. The slimy remains of its shedding, his hands on my neck, losing my abilities to iron…Dean’s awkward laugh knocks me out of my thoughts, “Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family…Handsome, though.” I try hard not to throw a look at him, even now he still has to be cocky. “Uh-huh,” she hums, not amused. She types something else in, bringing up more results on the computer, “Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway,” Dean informs.

“Uh-huh, she hums, “The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m thinking the camera picked up whatever took him…or, whoever” he corrects with a smile.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let’s do this the right way,” she goes to a filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, “Why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here,” she hands Dean a clipboard. “Officer, look, uh, he’s family. I kind of–I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you,” he reasons.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she answers.

“Sam’s my responsibility. And he’s comin’ back. I’m bringin’ him back,” he says again, this time more demanding than pleading. But she shakes her head, “I’m sorry” she repeats moving away from us.

“The first 72 hours of a missing person's case is the most important!” I call out and she stops in her tracks, “We know Sam didn’t just run off, so we can eliminate the statistic that in 48 hours he will show up,” but still she doesn’t turn. “In this case, 72 hours would be lucky, you know considering the fact this county has had no leads and has yet to find a single person related to the serial kidnapping going on,” she turns and stares at me with a frown.

“So for all of our sakes and our jobs, let’s say a safe 48,” I continue, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the second you go over that time the chances of you finding the person, let alone alive, is extraordinarily low. It is currently,” I look at the clock on the wall, “9:36 am,” I meet her eyes again, “So in less than 30 minutes we will be down 13 hours. Now I don’t think I have to do the math for you to understand how badly you are screwed,” I challenge, “Now, how long do you think you have before the feds get involved? ‘Cause I’m sure that will look just great for you.” I know I’m being harsh but I’m also being entirely serious.

She sighs, nodding, “Okay.”

Dean picks at his nailbeds as we wait on a bench across the street from the County’s Work Department. The bright sun shines down on us making his dirty blonde hair glow. I place a hand over his, he needs to break this habit, “We’ll find him,” I say softly. He shakes his head, “You said it yourself, every minute that goes by the chances of finding him–”

“But we’ll find him,” I cut him off. Maybe being positive about this wasn’t the most logical thing, we don’t know how big of a lead we have yet and if it’s nothing then we really are screwed. I know the odds are not in our favor, but to remind him of that wouldn’t help either.

“Greg, Kayla,” Kathleen says from behind, using our fake first names. We turn to her, getting up from the bench we were waiting on, “I think we’ve got something,” she hands us printouts of traffic cameras. “These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds. As part of the Amber Alert program,” she explains, “These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.” But it's just images of a dark road with no one on it but the soft light of street lamps illuminating the pavement.

“This really isn’t what we’re looking for,” Dean voices.

“Just wait, wait—next one,” she insists. He turns to the next image, tilting it to show me the image of a rusty run-down truck driving down the road, “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing. Now, look at the plates.” He turns the page again, this time the image is a close-up of the back of the truck or more specifically the not rusty or old license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It’s probably stolen,” Dean points out, confirming my thoughts.

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved,” she adds and I'm ever so glad this lead was something. Maybe we could let other officers know to be on the lookout for it.

Suddenly there’s the horrible noise of a loud grumbling and whining engine passing by, I cringe at the screeching noise, looking up to find a beat-up van stopped at a red light. “Hear that engine?” Dean asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble, trying to resist the urge to cover my ears. He looks at me, meeting my eyes, “Kind of a whining growl, isn’t it?”

My lips part. He was right. He didn’t need to say any more for me to understand exactly what he meant, it’s what Evan heard. And if we assume that the rusty truck on the cameras is involved, they might even make a similar noise considering they're just about the same on the beat-up level.

The squad car rolls down the highway, Kathleen in the driver's seat pointing to a passing traffic camera, “Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…”

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere,” Dean finishes her sentence, adding, “I didn’t see any other roads here.”

“Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads,” Kathleen points out. I sigh, “That’s not very helpful,” now we have to figure out how to narrow it down with no other information. Dean grumbles something, looking out his window while I keep my eyes trained out the windshield trying to think of our next move.

Kathleen clicks something on the little tablet on a stand, in the corner of my eye I see her look at us strangely. I drop my eyes to the tablet, picking up on enough words to know it was trouble for us, I unbuckle myself swiftly, thanking my past self for choosing to sit in the middle and that this was a squad car meaning there wasn't the gate between the back and front. I lean forward my hips hitting the end of the center console as I practically weasel myself between the passenger and driver seats, my hands flat on the front of the console. My hair curtains my face but even so I can feel both their gaze on me, just like I wanted.

I don't know how much she was able to read the document but it doesn’t matter now as I carefully lift my pointer finger, hands still flat on the console, towards the tablet letting just a little spark of energy leave my finger and interfere with its programming. I push my hair out of my face, her eyes drop to my chest which was practically pushed out and perfectly visible in this position, I laugh lightly, “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

I lean back, sitting on the edge of my seat putting my arms on the end of the console near me but close enough that it frames my boobs perfectly. Her eyes had been following my movement back through the rearview mirror, even girls were guilty of staring. Her eyes finally drag up to my face and I smile sweetly at her in the mirror, tilting my head a little for extra measure, her eyes drop down again before she blinks looking away from the mirror. She blinks again shaking her head as if it would shake the image away, “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I ran your badge numbers. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

I curse internally, so much for a distraction. “And, um,” she continues, her eyes dropping to my chest just one more time, “uh, they just got back to me,” she pulls the car over to the side of the road, “It says here both of your badges were stolen. And there’s a picture of you both,” she turns the tablet. Dean looks at her shocked before dropping his eyes to the screen, his face falls with confusion as we both stare at the same thing, “It’s blank,” he points out and I have to hold back a smile at my work. She turns the tablet towards her, confused, she hits the thing and of course it doesn’t make a difference. “Well it was a picture of a heavier African American male and a (different ethnicity than you) female,” she explains instead.

“I lost some weight,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, did he really think that was going to work?! Kathleen takes off her seatbelt, “Okay, would you both step out of the car, please?”

“Look, look, look,” Dean spews quickly halting her movement, “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate. But, first, please—let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who either of you are. Or if this Sam person is missing,” she counters.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this,” he reasons. But she scoffs, “Identity theft? You’re impersonating officers.”

“How much do you care for your people? Those who live in the county?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. “You can bring us in now, sure, but there’s still someone out there kidnapping and likely murdering people. And we are your best chance of finding them, we got you this far.” She purses her lips, shaking her head firmly.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Dean tries, “When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast—please,” his voice breaks, “He’s my family.” He was putting it all out there, he wasn’t the emotional type let alone with a new person like this, but he was more than worried

“I’m sorry. I have to take you in,” she says her gaze elsewhere. But then she frowns, sighing, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “After we find Sam Winchester.” She fastens her seatbelt and Dean looks at me confused but I just shrug, maybe it was better if we didn’t question it.

Despite Kathleen's clear distrust for us, she did suggest stopping for coffee before continuing our search. I cradle my to-go cup between my palms, the sun perfectly warm on my skin and the wind in perfect time with a cool breeze now and then. “Hey, Officer? Look, I don’t mean to press our luck,” Dean starts.

“Your luck is so pressed,” she retorts and her remark makes me laugh. She throws me a sharp glare and my smile drops, burring my face behind my cup as I take a sip.

“Right. I was wondering…why are you helping us out, anyway?” Dean asks, “Why don’t just lock us up”

Kathleen frowns, rounding the car as she answers, “My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but…” she sighs, “nothing…I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone.” The memories seem to flash in her pupils, her gray eyes hardening again. It was like seeing her in a different light, I think in the rush of this hunt we, or rather I, forgot that she was more than her badge she had her pains and losses like us. I make a mental note to apologize later for my previous harshness, I know I could’ve been kinder and that’s true with or without this newfound information.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening the driver's door, “Let’s keep at it.”

****

We drive close to the edge of the forest on the lookout for private roads, but tree after tall tree there is nothing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean suddenly says, “pull over here. Pull over.” And despite Kathleen's questioning gaze, she abides, pulling the car over and onto the soft grass beyond the shoulder.

We get out of the car, getting closer to the tree line. “You guys stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kathleen commands leading us into the forest.

“No way,” Dean scuffs.

“Seriously,” I reason, “You have no idea what you're walking into, you could use our help.” I mean did she really want to walk in alone?

“Hey,” she stops before us, preventing us from going further, “You’re civilians. And felons…I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You’re not goin’ without us,” Dean answers firmly. She stares at us as if to see how serious we are when finally she sighs, annoyed, “Alright. ‘You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean half shrugs. I nod, “Promise.”

“Shake on it,” she challenges, extending her hand. Dean and I raise our hands for a shake, but jokes on her for a promise to be serious you need to pinkie promise. She raises her other hand to extend to mine at the same time. She's firm with it when cold metal clinks against my wrist immediately followed by another clink against Dean’s. We’re cuffed to each other. I stare at our cuffed hands confused, the joke was supposed to be on her, not on us. And it certainly was on us. “Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles.

Holding on to the links between each cuff, she dragged us back to the car; no amount of dragging my feet was helping. She uncuffs me twisting both my hands behind my back, holding firmly with one hand as she puts the other cuff through the door handle pulling it back up and on my wrist; leaving Dean and I both trapped to the door handle. It was hard to be totally mad when it was quite clever. Now satisfied with her work, she walks back into the forest, “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you’re gonna need our help,” Dean calls after her.

She lifts a hand, beeping the car locked as she throws back a, “I’ll manage thank you.” I watch her leave until I can no longer see her past the tree line, I still can’t believe she tricked us. “That was an interesting show you put on before,” Dean says, leaning against the car door, apparently not too concerned about our current position. “What do you mean?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“What do I mean?” he mocks, “Oh I don’t know maybe the,” he places his free hand below his chest lifting an invisible boob, “‘I thought I saw something’” he says in a girlish voice. I give him a pointed look and with my free hand I hit his chest, he drops his hand laughing. “One, I did not sound like that! Two, I was not doing that, and three! I was tryna save us, she had pulled up incriminating evidence and I figured I could distract her enough to buy us time.”

“Well she still got us,” he points out, green eyes dropping to our cuffed wrists.

“Yeah I know, it was more of an in-the-moment thing and it worked better in my head,” I reason.

“You got the distracting part right though,” he responds, his voice slightly lower. Maybe it was the stupid bickering or the fact he had teased me last night that brought up enough confidence to ask, “Are you insinuating you were looking too?”

His eyes snap up to me his cheeks looking warm, “What?! No, no, I wouldn’t…I–no.”

I smirk though my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and my heart is rapid against my ribcage, I open my mouth to say something clever when I hear the screeching of tires, “Never mind that” I say quietly instead. With my free hand, I hold the cuffs using very little energy to unlock them. I smile triumphantly, discarding the cuffs to the grass. “You’re lucky I don't just leave you here,” I point out.

He looks taken aback as he scuffs, “You wouldn’t.”

I purse my lips, “But I could’ve, I really could’ve.” He scuffs this time with more humor as he rolls his eyes, “Right. Let’s go.” He leads the way, walking quickly into the forested area.

We pass by wagon wheels strewn across the overgrown grass, followed by a rundown barn. Dean carefully opens the creaky barn door, exposing the dark inside to the shining sun. The barn reeks of sweat, and a combination of human and animal waste. The light creeps in behind us revealing at least four cages with thick metal bars, the cage wasn’t too wide and couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Either way, it was solidifying the idea that this had to be the correct place because why would cages like these be in a rundown barn? And…there were figures inside said cages, very human figures. “Sam?” Dean calls out as we approach. Then they become more than dark figures, Sam smiles from his crouched-down position. “Are you hurt?” Dean asks even though he didn't look harmed, sweaty and dirty, yes, but not harmed.

“No,” Sam answers. Dean grins putting his hands on the bars, “Damn it's good to see you.”

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” A now familiar voice asks. Dean and I seem to turn around at the same time, and I’m taken aback by Kathleen’s appearance. Her dark hair was down, cascading down her shoulders only making her blue eyes more entrancing, the khaki button down she wore as uniform was gone leaving her in a dirty white t-shirt, black splotches on it as well as some on her skin accompanied by a bloody bruise in the corner of her forehead.

“Oh, she knows a trick or two,” Dean answers with a playful smile, “Speaking of which, you should do it again.”

I force a tight-lipped smile. “Right.”

I approach the door of the cage where Sam is held, the thick, heavy lock resting in my hands. The lock looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon, its surface cold and unsettling. As I clutch it, an eerie emptiness spreads through me, a hollow sensation that chills me to the core. The memory of an iron bar around my neck flashes through my mind. I drop the lock as if it burned me, stumbling back. I rub my hands down the sides of my legs, trying to erase the lingering coldness. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eases, replaced by the familiar warmth of my abilities flowing through my veins. “What’s wrong?” Dean and Sam ask in unison, Dean’s hand suddenly gripping my upper arm.

