#meanwhile the US has a idiot in office -_-

[iteh3xael]

I have to remember that Zelenskyy, a COMEDIAN, managed to be a better pick for a country than the prior dictator and it really shouldn’t fucking matter what you wear, say, or do as long as it’s morally consistent and aware!!!

[lay-z]

I'm in a ✨️ mood ✨️ This is for you @bloodytalefeathers :)

Synopsis: When life gets rough, you forget about your "soft era", and tend to fall back into your toxic traits and coping mechanisms; feigning toughness and hyper-independence until you can crumble and break comfortably behind closed doors. Only nowadays, your loving boyfriend can read the signs and intervene before things can get out of hand.

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: MDNI 18+ | established romantic relationship; soft!dom!Keegan; lots of comfort; some angst; tw: eating disorder; FLUFF; dirty talk/cussing; fingering; squirting; overstimulation; two idiots in love

Keegan smirks to himself when the sound of you dropping your keys at the front door reaches his trained ears, followed by the door slamming shut, your exasperated sigh and grumbled curses.

There is no malice behind his quiet snicker; he's simply happy that you're finally home, and he can’t see you yet, but he can already pick up on the mood you’re in by simply listening.

He can easily hear it in the pitch of your voice, which cuss words you're using and the way you stomp your feet as you walk.

And he watches wordlessly from his spot on the couch, PS5 controller in hand and an ice-cold beer on the coffee table, as you drag yourself across the open spaced living room, uttering a half-assed "Hey, baby." to him before disappearing down the other hallway towards your shared bedroom ‒ barely sparing him a glance nor telling him to use a coaster under the bottle for the umpteenth time, like you usually would. 

The former Marine is almost offended by the lack of attention from you; always craving it like the good ol' devil dog he is, though he lets you get away with it ‒ for now, at least. 

His dark brows furrow, eyes flickering down at the table before he grabs one of said coasters anyway, the one with the comic ghost print, just to be safe the next time you come by the living room. Surely, you'll ask him about his day on duty soon, like you always do, and then he'll ask you about yours, working at the office at HQ here on base, and you'll tell him all about it while you curl up next to him on the couch before watching him play for a while.

You don't come back, though.

And when Keegan finally glances at his watch, it's been way over an hour since you came home from work, and he's starting to get suspicious. Hesh, Logan, and Kick keep yapping in the PS party, talking shit over their respective headsets as they play, though their voices merely become background noise to Keegan as his attention begins to shift to more important matters. 

Namely, you. 

Where are his kisses? Why haven't you bitten him randomly yet? Are you mad at him for being away most of the week without proper communication? You're not on your period; he has memorized your cycle by now. Are you pissed off, because he's playing video games right now? But you've never complained about that before, you're a gamer yourself after all, and if there is something that pisses you off, you’d let him now. 

His mind begins to wander and spiral, as it does sometimes when he's getting unsure of something (especially when it comes to you), and before things can escalate, he mentally chides himself and bids a hasty goodbye to his friends and teammates, and before they can even start to protest his early departure, he’s turning off the console. 

Something is obviously up with his sweetheart and he's more than determined to figure out what it is. 

Meanwhile, you’re inside the ensuite bathroom of the master bedroom. You’ve finally stripped off your tight pencil skirt that has been pushing into your stomach uncomfortably, and the confining blouse that has been tucked into the waistband, along with it. The pair of tights which seam has been chafing between your inner thighs all day, finally comes to rest in the small trash bin next to the bathroom sink, and same goes for the bra which wire has been digging into your flesh after breaking through the fabric, leaving your skin all sore and tender below your breasts. 

You’ve barely slept all week, barely eaten anything too, except drinking copious amounts of coffee; work has kicked your ass thoroughly and the death of one of the operators – a young, good man KIA – from a task force you’ve been working closely with for the past months, has left you in a state of shock that you didn’t even have the chance to deal with properly yet. 

Needless to say, your life has been a proper shit show and on top of it all, Keegan has been just as busy, if not busier, which has left you feeling even more needy and vulnerable this week. Seeing him finally being able to unwind on the couch when you came home, only made you realize that you can’t possibly bother him with your pathetic clinginess tonight, so you simply kept on walking, determined to hide your misery for a little while longer. 

Just a little longer. That’s what you keep telling yourself. Just a little longer and things will surely get better. Even though you’re not actively doing anything to make it better, no. In fact, you’ve been slipping back into old habits, toxic coping mechanisms, that either hurt your body or your soul. Sometimes both. It’s not good, but it is what it is. 

It has worked out in the past. That’s good enough to you. It must be. 

Eventually, you manage to step into the shower to try and get rid of some tension in your body and that nagging, piercing headache in the front of your skull that’s been bothering you for days now, though to little avail. It’s still there after the steaming shower you take, but it has somehow simmered down to a dull throb now as you towel off and slip on one of Keegan’s old USMC shirts along with a clean pair of cotton panties. 

Just when Keegan is about to get up from the couch to look for you, his ears pick up the sound of your bare feet coming down the hallway, cutely padding along the hardwood floor. 

His chest constricts tightly, fluttering with sweltering affection, when you finally come into view again, wearing one of his old shirts, the dark fabric a bit too baggy on you, with nothing but some panties underneath. He can see that you’re not wearing a bra and he tries to ignore the way his cock twitches with interest inside his boxer briefs to focus on your well-being instead, but – shit – you always look too good in his clothes to not acknowledge and appreciate it at least briefly. 

However, the look you shoot in his direction, standing a few feet away from him, shuffling on the spot a little as you play with the hem of his your shirt, is downright heartbreaking to him. 

You look like a tiny, lost and drenched kitten that has been left outside in the freezing cold. It reminds him of the beginning of your relationship, when he had worked hard for your trust and honesty. Back when he had to coax you to open up to him; cooing and coddling and pampering you until you felt safe and comfortable enough to let yourself be vulnerable in his presence. 

Now, though, now Keegan can read you better than the palm of his own hand. One good glance at your beautiful face and he knows that you’re not okay, if not physically then mentally, and he suddenly feels his stomach tighten with guilt and self-loathing for not noticing it sooner. 

The corners of your mouth are pulling downward with a quivering bottom lip, chin wobbling as you try to keep your emotions in check in front of him like the little control freak you are, eyes glossy and bright and your eyebrows pinched in a sad frown. 

Keegan knows the answer, but he decides to ask anyway. “You okay there?” 

As soon as your eyes meet his pretty pale blue gaze, you see his usually stoic expression soften, his toned body shifting as he sits up straighter on the couch, and you can feel your throat tighten as you try to swallow around the tight lump forming in it. When his question registers, you shake your head slowly, huffing a small breath through your nose as the dam, still holding back the myriads of negative emotions, finally begins to crack under the ongoing pressure. 

Keegan feels an immediate need to pull you into his arms as soon as he watches you shaking your head. He wants to make you curl up on his lap and let him take care of you the way you obviously need him to, but he stays seated as one of his legs starts bouncing restlessly, waiting on you to make the first move once you’re ready. 

His resolve doesn’t last long, though. 

“C’mere, baby.” He orders then, holding out his arms to beckon you over as soon as he sees a tear brim past your waterline and run down your cheek. At this point, he’s more than ready to simply snatch you up if you don’t comply. 

But then, your bare feet pad over the floor again as you swiftly approach, rounding the coffee table to practically fling yourself into his strong, welcoming arms, making him huff out a muffled oof! as he sinks deeper into the couch cushions with the impact of your added weight. 

Keegan’s hands settle on your hips as you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. Your weak arms come up to wrap around his neck while you bury and hide your face against the curve of his shoulder, and Keegan lets out a soft, pleased rumble when you cling on to him. His respond is immediate, and he wraps his strong arms around your midriff, hugging you even closer to his body.  

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your damp hair, inhaling your comforting scent deeply as he slowly rubs your back with his right hand while the left strokes up and down the side of your bare thigh soothingly. “Why are you shaking, sweetheart? What happened? C’mon, talk to me, please.” 

Keegan can feel your tears soak through his shirt as you bury your face deeper into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and when the sound of your suppressed sobs and snivels reaches his ears, there’s a sharp sting in his chest before his own vision nearly blurs with tears, too. 

Missed you. He missed you. God, you’d missed him, too, but then again, Keegan can sit right next to you, and you’d miss him. 

“I–I can’t–I just... I need you.” You manage to croak out while your fingers twist and stretch the fabric of his shirt on your fists, desperate to keep him close, scared he might disappear if you loosen your grasp. 

“Need me,” Keegan repeats in a rough whisper while his mind races, trying to come up with the right way to handle this. Need me. Fuck, but he needs you, too. “How exactly do you need me?” He asks eventually, left hand coming up to gently massage the nape of your neck until you let him tilt your head back enough to catch another glimpse of your face. 

Your eyes are red-rimmed, glossy, pupils blown and surrounded by broken blood vessels. Your lips look dry, your skin lacking your natural glow, and a sinking feeling settles deep in his gut as he realizes how sickly you look. Neglected. Weak. How did he not notice sooner? 

His fingers tighten their hold, his thumb pressing deeper into your neck to check your fluttering pulse, making sure you’re still with him, still alive. “Sweetheart–” 

He watches your eyes flutter, blinking away tears as you exhale a shuddering breath. “Please,” you rasp softly, swallowing thickly as you gather all your courage to speak your next words, even though your mind, those damn insecurities, are cursing at you not to, “–just kiss me.” 

His breathing picks up, along with his heartrate. You can practically watch his pupils dilate at once, pale blue turning a dark shade of grey while his blood rushes south almost instantly at the desperate sound of your voice. And that you can feel, too. The way his cock begins to stir and harden underneath you between your spread thighs while his fingers continue to massage the nape of your neck, slowly managing to get you to relax, like a kitten being scruffed into submission. 

