#i will bend the tragedy canon gave us into a better shape

[arwenkenobi48]

Love Thy Enemy ~Chapter 8~

Third time’s a charm <3 I’d grab the tissues if I were you.

Ezra’s P.O.V.

This really wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Maul and I were the only living people on this lifeless planet and we were about to perform a potentially dangerous ritual. All at once, I suddenly felt extremely unsafe. The walk through the dark - with the only sound being our own footsteps - seemed to take forever and I was immensely relieved to see small speckles of light up ahead.

These turned out to be burning torches. In the room we entered, I saw that these torches were arranged in formation around some kind of stone altar. Directly ahead of us was a narrow doorway, from which a faint golden light was coming. Not knowing what to say and feeling too afraid to run, I simply followed Maul.

After what seemed like years, we finally entered through the doorway. We were standing in a small hut filled with melting candles and all sorts of weird bric-a-brac. I even saw a word written in a language I didn’t know on one of the walls. I wasn’t sure that word had been written in ink. Maul finally broke the silence. “I have gathered many things,” he said. “Secrets to help us restore our memories.”

Thinking out loud, I murmured: “Look at all this junk.” Maul glared at me with surprising ferocity. “Do not touch anything,” he warned. “These are artefacts from my past. From a time when my power was almost absolute.” He knelt beside a strange golden orb, which was surrounded by a shrine of candles, as he said this, gazing at it fondly. Curiosity replaced my fear and I took an opportunity to explore Maul’s refuge. The first thing my eyes settled on was a rather haunting painting. Like everything else, it was surrounded by candles, which had all but melted into a pool of wax.

The painted woman, dressed in blue, had a kind of sad beauty about her. What disturbed me, however, was the dark stain that looked like blood across her eyes and chest. At the foot of the painting was an object that resembled a lightsaber, surrounded once more by candles. I reached out to touch it, questions racing through my mind. “GET AWAY FROM THERE!” Maul’s voice almost gave me a heart attack. I jumped an inch in the air and turned quickly around to see him standing right behind me, a look of relief on his face (much to my surprise).

“Is that a lightsaber?” I asked, once I had recovered from my initial shock. “Indeed,” said Maul, who was carrying a pair of old goblets. “But not like any that you would know. If your Mandalorian friend was here,” - here, he uttered a knowing smirk - “She could explain it to you,” He smirked again and handed me one of the goblets, once again giving me that proud smile. There’s something going on now, I’m sure of it. Maul’s never been this emotional before. All the same, I know how that feels. I can tell that just being here is a huge burden for him. Poor man.

Maul’s P.O.V.

I lead Ezra back to the altar, where I explained what my plan was. “I have studied the ways of the Nightsisters and found a spell that suits our needs,” I said. “This altar is the focus of their ancient power.” Taking a tall vessel and pouring its contents into the two goblets, I continued. “Now, to initiate the merge, we must each drink this potion,” I handed Ezra a goblet. “Errr, you first,” he shivered, understandably nervous. Clinking my glass against his, I quickly drank the potion.

I could already feel it beginning to work inside me. “To complete the spell,” I told Ezra, who had been watching me the whole time. “You must drink it all, just like me. All of it,” Ezra did this. I could feel the power coursing through my veins. My hearts pounded in my chest and my ears began ringing. “It’s...it’s working!” I gasped, clasping my hands over my eyes. It felt almost exactly like the fusion of the two Holocrons; that rushing sensation, the overwhelming blend of sights and sounds. And above me, a shimmering light.

I could just about see Ezra’s silhouette as we both gazed into the light. It was now or never. “Where is he!?” I called in desperation. The bright light before me changed. Now I could see a planet rushing towards me. A desert planet with twin suns. I seemed to fly across the desert sands and stopped above a small rocky outcrop, where I saw him once again. But this time, there was someone else beside him. It was Ezra. “I see. I understand.” I said out loud.

Within a split second, it was over. A loud bang like a thunderclap, followed by a blinding flash, and Ezra and I were back on Dathomir, utterly shaken by our experience. “Of course,” I murmured, gasping for breath. “It ends where it began. A desert planet with twin suns.” “He’s alive!” Gasped Ezra. “I can’t believe he’s alive!”

As we both got back on our feet, however, I heard a noise which made my blood run cold. The sound of whispering voices. The fires went out and we were plunged into darkness. “It is time to pay our debt,” I whispered in horror. With a crash, the goblets toppled over. “What’s happening!?” Asked Ezra, terrified. As the altar began glowing and pouring green mist, we both backed away.