“Iron,” I manage to get out around the cotton that seemed to fill my throat, eyes focusing on the barn floor. He curses under his breath before he steps in front of me, blocking me from the other's view. He squeezes my upper arm silently asking me to look at him, I meet his eyes the familiarity of him easing the leftover panic. “‘You okay?” he asks quietly enough for only us to hear. I nod and he doesn’t push me to confirm it verbally, he gives a quick nod in response and squeezes my arm once more before his hand drags down my arm before leaving altogether. Suddenly I miss his touch even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a strange thing when your brain and heart want two different things. My mind pleads for logic, bringing an end to our casual touches to save my heart the grief. But then my heart wants nothing more to latch on to the feeling and exceed just a little more hope. He moves to the lock himself, studying it, “These are gonna be a bitch”

“Well, there’s some kind of automatic control right there,” Sam points to a control panel on the other side of the barn.

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Dude, they’re just people,” he answers voice dipped in disbelief. Our hunts rarely ended up being people; with something like this, they must be seriously messed up. “And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo,” Dean remarks as he walks over to the control panel.

“I bet they’re rednecks, and that’s, like, an entirely different breed of human,” I comment.

“How do you know their rednecks?” Kathleen asks as if she’s still suspicious we’re in on this.

“I wouldn’t know anyone else who would keep captured people in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in cages no less. I feel like that has psychotic redneck all over it,” I explain like it’s obvious.

“What do they want?” Dean asks as he clicks different buttons on the panel.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers, “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are certain patterns with humans too, especially criminals,” I explain, “They most likely get off on the thrill of the hunt. They let you go. Give you false hope, and get you running. But like you said it's a trap. You’re just prey to them, they might even have actual traps hidden around as extra measure though it doesn’t matter when they catch you anyway. It’s kind of a whole dehumanizing act too, cages and the hunting like you’re animals.”

All three pairs of eyes stare at me, “What? I thought that was evident,” I shrug defensively.

“...Anyways, ‘see anything else out there?” Sam asks.

Dean creeps open the other barn doors, different from where we came in from, “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden outback. ‘Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

Kathleen scurries closer to the bars of her cage, hands clutching the bars, “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” She looks desperately at Dean. “Yeah, actually, I did,” he answers and she frowns, her chest depleting with hope, “Your brother?” he asks, taking a good guess. She nods, shoulders dropped, something passing in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” he apologies, “let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” he points to the control panel, “this thing takes a key.”

“Then please say one of you, by chance, happened to see the key,” I add.

“No, I don’t know,” Sam answers. I nod, “Right. That’s fun and awesome, we get to venture into the home of serial killers.” I turn on my heels, heading back the way we came, hearing Dean’s steps right behind me. “Hey,” Sam suddenly calls out. We stop, turning around, he adds, “Be careful.”

My lips curve up into a half-smile, “We will!” I answer enthusiastically. “Yeah,” Dean responds in the only way he knows how. I don’t think he understands that people care and worry about him, especially when he sees himself as the protector I wish there was a way to help him unlearn that and if one already exists I want to know it.

****

I pull myself up, my hands holding firm to the window sill, we were lucky to find an open window. Scooting myself into the dark room, I turn back leaning out the window to take the flashlight from Dean. He lifts himself up and in with ease, taking the flashlight back from me. He flicks it on, scanning the room with the light, revealing shelf after shelf of specimen jars. I move closer to one of the jars, a severed hand with a star tattoo by its thumb floating in the alcohol. “You know what they say, people with tattoos taste bad,” I mumble.

“Who says that?” Dean whispers in disbelief.

“Cannibals,” I whisper back, “They say it makes the flesh taste all weird. They also say the hands are the worst to eat, ‘not a lot of meat there.”

“You think these guys are cannibals too?” He asks, flashlight shining over the various jars and bottles.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrug, if they weren’t then I wonder why they would keep only some body parts but get rid of the others. He nods slowly to the possibility, flashlight gliding over a wall of Polaroid pictures each with the same two boys with long noses, beards, and hats, standing beside a dead body. “I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy,” Dean says pointing to a particular photo, one with them holding Jenkin's corpse. I wonder how late we were, maybe we could’ve saved him too.

Carefully I creep my way to the closed door, opening it slowly just a crack, I peek out viewing the hallway for anyone. I wait one, two, three beats before opening the door more, signaling to him that the coast was clear. I exit the room first, Dean close behind me, I motion towards the old wooden stairs in question and he nods taking the lead once more. He creeps up the stairs careful not to step on something that looks like it would creak, I follow behind walking on my tip-toes for extra measure. The stairs continue up one more level but we stick with the second floor. Reaching the landing we stepped into the living room, the room was grey and dark with no furniture around just a big empty room. I step deeper into the room, the wallpaper is peeling and the room smells like mildew. The only pleasant thing was a soft tune coming from a room nearby, instrumental but not quite classical, a hacking sound interrupting the melody every few seconds.

Suddenly something in the room clacks together, hitting each other repeatedly. I turn quickly to the noise, guard up. Dean moves away from the object he must have hit as he mutters, “What the–.” A windchime of bones hang from the ceiling down by the window, the bones were clean and white–clearly well taken care of, some bones slightly longer but they were mostly smaller bones. I watch as he brushes it off with a slight shiver before moving to a different part of the room picking up a miscellaneous plank of wood. He notices me staring and motions with his head to follow, he leads us to the next room close to the kitchen towards the hacking. We reach the archway and he peeks in before making a hand signal for me to stay where I am as he riskily moves to the other side of the archway.

Perhaps stupidly I take a quick peek before resuming my place flat against the wall, taking a moment to go over what I saw in the quick glimpse. An older man at a kitchen counter, his back to us, nothing reflective in front of him that's visible from this angle, cluttered room, windows bordered up, a bag of tools positioned behind him with at least a meat cleaver in it but guessing by the shape there were more objects- maybe more knives, the meat he was working on wasn’t visible but the likelihood of it being human remained pretty high.

I look over at Dean, some jar full of teeth in his hand, his face scrunched in disgust. “What are you doing?!” I mouth. He puts the thing down on a little stand that stands across from him, and he opens his mouth to respond when the floor creaks behind him, he turns quickly and I try to see behind him with wide eyes but he’s too tall to see anything from this position. I look to the floor instead, trying to look for another pair of feet. I hear him say something softly with his hands raised, but from where I am I can’t hear. Between his own feet, I see small bare ones, perhaps belonging to that of a child.

Then before another beat passes the child says something and Dean is pushed up against the wall with a groan, a choked noise escaping him as he lifts a hand to his abdomen. The girl smiles wickedly, but before her lips can part, I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. “DA–” she manages to get out before I clamp a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes against my grip, knocking me against the little table. Objects rattle behind me, but I hold firm. Dean pulls the knife out of his stomach as he slides down the wall, blood staining his shirt. I force the girl forward, her large matted hair obscuring my vision. She kicks wildly, nearly breaking my hold.

“Okay,” I breathe, “Okay, it’s alright, go to sleep.” I focus, letting my abilities surge, the familiar energy coursing through my veins. It flows down my arms into my fingertips that grip her.

I reach into her mind, a violent sea of chaotic thoughts and emotions screaming back at me. Her fear and anger lash out like storm-driven waves. I step into it, the wind of internal screams and panic parting for me. I step in deeper, my steps gentle. I echo the words I said out loud to her, my voice soft like a lullaby once lost. The storms begin to quiet. Her physical struggles begin to slow as she subcomes to my soft insistent voice. Her thoughts slow, the waves turning to ripples until they are still. I creep out of her mind, gently lowering the unconscious child to the floor and leaning her against a nearby wall. It was the best I could without harming her and I would not harm a child.

Quick footsteps adjourn down the staircase. I reach Dean, kneeling in front of him, replacing his hands around the wound. He watches me carefully, quietly, eyebrows pinched together slightly. I know I must work quickly. With a breath, the purple glow of my powers seeped into the deep stab wound. Slowly the torn flesh and tissue knit back together, “You’re either gonna have to hurry sweetheart, or stop,” he warns. It was a deep wound and it would take longer than what we had, “But stopping would be stupid, and dangerous especially since you’ve already taken the knife out which you should never do ‘cause it only makes you bleed out more,” I answer quickly. I can practically feel the roll of his eyes without having to look.

A floorboard creaks a foot away. I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Dean and standing up just as a hard hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly, throwing a punch, my knuckles hitting a hard face. The man stumbles just slightly, loosening his grip on me. A fistful of my hair is pulled, forcing my neck back uncomfortably as my scalp burns. A choked grunt leaves my lips as the person uses my hair to drag me away, with a snap of his wrist I’m thrown to the floor. I land on my hands and knees hard, “Bitch,” the man spits. I get up with a single laugh. He charges at me. I throw a hand out, energy shooting from my hand. He goes flying hitting the wall hard, his stupid baseball cap falling off as he slides to the floor. His long face drops, fear filling his dark irises, he scurries to sit up. “W–w-witch!” he yells with a shaky pointed finger, getting the attention of his partner. The other long-faced man stares at us, distracted, giving Dean the leverage to push the man off of him followed by a punch to the face.

I return my attention to the accusing man. I return my arm to my side, and with a small shrug and a smile I answer, “Guilty.” His face seems to pale, and with a newfound determination, he picks himself up. “Do you really wanna do that? You can stay down,” I offer him. But he snarls and suddenly I’m thrown to the side, a separate body on top of me, my upper arm scraping against the wooden floor. I grunt as the person turns me over and lands a smooth punch to my nose, I catch a glimpse of Dean straddling the guy I had been dealing with serving punch after punch. They had switched people and it worked. Warmth trickles down my nose as I lift my legs around the man and in one fair sweep turn us over. I land punch after punch until a weird metal noise echos against the walls followed by a heavy drop. Stupidly, I look over. Dean’s on the floor unconscious, the tall man who was in the kitchen standing over him with a pan. The dots connect quickly as the man below me pushes me off and stands up with a stumble. I follow his lead and stand up too, wiping the back of my hand below my nose, dragging away blood.

All three men stand together. The one I was just dealing with speaks, “You’re partners down why don’t you be a good girl and give up.” My skin curls, my spine chilling, “Why don’t I rip out your eyeballs and feed it to you’re friends over here, ‘m sure they’d enjoy it,” I reply. The man laughs, “Oh,” his dark teeth exposed, “ I like you.”

My lips curl in disgust, “The feeling is not mutual.” The man in the middle with the pan, the oldest, nudges the man who lost his hat. Silently he moves away, into another room. Now left with two men, I wait for them to make a move as charging them would be stupid and I’d likely be overpowered in seconds. The man returns with a butcher knife and a fire poker. He hands the knife to the other, all three now armed with weapons. The knife and pan weren't much of a worry, not compared to the fire poker. Fire pokers were made from iron, a material made to withstand heat, and apparently witches too. I eye the weapon hoping they could not smell the fear on me like Hannibal.

The two younger men come forward, rushing me. I duck out of the way of the butcher knife, nearly cutting my cheek in the process as I kick the man with the fire poker in the chest. He stumbles and I grab the arm of the knife holder pulling him closer before kicking him in the balls. He bellows as he falls to his knees. The fire poker soars in front of me, one of the little hooks catching on the top of my shirt. He pulls it back, the material ripping slightly and biting into my skin. I turn my attention to him, brows furrowed. He seems to regret his decision as I take a step closer to him. His grip on the fire poker is loose as he takes a step back. I follow after him, easily hitting his wrist. The poker clinking to the floor. Heavy footsteps shuffle behind me. I throw a hand up, flicking it back. Sending the knife man flying. All the while I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. I tilt my head slowly. He throws a punch. I catch it. Twisting his arm until it's behind his back, I walk him a few steps in front of me before throwing him to the ground.

Suddenly, the eldest man is hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. I stumble back, a familiar memory flashing in my mind. I blink rapidly pushing the memory away just as I’m hit on the side of my face. The pan is suddenly hard against my stomach. I land on my butt with a choked noise. He motions and suddenly the knife man is holding down my arms and the poker man is holding down my ankles. I struggle against their hold. Energy surges in my veins, eyes wide. The fire poker has replaced the pan. He lifts it above his head. Energy is at my fingertips. The fire poker is stabbed through my thigh, through the jeans. A scream erupts from my throat. The energy disappears at once. The room tilts. Everything disappears.

Deep voices flow in and out. The room in blinks. My head spins. Heavy, so heavy.

Heavy eyelids open. Hardly awake. Glimpses of Dean across the room, tied to a chair, his eyes just a bit more aware than mine.

“Come on. Let us hunt ‘em,” one of them says. My head lulls back, catching a glimpse of the poker sticking out of my leg. My eyes shoot open, suddenly more aware of the predicament. “Yeah, they're both fighters. Sure would be fun to hunt,” the other one adds. Pain surges to my thigh as I sit up straighter, rope binding my hands behind my back and rope to keep my ankles to my chair–matching Dean from what I could see. Their tall frames acted as a wall between us. The eldest laughs a hideous laugh.

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me. That’s what this is about? You–you yahoos hunt people?” Dean comments, his voice gruff. I huff, “This is one of those times I hate being right.”