The only warning is an imperceptible nod, a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip while his arm around your midriff tightens, before Keegan surges forward to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. 

You're not quite sure how much time has passed at this point, but some random movie is still playing on TV, illuminating the living room this late in the evening, while you've been reduced to a quaking, panting, shivering mess, still seated on Keegan's lap. 

He’s stripped you bare, switched your position to have your back flush against his chest before coaxing four orgasms from you with practiced ease. Then again, pushing you over the edge quickly has never been a challenge for Keegan, quite the opposite.  

Now, your mind has shut off; your body finally pliant and lax after stopping your initial protest to let Keegan do this, give this, to you. You’ve asked for it, after all, and now your headache is practically gone, and you feel blissfully warm, safe, and soft in his embrace.  

With your thighs nicely spread apart and draped over his knees, Keegan keeps alternating between rubbing your puffy little clit and pumping two, sometimes three thick fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them deliciously while he toys and gropes your tender breasts with his free hand, rolling and pinching your hard nipples between calloused fingertips until you can’t do anything but mewl and squirm helplessly in his grip.  

His cock is aching; throbbing and straining inside his boxer briefs as your sweet ass keeps grinding against his bulge involuntarily, but he's locked in on your pleasure above all right now. 

"Are you feeling any better yet, hm? I'm gonna take care of you all night long, my love. Y'know I will." 

"Always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me. Makin’ quite the mess here, hm? Not messy enough, though." He murmurs hotly just below your ear, the proud smirk audible in his voice before he nips at your flushed skin and feels your pussy clench around his fingers; soaking his whole hand, dripping down onto his sweatpants and the dark leather couch.

"Don't you think that I can't tell ya didn't take good care of yourself these past few days," he mutters accusingly before giving your pussy a few gentle slaps with his flat palm, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you; the obscene, wet sounds and your uncharacteristic moan making your face heat up profoundly. "Dehydration is pretty dangerous, baby, and I know you didn't drink nearly enough water."

Of course, the little shit can tell, but you're close again already, so the realization gets pushed into the back of your mind, because Keegan is thrilled to coax more of those sweet sounds from your lips. 

You nod slowly, borderline non-committedly. “Mhmm,” you hum with your eyes half-lidded, nails digging deeper into his clothed, thick thighs for leverage; some way to keep you anchored to reality as he rubs your clit in tight circles, coaxing you towards the edge again.

“Promise that you’ll stop hiding from me when you’re feeling like this,” he demands roughly, lips lightly brushing over the side of your neck as he speaks before he licks his flat tongue over your pulse point. 

“Promise me. Say it.” He growls this time, teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his hot breath pants over your skin, pruned fingers still not stopping their ministrations as you buck your hips with a whine, trying to squirm away on his lap.

You try to keep your noises at bay, but the added sensation of his warm tongue on your sensitive skin makes you shudder, and before you know it, you’re climaxing again; squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth, chest heaving with panting breaths while your cunt clenches around nothing and your whole body twitches and writhes while another wave of pleasure wrecks through your body, though only the tiniest bit of wetness squirts and dribbles over his calloused hand this time.

Yes, you might be dehydrated, indeed.

“F-Fuck–I ah pr-omise, sir!” You cry out, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes once more, though this time it’s the overwhelming pleasure and stimulation bringing you to tears, along with the way your man is currently taking care of you. 

And you could swear you can feel his cock swell even harder against your rear when you call him 'sir'.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he coos huskily, peppering kisses between your shoulder blades and up to your nape as he kneads and gropes your trembling thighs, finally giving you a break. “You’re mine, I love you, and I need you to let me look after you, ya hear me?” 

Your head lolls back, resting against his shoulder as you nod meekly, butterflies going rogue in your tummy. “I hear you.” You rasp, too exhausted to be bratty and resist, slumping even more against his chest while his arms come up to wrap around you like corded steel, keeping you steady and safe. 

"Good." He mutters against your temple, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking dramatic little sniffs like some mutt before pulling back and nipping your earlobe, making you hiss.

"Ow! What's that for?" You whine dramatically, speech slightly slurred by fatigue and bliss while you don't even bother to wiggle free from his embrace.

The pout in his deep voice is more than evident when he replies: "Didn't even say I love you back, sweetheart."

[zaineviu]

❛𝘈 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤❜ - 𝘓.𝘍 (𝘚𝘒𝘡)

synopsis. Sometimes Felix forgets that he has priorities before he gets out of bed.

pairings. felix x femreader!

content. sfw, husband!felix, pregnant!reader.

wc. 1,275

a/n. Something very gentle to start with, I hope you enjoy it. ૮ .  ̫ . ა 

part 2: ‘Sweet heart'

Don't forget to comment, so I know you like my writing and encourage me to keep writing.

Felix looked over his shoulder, reaching with the arm he had wrapped around his wife's chest to turn off the alarm clock.

He cursed under his breath when he saw what time it was, too late and he had a conference scheduled at that time, without complaint, he left his love's body, arranging a couple of pillows around him.

He grabbed his suit and shoes and went into the bathroom to begin his routine quickly. When he was ready, he went out to the kitchen in search of some fruit for breakfast.

Meanwhile you, you sat on the bed with a pout on your lips ready to be kissed by your husband as a farewell. Your hand was on your belly and the other was on your chest. You waited another minute for your goodbye, your kiss and the kiss on your belly that never came, the only thing that came was the sound of the front door opening and closing in a matter of seconds.

Your eyes widened in surprise, Felix never left without saying goodbye, no matter how late it was, you always got your goodbye kiss no matter what, but now you felt like you were left standing.

You were expecting a baby, your mood swings were at their limit.

You looked at your belly and with both hands caressed it, your eyes began to glaze over.

"Daddy didn't say goodbye to us, baby," you muttered. "That idiot gets me pregnant and does this kind of thing."

You got out of bed very carefully, you felt heavy, and your mood swing was altered by your husband's cheeky action.

You took a hot bath and changed into one of Felix's sweatshirts that you found on a chair, along with your shorts exposing your legs. You went down to the kitchen and took out a bottle of water from the fridge, which your loving husband took care of filling and putting away for you.

"What are we going to do now, my little bean?" You sighed heavily. "What if he has someone else? Why didn't he say goodbye to me?", your eyes narrowed.

"I hope he won't leave us, I wouldn't know what to do if he's not with us.” You muttered. "That fool, if I see him putting his dick where it doesn't belong I'm going to cut it off."

You looked around you heavily, you had to clean your home before your husband came home from work, he had promised to bring dinner anyway. Taking a moment before you started your morning routine, you drank some more of your water before you began.

You put on one of the dresses your mother had bought you thanks to your little baby having made sure that none of your clothes would fit you, on top of it, Felix's sweatshirt remained on you.

You cleaned what you could, tidied up as far as you could, and with that you went to the living room to wait.

Your hand was resting on your belly while with the other you took a spoonful of Nutella, you were hungry, but you didn't have the strength to stand up and go to prepare breakfast, your mood was low, you didn't want to do anything, all thanks to your husband who didn't say goodbye to you in the morning.

"What if we go to his office?" you asked to nothing. "Maybe daddy is there, or maybe his stupid secretary is there too." You said angrily. "Maybe he's cheating on me with her, and I'm sitting here eating Nutella feeling fat and with his baby in my belly? What if he doesn't love me anymore, baby, maybe he doesn't love me anymore?"

A pout came from your lips, and salty tears began to flow from your eyes, you were sensitive and you needed your husband.

You dipped your spoon back into the Nutella filled bowl and ate from it, and it stayed that way all afternoon.

‎✧——⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ⊹ ࣪ ˖——✧

Felix put his briefcase down next to the coat rack, poked his head into the kitchen so he wouldn't see anyone, and then into his living room where he got the same result. He frowned in confusion and concern, it was barely eight o'clock at night for you to be asleep so early.

He let out a tired sigh from his lips, wishing he could go to his room and sleep next to his beautiful wife and son.

He took off his shoes, tossing them somewhere in the living room and went upstairs to his room, where he found his little wife lying on her side of the bed, one pillow hugging her chest and another on her belly, Felix couldn't help but smile at how tender his wife looked. He rolled over to take off his suit, folding it up to put it in the laundry basket. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, shook his hair and returned to the bed, where your very sleepy self was stretched out on it like a starfish, leaving him with not bed, so as an alternative, Felix got on top of you, without pressing his body to yours across your belly.

He pressed kisses all over your face, murmuring that he had already arrived and missed you, lifting you up without warning.

"Hello, my love." Felix murmured, his voice so deep that you opened your eyes softly, adjusting to the light in the room. "How was your day, did our little bean bother you much?" a smile graced his lips, though your expression changed to an annoyed one suddenly.

"Get off me, Lixie," you said annoyed, causing Felix to do so immediately.

"Is something wrong? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" Felix looked your body up and down immediately, looking for where he might have hurt you. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart?"

"You said it already, my heart." You replied.

"I don't understand, baby... Did I do something wrong?"

"Do you have someone else? Is that why? You don't love me anymore do you? Do you have someone besides me? What did I do to you, Felix?" your tears began to run down your cheeks, like waterfalls, making Felix's body shudder at how vulnerable you looked.

"Don't cry, please don't cry." His hands cupped your ruddy cheeks, brushing traces of your tears from them. "Why would you say that?"

"Leave without saying goodbye? You always do, and I always expect my kiss and today you didn't give it to me and I assumed things..." Felix couldn't help but laugh, how silly this whole situation was. "Why are you laughing, are you making fun of my suffering, you're cheating on me, aren't you?"

"You are silly, my silly girl. I didn't say goodbye because I left late, did you at least see what time it was? I had a conference scheduled at eight o'clock and I got out of here very late, I'm so sorry for not saying goodbye, love, I won't anymore but please don't cry." Your eyes looked into Felix's hazel ones, seeing the sincerity and concern in them.