Two screaming ghosts emerged from it, swarming around us like predatory birds. “What is that!?” Ezra screamed. Equally terrified, I shrieked: “Oh! The spirits of the Nightsisters! They must be compensated for the use of their Magick!” “So pay them and let’s get out of here!” Ezra begged as one of the ghosts tried to grab him. “The price is our flesh and blood!” I yelled. “Don’t let them touch you!” He narrowly avoided one as it swiped at his head.

All of a sudden, my need to protect Ezra became greater than my fear. “Wait! Sisters, do not touch him!” I begged. “Take my flesh! I am yours!” Maul!” Ezra shouted. “Don’t do it!” I don’t care! Even if it costs me my life, if that’s what it takes to protect Ezra, so be it! But to my horror, the sisters just kept repeating over and over again: “Not enough! Not enough! Not enough!” Over their screeching, I heard a familiar voice from below. “EZRA!” It was Kanan Jarrus himself!” What is he doing here!? Oh, Force, this may cost us our lives!

Ezra’s P.O.V.

I turned around and saw both Kanan and Sabine standing there. At first I was furious that Kanan hadn’t trusted me as he’d said, but that quickly turned to fear of him and Sabine being killed...or worse. “Kanan! Sabine! Stay back!” I shouted. But it was too late. Sabine ran forward, blasters at the ready. What happened next felt like some sort of nightmare. Kanan and Sabine both screamed as the ghosts went inside them. They just seemed to...merge. It made me feel sick to my stomach. It was all I could do to stop myself from throwing up. Kanan...Sabine...This is all my fault! Have I lost you both?

An eternal moment passed. Then the true nightmare began. Kanan and Sabine both stood up, as if they were puppets on strings. “Ezra? Stay back,” Cautioned Maul, who sounded as horrified as me. I slowly approached my friends. “Kanan? Sabine?” And then it happened. Kanan removed his mask and his eyes were glowing with a nauseating green light. As I watched, Sabine also bore the same light in her eyes. They were both possessed. And it was all because of Maul and me.

Kanan drew out his lightsaber and attacked Maul. Sabine drew out her blasters began firing at me. I quickly blocked the shots with my lightsaber. “Sabine? It’s me, Ezra!” Maul was still locked in the duel with Kanan. “You’d better not hurt him!” I called in desperation. “We cannot defeat the spirits of the Nightsisters!” He shouted back. “Follow me!” With that, we ran for our lives. Only sheer terror kept me going. “Faster!” Called Maul. “We must reach the entrance!” I ran as though death itself followed me.

Once we were outside, however, I noticed something. Neither Kanan nor Sabine were following us. Instead, they were prowling in the shadows. “Wait, why aren’t they coming after us?” I asked, still overwhelmed with fear and confusion. “The altar is the source of their power,” Maul explained. “They cannot venture beyond the cave. It is unfortunate about your friends, Ezra. But this, this is your opportunity to embrace your destiny as my apprentice.”

Maul placed his hand on my shoulder again. Rage surged through me. I still regret what I said. But I was so angry and upset about Kanan and Sabine that I didn’t care. I completely lost it. I pushed Maul away. “I told you, that is never going to happen!” I shouted. I regretted the words as soon as they’d left my mouth and turned away, tears running down my cheeks. Now it was Maul who shouted. “Forget the past! Forget your memories! Forget your attachments!” His voice quaked with emotion as he pleaded.

“Ezra, our futures converge on a planet with two suns. We can walk that path together! As friends! As brothers.” My heart ached again. Through sheer force of will I found sympathy for him, but I knew that abandoning my family was out of the question. I made an attempt to reach out for Maul again. “My friends are trapped in there because of us!” I insisted. “I can’t just leave them!” Maul didn’t understand and my heart broke at his response.

Maul’s P.O.V.

Tears welling up in my eyes, I stared at Ezra in horror and disbelief. Why has he turned against me? What have I done wrong? Am I still not good enough? Why can’t he see he doesn’t need them? Apprentice, brother, why? I only just managed to force the words out as I turned to leave. I can’t stay here any longer! “You disappoint me, Ezra Bridger.” I was unable to stifle a sob as I ran into my ship. I waited until it had left Dathomir, before the pain in my hearts was so great, I had to bend over to stop it. I sank to the floor, beating my fist against the wall, crying uncontrollably. I felt so sad that for a few minutes, I didn’t want to get up again.

To be continued...

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Jonsa

Grab a drink and some snacks and make yourself comfy, because this is gonna be a long ride.