Suddenly, the little girl from before, now awake, walks past me knife-drawn. I trace her movements with my eyes. She comes close enough to drag the blade across my cheek in a straight line. I clench my teeth to keep from giving them gratification. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied as blood drips down my cheek, “You having fun there?” I mock. She spits at my feet, all retaliation for invading her mind. The eldest turns his attention on me, stalking closer, “You said you’s one ‘em witches?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply plainly.

“Thought we burned all of ya at the stake.”

“Guess you missed one,” I muse instead of giving a history lesson to correct his statement.

“Why don't you show us a trick?” He tests, eyeing me.

“How about I kill you instead.”

“You ever killed before?”

“I can make an exception for you lot,” I answer. He chuckles before turning to Dean, “What ‘bout you boy, you ever killed before?”

“Wh–” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “Well, that depends on what you mean.”

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the eldest starts, “Just like my father, his before him. I’ve hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once,” he sighs almost dreamily, “Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there’s nothin’ like it. Holdin’ their life in your hands. Seein’ the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful, alive.”

“You’re a sick puppy,” Dean replies.

“You need therapy…” I add, “And jail time.” He ignores our commentary to continue his demented story, “We give ‘em a weapon. Give ‘em a fightin’ chance. It’s kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You’re plenty sloppy,” Dean interjects. Not so much ignoring it he asks, “So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you cops?” he asks.

“If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?” Dean teased. The eldest tenses. The man whom I had scared before walks over to him and punches Dean square in the face. “Only reason I don’t let my boys take you right here and now is that there’s somethin’ I need to know,” the father informs ever so kindly. He turns his back on Dean and stalks his way towards me. “Yeah, how ‘bout it’s not nice to marry your sister,” Dean mocks from behind him. The father doesn't flinch even as I laugh at Dean's joke. Suddenly, he grabs the fire poker sticking out of my thigh, moving it around inside as he keeps eye contact, silencing my laughter. I try not to give a reaction, clenching my teeth until it feels like I might break a tooth. But in one movement he pulls the poker from my leg, my nails digging into the chair, a rugged scream erupting from my throat. The room rattles. Blood gushes from the wound, soaking my jeans. Something on a mantel clatters to the floor. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing my face up. “There it is,” he murmurs, voice gravely, as he peers into my pupils that are no doubt purple. He lets go of my face roughly, he adjusts the fire poker in his hand and I expect him to shove it back in, instead, he moves to the old fireplace near me. I force my powers inward, containing them, I would not be a toy for someone.

I turn my head towards the man, desperate to track his movements, my chest heaving–breath uneven. With a steady eye, he holds the poker over the fire, waiting for the tip to get hot, “Tell me…any of the cops gonna come lookin’ for you?” he asks, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the side of his grimy face. “Oh, eat me,” Dean responds gruffly, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, you actually might.” One of the goons walks over to Dean and holds his head in place as the father walks over, the hot fire poker at his side. “You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family?”

“Buddy,” I breathe, cutting him off, “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Alright, you wanna play games?” he mocks, “We’ll play some games.” He looks at the others as he announces, “Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,” a horrible smirk on his face. He turns his attention to Dean, “And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?”

“Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody’s comin’ for us, alright? It’s just us,” Dean answers, all humor gone from his voice. But his response doesn’t satisfy the father, “You don’t choose, I will,” he threatens as he places the hot poker on Dean’s chest, right near his shoulder. A deep piercing scream erupts from his throat. I try to lunge at the man despite my restraints, the other goon comes around to hold my shoulders. The father removes the poker. The screaming silents as Dean curses him out, “Ah, you son of a bitch!” He holds the poker hardly an inch from Dean’s eye, “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

“Alright, the guy, the guy! The guy!” Dean yells. The goon holding his head lets go, and the father moves the poker to his side again before pulling a necklace from beneath his shirt, a key dangling from it. He pulls it from around his neck and throws it to the man behind me. He releases my shoulders as he catches it, “Lee, go do it,” the father orders, “Don’t let him out though. Shoot him in the cage.” Lee walks to the door, the key clutched as he picks up one of the many guns by the doorway. “What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!” Dean shouts at the man. But the father ignores him, “Lee, when you’re done with the boy…shoot the bitch too.” Lee nods and leaves.

“Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runin’ out here,” the father explains. I struggle with my restraints again, I would not be useless even as my body works hard to heal the gaping hole in my thigh. But the battle against the simple ropes is fruitless, it's tied too tight and adrenaline is only bringing my energy levels so far. I don’t want to be useless, I could manage the ropes off and get up and fight.

The father spins around, eyes on me. He grabs my chin again, forcefully moving my face as he studies my eyes. “I think we’ll keep your eyes,” he remarks and it feels like a mockery of my previous threat. In a clean movement, the fire poker is shoved back in. It rips through the minute works of healing my body had managed. A scream chokes in my throat. My abilities out at once. “Lo–” a distant gunshot cuts him off. He stands away from me, his face dropping. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all!” Dean yells. The father ignores him as he calls out for his son, “Lee!” No answer comes. “Lee!” he calls for him again and again no answer comes. He turns to his other kids, “Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch ‘em now.” Jared works quickly, grabbing two riffles before handing one to his father. And just as quickly they leave. Missy moves closer to Dean, knife drawn and held dangerously close to his eye.

****

I force my eyes to remain open and focused on the ceiling as I lean my head back. We heard multiple gunshots but it was impossible to know who they hit or if they hit at all. And I was growing tired. I may have my tetanus shot but I’m bleeding out…slowly.

The floorboards creak outside the room with particularly placed footsteps. Missy looks between us before scoffing and walking out of the room. Just out of sight, there's shuffling, something clinking to the floor, a door rushed closed, and the dragging of furniture. Seconds later a familiar tall figure steps into the room, “Sam!” Dean laughed. He was battered and bruised but not terribly hurt. He eyes us, our condition, but doesn’t comment on it as he moves to Dean, easily cutting off the ropes. He rises from the chair, hand pressed to his marked shoulder, hunched over just slightly.

Both boys cross over to me. Sam kneels, cutting away on the rope. Dean removes his hand from his shoulder, the burn mark looks worse up close and would undoubtedly leave a scar. I’d have to heal him. “Gonna have to pull that out, sweetheart,” he remarks. I frown, “That’ll make it worse.”

“You’re not better off this way,” he points out and I know he’s right…unfortunately. I give him a single nod, grounding my teeth as I await the pain. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns. He wraps his hands around the poker, eyes tracing my face as he pulls it straight out. I groan, biting down on my teeth hard enough to break one. “I am going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass,” I grumble through clenched teeth. Blood drips down the tip of the poker before he drops it to the floor, blood gushing from the wound. I take several breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself, and with a single thought, I make a roll of gauze, alcohol pads, and a large medical bandage form in the palm of my hand. I handed the small packets to Dean, “For your forehead,” a small cut and dried blood stained the corner of his forehead no doubt from being hit with a pan.

“You’re not gonna heal your leg?” he asks as I wrap the gauze over the hole in my thigh, blood immediately soaking the bandage. I shake my head, focused on the task and not the pain, “‘Take too long, we’ll have a healing party later.” He seems to accept the answer as he helps me out of the seat, restraints gone. Sam’s hands circle my waist as I steady myself upright, both boys aiding me in the endeavor to walk. We shuffle out of the room that could only be remembered as a part of a torture house. Something bangs on a passing door, hitting the door repeatedly. I spared the noise a glance, it was likely Missy trapped behind the door which would explain where she went and the shuffling before Sam found us.

The porch steps creak beneath our feet. Kathleen emerges from the barn, a thin layer of sweat sticking strands of her dark hair to her face. She walks over to us, meeting us in front of the cannibal house. “Where’s the girl?” she asks, eyeing our condition with careful eyes. “Locked her in a closet,” Dean answers, looking behind the cop and to the barn, “What about the dad?”

She pauses, lips parted, her expression hardening, “Shot. Trying to escape.” She doesn’t have to say anything more for us to know she’s half lying. There’s no doubt he’s dead, the blood splatter on her shirt proving that fact, but during escape was up in the air—not that it matters much to us. He’s dead. Good riddance.

****

Sam nurses a bottle of water, slowly sipping the contents. He’d gone too long without water and food, we’re lucky Kathleen had at least a bottle in the trunk of her car. Kathleen had moved away from us to call for backup, her figure lingering a couple of feet away.

I gently place a hand over the burn mark near Dean's shoulder, his hand immediately holding my wrist, “You should really work on yourself first,” he points out. I hum in recognition, warmth igniting from my hand and seeping into his skin. He takes a deep breath like his lungs are filling up with air for the first time. “It would scar and a burn mark is harder for the body to heal than just some regular wound,” I reason, the gentle hues of sunset reflecting in his eyes. “There’s a hole in your thigh. That’s not a regular wound,” he argues. I smile, knowing he’s right, “Well I wouldn’t finish by the time we left meaning the chance of the wound reopening is high.” He sighs, “And… the car’s at the police station.”

“Exactly,” I nod, lifting my hand from its place on him. The burn mark was gone, his skin clear and smooth like nothing had happened. “So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour,” Kathleen suddenly says from behind me. I move to the side of Dean, my hands clasped behind my back as if I hadn’t been touching him. “They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re long gone by then,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Dean replies, “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to press our luck, but we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?”

She gives him a pointed look, “Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car.”

“Sounds great to me. Thanks,” Sam says quickly, not pushing it further. “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk earlier. I know I could’ve been way nicer,” I apologize, thinking back to my harsh words. “It’s fine, I get it, I would’ve done the same,” she replies and I hope she really does accept my apology.

“Listen, uh…” Dean starts, “I’m sorry about your brother.” Kathleen swallows roughly, “Thank you,” her eyes tear up, “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn’t really,” she pauses, her words hanging in the air, “Anyway, you should go.” The boys nod and I wish there was more we could do for her as we walk away.

****

“Never do that again,” Dean warns, breaking the silence that had enveloped us on our walk. “Do what?” Sam asks, oblivious. “Go missin’ like that,” he elaborates.

Sam laughs, “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” Dean deflects, poorly. “Sure, you won’t,” Sam muses. We all knew it was a lie, Dean would go looking for Sam till the end of time. “I’m not,” Dean argues. Sam chuckles, “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves his brother. “Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, kiddo,” Sam teases, using his brother's words against him. I laugh, “He’s got a point.”

Despite himself, Dean laughs too, “Both of you, shut up.”

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tabithahallows · 1 year

Text

Okay. So hear me out.

Karma comes home one day to find his parents there. Unannounced as usual, back from traveling who the hell knows where. They play friendly and offer to take him out for seafood but he merely stares at them blankly. They harass him into going and only win because his grandparents are going to be there, he doesn't bother to keep track anymore.

Karma's grandparents are going to be in town tonight so Mr and Mrs Absentee play friendly and his father invites him along to have dinner with them all at this fancy new seafood place. Karma merely stares at him blankly.

They pick at him until he agrees to go and seemingly only because his grandparents are going to be there.

Karma's dad, being an ass, orders for the whole table and Karma waits until the opportune moment to drop a deafening 'oh btw I'm still deathly allergic to shellfish if anyone's wondering 😊' bomb in the middle of dinner after listening to his father order him the fucking crab and AFTER HE TOOK A NICE BIG FUCKING BITE THE PSYCHO.

Karma merely smiles innocently while his father argues with his mother that he didn't absolutely didn't forget his own son had a practically lethal allergy to shellfish and that he was just playing a joke and he never thought Karma would actually eat it.

Meanwhile Karma's ancient ass grandparents are panicking and tryna figure out how to work their phones to call for an ambulance

In a less homosexual world Karma most likely watches as things fall into a panicked frenzy and someone finally manages to call for an ambulance. However, in my fun little gay brain space Gakushuu was also at this restaurant with his mother at a table nearby and steps in because the Akabane family clearly does not have their collective shit together.

Karma greets him all causally despite his throat really started to itch at this point, because honestly this is all very funny to him.

At the hospital Karma's parents flit around him all nervous and shit as if they actually care but he clearly wants none of it and Gakushuu dead ass sends them home for the night. Politely, of course. Karma nearly proposes on the spot.

Gakushuu is all like 'so...you're parents are delightful' and Karma's all 'lol as if you didn't know I had some kinda fucked up home life. I mean. Come on. Think about everything I've ever done and try an tell me that's how a well adjusted person behaves'.