"I'm so dramatic, aren't I?"

"A little, but, it's okay, I like that you are, it was all a very misunderstanding, now stop crying."

You settled in so that Felix was the big spoon and you were the little one, your husband rested his head on your shoulder, and you took his arm to put it on your belly.

"How was our baby today?" he murmured close to your ear, making you shudder at the closeness.

"Quiet, very quiet, he kicked several times and others he just wanted to eat." Felix made a sound of affirmation, letting the silence of the night flood the room.

"I love you both, with all my soul." He murmured, ready for sleep.

"Say goodbye to me tomorrow." You whispered, letting your eyes close.

"I always will, sweetheart."

And so, you both fell into the arms of Morpheus, and you felt loved.

[wendyyyyyyyy]

OPERATION: Oblivious Idiots

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7

⚠️ Content Warning : This chapter contains themes of kidnapping, physical violence, blood/injury, psychological distress, bomb threats, panic attacks, and life-threatening situations. Reader discretion is advised.

⸻

Part 8 : Confessions at the Edge

Fifteen minutes. That’s all you had.

You and Chan stood in the storage room, his body still slightly trembling from the adrenaline, yours pressed to his side as you both stared at the small blinking light on the bomb—red, constant, unforgiving.

Another message buzzed on Chan’s phone:

“You only have one try.”

Your heart dropped. One try? One single mistake and it was over. You, him, and maybe even the others.

———

Meanwhile…

Hyunjin, Lee Know, and Seungmin were rushing down the hall toward the staff’s office, but just as they were about to turn the corner—

The power cut again.

And everything else got dark, thick like a nightmare. It was the same blackout as the one at the storage room and room B27.

Hyunjin immediately grabbed his phone and switched on the flashlight, scanning his surroundings—but before he could react, a hand gripped his arm tight.

Another hand yanked him back, a black cloth bag yanked over his head. It was thick, rough—blinding.

Panic kicked in as Hyunjin screamed and thrashed in their grip, voice echoing into the dark hallway.

“LEE KNOW HYUNG! SEUNGMIN!!”

No response. No sound.

Where were they? Why were the kidnappers out here, instead of dealing with the bomb inside?

Did they know the trio was going for help? Were they trying to silence them before they could bring reinforcements?

Hyunjin was dragged, shoved into another room, and the door slammed behind him.

Locked. Alone. Isolated.

Their second victim.

———

Back in the storage room.

You and Chan stared at the bomb.

One try.

Two conversations.

Clue: feelings.

Outside the room, Felix, Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin were panicking.

“You don’t have to do this, hyung!” Changbin shouted through the door. “There has to be another way!”

“We can’t risk both of your lives over a damn guess,” Han cried. “Lee Know hyung, Seungmin, and Hyunjin will come back with help. They have to.”

Jeongin, desperate, “Just hold on! Please, don’t do anything reckless—”

Chan turned to the door, voice loud and firm.

“Get away from the door! I said go! If this goes wrong, I’m not risking your lives too. Just—go!”

But of course, they didn’t move.

Stubborn. Loyal. Stray Kids.

Just then, the lights flickered.

The blackout ended.

And then—

Minho came running back.

His head was bleeding, shirt torn, breath ragged. He stumbled toward them, nearly collapsing.

“Hyung?! What happened?!” Felix rushed to catch him.

“We—got ambushed,” Minho gasped, pressing his hand against the side of his head, blood staining his palm. “They were waiting for us.”

“Where are Hyunjin and Seungmin?!” Jisung asked, frantic.

“I— I don’t know,” Minho choked out. “I woke up alone.”

Inside the room, Chan heard everything. You saw the storm in his eyes—rage, panic, heartbreak.

“For fuck’s sake!” he yelled, slamming a fist against the wall. “Why does this shit keep happening?!”

“We’ll figure this out,” you whispered, trembling. “We have to.”

Chan clenched his jaw, and shouted at the door :

“Take Lee Know and go. Now. Find the others. I’ll handle this.”

The members outside finally listened. They knew they had no choice.

So they left, as much as it hurt. Minho limped alongside them, still reeling.

Eight minutes had passed.

It was do or die now. Help wasn’t coming.

You turned to Chan, heart hammering.

He looked at you—sweaty, dusty, broken and brave—and held your face in his hands.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and steady. “Here goes nothing. We might actually die in here, so I’m not walking out of this without telling you what I’ve kept locked inside.”

He pulled you in closer, both arms around your waist now, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you, Y/N.”

And your entire world… stopped.

Your mind short-circuited. Did he just—?

Then—beep-beep. The bomb light flickered.

It registered his voice.

That was it. One of the conversations. That was the correct phrase. You gasped, heart skipping.

Chan looked just as stunned.

He hadn’t meant it as a password. He said it because… it was real.

“I love you too, Chan,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

Another flicker. The second light lit up.

And then—

the bomb roared to life.

A vibrating growl buzzed from the device, red light flashing violently.

“NO!” Chan turned, immediately wrapping himself around you, his back shielding you from the blast he thought was coming.

His arms were tight, trembling. You could hear his heartbeat pounding through his chest.

You clutched his shirt, your own tears falling now.

So, this was it? The bomb was about to go off and you both clinched into each other, accepted your fate.

And then… the light went green.

Silence.

Defused.

The bomb powered down, lights dying out. The tension shattered like glass.

You collapsed against him, whole body shaking. Tears streamed freely as the wave of shock and relief crashed down on both of you.

And yet, through all of it—you felt safe. Loved. Wanted.

The door behind you clicked open.

Chan’s phone buzzed.

“Congratulations. You have answered the correct answers. You are free to go now.”

But neither of you moved.

You clung to each other like you were still in danger. Like letting go meant losing something sacred.

And then—suddenly—

Seungmin burst into the room, hair wild, clothes caked in mud, his eyes wide with panic.

He looked like he had crawled out of the ground itself.

What the hell just happened to him?

⸻

Part 9

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Nanny!reader finding out she preggo after the meeting in his office and has to tell overlord husk🫢

✨drama✨

A/n: The reader freaking out for no reason, meanwhile it is what Husk wanted. I apologize for not adding a lot of drama

Pregnant...you were pregnant. You did not know if you should feel terrified, happy or scared. Moving your hand's to your belly you didn't even know how to react to this news.

Would he be happy about this? I mean he already has kids, would he want more? Or would he just toss you aside?

What if he thought you were like his ex? Just using him to want something. Sighing you wrapped your arms around your belly falling back on the bed.

"What am I going to do?"

Resting his cheek on his palm, Angel Dust couldn't believe he let himself get roped into this situation but you were his friend, he had to do this for you.

Wincing, he tried to not flinch as one of Husk's kits yanked at his cheek. "Aren't ya gonna check on the Nanny."

He knew the kits were getting restless, that they missed you.

Husk scoffed as he played with the cards in his hand, he didn't know if he should be pissed at himself or you?

No it wasn't you, he could never be mad at you.

"They don't wanna see me so why should I even bother."

It's been week's since he's last seen you, since you two have become intimate but he wasn't about to go and bother you.

Gritting his teeth, Angel Dust let out another yelp as he placed one of the kits down on the poker table. He was getting sick of this shit. "She's pregnant you idiot!" His eyes went wide as he placed his palm over his mouth. "You did not hear that?"

Placing the cards on the table, a large grin formed on Husk's face, his fang's poking through his lips. "Pregnant? So that's why they been avoiding me? Well I'll make sure they got nothin to be afraid of."

"What! Where the hell you goin?"

Waving him off, Husk slipped his coat over his body."Watch the kits, I gotta get my Queen."

Sighing, Angel eyed the three kits, all of them blinking up at him. "Well you're gonna get a mommy."

Jolting awake, a small yelp escaped your lips until you finally realized who was hovering over you.

"Husk, why are you here?"

Grinning, Husk pulled you into his chest. One of his claws gliding down your back. "I came here to get my Queen."

"W-what?" You looked up at him in disbelief as Husk nuzzled his nose into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin licking your mark.

"You got me thinking that you hated me beautiful, I never thought you'd be pregnant with my kits."

Feeling your cheeks warm, you pressed your face into his chest as you clutched his tie tightly. "So you're happy?"

"More than happy love."

[qwimblenorrisstan]

A Smoke For 3 | Price x Reader x Gaz

Summary: You, a new and bold recruit, decide to inform Price that smoking is bad for him, and he and Gaz proceed to figure out that smoking is also very bad for you after they tag-team you.

Word Count: ~ 1.5k

Warnings: sort of noncon, smut, p in v, fingering, shotgunning smoke, asthma attack, gaz being a little cutiepie, punching weird men

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: yall idk what got into me, full credit to @syoddeye and @twistytimesandthoughts for the idea, find the inspo post+comment here and go give them some love!! hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

For a new recruit, you’d always been a little mouthy.

Nothing terrible, really, but as one of the only women in your group other than a few, you and the other girls were always silently communicating, if not just flat-out gossiping to each other at the lunch table.

Price had been watching over the newest recruits during lunch in the mess hall once, and it was hard not to notice the group of three girls, all having already finished their lunch, in avid conversation. Talking, laughing, giving each other looks. It was all he could do not to try and listen in.

Gaz, however, had accidentally heard a few glimpses while walking past your table. It was entertaining, to say the least.

“He has the attitude of a man whose dick is the size of a baby carrot,”

You’d casually said one day amongst your group of girls, and they’d all given nods, one just taking a bite of her food as if that wasn’t abnormal at all, meanwhile, Kyle was choking on his spit.

Despite being one of the only girls, you had plenty of spunk, as well. You weren’t a bunk bunny, and you certainly didn’t react well to any sort of flirting or forwardness from any men to you. When the men tried showing you up in training? Price saw firsthand how you put in extra effort just to embarrass them.

It was amusing, he’d admit.