My opinions on Jon and Sansa as a pairing are very complex. In the time that I’ve shipped them I’ve gone through these different phases where at some points I’m hardcore for them and other times I’m not really that fussed about them. Currently, I’m somewhere in between. Before I get started, you can read what I’ve previously said about Jonsa here (just scroll to the bottom, they’re the last ship I talk about).

The thing that drew me to Jonsa as a ship is the chemistry. To me, when Kit and Sophie are on-screen together I don’t feel like I’m watching siblings (even when the dialogue and circumstances portray that), I feel like I’m watching lovers. The eye contact, the tension, the tenderness; it’s all there. Every single scene they share feels like it has an undercurrent of sexual and/or romantic tension. It was that tension that led me to stumble across the Jonsa fandom and I was immediately like, “hey, so, I’m not the only one!”. Because you know when you’re watching something and you sense that chemistry between two characters that you know probably shouldn’t be there and you think you’re going crazy? Well, that was like me with Jon and Sansa.

There are so many aspects of the ship I enjoy and their story is beautiful to me in lots of ways. The fact that they grew up estranged, then parted ways, endured awful tragedies and finally found each other and began to heal as a result of that is beautiful to me. Jon and Sansa both reserved themselves to the fact that they would never see or be with their family again, and the emotion in their reunion scene encapsulates that immense surprise and relief that they feel at having found each other. I love that Jon was amidst a deep dark depression following his resurrection and was ready to give up on everything until Sansa walked back into his life and gave him a purpose; a reason to fight. Her strength and determination that they needed to reclaim Winterfell impassioned him to join her and fight for their home, for what what rightfully belonged to them and their family. I love that despite the fact that they were each others least favourite sibling growing up they were able to have a second chance and forged an incredibly unique and special bond as unique as the bond they had with any of their other siblings.

Psychologically I find Jonsa fascinating, because I think the possibility of Jon and Sansa developing romantic feelings for each other speaks to the experiences and traumas they’ve had. They both endured so many horrors and regardless of the coldness between them when they were children, for them the Starks and Winterfell have been and always will be their safety and strength. So in each other they found that literal embodiment of home and family, of safety. For Sansa, Jon is the only man she can truly trust after being used and abused by a string of men. For Jon, Sansa is his purpose; someone he needs to protect and that’s important because Jon as a person is built to protect others, that’s what drives him at all times and without that he’s lost. There’s a reason there’s so much emphasis on Jon’s instinct and desire to keep Sansa safe (besides the fact that he loves her and wants to protect the future of House Stark), and it’s because her safety has become one of the two sole purposes of his life (the other being to end the Night King). It’s funny because whenever I see criticisms of Jonsa as a ship it’s mostly about how gross or wrong it is because they grew up as siblings and are blood related, but that connection, in my opinion, is specifically a part of why they make sense as a pairing. It’s complicated for me to explain, but I’m going to give it a try. But the way I see it is that they grew up distant enough that they didn’t develop a full brother-sister bond so there isn’t that whole “ew he/she is my brother/sister” vibe between them. However, the familiarity they have and connection to Winterfell and the Starks draws them to each other. They longed so much for home and for family that it makes sense that when they found each other their feelings for each other would become conflicted, particularly when there’s that lack of brother-sister bond from childhood.

However, despite how much I love Jonsa, I’ve realised that I like the possibilities and tropes associated with the ship more than the actual ship itself. I guess you could say that I’ve been conditioned by fanfiction and meta to perceive Jon and Sansa’s relationship in a certain way, but over time (especially recently) I’ve come to realise that in canon they’re not necessarily written that way. For example, on the show they’re written as being quite untrusting of each other and resistant to work together. Sansa calls upon the Knights of the Vale without telling Jon about her plans, Sansa constantly questions Jon’s decisions, Jon rarely listens to Sansa’s ideas and has to be told to listen to her because she might actually have valuable advice and insights, he barely writes to her when he’s away south in season 7, he bends the knee to Daenerys without consulting her first and even in the season 8 premiere, there’s still that kind of vibe between them where Sansa doubts Jon and he’s fighting for her to trust him completely. There is a lot of conflict between them and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because all the best ships have conflict, but I think that until recently I failed to see that this conflict existed between them and projected my own perception of them (shaped by fanfiction, fanvids, meta etc.) onto their canon relationship.