#karma akabane #karma x gakushuu #gakushuu asano #asano gakushuu #assclass #assassination classroom #he he he #shellfish allergies #just funny little thought's #karushuu

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yoayoaa · 6 months

Note

HAYOO!! How it's going? :D

I was wondering if you could do a sparkling! Reader with the Mtmte? HEHEH🤭😊

HAYOO! Its going well :)) how abt you?? Sorry for the late upload, school has been up my butt for awhile 😭

Prompt: Mtmte cast (by cast i mean only 1-3 bots 😭) with sparkling!reader

Warning: none

Notes: im not using any pronouns here and man im making this sparkling active as hell 💀

-Another peaceful day in the Lost light

-Shouldve been a peaceful day is what Ultra Magnus thinks

-A pod had hit the Lost light and some of the crew brought it in to check it

-Least they expect is a LITERAL SPARKLING being in there

-You were just beeping clicking at the bots you see, meanwhile said bots were either confused, baffled, or concerned

-Ratchet was the one who first pick you up and went to the med bay to make sure you were fine, First aid following behind him

-Soon some other bots went to the med bay while the rest went back doing their own things

-After Ratchet made sure you were alright, he lets the other bots see you

-Rodimus made himself known to you, in the most uh...bizarre way possible and that is by startling you so bad you smacked him on the faceplate

-Not hard enough to hurt him but enough to make a pretty loud noise and for him to reel back in surprise

-Ultra Magnus only sighed at him while Drift approached you next, gently carrying you while you clicked and reached out your servo to his intake

-Save to say he wasnt expecting you to pry his mouth open 💀

"Aww what a cute sparkl- WHA-" Drift was about to exclaim but you parted his intake open as Rodimus laughs in the background. "HAHA I wasn't expecting a sparkling to be that strong to pry your intake open" Rodimus cackled out as he laughs loudly.

-Next we haveee Gramps- I MEAN MEGATRON the M in Gramps stands for Megatron /j

-Megatron would probably hesitate a bit but after some reassuring, he'd want to hold you

-Stiff as a rock but would try to relax his hold on you, would crack a smile or cry if you decided to coo at him (do it /hj)

-Here we have stiff as a rock pt.2 AKA Ultra Magnus

-I just think he'd be really stiff even Drift would tell him to loosen up a bit 😭

-Maybe one day Rodimus would sneak you to Swerve's so he can introduce you to the others

#transformers #transformers x reader #mtmte #tf mtmte #mtmte rodimus #mtmte ultra magnus #mtmte drift #mtmte ratchet #mtmte first aid #mtmte megatron #mtmte x reader

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twinkleteaparty · 6 months

Text

Speeding Bonds: A Sainz Siblings Story

This is my first F1 fanfiction, and I'm excited to share it with you all! It's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Your feedback means a lot to me, so if you like what you read, let me know! If there's interest, I'll definitely add more to the story. Thanks for taking the time to check it out!

Character: Name: Ji-min Sainz Age: 23

Background: Ji-min was adopted from South Korea into the Sainz family when she was just a baby. Growing up in Spain, she was immersed in Spanish culture but always felt a connection to her Korean roots. She has a warm relationship with her adoptive family.

Ji-min discovered her passion for music at a young age and pursued it fervently. She auditioned for a talent agency in Barcelona and was selected to be a part of a five-member girl group called "Eclipse." Despite her busy schedule as a K-pop idol.

Meanwhile, her older Carlos Sainz Jr. was making a name for himself in the world of Formula 1 racing. Their paths rarely crossed due to their different careers and lifestyles, but Ji-min secretly followed Carlos's races, feeling proud of his achievements yet also envious of the attention and recognition he received.

As Ji-min's popularity as a K-pop idol soared, she kept her family background a secret, fearing that it might overshadow her own accomplishments and potentially cause unwanted attention. However, deep down, she yearned to connect with her brother.

The story:

SMS

Ji-min: Hey Carlos, it's Ji-min. Hope you're doing awesome today! 🌟

Carlos: Ji-min! What's up, little sis? 😄 Everything good on your end?

Ji-min: Yeah, all good here! Hey, I was actually wondering... would it be cool if I came to one of your races? I've been dying to see you in action, big bro! 🏎️💨

Carlos: Of course it's cool, Ji-min! I'd love to have you there cheering me on. But... are you okay with everyone knowing we're family? I mean, it's kind of a big deal to go public with this stuff.

Ji-min: Totally cool with it, Carli! I've been wanting to shout it from the rooftops for ages. 😄 Plus, I'm super proud of you, big bro! Let's show the world what the Sains siblings are made of!

Carlos: Haha, you're the best, Ji-min! Thanks for always having my back. 😊 Alright then, I'll hook you up with a pass for the race. Get ready for the full VIP treatment!

Ji-min: Woo-hoo! VIP treatment, here I come! 🌟 Thanks a million, Carli. You're the best big bro a girl could ask for!

Carlos: Anytime, Ji-min! Can't wait to see you at the race, little sis. Get ready for some serious fun!

Ji-min: Counting down the days big bro! Vamos!

The day of the race:

At the Australian Grand Prix 2024

Ji-min made her way through the bustling crowds, the sun beating down on her as she walked. She was dressed in a simple sundress, a soft pastel blue that fluttered gently in the warm breeze. The fabric flowed loosely around her figure, offering comfort and ease as she navigated through the throngs of people.

A pair of oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight, partially concealing her face and adding a touch of mystery to her appearance. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, strands of dark hair framing her delicate features.

Despite the casual attire, Ji-min moved with a graceful confidence, her steps light and purposeful as she weaved her way through the crowd. She kept her head down slightly, avoiding direct eye contact to minimize attention as she made her way towards the VIP area.

Occasionally, she caught snippets of excited chatter from nearby fans discussing the upcoming race and the drivers competing in it. Ji-min couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through her veins as she neared the entrance, her heart pounding with anticipation.

As she reached the designated entrance for VIP guests, Ji-min took a deep breath, her excitement bubbling beneath the surface. With a confident smile, she presented her pass to the security personnel and stepped inside, ready to witness her big brother's momentous victory firsthand.

Her eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of her brother. She was so absorbed in her search that she didn't notice the people around her, her gaze moving to her phone screen as she typed out a message to Carlos.

"Hey Carli, just arrived. Where are you? "

Lost in her phone, Ji-min didn't notice the figure approaching until it was too late. With a sudden jolt, she collided with someone, nearly dropping her phone in the process.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, looking up to see who she had bumped into.

Standing before her was none other than Lando Norris, one of the drivers competing in the race. Ji-min's eyes widened in surprise, recognizing him instantly from his racing gear and signature smile.

Lando grinned apologetically, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "No worries! "

Ji-min nodded, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks. Sorry for not paying attention."

Lando chuckled, waving off her apology. "Not a problem at all." giving her a friendly nod before continuing on his way.

As Ji-min watched him disappear into the crowd, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement coursing through her veins. Little did she know, her encounter with Lando was just the beginning of an unforgettable day at the races.

----

Ji-min's heart raced as she finally spotted her brother amidst the hustle and bustle of the Ferrari garage. Carlos stood surrounded by his team, his familiar smile lighting up his face as he greeted them with enthusiasm.

"Carli!" Ji-min exclaimed, weaving her way through the crowd until she reached him. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

Carlos turned towards her, his eyes lighting up with delight as he caught sight of his little sister. "Ji-min! I'm so glad you made it!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Wrapped in her brother's arms, Ji-min felt a rush of warmth and contentment wash over her. It had been too long since they last saw each other, and she cherished every moment they spent together.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Ji-min replied, pulling back to look at Carlos with a beaming smile.

They spent the next few minutes catching up, exchanging stories and sharing laughs as they soaked in the atmosphere of the race day. Ji-min couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she watched her brother interact with his team, his passion for racing shining through in every word and gesture.

----

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scarletwinterxx · 2 years

Text

i think i'm in love with you - mark lee imagine

hi🥺 it's been a while, hello! i know i just wrote a mark au before this but this man just has me in my feels for the past year😩😭 so yea here's another cute mark lee moment for all of us. and yes i was listening to Designer on repeat while writing this😊😅

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee (totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

"Baby, can you pass me the towel?" Mark says holding a hand out to you, meanwhile you made no movement. Too busy oggling at your boyfriend who just got out of the shower.

Mark looks over at you to see you blatantly checking him out, earning a low chuckle from him. This broke you out fo your trance, meeting his eyes time time.

"Are you done missy or should I put on a show for you?" he jokes, taking the seat infront of the bed to let you dry his hair.

"You need to ease up on your skill to look this irresistible. I can't fight girls and boys for you, love" you tell him, Mark laughs at this playfully pinching your thighs next to his head.

"No need to, only you can have me" he answers withouth missing a beat, loving the way your fingers massage his scalp gently. His eyes closing, about to drift off for a quick nap right there.

"Hey, are you getting sleepy? Come up here" you notice his head lulling sideways, chuckling at how adorable your man is. He takes the towel from you before throwing it on the chair across the bed before tackling you with a hug. Both of you landing softly on the bed with him on top of you.

Brushing the hair away his face, you smile up at him. The smile that would start Mark's day, the only smile he wants to see before he closes his eyes at night. He grins back at you, kissing the tip of your nose so gently you almost didn't feel it.

You giggle at his actions, the man on you looking down at you with wonder and adoration in his eyes. "What are you giggling about?"

"Nothing, just you"

"You look cute under me" he mumbles, not sure whether he's trying to seduce you so you just laugh at his statement.

"What? You laughing at me huh?" you then feels his fingers on your side making you squirm under him. "Stop, don't you dare Minhyung" you tell him before he proceeds with tickling you making you burst into more giggles. Mark's second favorite sound in the world. First being your voice of course.

"Tell me you love me" he says, by then he's straddling you. Trapping you under him, his tickle attacks continues on your sides.

"Stopppppp, okay okay. I love you" you say in between laughs. Feeling satisfied at your words, Mark gets off of you before pulling you with him. This time you're the one on top of him.

"Thought I looked cute under you" you tease him

"Yea, and you look hot when you're on top of me" he says, sitting up so you're chest to chest

"I'm so so so stupidly in love with you" he whispers, looking right in to your eyes as if his words weren't enough to convey just what he was trying to say. So you do what you think would help him understand you're just as smitten with him as he is to you.

You kiss him, wounding your arms around his shoulder. You feel him pull you as close as you could be. If he could mold you to fit him perfectly, he would. But then again that's already how he feels when he's with you.

Mark is a man of belief and he can say with his whole heart how he believes God took his time creating you. Down to the last strand of hair on your head he likes to craddle, to your fingers he likes to hold, to your lips he could kiss all day. You're perfect. By some miracle. Maybe it's fate or immense amount of luck, it's like you were designed for him.

Breaking away from the kiss, Mark looks at you again. Eyes full of love, like they've always been ever since he first saw you.

"I love you, too" you tell him, not forgetting to say the words back even though you know and feel that he knows this already.

Hearing your words made Mark close the gap between your lips once again. This time kissing you with more intense, like he's a man on mission. Mission to make you only know him and him only.

He kisses your lips, then your face down the hollow of your neck. Taking extra care of that spot he knows would make you feel on the brink of being undone then and there, hearing you moan his name.

Maybe that's his second favorite sound in the world after all. Your voice, your moan then your laugh. He has a list longer than this but his mind is a bit pre-occupied at the moment.

He kisses you and kisses you until you're drowning in the feeling of him. Whenever Mark tells you he loves you more than you love him, you just let him win that conversation. But really, you can go on and on about all things you love about him.

You're not sure if he knows just how much power he holds over you, same as you to him. You got him wrapped around your fingers and him and he's putty on the palm of your hands.

Before drifting off to slumber, Mark tucks the hair behind your face. The two of you laying side by side. "Stop staring, go to sleep" you mumble, sleep just about to take over

"I will, just want to see you a little longer. Don't want to end this perfect day with you"

You smile at his words, scooching a little closer over to his side. Mark already welcoming you in his arms. "We can start another day tomorrow, go rest dummy. I'll be right here when you wake up" you then kiss his chin, too tired to reach for his lips

"Promise?" Mark says, kissing your head a few times. He waits a few seconds for you to reply, thinking you already fell asleep in his arms before he hears a quiet hum of agreement from you.

Then he follows after you, even in his dreams he can only see you. Not a second of his day wasted if he's with you. Indeed a perfect way to start his day with you.

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clarynewme · 2 months

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Hi guys!😊 I have news👀

We have reached 50 followers!😱😱😱 🥳🥳🥳

It's crazy and amazing how everything happened so fast! I am so grateful for everyone's support and kindness🥺🥰🫶

I couldn't do it without you guys😍 Thank you so much everything 🙏🙏🙏💕💕💕💕

Free readings are CLOSED. Paid readings and simple free questions/games will be open later.

That's it🫰Hope you have a wonderful/amazing day/night wherever you are🙏💕🫶💜

UPDATE: I've finished the free readings I had on my list🥳🎉

Paid readings are OPEN.🙈 Depending on how many requests I get I will see if I can do a free simple game next week.👌

You can check paid readings details here:

Meanwhile you can give me suggestions on the comment section from this post for the free (simple) game like fs appearance, big 3, baby daddy big 3, when I will get married, career or other themes related to career/education/children, etc. I will check it out and probably make a poll depending on the suggestions.😘🫰

#submission

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dduane · 1 year

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Hello Lady Duane! 😊 (I feel that if we can call Neil Sir Gaiman, you certainly deserve a title as well!)