But what he didn’t find amusing was how that same spunk came to bite him in the ass.

You’d always had a sort of evil eye for him, it seemed, especially when he was puffing his cigar. He didn’t fail to notice the way you held your breath when passing by him or didn’t stay close to him or Kyle (Kyle smelled like smoke because of Price’s constant smoking around 141).

Hell, even at training you often didn’t ask him for help demonstrating something, opting to observe what everyone else was doing, or ask one of your male friends for help.

It all came to a culmination when he’d already been having a shitty day, considering his favorite packets of morning tea had been out, and he’d chosen one of his more expensive cigars to cope. He’d walked into the mess, seen you and your girls giving nasty looks to some idiotic soldier trying to get into your pants, and you’d socked the man straight in the jaw.

Well, they must’ve been teaching you something right, because he was out cold.

And now Price had to deal with it, and he sure as hell wasn’t handling your temper without Gaz to act peace-maker.

So here you were, standing in his office, arms crossed as you stared point-blank at him.

“You canno’ just punch people when they say something you don’t like.”

“He was bein’ disrespectful.”

A heavy puff of his cigar, and you cringed. Kyle sighed through his nose, just enough for Price to notice, and he raised a brow.

“Wha’? Don’ like the smell ‘o smoke?”

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know.”

You said, clearly trying not to breathe in the smoke Price was now obviously puffing right into your face. As if you were better than him. You might be a pretty little bird, but you weren’t getting away with that.

He didn’t know who moved first, but after he and Kyle exchanged a glance, his hands were on your hips and you were bent over his desk. Your lip curled in distaste, as you struggled and kicked, hands scratching at Price.

“Get the fuck offa me, bastard-“

You hissed as Price forcefully held you down. In truth, you probably could’ve used any of the maneuvers they’d taught you before to throw him off, but did you want that? Were you really going to complain about attention from both the hot captain and sergeant?

“Easy..,”

Kyle cooed, bringing your hands out in front of you, over your head to hold them down while his other hand gently stroked your hair, a stark contrast to Price’s actions as he not-so-gently tugged your pants off and panties to the side.

“Fuckin’ brat, mouthin’ off. Need a lesson.”

He said, taking only one glove off before slipping a thick finger between your folds, rubbing at your clit in a way that had you mewling and squirming while Kyle tried to soothe you. Right when you were almost on the edge, he stopped, much to your protests.

“Though’ I was gonna le’ you? No, not after tha’.”

He said, slipping a finger in, not exactly gently, but still measured enough that you knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. Even when pissed out of his mind, it wasn’t in his nature to hurt a lady.

You kept squirming, hips trying to buck against his fingers as he added another, but Gaz wrapped an arm around your waist, not letting you move an inch.

“Just a little longer, pretty. Be patient.”

He murmured, and you shot him as much of a glare as you could muster, and he only returned a pearly-white handsome smile you couldn’t even frown at. Though you couldn’t frown at much if anything when Price’s fingers were rubbing up and down, then he began curling them, hitting that sweet, gooey spot.

“Fuck…that’s good—“

You groaned, eyes screwing shut as your climax built again, only for it to be just one more little stroke away when he pulled his fingers out, making you huff in frustration. The scent of smoke remained, and you tried not to breathe it in. Price could tell.

That wouldn’t do.

He unbuckled his belt, undoing his fly as he took another deep inhale of smoke, slowly pulling his hard dick from his boxers, slowly giving it a few strokes. You didn’t fail to notice the way Gaz watched it so closely. The tip was a flushed red, a bead of precum at it. He was an absolute monster.

“Garrick,”

He began, lining his cock with your entrance, hands rubbing little circles on your hips from where he held them down to make you relax before he began pushing in.

“Sir?” Kyle asked.

Price took another deep inhale of smoke, using deep, punishing thrusts that he knew would have the both of you finishing in time. Especially with how your walls milked him already.

Eyes half-lidded from pleasure, Price gently grabbed Kyle’s shirt, pulling him forward until their lips met, and Gaz, getting the memo, opened up just enough for his captain to shotgun the smoke straight to him. It gave you a tiny moment of wiggle room while Kyle was distracted, and you used it to slam back on Price and squeeze as hard as you could.

This tactic seemed to work well, considering his cursing, the stuttering of his hips, and the frantic movement of his calloused thumb pad against your clit, bringing you to pleasure faster than you’d like to admit.

Just as you hit your climax, and Price began filling you up amidst slutty groans and pants, he jerked his head from Gaz to you, and Price hooked a thumb in your mouth, pulling it open just enough for Kyle to shotgun the smoke forcefully into it, despite your protests.

“Good girl, keep it in..”

He cooed, and Price’s hand fisted in your hair as he slipped out, redoing his trousers.

You began coughing a moment later, and Price raised a brow, thinking you were just being dramatic at first. When Kyle’s expression became worried, though, he realized that a normal cough didn’t last quite that long.

He put your panties back in order and slid your pants up for you while sitting you down on a chair in his office as you wheezed and coughed, seemingly completely out of breath.

“Shit, what’s wrong with her?”

“Is she allergic or something?”

Their eyes met for a moment, and they both suddenly realized what was happening. You had asthma.

It should’ve been obvious, from the small bulge always in your pocket or jacket that was your inhaler, to how you avoided cigarette smoke like the plague. They didn’t know how you got into the military, but you did, somehow. Maybe you just lied about it.

But you always carried your inhaler on you.

Gaz began searching your jacket pockets, and Price began searching your pant pockets, Kyle finding it first and making you open your mouth, placing the device in.

“Just breathe in, yeah? That’s it, good girl..”

He cooed, letting puffs of the inhaler enter your mouth. As a result, your body became a bit shaky, but you could still breathe at the end of the day.

“Assholes.”

You rasped, and Price sighed.

“‘M sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to get carried away. Let’s get you to medical.”

And so Price and Gaz, much to your protests, carried you to medical, which was quite funny to Ghost and Soap who were training and got to see the equivalent of two grown men trying to carry an angry wet cat that lost its voice.

When you finally got there, they put you on oxygen, and Price and Gaz didn’t fail to stay there until you felt like you could breathe again.

“We’ll make it up to you, we promise.”

Gaz assured you with a soft smile as he let you hold his hand, while Price was now thinking about quitting smoking.

[diminuel]

The office is completely silent…

"I hope your next report lives up to the expectations we agreed on in this conversation…"

The Sandman's question received a number of affirmative noises from the conspiracy theorists at the World Economy newspaper, some terrified and others deliriously excited. At this, the former Shishibukai proceeded to leave the office and the building as if nothing had happened.

"I told you so…"

"Shut up…"

"I thought we got it right this time…"

"It's true, even I didn't imagine any of this… and I've been saying for over a year that Crocodile has something with Dragon."

"Will you shut up already? You told us so, but our relationship made more sense."

"Well, who's going to write the new article?"

"Let the young master do it. I'm right."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming… just tell them you're right once and they'll go crazy…"

(Meanwhile, the rest of the Cross Guild is listening to a call from a certain redhead who's complaining to his former crewmate and his current drinking buddy…

"I swear, I never knew about this… I didn't even know I slept with Dragon. That giant black-haired girl told me her name was Diana…"

"I mean, yeah, yeah…" Someone…?"

"Around that time, the crew gave me a week off for paternity leave (Uta) and responsibilities, and since I hadn't let go for a long time… so I ended up going a little crazy, and let's just say there wasn't just one Diana… or one Rosi… or just one Charlotte…"

"What did you do, idiot?"

"Let's just say I left so many broken hearts that I almost escaped marriage into Big Mom's family…"

"…" "…"

"… Katakuri still looks at me with hatred and resentment for that week."

"Sometimes I wonder why I consider you an acquaintance…"

"Mihawk, I've told you that redheaded idiot isn't worth it."

(Context is here and here)

I think Big News Morgans himself should write whatever report Crocodile wants written. Threats might not work super well with the guy but Crocodile has threats and money to back up his demands ;3

And it sounds like Shanks only has himself to blame!! (I doubt Dragon would sleep with Shanks considering he was with Crocodile at that time but for the Shanks torment he might as well believe it *lol*)

[kaely1916]

NEVER AGAIN 🫂

Context: Edwin had to spend a few days with the night nurse to handle some paperwork needed to get his permit to officially work in the lost and found department. Charles was far from happy about it.

"So, let me get this straight. You're going with the night nurse to do some paperwork?"

"That's what I told you, yes."

"And you plan to go alone?"

"I was planning on it, yes."

"Without Charles?"

"I do think I understand the meaning of the word 'alone.' Do you, Crystal?"

"Very funny, but you know what I mean. Charles will freak out if you leave him here alone."

"He'll be fine."

"He certainly won't. You weren't here when the Cat King kidnapped you for hours, remember?"

"I understand that we're quite protective of each other."

"Codependent is the word you're looking for."

"Well, in that case, this will be a good exercise, won't it?"

"If you say so. Just mark my words, Charles isn't going to be happy about you going away alone."

"Edwin is going away alone to where?!"

"Told you so!"

"I just need to take care of some documents with the night nurse in her department."

"Okay? Then I'll go with you."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. She specifically requested only me, without any distractions."

"Come on, mate. You can't just leave me here alone. For how long?"

"Umm, it's a lot of paperwork, so let's say... like three—"

"Hours?!"

"Days, Charles."

"WHAAAT?!"

"Charles, do not overreact."

"dO nOt OvErReAcT? Mate, I haven't spent a day without you in 30 years, and I'm not starting now!"

"I'm afraid we have no other choice... Besides, maybe this will do us some good."

"W-what are you..."

"Being apart will give us time to think and breathe after... everything that's happened. Something I really need. Please?"

"...O-okay... if you say so."

"Everything will be fine. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Y-yeah, sure thing, mate..."