I've wanted to tell you for ages now that you are one of my absolute favourite Trek authors, have been since I first read some of your novels over a decade ago as a teen - my parents and I have about? 4 or 5 copies of The Doctor's Orders between us, German and English alike (my dad even bought a copy to keep at the office for reading during his lunch breaks). The Wounded Sky is another one of my favourite Trek novels ❤️

My sister and I also occasionally watch old Barbie movies for the nostalgia. So when we watched Fairytopia a few months ago, we found out that you had written the script for the movie! I literally let out a happy yell when I saw you show up in the opening credits and went "omg, it's Diane Duane!!" That was so unexpected but also very delightful! 😊

And now, thanks to you being on tumblr as well, I found out about your other novels and bought your ebook bundle the other day. :D I'm currently a bit over halfway through So You Want to Be a Wizard and I just wanted to let you know that I'm enjoying it so very much!! ❤️

Thank you for all the wonderful words over the years! It continues to be a joy! 😊💜

Hi there!

Regarding titles: Well, okay... as long as everybody's clear that as a US citizen, titles are usually off the menu for me. (As an Irish one, not so much—the government can approve the use of them if it likes—though the neighbors'd snicker at me down the pub.) Anyway: I accept gratefully.* Though yelling "Yo, Trekkie!" might well be just as effective. :)

I'm glad you've enjoyed my Trek work! It's always been very satisfying to do. The chance to actually write professionally in what was my main fandom (after Holmes) during my late teen years has been a most unexpected—when I got started—and extraordinary thing.

And as for Fairytopia: That was a lot of fun too, and also unexpected. My agent just called me up one morning and said "How are you about Barbie...?" and I said, "Well, okay I guess, I had the usual number of them!" —and we were off. The Mattel people were fabulous to work with, and I look back on that whole project with affection.

Meanwhile, I'm delighted you're having fun with the first of the Young Wizards books! There are plenty more of them in that package (still discounted) that conform to the new timeline, which now launches in 2008 rather than the mid 1980s. (Book 10 of the series didn't need that treatment, and so isn't available in a revised edition.)

Anyway: thanks for letting me know. It's always nice to find out that I'm getting the job done. :)

*But also: according to the usual protocols, Neil—when they finally get around to knighting him, probably when a more literature- and intelligence-friendly government takes over—will properly be "Sir Neil": as UK knighthood's an acknowledgement of the person, not the family, and knights are therefore addressed by their first names. (Not to fret: people from both sides of the Water sometimes get this detail backwards.)

(...Be fun if they stuck him straight into the Lords, though. Usually, if you don't want to use your last name in your lordship's title, you can select the name of someplace in the UK that has personal meaning for you. Seeing Neil ennobled as Lord Neverwhere would be a trip.) :)

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adarkroomandawallflower · 1 year

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hey there! nice to see another active star trek blog 😃 could you do some relationship with Data hcs if that's okay? what it would be like?

Hello! Welcome to my blog, and thank you so very much for taking the time to pop this request into my inbox! I agree, it's always nice to find other active Trek blogs 😊

Yes, that's absolutely okay!! I think we all know that being in a relationship with Data would be so wonderful because it would be a very happy, healthy, and exciting one, but I think the specifics of the relationship would vary, based on one major factor: whether or not you both were stationed on the Enterprise together. Thus, I split these headcanons up to sort of compare and contrast this factor. As a result, this response got really long...😅

I hope that's okay, and I hope you enjoy!

Being in a relationship with Data if you're not stationed on the Enterprise with him:

Data is very detail-oriented and enjoys following a routine (or at least as much of a routine as he can follow when living on a galaxy class starship that runs into unpredictable problems several times a week), and I think he'd be even more detailed and routine-oriented if you were posted somewhere other than the Enterprise.

Because Data loves the older, more traditional aspects of humanity, I think he would love writing letters/messages. I like to think that every M-class planet has a post office-esque space station next to it, so people can "mail" things to each other (maybe every quarters in a starship has a little mailbox-like transporter where they can receive mail from these stations?). Whenever Data visits a new M-class planet, he would try to pick something up for you, and drop it off at the mail space station nearby.

Despite his love for handwritten letters, I don't think he'd do that very often if you weren't on the Enterprise (he'd definitely include one whenever he sends you a "package", though), but he would send you subspace messages via your PADDs fairly frequently.

He'd try to send you messages almost daily, depending on how busy he is and what nonsense the Enterprise is currently involved in.

The messages would probably be similar to his personal logs, but with a more jovial and romantic touch:

Dearest,

It has been quite a day! An accidental virus was created in Sick Bay this morning, which later became airborne, causing the entire ship to de-evolve into ancestral life-forms. The Captain and I were on an Away Mission during this time, and did not succumb to the virus (the Captain was infected upon on our return, but he did not fully succumb to the infection nor de-evolve). With the Captain's help, I was able to create a remedy for the virus, and all of the crewmembers have since returned to their normal, humanoid forms.

Meanwhile, during all that 'excitement', Spot birthed a healthy litter of kittens! She had five kittens in total: four males and one female. Strangely, one of the kittens elicits thoughts of you in my neural net. I am uncertain why this kitten seems to 'remind' me of you, but I believe that is something which you would find endearing.

Has your day been equally or comparably exciting? How is your current project progressing? Did you receive the 'package' I 'mailed' to you last week? (I shall reserve the extraneous details about said 'package' until our next correspondence, so as not to ruin the surprise, if you have not yet received it.)

I anticipate your response, and look forward to our next 'meeting'!

Your 'Sunshine',

Data

In addition to frequent subspace messages, Data would also schedule weekly video calls with you!

Those calls would be more personal and less clinical, but still professional and sweet.

Spot would also make frequent appearances in your video calls!

You always end your video calls by blowing each other a kiss (sometimes, Spot steals your kisses, and Data will teasingly scold her "Spot, that osculation was not intended to be received by you!")

Data probably has years worth of Shore Leave racked up, which comes in handy for you because he can almost always take his Shore Leave at the same time as you.

You're able to spend nearly all of your scheduled Shore Leaves together (except in the few instances where a last minute emergency happened on the Enterprise, and you weren't able to reschedule your Shore Leave to accommodate this). You usually try to visit a different planet each time, but if the two of you have a favorite or preferred planet, you would also schedule multiple Shore Leaves on that planet.

I think that Data is a very private person, in the sense that he doesn't offer personal information unless he feels it can be used as a helpful anecdote or example, or someone directly asks him about it.

Thus, I think he wouldn't mention you to his friends for a while, but when he does mention you, it would probably be seemingly random, as a somewhat relevant afterthought:

Riker: I don't know how couples stationed on different ships or stations make it work. Our current technology is great and makes it much easier to keep in touch than in previous centuries, but I just can't imagine not waking up next to the one I love every day...

Data: It can be difficult, in that sense, but my partner and I do not see it as a difficulty or challenge. In fact, in some aspects, it is more rewarding, as it makes our physical encounters more 'passionate' and meaningful.

Riker: I guess you're right, Data. It would be more pass---wait, did you say, "my partner"???

Data: Indeed, I did, Commander.

Riker: Data!! You have a partner, and didn't tell us??

Data: *soft, confused look* No one has inquired about my partner thus far, and I did not deem it a relevant aspect of my personal life to discuss, until now.

Riker: *shocked Pikachu*

Of course, once the rest of the crew finds out, they practically beg Data to meet you, which leads you to scheduling your next Shore Leave to be a trip to the Enterprise.

Data is so excited for your visit, but he'd never admit it.

He spends weeks planning everything he wants to show you, what activities he wants to do with you, and updates his quarters a bit to accommodate a second person temporarily living there.

Although he's not quite worried or anxious about the crew meeting you, he is a bit concerned that they might overwhelm you. So, he makes sure that he's the only one in the Transporter Room (aside from whoever is manning the Transporter at that time) to greet you when you beam aboard.

The first thing you see when you materialize on the Transporter Pad is his sweet, gentle smile, and his arms stretched out completely in front of him for a hug, "Welcome aboard, Dearest!"

The rest of your trip is spent doing date-like activities (i.e. holodeck adventures, trips to the Arboretum, painting and/or reading with him and Spot in their quarters, etc.). Overall, it's a very relaxing and sweetly domestic/mundane time, which both of you enjoy greatly.

He gives you a tour of the whole ship, which ends in you meeting his friends for a small celebration in Ten-Forward. The celebration is very chill, and mostly involves them telling you stories about their adventures and funny things Data has done or experienced during his time on the ship.

They also tease Data relentlessly, much to his chagrin. It's all affectionate taunts, like how he could have kept you a secret for so long, how he managed to "snatch you up", whether his romantic subroutine was "effective", etc.

While Geordi proceeds to tell the story of when Data let him "borrow" Spot, you move a hand under the table and take Data's hand softly but firmly into yours. Data blinks and turns his head to look at you in soft surprise, and when you return his gaze briefly, you flash him a warm smile.

Realizing this was likely a sign that you were feeling comfortable in the presence of his friends, and despite the jesting of his friends, you felt an enhanced desire to express romantic affection with him somewhat publicly, he softened his expression and posture, and entwined his fingers with yours as his lips curved upwards into a faint smile.

Troi, who's sitting beside you but angled in such a way that she can see slightly underneath the table, catches this and beams happily.

The evening ends with lots of warm welcomes and words of acceptance into their little Found Family. Everyone already loves you, and Data is so pleased!

After that first trip, whenever Data is unable to schedule a Shore Leave at the same time as you, you schedule yours to be on the Enterprise (much to Data's delight).

Being in a relationship with Data while being stationed on the Enterprise:

As mentioned in the previous set of headcanons, Data is very traditional and old-fashioned (in the best way!), and would enjoy older forms of romantic affection, such as handwritten letters, surprise gifts, etc.

Since you're on the same ship, now he can give you handwritten letters more frequently! They would come in the form of daily/routine notes, such as leaving a little sticky note on the replicator with a silly scientific joke on it, and formal love letters. He'd also leave you a little note on his pillow, if he had to unexpectedly leave during the night/earlier in the morning, and won't be able to join you for breakfast (more on this a little later).

As far as his penmanship goes, I think he would write in perfect, beautiful cursive, and probably use a quill and ink when writing a full letter. When writing official/formal love letters to you, he'd also probably use melted wax and a stamp to seal them (both as an additional security/privacy measure, but also because he's so delightfully extra like that). For his little notes, he'd probably just use a regular pen, but it would still be written in neat cursive.

You return the favor by leaving him little notes written in binary code around your shared quarters or his work areas, which he absolutely adores. He's very pleased to have this sort of inside joke, although he finds it difficult not to discuss it with others (he knows this defeats the purpose of an inside joke, which is why he refrains from doing it, but he wants to share this amusing tidbit with someone else so badly sometimes).

One of the things I think Data would covet in a romantic relationship is spending time together in a very literal/strict sense (especially because he knows that this part of a relationship is always threatened when serving on a starship), but also keeping in mind personal space.

He does this in two ways: First, he'd have scheduled, formal dates with you, probably once or twice a month. These dates would typically include holodeck adventures and trips to the Arboretum. Second, he'd have routine, daily "dates" with you. These would include having meals together, doing your individual work separately but in your shared quarters, and having philosophical/intellectual conversations.

Because Data enjoys traditional romance, he would want to share meals together, even if he decides not to eat himself. He tries to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you every day. Of course, this is not always possible when stationed on the flagship of the Federation, so he's a bit more lenient about missing breakfast and dinner.

However, he is very strict about lunch. In all your time stationed on the Enterprise together, you can count the number of times Data had to cancel lunch with you on one hand. All those cancelations were due to extreme circumstances (i.e. him being kidnapped for several days).

He (almost) always makes sure that you both take an official lunch break together. It's never anything fancy or formal (usually just the two of you in one of your offices or in a quiet corner in Ten-Forward, chatting about how your days have been so far), but it's very special and important to both of you.

Data also likes to end these little lunch dates with a literal "treat", like a cookie, tart, or whatever other sweet treats you enjoy, that he'll share with you.

He doesn't do this every time because "the element of surprise can make the reward even more pleasurable", but you do somewhat expect it. Regardless, it always brightens your day and makes you smile!

He insists on eating it with you, and always lets you have the last bite.

He'll also try to be extra cute every once in a while by attempting to do the classic Lady and the Tramp spaghetti moment (it doesn't work very well for desserts, but it always makes you laugh because he ends up getting some of the dessert on his face) or by feeding you a bite or two.

Lunch dates always end with a soft little peck, exchanged smiles, and gentle farewells.

You'd be very perceptive of Data's love for routine, so I think your main form of love-language for him is to incorporate a little routine into your romantic affirmations and affections with him.

One of the major ways you'd do this is by sort of scheduling your kisses. I strongly believe that cheek kisses are his favorite/preferred form of physical affection, so you'd always start your days with him by giving him a cheek kiss. You'd likely do this right after your shared breakfast/before the two of you part to start your days.

Once this becomes routine, he'd be a little cheeky (pun completely intended 😈) about it. For example, if you're running late one morning and try to leave without giving him his morning cheek kiss, he'd give you a very pointed look and extend his cheek out towards you, "Are you forgetting something, Dearest?"

If one of you isn't there in the morning due to work, don't think he's letting you get out of his promised daily cheek kiss! He'll make sure to squeeze one in during your lunch break later that day.

I think he'd also enjoy nose kisses, both a little peck to his lovely snoot and bunny kisses/nose nuzzling. I think Data considers sharing deep conversations in private together to be a very intimate activity. So, this would typically trigger his intimacy circuits, if you will, which would make him want to cuddle, bunny kiss/nose nuzzle, etc. These moments are likely when he'd be most physically affectionate with you.

In general, he considers these kinds of kisses to be more intimate and not "appropriate" as PDA, so these would be shared exclusively in your quarters.

Knowing his love for routine, right before you both go to 'sleep' each night, you'll kiss his nose softly (and just like the morning cheek kiss, you can expect him to remind you about it, if you ever forget).

Speaking of PDA, I don't think Data particularly enjoys PDA. Personally, I think he would only want to hold hands (especially on your Arboretum walks/dates), and share an occasional cheek kiss. That being said, if you'd prefer more PDA, then he would consider displaying other forms of affection with you in public (he'd still never do anything he deems to be 'too intimate', though).

Sometimes, when Data is really busy but you aren't, you'll just sit near him and his console while he works, with Spot curled up in your lap. He especially enjoys and appreciates this, although he can't explain why. Something about sensing your proximity and your relaxed vitals is very comforting and soothing for him.

I think Data's main love-language for you is sharing time/moments together. In particular, he enjoys moments where both of you are doing your own, individual work/things in each other's company. Usually, this involves Data softly tapping away at his console while you're on the couch with your PADD.

Spot also enjoys these moments, and will go back and forth between the two of you to get her desired amounts of affection.

However, he sometimes feels a little guilty about those moments because he's concerned that you're bored or that your free time could be better spent elsewhere.

You always reassure him that you're never bored and the activity is equally soothing and enjoyable for you, and that usually brings that cute little smile onto his face.

I think both you and Data would also have a bit of magpie instincts, so another one of your love-languages for each other is exchanging surprise and nuanced gifts with each other.

Data would definitely hand-make gifts for you, but those would be very meaningful and reserved for special occasions (i.e. birthdays or anniversaries). For other occasions, the gifts would be seemingly random, but actually quite personal. For example, on one Away Mission, he found a little rock that was the exact color of your eyes (and I mean exact, his positronic net calculated a 99.9999917% match). He can't explain why, but he had a strong urge to bring it back and give it to you, so he did (after intensive testing to ensure the rock didn't harbor any biological or chemical dangers, and was safe to keep aboard the quarters of a starship).

On your side, this would usually include artwork, either something you made yourself or purchased from other artists. Another common gift you'd give him is flowers/plants. I think Data absolutely adores plants, and almost nothing brings a smile to his face as easily as you surprising him with a lovely flower bouquet during his shift (note: I think Data would consider exchanging gifts in public as a form of PDA that he appreciates)!

Eventually, this leads to Keiko joking that your quarters is the Arboretum 2.0 of the ship because "your plant count comes very close!"

When he presents these kinds of gifts to you in public areas, nearby eavesdroppers would find it a bit odd, but you know what a deep and endearing sentiment it actually is, so you always appreciate it very much!

Whenever he'd get a questionable reading, he'd contact you immediately, make sure you're in a private area, and double check you're okay:

On busy days, especially ones where you don't get to see each other as often, he makes sure to check on you through the use of your Communicators. I think Data would keep tabs on you throughout the day, checking on your physical and mental well-being, this way.

Additionally, if you have a chronic illness, he'd also keep track of that (with your permission and approval). For example, if you wore some sort of device that monitors your condition/relevant vitals, he'd adjust that device so that its readings were shared instantly and constantly with his positronic net, especially in case of an emergency.

"Data to Lieutenant Y/L/N."

"Lieutenant Y/L/N here."

"Are you in a private area?"

"Not at this time."

"Are you able to relocate to a private area momentarily?"

"Yes, one moment."

"Acknowledged."

"Okay, I'm in my office now. Is everything okay?"

"That is the inquiry I have for you. I just received some questionable readings from your health monitor, and wished to 'check in'. Have your slightly elevated vitals been reduced? Are you hydrating properly and frequently? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, my elevated vitals have been dealt with, and are currently on the path to returning to normal. Yes, I just had some water about fifteen minutes ago. And yes, I'm feeling okay. Thank you for checking in, Sunshine. Are you doing okay?"

"I am...relieved to hear that you are alright. Please refrain from straining yourself excessively for the remainder of your shift, if possible. Yes, I am fine. Thank you for also 'checking in' on me."

"Will do, and of course. I have to get back to work now, but I'll see you at around 21:00 hours for dinner?"

"Yes, I anticipate that my shift will conclude in time to keep our shared dinner arrangement at 21:00 hours. I will contact you immediately if this changes."

"Sounds good...good luck with the rest of your shift, and I'm fond of you very much."

"Likewise, Dearest. Data out."

A/N: Okay, I think that's finally it...I really hope this response was satisfactory for you, anon! These were really nice and comforting to write 🥰 Thank you again for the request, and please feel free to add on to these ideas and/or send in more requests!

#data soong #data tng #data star trek #data x reader #star trek the next generation #star trek tng #star trek fanfiction #star trek fan fiction #star trek headcanons #headcanons #noll's narratives #my writing

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sansaorgana · 1 month

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hello!! i’ve been reading you’re gale fics and i stumbled across the one where they meet once he goes back to school! i loved it so much and was wondering if you could do a part 2 kind of on their relationship once they officially become a couple?

hi, darling! thank you for your request! 🎀 I really like this story because it's different than usual Gale fics 😊 in this part they are apart for the summer holidays and they miss each other meanwhile her mum wants her to meet her son's friend who is closer to Reader's age and all that and then Gale shows up to visit because he's been missing his girl 😌

[ PART ONE ]

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Your relationship with Gale was going steady and everyone seemed to be interested in it, which was giving you both more attention than usual. You weren’t a very social couple and yet everyone wanted to talk to you all of a sudden as they hoped you would answer some questions that they had about him. Who he was, where had he come from, why did he have those scars on his face… You were only smiling gently at those people and trying to avoid answering such questions.

Your roommate Kathy and her boyfriend Jack were the only two people you talked to about such things – although you were still quite angry at Jack for looking into Gale’s personal documents to find out about his past. But since he had already known it anyway, there was no point of lying in front of him or avoiding the subject anyway.

With time people eventually gave up and let you go, disappointed about not getting many answers to their nosy questions. Thankfully, everything went back to the old ways and you were quite invisible again and so was Gale because everyone just had gotten used to him being around and remaining a little mystery. Also, someone had spread a rumour already about him being a pilot from the war. You had a nasty feeling it was Jack but you didn’t want to ask him because you didn’t want to fight with him and Kathy. Gale had assured you it was fine – after all, the new rumour was believable enough for the other, less pleasant rumours to stop. And most people were satisfied with this information about him without asking any further questions.

The semester was slowly coming to an end and you were sitting under a tree in the park, enjoying the warm weather with your head on Gale’s shoulder. Both of you were reading books for your upcoming exams and you were chewing on a pen but your thoughts were getting distracted.

“How will you spend your summer holidays?” You asked him, all of the sudden.

Gale looked down at you with a furrowed brow as he chuckled.

“I’m gonna visit my family for some time but then I’m gonna come back here, I think,” he answered. “And you? Going back to your family, I assume?” He asked and you nodded, anxiously.

“I’m gonna be out for the whole summer,” you explained. “But now… Now I’m thinking I should perhaps only go there for a month and spend the second one here with you?”

“I don’t want to keep you away from your family, love,” Gale smiled gently and caressed your cheek with his fingertip.

“And what are you gonna do here without me around?” You crossed your arms after closing your book loudly.

“Same as always,” Gale shrugged his arms. “Same as I was doing before we started seeing each other,” he explained.

“But you’re going to miss me, right?” You bit on your lower lip.

“Of course,” Gale shook his head and kissed the top of your head. “I’m going to call you and send you letters,” he assured you as he squeezed your arm. “You’re going to miss me, too, right?”

“Right,” you nodded with a shy smile but you looked away.

You couldn’t help an awful feeling that you would miss him more than he would miss you. Gale was a mystery to everyone but to you as well sometimes – he was a stoic and demure man, which was understandable because of his past and his age but… Sometimes you wished he would be more open with his feelings.

Gale took you to the train station on the day of your departure back home and he was standing on the platform and waving his hand after you as you were staring through the window and waving back. It was like in that song Love In Vain and for some reason you couldn’t help but feel sad and nostalgic about this farewell even though you would be back in two months.

But would everything be the same between you two then? It was hard to believe.

It didn’t help that at home everyone seemed to question your relationship. You expected everyone to be excited about you finally finding a partner and about him being a mature man who was a war hero but apparently everyone had some problem with that.

“What does he look like?” Your sister wanted to know. You sighed at her shallowness but you tried not to get angry because she was only a teenager. You took out the picture that Kathy had taken of you and Gale inside the library. “Why does he look like this?” Your sister asked.

“What are you talking about? He’s handsome!” You protested and she took the picture from your hands to take a closer look.

“The scars on his cheeks…”

“Well, he was in the war,” you reminded her with an eye roll, getting annoyed already at her comment.

“I don’t know… He looks stiff and sad,” she handed you the picture back.

“War does terrible things to men. Are you sure he’s, you know, right in the head?” Your father squinted his eyes at you as he lowered his newspaper. He only took a brief look at the picture and cleared his throat.

“Gale is perfectly fine in the head,” you clenched your jaw and looked at your mother, hoping she would back you up on that but she sighed instead.

“Why couldn’t you find yourself a boy your age, darling? And what is he even doing right now? Are you sure he is not flirting with other girls? Women his age, I mean?” She put her hands on her hips.

“Gale is not like that…” You started but you knew how pathetic that sounded like. Every woman who had been cheated on had probably used the same words. Your mother shook her head and muttered something to herself before walking out of the room to check on the pie in the oven.

You were growing insecure because of their words and comments. You sent Gale a letter in which you assured him of your love and you also added how much you missed him. You hoped to remind him about your devotion.

Not long after, your mother came up with a great plan of setting up a date for you with her friend’s son. You had been refusing that many times because how could you worry about Gale cheating on you while going out on a date yourself? Your mother’s friend and her son were invited to dinner at your place once and you even said it to his face that you had a boyfriend but he didn’t seem to be discouraged.

He was quite handsome, that boy. His name was Bobby and he was only slightly older. He had just finished his education and he was going to settle down in your hometown and start his own business. He had a bright future ahead of him due to his confidence and his father’s money.

Everyone kept insisting on you going out with him to the point you just had to agree but you kept repeating over and over that it was definitely not a date – just a meeting with a friend.

Bobby took you to the restaurant and ordered meals for you both without even letting you take a look at the menu.

“I just know what you’re going to love. Everyone loves it. My father knows the owner and it’s their best meal,” he assured you sweetly but you did not like his behaviour anyway. You decided not to comment on that, though.

“Thank you,” you only answered as your mother would expect you to.

“So, when are you graduating?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I still have two years to get a Bachelor degree,” you explained. “And so does Gale.”

“Why are you so pressed about getting that degree, hm? You have that… Gale already,” he winced a little at the mention of the name. “Most girls only go to college to meet their husband.”

“Gale is not my husband yet,” you straightened yourself but you felt your heart pounding at the mention of such possibility. It filled your whole body with butterflies. “And even if he was, I would still want that degree and I know that Gale would support me in that. He knows how important it is for me. I haven’t worked so hard to get to college just to resign because of a man,” you explained and Bobby rolled his eyes.

“And what is he even doing there?” Bobby asked. “How old is he?”

“He’s going to be thirty in two years,” you answered and Bobby whistled.

“And he’s wasting time on getting degrees instead of starting something for himself?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“He is not wasting time, he is getting a degree! And I know already he will want more than just a Bachelor. All the professors praise him, too,” you answered. “I’m sure he’s gonna get a Masters or even a PhD.”

“Degrees are not for everyone. I mean, not everyone has to have one. We need simple workers, too. And if I was his age, I would try to catch up on the time I lost and go to work. He should accept the fact that his chance to get properly educated is already–” Bobby started and you widened your eyes at his rudeness.

“He was in the war, for God’s sake, Bobby! He was fighting in Europe so you could be safe here and study yourself… How can you not be grateful for that?” You shook your head.

“Was he? Your mother told my mother that your Gale had spent over a year in the camp for the prisoners of war,” Bobby scoffed. “That’s hardly fighting.”

“You have no idea what he’s been through,” you snapped back and then the waiter brought the food to your table so you smiled at him and took your plate.

Just like you had been expecting, the food was awful. You only ate a little bit and watched Bobby devour his whole plate.

“You know, our mothers would like us to get married. For you to drop out of college and become my wife,” he told you between one bite and another. You felt your guts turning inside out at that.

“Thankfully, we don’t agree with that, do we?” You looked him up and down and Bobby shrugged his arms.