Day 1

Charles definitely noticed Edwin's absence. During the day, things were manageable with Crystal and Jenny keeping him company, but at night, when the girls were asleep, Charles missed his partner by his side—reading to him, talking...

Man, he really missed Edwin.

Day 2

Charles was climbing the walls. Everything felt wrong. He should be with Edwin. What if something happened to him again, like the Cat King incident again, or another witch again, or hell coming back for him again again????

*Jenny watched as Charles paced around the room like a maniac.*

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

"He has attachment issues"

"I DO NOT have attachment issues!"

"Just ignore him. The separation anxiety makes him moody."

Day 3

Just one more day, just one more day and Edwin would be back. Yesterday, Crystal had almost locked him in the office to stop him from trying to find Edwin, making him promise he'd behave. He just needed to wait a little longer, just a little longer.

Day 4

Charles was a little disappointed that Edwin wasn't back at midnight. The three days were over, right? But no, instead he had to deal with a client that morning until Crystal's voice startled him.

"Oh, he's already here. Oi, Charles, Edwin—"

But Charles wasn't there anymore. He had just passed through the floor and the next thing Crystal saw was him sprinting towards Edwin, who was calmly walking to the agency.

But then, he noticed Charles and ran to meet him halfway. They embraced tightly, gripping each other with a strength that Crystal thought might hurt if they could feel it.

"What a pair of idiots"

Meanwhile, Charles buried his face in Edwin's neck, fighting back tears, while Edwin sighed in relief.

"N-never again."

"Hmm... Never again."

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 51

So! After the glory of Silver Nemesis and the realisation that Nardole has definitely been Cybermanned to death off-screen, we jump forward to 1989. And it's one of the best episodes they ever made! We're watching the God Complex.

We open with a police officer in a hotel, opening doors to things like clowns and birthday party photographers and that. She says everyone has a room that's theirs. Hers contains a man in a fake gorilla suit, which she finds inexplicably terrifying, and then quickly writes some notes in her little police book.

It finishes with her saying "Praise him," and then... well, it's unclear. Being Monstered. She seems happy about it.

And so we begin! Matt Smith arrives with Amy and Rory, and I must stress that while I am forever underwhelmed by Amy and normally in a state of permanent irritation at how blank-yet-toxic Rory is, in this particular episode, Rory is actually great and Amy is still underwhelming. One out of two ain't bad. But Arthur Darville gets to do some genuinely charismatic acting, even if he technically doesn't actually do much, and at one point he and Karen Gillen interact without seeming allergic to each other.

Anyway: it's a hotel. An 80s looking hotel, which promptly turns out to be a labyrinth with moving walls and no external doors, and three extra people - Rita the incredible Muslim should-be-companion, Howie the conspiracy theorist dweeb, and Gibbis the cowardly alien played by a sex pest with a super injunction. They've been trapped in the hotel for days, trying to find a way out. They have a fourth member, Joe, but Joe "found his room", so he's now tied up in a room full of creepy ventriloquist dummies.

"He's going to come and eat me!" beams Joe.

"I think you should come with us," says the Doctor.

They all head off. Amy finds the policewoman's notes from the start. Howie tells Rory that it's all a conspiracy - the US has secret cities in Norway for rich people, so that must be where they all are. Rory, in the strange position of not being the sad toxic nerd for once, tells him he's an idiot, a point further underscored when Howie then finds his room and it's full of laughing girls.

But then! The minotaur monster comes after them to eat Joe, and so everyone decides to hide in the rooms. Rory sees one of the rooms as though it's a fire exit, but when he looks back, it's a hotel room. Most of the gang run into a room containing weeping angels! It's almost a great scene, except it sort of hinges around Amy going "Don't blink" as she stares at them in terror, and actually, Karen Gillen visibly blinks twice during it. They aren't real angels, though, so that's alright.

However, Rita and Joe accidentally find Rita's room, which contains her angry dad. This is devastating, because Rita is clever and charismatic and charming and even the text of the episode wants her to be the next companion when the Doctor says out loud with his physical mouth "Amy you're fired", and frankly I am still bitter a decade and change later that she wasn't ANYWAY

Joe dies. So they go back to his room to barricade in and use the kettle. Rory is useful, because he sets about wedging tables in front of the doors. Amy tries to comfort Gibbis about him being a useless coward played by a sex pest with a super injunction. She tells him that she has faith the Doctor will save them - she thought he'd abandoned her as a child, but he came back.

WHICH! We know this one!!! We've seen Amy and Rory's ending, at the end of the Angels Take Manhattan - her farewell letter said he should go and tell child!her to keep waiting. This very sensible watch order is helping tremendously.

Meanwhile, Rita continues to be GREAT. She theorises this is Jahannam, but she's okay because she has faith she lived a good life, and will be alright.

And then, of course, Howie succumbs and starts yelling "Praise him"; Gibbis wants to sacrifice him because he comes from a coward race, and the Doctor gets a really great lil speech about what a creep he is, which... well, given the actor, you know. Good. Howie tells them that the monster will only come for them once they're "ready", though, and the Doctor reasons that the minotaur is feeding on fear. They must all dig deep to avoid being afraid - cling to their faith.

Anyway they decide to trap the monster in the hotel spa. Pleasingly for the classicists among us, it is called the Pasiphae Spa. Oh, how I chortled. There's also a great moment where Amy and Rita have to hide in a hotel room, and it contains the sad clown from the beginning.

RITA: Anything to do with you? AMY: No RITA: How's it going? AMY: Don't talk to the clown.

Anyway, naturally this all goes wrong because they decided to leave Gibbis, the guy who wanted to sacrifice Howie, in charge of guarding Howie, the guy who wants to be sacrificed. So the Doctor gets as far as learning that the hotel is a prison, the minotaur is a warden, and it's also an ancient being that doesn't want to be doing all this killing and that anymore before Howie turns up screaming for rapture and the minotaur breaks out and kills him.

And then both Amy and the Doctor find their doors. It's a bit fun, actually - Amy won't admit what's in hers, and the Doctor's isn't shown. But he opens the door to the sound of the TARDIS cloister bell ringing, and says, "Of course. Who else?"

Back in the hotel lobby, we get a great Rory moment. "Howie had been in speech therapy," he says quietly. "He'd just got over this massive stammer. What an achievement. I mean, can you imagine? I'd forgotten not all victories are about saving the universe."

It's so lovely, actually. It's well-delivered, and it's the humanising touch you want, both for Howie - who was otherwise played off a bit as a sad virgin - and for Rory, who never gets to be the Companion Who Cares, but it really implies that he spent time talking to the guy.

The Doctor suddenly sees there are CCTV cameras, and goes for the CCTV room. Unfortunately, Rita was showing Amy up too much as a companion, so she is hastily written out by leaving to draw the monster away as she feels her sanity slipping. The Doctor tells her to cling to her faith, but she dies. It is a heart-breaking moment, which is then weirdly undermined by a shot through the CCTV of Gibbis eating a goldfish in the kitchen.

AND THEN

The Doctor has an epiphany! It's not fear the minotaur feeds on, it's faith! Howie believed in conspiracies, Joe believed in luck, Rita was religious.

"But Doctor," says Rory. "Why are we here?"

He blatantly means this like "Why did the TARDIS bring the three of us here?", but for some reason, the Doctor takes this moment to just fucking roast Rory into oblivion.

"It actually doesn't want you personally, the man known as Rory Williams, because you don't believe in anything lmao. That's why it showed you a fire exit," says the Doctor.

Fucking. Uncalled for.

"Amy believes in me, though, so that's why we're here," the Doctor finishes helpfully.

Anyway, Amy relapses so they run away and end up in her room. It contains child!Amy on a suitcase! The Doctor realises he has to break her faith in him. Actually, this has been done before by Sylvester McCoy and Ace, albeit better, but ah well. He says he can't save her, he stole her childhood knowing it would kill her. "I wanted to be adored," he says.

Somehow, this immediately works. My god, but Ace took more convincing that this. Also, the Doctor apologised to Ace for that and told her he was lying in the moment, whereas Matt Smith does not bother doing so with Amy, because he apparently meant it lol. Anyway she loses her faith, and the minotaur dies and the hotel prison is destroyed.

The episode finishes with the Doctor buying Amy and Rory a house and a sports car in Roath or wherever the fuck it's pretending to be, and then... well. Leaving them? Interesting! We know he doesn't leave them, we've seen their ending when they died in New York. Before he goes, Amy says it feels wrong that he's just. Going.

"What's the alternative?" he says. "Me standing over your grave? Your broken body, Rory's broken body?"

Lol, he will literally stand over their graves. A call-back! If watched in this order.

Okay! So, questions questions:

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (Suspects: River, Missy, Me, Clara)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). Is this the Flux?

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (Nope: she is definitely not blown up)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NOPE, back to not working.)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? He used to be blue, and could apparently go back to it??? He’s some sort of helplessly criminal con-artist??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?) She’s deffo pregnant and the baby becomes River, but why inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War? Were either of these Cyber wars affected by the Doctor blowing them up with Nemesis?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (Not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War? Did this destroy the Doctor’s planet and/or family?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf? Gwyneth saw “the Big Bad Wolf” in Rose’s mind, and it was on a 1987 poster as graffiti

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?

Is Rory plastic or not? Yeah, must be, he couldn’t possibly remember being plastic otherwise

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras? A psychic midwife says she’s just normal human

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven? Is this because she’s now dead?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch? Is it actually just a pager?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather? This is presumably the star-eyed water faerie

How did Nardole die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name? Missy says it’s “Who”

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years? Since Roman times, it seems

How does the Doctor survive River? He doesn’t, apparently

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead? Is it because of River as an astronaut?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

River says she’ll die one day when the Doctor doesn’t remember her, let’s hope she doesn’t mean it

Why doesn’t the TARDIS like Clara?

When was the Master Prime Minister?

When will the Doctor go and rescue Nardole and the colonists? NEW INFO: From last episode, but I forgot to include it. But he will not! They are dead of Cybermen

How do Amy and Rory rejoin the Doctor given that they haven't died yet in 1950s Manhattan?

[doki-doki-imagines]

omg,,,, active blog that writes for gintama???? I thank you for your service.

I saw that ur asks are open!! I wanted to request gintoki, sougo and katsura headcanons with them pining after a crush that is extremely oblivious to their feelings and every time they try to confess, some mishap happens. ty!

Gintoki Sakata:

-Gintoki is so used to his luck that falling in love with an oblivious person doesn't sound that bad, theoretically.

-In practice Gintoki bumped his head so many times on the walls of his office he decided to tell you straight his feelings (he doesn't have the money to repair the walls, he can't be pathetic and more broke than usual)

-But being straightforward with his intention may not be enough when a car ran over a puddle and wetted you from the roots of your hair to the point of your toes "I have to run home to dry myself. We'll talk another day, Gin!"

-He waved back at you with the same happiness of a man walking towards death.

-Or when Zura decided his presence was needed to fight against Amanto. Or when Hijikata decided he committed actions that deserved immediate seppuku.

-Something he'll do soon anyway if luck keeps turning her back to him.

-Shinpachi saves him, in front of a cup of tea during a normal afternoon.

-"You should ask him out, I'm sure he'd accept." Shinpachi says to you. Meanwhile, Gintoki, hidden behind a wall, feels his knees giving up.

"Are you sure he is interested in me? It seems like he always tries to avoid me..." You reply, voice dripping in sadness

"It's not my fault!! I swear!!!" Gintoki thinks meanwhile.

"Yeah you should go for it. Ask him now. He is hiding behind the wall right now." The younger boy says before taking a sip of his tea

-The temperature drops, like two out of three heartbeats in the room

-Seems like your first date will be in the hospital. Maybe if Lady Luck is generous, she'll put you in the same room...

Sougo Okita:

-The main problem is that Sougo says, "I'll make you go for a walk every day" thinking it's peak romance when it's the most alarming phrase ever. You can't even call the police since he IS the police!

-You know he has no bad intentions towards you. At this point, you perfectly know how he talks and acts.

-But Sougo has patience, that's why he wanna be sure first that you are desperately in love with him before making his move.

-It has to appear like he is doing you a favour by getting together with you.

-What he doesn't consider is that not everybody falls automatically in love with his cute face.

-Seems like he'll be the one that has to work hard this time...

Koutaro Katsura:

-It's...difficult.

-He loves to pine and watch from a distance without interfering. At maximum, he enjoys helping you out. You are oblivious, thinking he is doing it just because he is a really kind friend.

-It's a mess, and Elisabeth won't help you out.

-His crush for you will come to light thanks to Gintoki, he is blabbering about stuff you don't care, and then, like a bolt out of the blue "That idiot, Zura. Can't barely ask you out, let alone-"

-Your mind couldn't hear anything less, any sound muffled."Gintoki, where is Koutaro?"

"Mh? I don't know, but I wouldn't search for him. Let the guy appear like he always does at the worst times-"

-You nod, biting your lower lip. Yeah, it's a good occasion to think some more. You have to make sure your confession will be clear even to the man with the thickest skull you know.

[mxtxfanatic]

Wen Qing the Accidentally-Acquired Jiejie

Even though their relationship initially started off as a debt exchange—from Wen Ning rescuing Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, to the Wen siblings sheltering the two and conducting the golden core exchange, to Wen Qing begging Wei Wuxian to rescue her family—it settles into a surprisingly amiable relationship once the they and the Wen remnants settle into the Burial Mounds. Though she doesn't give him a pet name like Jiang Yanli does or like she, herself, has for Wen Ning, Wen Qing treats Wei Wuxian exactly like she did Wen Ning upon her introduction:

Wen Qing, “Calling me your sister now? I haven’t asked you yet. Since when have you been so bold? How dare you hide people! I’ve already snuck a few questions earlier on. So that was why you suddenly wanted to go to Yunmeng! How full of yourself are you? Who gave you so much courage? If Wen Chao knows about this wouldn’t he tear you to apart? If he really is set on killing someone, do you think that I can stop him?” She spoke quickly and clearly. Her forceful tone allowed for no objections. Wei WuXian couldn’t find anywhere at all to interrupt her. Wen Ning’s face was as pale as snow, “Sister, but Young Master Wei...” Wen Qing continued, voice stern, “I won’t say anything too much seeing that you did it out of gratitude and that’s an understandable reason. However, these two must not stay here for long! You came suddenly and left suddenly, meanwhile Wen Chao lost the two of them. Do you think Wen Chao is that much of an idiot? Their search will reach here sooner or later. This is the supervision office under my command, and this is your house. What accusation do you think it’ll be if they discover that you’re hiding them? Think carefully!” ... Wen Ning, “B-But the Wen Sect people...” Wen Qing cut him off, “What the Wen Sect does doesn’t represent what we do. We don’t need to be responsible for the Wen Sect’s wrongdoing. Wei Ying, there’s no need to look at me like that. There’s a beginning to all debts. I’m the office leader of Yiling, but I was ordered to take the position. I’m a medic, an apothecary, I’ve never killed anyone, much less touched the blood of the Jiang Sect.” ... All were silent within the room. A few moments later, Wen Qing spoke again, “Don’t pull out the needle. The brat would start throwing a fit if he wakes up. His shouting voice could be heard from even outside. Pull it out after his injuries have healed. I really don’t want to deal with Wen Chao, especially that woman around him. It disgusts me!” She went out the door as soon as she finished. Wei WuXian spoke, “She... means that we can’t stay for long, but we can still stay for a few days... right?” Wen Ning nodded, “Thank you, Sister!" A pack of medicinal herbs was tossed in from outside the door. Wen Qing spoke from afar, “If you really are grateful then put in some effort! What a hell kind of medicine did you just make? Brew it again!”

—Chapt. 60: Poisons, exr

vs.

Wei WuXian, “No need. Why use spiritual energy for such a small wound? It’ll get better after some sitting around.” Lan WangJi didn’t waste any words with him, grabbing for his hand again. At this point, two people came from outside of the cave. Wen Qing’s voice sounded, “Get better after some sitting around? Did you think I’m dead?”

...

Wei WuXian lifted his leg and picked Wen Yuan up, swaying him in the air, “Why are you here? Finished crying so soon?” Wen Qing threatened, “Just watch how I make you cry later!” Despite what she said, her voice still sounded nasally. Wei WuXian, “What a joke! How could you make me... Ah!!!” Wen Qing walked up to him and gave him a loud slap on the back, so hard that it managed to make Wei WuXian cough up a mouthful of blood. His face is full of disbelief, “You... You’re so cruel...” After he finished, he shut his eyes and passed out. Lan WangJi’s face paled as he went to catch him, “Wei Ying!” Wen Qing, however, revealed three silver needles, scolding, “I have crueler things that you haven’t seen yet. Get up!” As if nothing happened, Wei WuXian got up from Lan WangJi’s arms, wiping away the blood at his mouth, “Please don’t. The cruelest is the woman’s heart. I wouldn’t want to see that.”

...

Wen Qing walked out from the kitchen on the side, holding a plate, “Hung them for you. We’ll make a few more tomorrow to hang in the mountain path. If you hurry around in the dark all the time, you’ll slip and break your bones sooner or later.” Wei WuXian, “I have you here even if I break my bones, don’t I?” Wen Qing, “I wouldn’t want to do more work. It’s not like I’m paid. If you break them, don’t complain if I hamper with your bones when I put them back.”

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

While her words may seem harshly blunt and biting, they belie her true caring personality. Though she rips into Wen Ning for endangering them by rescuing Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian simply because Wei Wuxian was nice to him, once, she immediately acquiesces to allowing the two to remain hidden under her jurisdiction, providing them with medication and a place to rest. Though she rips into Wei Wuxian for his reckless behavior concerning his health, she is concurrently treating his injuries and caring for him. She even teases him at multiple points in time around and about Lan Wangji, just like an older sibling teasing their younger sibling about a crush:

Wen Qing watched Lan WangJi’s expression with her inky eyes, “HanGuang-Jun, have a seat?” ... Wei WuXian, “But there’s nowhere to sit here, is there?” Wen Qing was indifferent, “Of course there is.” As she finished, she swept the things on one of the stone beds onto the ground, showing no mercy at all, “Look, now there’s a seat, isn’t there?” ... Laughter was just starting to fill the Demon-Slaughtering Cave when Lan WangJi turned around without saying anything and proceeded to walk out of the cave.

...

At the mention of the Cloud Recesses, Wen Qing glanced at Wei WuXian, asking him as though she didn’t care, “I forgot to ask you. You’ve never brought anyone up Burial Mound. What’s the deal today?” Wei WuXian, “You mean Lan Zhan? I met him on the way.” Wei Qing, “You met him? How did you meet him? You ran into him again?” Wei WuXian, “That’s right.” Wen Qing, “What a coincidence. I remember that you two ran into each other once in Yunmeng as well.” Wei WuXian, “There’s nothing special about it. A lot of cultivators from other sects travel in and out of Yunmeng and Yiling.” Wen Qing, “I heard you call him directly by his birth name back then. Quite bold, aren’t you?” Wei WuXian, “He calls me directly by my birth name as well, doesn’t he? It’s nothing. Got used to it when we were young. Neither of us care.” Wen Qing, “Really? Don’t you two have a bad relationship? Heard that it’s like you’re ice and fire, fighting every time you see each other.” Wei WuXian, “Don’t listen to the rumors. Our relationship really was quite bad in the past. During the Sunshot Campaign, we did get into a few fights because of our bad tempers. But afterwards, it wasn’t as bad as the rumors say. We’re so-so.” Wen Qing didn’t say anything else.