“Thought you would do, but your brain’s already filled with… ideas. That’s why I’m against women going to colleges,” he explained.

“What ideas?” You wondered out loud. “I don't mind becoming a wife and a mother one day. I just want a degree first,” you explained.

“Yeah… All that talk. Sorry, I don’t buy it,” he chuckled.

The rest of the meal went pretty quiet. Bobby paid for it and he walked you home as the sun was slowly setting down. He insisted on walking you up to the front door of your house, so you knocked upon them and waited there awkwardly in silence.

When your mother opened the door, she looked pretty uncomfortable and… scared? You wondered what had happened. You expected her to be overjoyed and ask a million questions about your “date”.

Then, your heart skipped a beat when you spotted a familiar person standing behind her… It was Gale.

“Your boyfriend paid you a visit,” she whispered at you and you met his gaze.

Gale approached you and you nearly gasped to have him so close again. You nearly forgot how handsome he was in real life. His baby blue eyes were even sadder than usual, though, and you knew why. He turned to extend his hand towards Bobby.

“Nice to meet you. Gale,” he introduced himself, classy as always.

“N-nice to meet you, sir. Bobby. I mean, Robert,” Bobby shook his hand and you would laugh at that if you weren’t so scared of Gale witnessing that boy walking you home in the evening. Your dress, your makeup, your hair… It was obvious there had been some sort of a date going on between you two.

“Thank you for entertaining my girl and being such a gentleman to walk her back home,” Gale told him and Bobby looked away anxiously.

“No problem… We just had dinner together, that’s it…” He explained.

“Yeah!” Your mother added. “Told you, Mr. Cleven, they’re just friends,” she nodded eagerly and you furrowed your brows at her.

“Well, thank you for tonight, Bobby. It was nice,” you smiled fakely at the boy and you took Gale by his hand to walk inside the house with him.

Your mother said goodnight to Bobby and closed the door behind him as you and Gale were standing awkwardly together in the hall.

“We are all in the living room, getting to know your boyfriend better,” your mother explained to you as she put her hand on your shoulder and smiled nervously at Gale. “Mr. Cleven wanted to surprise you because he was missing you so much. You’re going to sleep with your sister tonight, I prepared her bedroom for Mr. Cleven to sleep in.”

You only nodded at that. Your father walked out of the living room and hurried Gale to come back to them because he was very interested in some story from the war. You let go of Gale’s hand and watched him walk away before you followed your mother inside the kitchen.

She was slicing a pie when she looked up at you with guilt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” She whispered. “I didn’t know he would come… Obviously, I wouldn’t make you go on that date with Bobby if–”

“It was not a date,” you interrupted her. “And it was awful. Bobby is not a good man. Why did you change your mind about Gale, though?” You furrowed your brow at her.

“Seeing him in real life, I mean… He is a very kind man and you can just… You can just feel that he’s good,” she sighed. “And much more handsome than in the picture,” she smiled nervously at you. “I’m glad that you have him and–”

“It’s too late for that,” you interrupted her again. “And God only knows if I still have him,” your lower lip trembled but you moved away when she approached you to give you a hug. Shaking your head, you walked out of the kitchen and you sniffled your tears back before joining the rest in the living room.

You sat next to Gale on the sofa with a soft smile. Your father was occupying an armchair and listening to Gale’s story with nothing but pure interest on his face. Your sister was sitting on the armrest of his armchair and listening as well even though girls like her were usually not into war stories.

You watched your family fall for Gale for the rest of the evening while you kept sitting there and worrying if you weren’t losing him in the meantime. Knowing how awkward the situation currently was, your father didn’t even ask him any serious questions about the nature of your relationship.

When the clock struck midnight, everyone decided to go to bed. Gale was especially tired after his train ride. You went to the bathroom first and took a quick shower before getting into your nightgown. Gale was a gentleman and he allowed your sister to take a shower before him but when they were talking about it in the corridor, you hid inside your bedroom. You sat on the bed, remembering to make space for your sister, too.

A slight knock upon your door made you look up anxiously. You knew it was Gale and your heart became a lump in your throat.

“C-come in,” you whispered.

He opened the door shyly and walked inside, looking around with a soft smile at the sight of your room.

“I finally have you for myself for a short while,” he said and approached your bed. You noticed that he left the door to your room ajar – such a gentleman, always.

“You don’t know my sister, Gale. It won’t be a short while. Her quick shower is at least half an hour long,” you chuckled and he smiled at that.

“Can I sit next to you?” He asked and blushed a little.

“You don’t have to ask me such things,” you moved slightly to make more space.

“Don’t I?” He took a seat next to you and looked deep into your eyes. You opened your mouth to answer but he continued. “Listen, I understand. I am older than you and I am not exactly… I am not exactly the happiest person, I have a past… I understand, I really do. And I am not angry, I would never be angry at you but… You could have written that to me. I just don’t understand the lies. At that, I am a little angry but I’m trying not to be, I assume you were scared of hurting or rejecting me,” Gale’s voice broke a little and so did your heart because he had misunderstood everything so awfully and yet… He was so kind and gentle about it. So understanding. “You sounded so sad in your letter; that you missed me and that you… That you… That you loved me,” his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to come here and make sure you were alright. I’ve been missing you like crazy… And… Yeah, you could have just written to me that you met someone else.”

“Gale…” His name was all you managed to let out in a broken whisper. You caught his trembling hands into yours and squeezed them, trying to pour all of your love into him in this small gesture. “Gale, it’s not like this… Please, believe me,” you started. “Bobby is the son of my mum’s friend and they wanted us to date despite me telling them I have you already. They were very pushy and I agreed to have dinner with him. It was not a date, though, and it was awful,” you cracked a smile through your own tears. “I don’t want to ever see him again, in fact. He was rude and we don’t share the same beliefs or ideology. But even if we did and if he was kind, he would only become my friend and nothing else. Because I already have a boyfriend and I am happy with him and proud of him and…” You shook your head and gasped, trying to find the right words. “And if you don’t believe me, I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Short silence occurred. Gale blinked away all of his tears and his lips finally curled up in a soft smile. You loved that genuine, loving smile on his face. You let go of his hands to cup his cheeks and caress his scars with your thumbs.

“I believe you, my love, why wouldn’t I?” He asked quietly. “It didn’t make sense to me why would you lie in your letters anyway. It didn’t seem like my girl at all,” he admitted.

“I am. I am your girl,” you nodded to assure him and you pulled his face down to join your foreheads together. “And I would never lie to you like that. I would never break your heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he pecked your lips.

“Ugh,” your sister’s sigh made you both move away from each other and look up at her. “I can go to my room. Mom will not notice,” she told you.

“No, no,” Gale shook his head and stood up. “I am leaving for the night now.”

Sometimes, you hated what a gentleman he was.

“Goodnight, girls,” he winked at you and squeezed your sister’s arm before leaving the room.

“Do you share a room together in college?” Your sister asked when she laid on the other side of your bed.

“No!” You felt your cheeks heating up. “Girls have their own dormitories and boys have their own,” you explained and laid down next to her before turning the small lamp by your bed off.

“I didn’t know… But that makes sense,” she admitted and moved closer to you. “Do you think I will go to college, too? Is it fun?”

“It’s very fun. And I hope you will go,” you kissed her forehead. “You just have to keep getting good grades,” you assured her.

“And do you think I’m going to meet a nice man like Gale there?”

“Oh, dear,” you laughed softly. “I hope so. But a man like him is one in a million.”

“You must miss him terribly when you’re here and he’s there,” she sighed.

“I am. And you know what? Tomorrow, I might go back with him,” you told her as you made this decision inside your head this very moment. You didn’t have to see her face to know that she was sad about it. “You can go with me if mom and dad agree. My roommate is with her family so I have space in my room,” you assured her and rubbed her arm. “And now go to sleep, little one.”

You tried to fall asleep, too, but you could only think of Gale being in the room next to yours, in your little sister’s pink bedroom. You chuckled at the thought.

When her breath was steady and you were sure that she had fallen asleep, you carefully slid out of the covers and you tip-toed to her bedroom where Gale was. He was tossing and turning when you entered and you thought that he couldn’t fall asleep either but no, you quickly realised that he was having a nightmare. He had told you about them before but you had never witnessed them yourself.

“Gale…” You touched him gently, scared of what he might do when he suddenly wakes up. However, you didn’t want him to be tormented in his sleep anymore. “Gale…”

He opened his eyes and sat up, breathing heavily. You turned the small lamp on your sister’s bedside table and you sat on the edge of the bed to cup his sweaty face. His eyes were widened and he looked like he couldn’t recognise you or the place – but the second part was quite understandable.

“Baby, it’s me,” you cooed sweetly. “You’re at my place, in my sister’s bedroom,” you told him. “You’re safe,” you added to assure him and you felt his muscles relaxing.

“Was I… Was I loud?” He asked and rubbed his face with his hand.

“No, darling, I just sneaked out of my room to lay with you for a while but I saw you were having a nightmare,” you admitted and Buck looked at you in a funny way – nearly as if he was scolding you. You giggled a bit at that and fixed his ruffled hair. “Well, I don’t have to lay here if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he pulled you closer by your waist and you ended up laying on his chest. He hugged you tightly and you hugged him back as his fingers played with your hair. “I just didn’t expect you to be such a little rebel.”

“There’s still a lot about me for you to learn, Mr. Cleven,” you teased.

“I can’t wait,” he whispered in all seriousness before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*buck #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

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drewharrisonwriter · 30 days

Text

One Day at a Time - Ch. 9: Farmer’s Market

Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader

Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!

Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

As the months passed, the farm began to settle into a new rhythm. The initial shock and loneliness after Dave’s return to his old life had slowly been replaced by a sense of determination. You were carrying his child, and that gave you a reason to keep moving forward.

With the demands of running the farm becoming more challenging as your pregnancy progressed, you realized you couldn’t manage everything on your own. Tom, your long-time farm hand, had been reliable so as long as you do the morning chores, but even with his help, there were tasks that required more than what you could offer in your current condition.

That’s when you decided to hire an additional farm hand. Nick came highly recommended by a neighboring farm. He was younger, strong, and had a quiet demeanor that immediately put you at ease. From the moment he arrived, Nick proved himself capable, quickly integrating into the daily operations alongside Tom. The two of them worked well together, allowing you to focus more on your work, your health and the upcoming birth of your daughter.

With Nick and Tom managing the heavy lifting, the farm continued to thrive. The vegetables grew strong, the animals were well cared for, and you found yourself with enough energy and time to focus on preparing for the baby’s arrival. One of your projects was turning Dave’s old bedroom into a nursery.

You spent hours each day in that room, painting the walls, arranging the furniture, and folding tiny clothes. It was therapeutic, in a way—a chance to focus on the future, even as the memories of the past lingered in the corners of your mind. As you worked, you often found yourself talking to the baby, imagining the day you would finally meet your child.

One afternoon, as you arranged a set of small wooden blocks on a shelf, you spoke softly to your growing belly, a foot poking out of one side. “Your daddy used to sleep in this room, you know? He’d probably think it’s good that we’re turning it into a nursery.”

You paused, running a hand over your belly, feeling the slight flutter of movement. “I wonder what you’ll be like… I hope you have his eyes, and his smile. He had a nice smile… when he used it.”

The baby kicked again, and you smiled, placing both hands on your belly. “You’re getting strong, little one. I can’t wait to meet you. I hope you like the farm. It’s quiet here, but it’s a good place. You’ll see.”

Meanwhile, your weekends were spent at the local farmer’s market, selling produce and other products created from your humble farm. The market was bustling with activity, filled with the sights, sounds, and smells of fresh produce and homemade goods. It was a welcome distraction from the solitude of the farm, and you found yourself looking forward to it each week.

It was at the market that you first met Rob. An older man with a kind smile and a gentle demeanor, Rob had a way of making everyone feel at ease. He reminded you of your stepfather, who had helped raise you and had long since passed on. There was a warmth in Rob’s eyes, a quiet strength that drew you to him, and before long, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him every weekend.

But beneath Rob’s kind exterior, there was something more—something you couldn’t see. Rob knew more about you than you realized. He had been watching, observing from the shadows, long before you ever went to DC. Rob wasn’t just a friendly face at the market; he was Robert McCall, and he knew that Dave was still alive.

McCall had always had a way of uncovering the truth, and Dave’s supposed death had been no exception. While everyone else believed Dave York was gone, McCall had his doubts. He had tracked the currents, studied the tides, and pieced together the clues that others had missed. When he finally traced Dave’s path to your small seaside town, he knew it was only a matter of time before the past came knocking on your door.

As he got to know you, McCall’s suspicions were confirmed. He saw the way you talked about the man who had been in your life—the man you believed to be just a lost soul who had washed ashore. McCall knew better. He knew that Dave York was more than just a survivor; he was a man with a past that couldn’t be outrun.

Despite his suspicions, McCall had kept his distance, waiting, watching. He knew Dave would return eventually. Men like Dave didn’t just disappear—they always came back, drawn by the ties they couldn’t sever, the connections they couldn’t forget.