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

The final nail in the coffin that breaks down the separation the two have in Wei Wuxian's head is the banquet that the Wen remnants host for Wei Wuxian. Because of both his terrifying reputation during the Sunshot Campaign and the circumstances surrounding him becoming their protector, everyone except for Wen Qing and eventually Wen Yuan kept their distance from Wei Wuxian. But because of Wen Qing's faith in him and their trust in her, they still followed Wei Wuxian out of the Qiongqi Path labor camp and finally worked up the nerve to host a family meal for Wei Wuxian after he successfully revives Wen Ning's consciousness. This, in turn, touches Wei Wuxian so much that he no longer views their plight as a thankless and solitary undertaking:

Wei WuXian fished him up and tucked [Wen Yuan] under his arm, humming, “... Who cares about the crowded, broad road? I’ll walk the single-plank bridge all the night... All! The! ... All the night?” When he hummed the ‘night’ part, he realized that it didn’t seem like nighttime at all. He’d always walked up the mountain in the dark, but tonight, things were different when he was walking back. The area around the little shacks were swept clean. Even much of the weeds were removed. A few red lanterns were hung up in the forest at the side. All of the lanterns were made by hand. Hanging on the branches, although its round shapes were simple, it gave off a warm light that lit up the pitch-black forest.

...

The rest of them sat down along with him. When they heard his praise, they all beamed as though they had received the greatest compliment ever, and began to eat. It was the first time that Wei WuXian couldn’t tell what the wine tasted like. He was thinking, To walk it all the night... huh? It wasn’t really that dark at all. All of a sudden, his entire body felt refreshed.

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

So even though the two were initially tied together through a cycle of debt and repayment, this tie eventually gives way to a siblinghood unintentionally forged through mutual affection and unconditional trust in one another.

[nameless-jamie]

LOVED LOVED LOVED AT YOUR SERVICE!!! IT'S SO CUUUTE 🥰🥰🥰Could you write it from the teams perspective? Maybe they don't know the PA got injured and they just see Jamie carry her everywhere and they wonder if they got together and it's a whole scheme who will find out first?

Drabble - Richmond's POV

Read AT YOUR SERVICE first to understand!

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, mentions of sex

A/N: Hi I hope you like this small drabble on the teams POV of this whole ordeal!

Flashback to At Your Service:

...

"Bet you like me takin’ care of you, don’t you, love?"

She nearly choked on her food. "What?!"

Jamie grinned. "S’okay, baby, you can admit it. You love it, yeah? Me dotin’ on ya, carryin’ ya round, bein’ all sweet and that?"

...

The morning after Jamie Tartt starts carrying Y/N everywhere, the team knows something is up. It begins as an odd sight—Jamie walking into Nelson Road with Y/N in his arms, chatting with her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it’s when it keeps happening that the speculation starts.

"Alright, what the fuck is this?" Isaac mutters to Colin as Jamie strolls past them, Y/N tucked against his chest like she’s royalty.

"Dunno, mate," Colin says, narrowing his eyes. "Did they finally get together? Because this is a very committed way of showing it."

"They must’ve had intercourse," Jan Maas interjects. "Or they are in love. Or both. I am merely stating facts."

The locker room buzzes with theories. Sam insists that maybe Jamie is just being kind. "Maybe she twisted her ankle or something? And now he has to carry her," he suggests, ever the optimist. Damn, that was actually a spot on guess...

"Nah, Jamie would not be this consistent with it unless it was somethin’ serious," Colin counters. "We gotta figure it out."

A betting pool emerges almost instantly. Who will crack the case first? Dani insists he will win because, as he puts it, "Love is my second passion after football, and I know love when I see it!"

The theories escalate.

"He lost a bet, and this is his punishment," Richard claims.

"They’re engaged," Bumbercatch says, nodding sagely. Followed by a chorus of "What the fuck, Bumbercatch?!"

"She’s testing a new line of trainers that make you feel like you’re flying, and Jamie is the control variable," Colin jokes.

"Maybe it’s a test of his strength?" Van Damme adds. "Like some sort of training routine?"

All the while, Jamie seems blissfully unaware of the whispers and exchanged glances. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. He carries Y/N into the physio’s office, to the canteen, even across the parking lot when they’re heading home. Y/N, for her part, protests weakly at first but then just lets it happen, occasionally rolling her eyes.

Then, of course, there’s Roy Kent, who is deeply unamused by the entire situation.

"You do know she can use our fucking crutches, yeah?" Roy grumbles after watching Jamie scoop Y/N up for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, but she’s not gonna be usin’ ‘em properly," Jamie argues, adjusting his hold on Y/N like she’s a particularly important package. "And she gets tired fast. Plus, I’m faster than she is with ‘em."

Roy just stares at him. "You’re a fucking idiot."

"Thanks, coach."

The team, meanwhile, is at war trying to crack the mystery first. They start setting up surveillance. Dani fakes needing extra tape from the physio just to spy on Jamie and Y/N. Jan Maas walks directly up to Jamie and asks if they are in love, only for Jamie to respond, "Dunno, mate. Didn’t ask her that today."

When the truth finally comes out—Y/N twisted her ankle and Jamie, being Jamie, just decided carrying her everywhere was the best solution—there is a collective groan of disappointment.

"Wait, so no secret romance?" Colin asks, scandalized.

"No engagement?" Bumbercatch sighs.

"Then why the fuck are you carrying her like she’s your fucking bride?" Isaac demands.

Jamie just shrugs. "Dunno. Felt right."

The team spends the rest of the week mourning the loss of their grand mystery. But the next morning, Jamie walks in with Y/N in his arms again, and the scheming starts anew.

[etherealyoungk]

enemies to lovers | yoon jeonghan

✩ seventeen as romantic tropes series ✩ masterlist ✩

PAIRING: jeonghan x reader

THEMES: enemies to lovers trope, academic rivals, college au

WARNINGS: use of curse words, maybe a little suggestive, kissing, mentions of stress

WORDCOUNT: 1349

A/N: enjoy <3

you hated yoon jeonghan. he got on your every nerve and cell and it made you want to strangle him on the spot. anything he did or said made your blood boil and your head hot. paired with that nonchalant attitude and snarky comments he'd pass, you'd rather spend time in jail than have to sit through another class with that idiot. you sometimes wonder what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of torture.

"yn you're still taking notes? class is over sweetheart", he says as he flashes you that fake smile, calling you that stupid pet name that made your blood boil, literally.

you grip your pen tighter, holding back the urge to stab him right then and there as you lift your head up and glare at him. "fuck off jeonghan", you tell, slamming you book shut as you pack up in a haste and leave, mentally holding back the urge to strangle him like you always do.

when you get called into your professor's office later that day, you don't expect to see jeonghan there and just seeing his face turns your mood sour. he gives you that smirky grin when he sees you and you take a seat beside him, hoping your professor has a good explanation for calling you both here.

"so", your professor starts off, bring his hands together. "i'm sure you know about the upcoming research project that is coming up. since this is a very prestigious project and since you both have been the top students, we thought it would be a great chance for you both to get to work and assist on this project", you professor explains.

"really?", you ask, not ready to believe it. this was huge, like huge. and you'd always wanted to do something like this.

"yes of course! that is only if you both want to do it. otherwise, we will pass the opportunity to other students. but since you both are excellent students we thought you would love this chance and offer it to you both first", he explains.

"of course, i'd love to assist on this project!", you tell, overjoyed and your professor smiles at your enthusiasm before he looks at jeonghan, waiting for his desicion.

"i'll do it", he tells cooly.

"great! i'll let the committee know and we can proceed from there. i'll give you a brief about the project tomorrow", your professor says and you both leave.

you pay no attention jeonghan as you walk out, marching right ahead. you didn't want any of his snarky comments to ruin the moment. meanwhile jeonghan's unseen handshake remains rejected and he pulls his hand back and shrugs, walking off.

the next week after getting the brief for the research project, you're walking out when jeonghan runs after you, matching his steps to yours as he walks beside you.

"so you're just going to ignore me? when i'm your partner for this project?", he asks, looking at you and that scowl that you always seem to have on your face. he was going to change that because he liked it better when you were smiling.

"maybe if you won't be such as ass i won't ignore you", you tell. "i will try but no promises", he tells with a stupid grin, as he pulls out his phone.

"give me your number", he asks, handing his phone to you and you look like he's asking you for some illegal substance. "to coordinate? since we need to work together, is that a strange concept for you yn? well, i know guys don't usually ask you out but you don't have to be that shocked", he jokes, and you narrow your eyes as you take his phone and punch in your phone number, handing it back to him.

over the next few weeks, you find yourself spending a lot more time with jeonghan. he might still be as ass at times and get on your nerves but damn, you couldn't dismiss the fact that he was incredibly smart and knew his stuff, which was attractive. he looked hot when he was in his element. the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself being attracted to him and you so badly wanted to deny that, but jeonghan was definitely stirring up your heart.

you both are in the library, staying a little later than usual and most of the students have gone. you're on your laptop, typing away your findings and research for the day on the project. you rest your head on your palm before you sigh and rub your temples from the tension. things had been stressful lately, not only this research project, but you had a lot of things on your plate at the moment and things were piling up. you were barely managing to get sleep and the stress and tension was eating away at you. it didn't help that jeonghan would playfully try to flirt or throw snarky comments around.

"you looked stressed sweetheart, take a break", he says, sitting opposite you, his laptop conveniently closed after he announced that he was taking a break. "how about you shut up", you snap back, annoyed. you really should have strangled him ages ago.

"well, if you're stressed, i know some ways we can destress", he tells, giving you a wink, a fucking wink. you decide you've had enough. if he was going to play like that, two could play at that game.