One Saturday at the market, as you and Rob chatted about the latest harvest, “You’ve done well for yourself,” Rob said, his tone as warm as ever. “The farm’s thriving, and you’re about to be a mother. It’s no small feat.”

You smiled, appreciating the compliment. “It’s been hard work, but it’s worth it. I just want to make sure everything’s ready for the baby.”

Rob nodded, his eyes glinting with a hint of something unreadable. “You’re strong, that’s clear. But strength comes from facing what’s ahead, not just what’s behind.”

His words lingered in the air, and you felt a momentary unease, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. “Thanks, Rob. That means a lot.”

As you walked away, you felt a slight shiver, as if sensing the undercurrents of something you couldn’t quite understand. But you shook it off, focusing instead on the tasks ahead—preparing the nursery, running the farm, and getting ready for the arrival of your baby.

McCall watched you go, his mind already a few steps ahead. He knew that Dave would return, and when he did, McCall would be ready. But for now, he would bide his time, keeping close, waiting for the moment when the past would catch up with the present.

Next Chapter 👉🏻

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedropascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fan fic #pedrohub #dave york equalizer #dave york x you #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfic #dave york x female reader

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valiantstarlights · 1 year

Text

[Wedding Planner AU] Part 3: Wedding Dress

Part 2: On the Restaurant's Balcony Area

I would like to thank @seiya-starsniper for reminding me about this AU, and making me realize that I had not, in fact, posted this chapter yet. 🙇‍♀️ It has literally been sitting (90% completed) in my labyrinth of notes since June 25. 😂

CW: just the usual 28 angsty stab wounds 😊

Being inside the Endless mansion is like being in a tomb.

Not that Hob has been to any tombs, since that would require a fuckton of money as well as the absence of common sense, but the air inside was noticeably heavier. No doubt the tangible weight of generations' worth of expectations and disappointments.

He remembers Dream not wanting to go back home for the holidays. How he took his sweet time packing, and even then he only packed light: a toothbrush bought from the convenience store near the dorms, a bottle of black nail polish, and snack sized chocolate bars enough to last him a month. He didn't take any of Hob's clothing with him, even though he wore them almost exclusively during the school year. He claimed that it was because they might get taken from him, but Hob suspected that it was because Dream had been ashamed of him.

Their eventual break up had proven him right.

"Mr. Gadling!"

Hob turns towards the pool area and spots Ms. Muse, wearing a bright yellow sundress and looking positively radiant. Meanwhile, Hob is a frazzled mess, having come straight from Constantine's main office all the way across London, making nonstop calls to catering companies in his car about the billion and one hors d'oeuvres Mrs. Muse and Mrs. Endless wanted.

"Ms. Muse," he greets amiably, and notices the distinct lack of her groom-to-be, as well as their overbearing mothers. "Is everyone else running late?"

"Oh, no," Ms. Muse says, and gestures to the comfortably padded wicker chair beside her. It seems that this meeting will be taking place in a less formal setting. Hob wonders if it is for his benefit or hers. Does he look as sleep-deprived as he felt? "Mother and Mrs. Endless are attending a soiree in Berlin, and Dream is working inside." She points to the side, where a dark figure is seated behind a desk, typing on his laptop, face set in concentration and earplugs in.

Hob remembers that face well. Dream is deep in 'the zone,' as they called it, back in the day. Hob remembers bringing him tea once in the early days, only to find it cold and untouched, and Dream apologetic afterwards. He had insisted on drinking the cold tea, but Hob took pity on him and drank the tea himself. After that incident, he would only make tea for Dream when he surfaces from his 'zone,' and it's a system that worked for them.

He wonders if Ms. Muse knows that, then mentally slaps himself. Of course she does. She's Dream's goddamn fiancee.

And more to the point, she would know Dream better than him, being in the same social class. They probably attended the same rich people parties all the time since they were kids.

Hob should just get this over with and leave. He still has more than three dozen calls he has to make before the end of the day, and an appearance to make at one of the junior wedding planners' small wedding receptions, to make sure that everything goes well, and to serve as back-up in case something goes wrong.

It's barely midday and he's already so fucking tired.

He takes out a stack of bridal magazines, since Ms. Muse expressed in her email that she prefers to flip through magazines rather than browse pinterest boards. Hob went the extra mile and got a couple of good vintage issues as well, in case she prefers the style of older gowns.

"Here," he says, and slides the stack towards the middle of the glass-topped wicker table between them. "Please feel free to browse and point out anything you like, even if it's just a color palette from a certain gown, the style of the lace, or the hairstyle of the model. We'll narrow down your choices later, and I will write and note down all your preferences. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me."

Ms. Muse dimples at him and excitedly flips through the topmost magazine on the stack. "Thank you for doing this, Mr. Gadling," she says. "I know it's not easy, what with our mothers' extravagant ideas, but you still manage to do everything so well and so professionally. I'm glad you're our wedding planner."

"Of course," Hob says, returning her smile, but doesn't say anything more. Lord knows what would happen if he were to speak his mind and tell her that all he's thinking about lately is foisting off the Muse-Endless wedding to someone else, preferably to someone who doesn't have a romantic history with the groom-to-be.

Hob notices that Ms. Muse is different when her mother and Mrs. Endless are not around. She looks more at ease, and instead of holding herself up so rigidly, she was slouching a little, one elbow on the table and one leg tucked neatly underneath the other.

She has told Hob that she definitely wants to have a simple, Grecian style gown made with light fabrics, and maybe a short train. She wonders if she could have a wedding gown that ombres from white to a dark orange at the bottom, while her bridesmaids (Dream's sisters and her own), could wear sunset-colored gowns to a style of their choosing that would fit their body type well.

"Delirium would definitely want to wear something like this, but have it ombre from a dark pink at the top to white at the bottom," she says, pointing to a Cinderella-style gown.

"Is Ms. Delirium Endless your maid of honor?" Hob asks as he notes down the page where the Cinderella gown is located, as well as the title and the issue number of the magazine where Ms. Muse found it.

Ms. Muse nods absently, waiting for Hob to finish his notes before flipping the page. "We have been friends since we were toddlers. I remember getting into so much trouble when she dared me to dye my hair bright green."

Hob chuckles. "I'm sure you looked like a very beautiful forest nymph."

"That's certainly one way of looking at it," Ms. Muse says, smiling. "But now I hope to repay the favor by making Deli look like a very beautiful radish."

Hob hums and reviews his previous notes. "Seeing as all the gowns of the wedding party are to be sunset-themed, I'm sure your mothers wouldn't take issue with it, if that's something that you're worried about."

Ms. Muse sighs happily. "I'm so glad we see eye to eye, Mr. Gadling. Oh, but please don't tell anyone about the secret meaning of Deli's dress!"

Hob smiles at her, this beautiful woman with a sunny personality. No wonder Dream fell hard for her. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Muse."

They talk about colors and fabrics some more, as well as the style of wedding veil that would pair well with her wedding gown. Ms. Muse, Hob is coming to find, is a very reasonable woman, very much unlike her own mother.

He just knows that she will be a good wife to Dream.

Hob had just finished answering her question about the feasibility of long wedding veils at a beach wedding and how detailed their embroideries can be, when Dream comes out from his office space and walks up towards them.

"Dream!" Ms. Muse says cheerily. "Are you going to be joining us after all?"

Hob makes sure the lines of his body are relaxed as he writes some more detailed notes, so he has the excuse of not looking up and greeting Ms. Muse's groom-to-be.

"No," Dream says. "I'm just taking a short break to get some tea. I still have emails to reply to and a meeting to oversee."

Ms. Muse nods understandingly. They really are a good match. Were it Hob in her place, he would have pestered Dream to eat something as well, and maybe rest his eyes and mind and hands for at least ten minutes. He would have asked Dream to lie down on his lap and stroke his hair until he falls asleep, then wake him up with kisses once his low-volume alarm beeps.

No wonder Dream got tired of him.

"That's too bad," Ms. Muse says. "But no worries! I'm having fun looking through the bridal magazines Mr. Gadling brought. Maybe we could even decide on what flowers to put in the wedding bouquet today."

"Sounds wonderful," Dream says, and he does sound like he means it. Hob wishes he could excuse himself without drawing any attention. He's sure Dream wouldn't even notice or care if he disappeared, but it would be rude to Ms. Muse if he just left.

Maybe he should just leave anyway so the bride and groom could have some time for themselves. Let them unwind for a bit and openly show each other affection without an unwanted audience.

"It is," Ms. Muse says brightly. "I was nervous because the task seemed daunting, but Mr. Gadling has been super helpful. He really knows his stuff, and he listens well and is very kind."

A pause. "He is," Dream says, and there's something in his voice that sounds unsure and vulnerable and maybe even a little hopeful. Hob quickly squashes that treacherous thought. Dream is about to get married. He would do well to remember that.

"Oh, hold on," Ms. Muse says, standing up. "Let me ring someone for tea. We could all use some, anyway."

She walks away, her yellow sundress waving like a flag behind her.

Hob does not have to look at Dream to know that he is staring after her.

Hob says nothing. He has nothing to say. Not now, when he is just the help.

"Thank you for assisting Calliope," Dream tells him, when Ms. Muse has disappeared from view.

"Of course, sir," Hob tells his notes, his tone bland and professional. "It's what I'm here for, you know. Gotta be helpful somehow or I'm gonna get fired."

The last part comes out bitter, and Hob doesn't know why he thought to say that. He should have just stopped talking after the first sentence and left Dream to navigate the awkward silence alone.

"Our mothers wouldn't dare to fire you," Dream says quietly. Gently. Hob grits his teeth as subtly as he could. "You are the best in your field. They would be hard-pressed to find someone better."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Endless," Hob says airily, and this time he looks straight at Dream when he says it. Dream looks taken aback when their eyes meet. Hob wonders if he could see the pain of the last ten, fifteen years in Hob's eyes. Hob hopes he does. Hob hopes he feels every last fucking glass shard buried in Hob's heart, still bleeding to this day. "I'm sure they would immediately find someone better to replace me with."

Dream looks like Hob just slapped him.

For a moment, there is pure devastation on his beautiful face. Lips slightly parted as if feeling the need to explain, eyes wide and wet, brows furrowed in hurt.

Hob has never seen him look like this before. They had never argued badly enough in the past to the point where Dream would be brought to tears.

Hob almost stands. Almost reaches for Dream to hold him in his arms, and allow him to hide his face against his neck while Hob pets his hair softly and soothingly, shushing him and murmuring against his ear that he doesn't mean it. That he's just hurt. That the last thing he wants is to hurt Dream.

But before Hob could do anything, decide whether or not to comfort the lost love of his life, Dream's mask reforms, and between one blink and the next, he is once again the picture of neutrality. "As you say, Mr. Gadling."

Hob opens his mouth. To apologize, perhaps, or to ask Dream how long it took him to move on.

'How long before you and Ms. Muse got together after we broke up?'

'How long before I'm only just another bad memory from the past?'

'How long did you really love me?'

'Were you actually in love with me, or was I just another way for you to rebel against your parents?'

He closes his mouth and says nothing. And for a few moments, he and Dream just looked at each other, Hob cataloguing all the ways Dream is still the same, wondering if he could have maybe done something differently that would have made Dream stay with him. Or maybe their relationship has always been destined to fail. They come from different backgrounds, after all, and Hob should have known to listen to fairytales.

Princes do not end up with paupers. They end up with beautiful princesses and live their lives happily ever after.

The only indicator of Dream's tumultuous thoughts is him raising his hand and almost unconsciously fidgeting with the ruby pendant of his necklace.

As soon as Hob's eyes drop to it, though, Dream stops entirely and places his hands on his sides, like nothing happened.

They were startled out of their silent staring when the door to the side opens, and Ms. Muse comes out like she brought the sun with her, as well as a fancy metal tea tray with three cups and a kettle that would not be out of place in 18th century Versailles.

"Mrs. Jones would be by in a bit with afternoon tea snacks," Ms. Muse says, just as Hob rises from his seat to take her burden from her. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Gadling. See how kind he is, Dream?"

"I have to return to my work," Dream says, and plucks the black teacup and its accompanying saucer right out of the tray that Hob is still holding.

Like Hob is just another goddamn servant employed by the Endless.

Then again, Hob thinks sardonically, that's exactly what he is, isn't he?

It's actually so nice to finally see that this is how Dream really sees him. Now Hob won't have to guess just what he is to him. What he always was.

Ms. Muse shrugs. "Sure. But don't work too hard, okay? Death will have my head if she finds out you're not taking proper breaks."

Dream visibly softens at the mention of his favorite sister. "Of course. I will see you later, Calliope." A colder glance at Hob. "Mr. Gadling."

Hob fights the urge not to bow mockingly. He settles for his default professional mode. Dream has just shown him where his proper place is, and Hob would do well to stay in it. "Mr. Endless."

Without another word, or indeed, another glance at Hob, Dream turns and walks away.

#wedding planner au #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #note to self: for everyone's sake please title your notes properly 😭🙏#oh and (hugs everyone) sorry for the angst #i hope you guys enjoyed it though 🖤

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