"oh really?", you ask, putting your pen down. he gives you that shit-eating grin and stands up, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you.

you shut your laptop close and get up, the chair screeching backwards. suddenly you have this newfound confidence and you walk towards jeonghan. "you should show me", you tease and you see the slightly shocked expression on jeonghan, before you turn around, grab the book from the table and go to the last shelf to put the book back.

you hear footsteps coming towards you and you turn around, seeing jeonghan sauntering towards you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"want me to show you, sweetheart?" he quips with a teasing eyebrow. you're unable to resist the playful challenge so you reach out, tugging on his shirt to draw him closer. "please, enlighten me, what exactly is your method of destressing?" you ask with a teasing smile.

jeonghan looks at you with a playful smile gracing his lips as he takes a step forward, causing you to instinctively take one step back, until your back hits the wall, leaving you cornered. suddenly, a nervous flutter stirs in your chest, your heart pounding louder with each passing second as jeonghan leans in, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "i thought you hated me?"

a shiver runs down your spine at the proximity, but you refuse to let him see you falter. "i-i do," you stammer almost, your thoughts jumbled and disoriented. your hand still grips his shirt tightly as you meet his gaze, his playful grin only heightening the tension between you both.

you don't know what comes over you but you lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips. it takes him a few seconds to process what you did before smirks ever so slightly.

"looks like you read my mind, sweetheart," jeonghan declares, his voice laced with amusement as he leans in, wasting no time in capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands slowly finding your waist as he holds you. his touch is electric as his hand soon finds its way to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss.

he pulls away but you chase after his lips again, kissing him eagerly and you can feel the warmth of his smile against your lips as he softly kisses you back, indulging you, until you finally pull back, breathless.

"for someone who claims to hate me and calls me annoying, you seem to be enjoying this," jeonghan teases, his words causing a flush to rise to your cheeks. you decide to just shut him up by kissing him again, pressing your lips to his.

lost in the moment, you both find yourselves momentarily forgetting about the world around you for a few more minutes...

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @blue-jisungs @wootify @n4mj00nvq @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @joshuaahong @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii @wheeboo @fairyhaos @kikohao @rubywonu @odxrilove @writingmeraki @asasilentreader @kwonshiho @belladaises @graybaeismytae @mykpopficblog @seunghancore @emotionalsupportbrat @moodays @avaaahuang @foxinnie8 @wonvsmile

[loverslantern]

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.”

[rustedleopard]

Going insane thinking about my headcanons for how Ceroba and Starlo met and became best friends.

I hc that they met in kindergarten and Ceroba had initially started off by bullying Starlo because she was perpetuating the cruelty that her parents had taught her. Ceroba's parents weren't very good people who picked apart all of Ceroba's faults and were just. Abusive in general. So of course that's what she picked up from them. And when she sees this nerdy star-monster with coke bottle glasses that are at a prescription that would let a normal person see god, she's like "Ah, yes. I must be mean to him." And starts harassing him by stealing his lunches and calling him names and tripping him.

And Starlo is a quiet and unobtrusive kid, so he doesn't bring up that he's getting bullied (or maybe he does once or twice but it never goes anywhere) and eventually one of these instances ends in a physical altercation that gets both of them sent to the principal's office and their parents are called in. And Starlo's parents are deeply concerned because it's out of character for their kid to be fighting; this is kindergarten, not a WWE match. They're happy that he's fine but still. They're concerned about him and if any future instances of bullying will be prevented. They're advocating for their kid. And meanwhile Ceroba's parents are formal and stiff in a way that has him intimidated. Just looking them in the eyes has him clamming up. At her parents' orders, Ceroba apologizes but her apology comes out as a drone. Her parents promise that this won't happen again. And then they're dismissed.

And as Starlo is leaving with his parents, who are still fretting over him, he looks over his shoulder and sees one of Ceroba's parents give her a sharp tug on the ear and say something that has her flinching. And he just. Feels awful for her. Even though she'd made his life hell from the moment he met her.

And the next day, he shows up for lunch with an extra sandwich in his bag and gives it to her and is like, "If I knew you were hungry, I wouldn't have gotten mad at you for taking my lunch." And Ceroba is like, "You dummy, I wasn't taking your lunches because I was hungry." But accepts it anyways because her parents sent her to bed without dinner last night as punishment so she's hungry. And in the span of a week, their friendship evolves into genuine camaraderie. Starlo drags Ceroba over to his house to hang out and his parents are like, "Hey, isn't that the girl who was bullying you?" And Starlo is like, "Yeah but we're over it now. We made friendship bracelets together during arts and crafts, see?" And Solomon and Crestina just roll with it. Every time someone harasses Starlo like she used to, Ceroba beats them up/drives them off and is like, "Don't listen to those losers when they say things like that, they're a bunch of idiots who don't know better. You're amazing, Starlo."

Starlo was the one to teach Ceroba kindness and that she didn't have to be like her parents. Without Starlo in her life, Ceroba would have been a much colder, crueler person. And likewise, Ceroba helped instill Starlo with enough confidence in himself that he was willing to explore his passions and open up the Wild East despite the naysayers. Without Ceroba in his life, Starlo would have been working on the family farm, not content with his life and hiding his interest in westerns from the rest of the world. Their friendship made both of them better people.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

I saw a post on Reddit that said they can’t find canon Sirius and Remus in fics any more “I can't find a Sirius who's incredibly intelligent, witty, aces school without trying, magically gifted, tall, arrogant, cruel, dismissive, cutting with his words and Remus who can't stand up to his friends, people's pleaser, hates standing out, emotionally distant, only close to his 3 friends, an emotional coward, tends to push people away, hard working, compassionate, not this super tall giant, just an average bloke with a secret”

Thoughts?

Not sure what fics this person is reading.

But - canon Sirius? He’s not only all those things (which I agree he is). He’s also, canonically, all these things:

Famously a prankster, always in detention - we are talking Fred & George but with added brains.

Had posters of muggle women on his wall and “always got the girls” according to Remus.

He ran away from home and never went back. He describes his mum as at least verbally aggressive and emotionally abusive (we don’t know about anything else).

Was stopped (along with his BFF James Potter) by muggle police. “The two policemen try to get some information from the boys only to be met with good-natured jokes, the officers are stunned to see three men flying down the alley toward them on broomsticks. The boys use magic to lift the police car into the air and the men on brooms crash into the levitating car. With a wave, the boys fly off on their flying motorbike.” They wore T-shirts emblazoned with a large golden Phoenix.

While he goes after Peter in canon, it’s only after he tries to get Harry from Hagrid and can’t. Even then, he doesn’t just find him and start trying to kill him. He wants to know why Peter betrayed them. This allow Peter the opportunity to lure him into a trap.

He was paranoid about Remus being the spy. Not surprising given his background and early experiences and ending up fighting a war they were losing 20:1.

He’s canonically very kind to animals and animals love him.

He’s also very kind to Harry and his friends eg buys Ron a pet to replace Scabbers, compliments Hermione etc. He is patient with Harry and treats him with respect. He is worried about his wellbeing, recommending eg certain lessons etc

He sends Harry messages via exotic tropical birds.

He rips the Fat Lady’s portrait when looking for Scabbers (emotion regulation? Nope!)

He is reckless e.g. risks dementors’ kiss to watch Harry play a Quidditch match. He gets into his vault and buys Harry a new broom when on the run.

He is dismissive of his mother but also won’t stop talking about her (preoccupied with their relationship). While he’s also dismissive of his brother, he defends/excuses him - “idiot brother, soft enough to believe [our parents]”. He leaves his brother’s room (which looks like a shrine) untouched in Grimmauld Place when he lives there. Meanwhile he moves into his mother’s bedroom with Buckbeak (mixed feelings - want to be in her room but also have this wild bird poop in it - i.e. I hate you, don’t leave me).

He is drinking in Grimmauld and seems more vulnerable there than when on the run living off rats in a cave.

He also survived Azkaban for 12 years without going mad, by turning into Snuffles and because he’s very mentally strong and rightly firmly believed that he hadn’t killed Jily.

He taunts Bellatrix just before she hits him with a spell that sends him through veil.

He’s incredibly quick to hug (“like brothers”) and make up with Remus (Remus who thought he was the spy and didn’t try to get him out of prison). He’s incredibly devoted to James and says not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about James.

He listens to Remus and does what he’s told (“sit down, Sirius”).

So -

If people write fics where he’s a joker and a messer and has a laugh - that’s canon

If people write fics where he’s a flirt/has loads of dates etc - that’s canon

If people write fics where he’s caring, kind, emotional- that’s canon

If people write fics where he’s a bit all over the place, emotionally vulnerable, has mental health issues - that’s canon

If people write fics where he’s very intelligent, witty, tall, aloof and arrogant - that’s canon

If people write fics with Sirius listening to and doing what Remus tells him - that’s canon

You can interpret him as any and also as all these things. You can interpret canon as him being asexual, straight, bi or pan or gay (old married couple, star and moon, joint presents etc).

He’s all these things but I don’t think that the person who posted that comment sees these other sides of Sirius as canon too? I feel many people take canon to be the very intelligent, attractive, witty, tall, aloof and arrogant part and forget the others sides?

He’s actually a very complex character!!

Remus? He’s very emotionally intelligent and sociable in canon. He’s well liked by teachers and pupils. He’s very quick to believe Sirius’ version of events. He stares at Sirius for 40 lines. He’s a bit of a disaster area/chaotic loser as well as being attractive in a hoarse voice, jaded/faded, tragic past sort of way. He’s is very brave in the end despite his stupid decision re Teddy. You could say he’s under pressure to date Tonks in canon. He’s certainly not rude or aggressive. If anything he tries very hard to not draw attention and to avoid hassle, to repress his feelings etc

So yes, great question! Thanks for asking me!!

Also - so many fics that I feel capture Sirius and Remus in these ways.