Following on from that, based on 8x01 I’ve also realised that I have some issues with the way Jon and Sansa are being written. Their scene in that episode and Sansa’s behaviour generally throughout the episode is an exact repetition of what’s been going on between them since season 6. They seem to be stuck in the same cycle - Sansa picks at Jon and questions his decisions, Jon gets frustrated that she doesn’t trust him and she then confirms that she does trust him, despite all of her words and actions being the contrary. At this point, it’s just bad story-telling because it’s been established repeatedly that Sansa does trust Jon and vice versa (Jon left Winterfell in her hands, the ultimate symbol of trust), so why are they still writing them this way? If Sansa has faith in Jon and she knows it and he knows it, why is she questioning his decision to bend the knee? At this point in their relationship, Jon and Sansa should be united. They definitely needed to have a conversation about why Jon bent the knee, with Jon apologising for doing so, but immediately after that all of this tension between them should be put to bed because it’s being unnecessarily dragged on when it no longer makes any sense. However, I’m trying not to be too judgemental about their scenes in this episode, since it’s only the first episode out of 6. There’s still plenty more to come from them and it could go in a much better direction from here onwards.

Generally, I hold a lot back when it comes to shipping Jon and Sansa, because I don’t want to get caught up in the Jonsa-Jonerys ship war (I’m still too exhausted from the Stelena-Delena ship war that took up 8+ years of my life lmao), but mostly because unlike most other Jonsa shippers, I don’t have much faith that they’ll actually be endgame. I’ve over-invested in so many ships in the past and I don’t want to do that again. I always try to be realistic with my ships, regardless of how much I love them, and in my opinion, the chances of Jon and Sansa being endgame are very slim. It’s clear that D&D are invested in Jon and Daenerys, and that that’s the main love story of their show. They condensed the development of their love story into one season so that they could make it a central plot for season 8, so the chances that they’re going to completely scrap that relationship or end it abruptly and go for a Jonsa endgame doesn’t seem feasible to me. The chances of Jon and Sansa marrying for a political alliance is more likely, but still not very, because that would require Jon not only surviving the war (which, I don’t think he will) but also fully embracing his parentage and proclaiming himself King of the Seven Kingdoms. Also, if you go to other sites and read fan theories or opinions, barely anyone thinks a Jon and Sansa endgame is feasible. So I suppose you could say I’m being cautious not to become over-invested in a Jonsa endgame only to be disappointed. The ending is going to be emotional enough without the added blow of being disappointed that my ship isn’t endgame.

Having said this, you don’t choose your ships, they choose you and whether I like it or not I am a Jonsa shipper. It’s my shipper heart that wants to believe they’ll be endgame and to trust in all of the signs I’ve seen that indicate they could be. I mean can it really be a coincidence that Jon and Sansa fulfil so many romantic tropes or that so many of their scenes share characteristics with romantic ships from the show? (x) (x) (x) (x). Sometimes I think that fans put more thought into analysing the show than the people that create it do (which I definitely think is true), but nonetheless great consideration is given to every single scene that makes the final cut of an episode. We know that GOT suffers from great time constraints since they have so many characters and plots to fit in and do justice, yet Jon and Sansa consistently get scenes. Familial relationships have been important throughout the show, but from my recollection no familial/sibling relationship has had the kind of emphasis Jon and Sansa have and certainly not scenes framed in the same way that theirs are (with the romantic undercurrents). And what’s the significance of showing us not one but two scenes where Jon physically threatens people because he’s so protective of Sansa? Why is it important to show us that? If Jon is really just Sansa’s big brother (cousin), isn’t it implicit that he’s going to be protective of her? We don’t need to be shown that unless it serves some other purpose. And why is so much of their relationship saturated with this ongoing tension? Starkbowl didn’t happen in season 7 (at least not between Jon and Sansa) and I doubt it’ll happen in season 8, since there isn’t enough time to fit it in, so the only real purpose that kind of tension serves is because there’s underlying sexual tension. There are so many what ifs about the ship, so many signs that indicate that we Jonsa’s aren’t just imagining their romantic chemistry, but I’ve been very wrong about this stuff in the past, so like I say, I’m proceeding with caution.

To sum up, because I could talk about this all day, my opinion on Jon and Sansa is that I love them individually and together. Their chemistry is fantastic, I love their relationship platonically and see a lot of potential with them romantically. I adore reading and watching Jonsa content and writing Jonsa fanfiction (they’re my favourite couple to write for out of all my ships). They are potentially the most interesting couple on GOT and could have such an incredible love story. If the show was to follow through and deliver what I believe should happen (political!Jon and Jonsa) I’d be ecstatic and have no hesitancy in proclaiming them my OTP. But, unfortunately, I have reservations so for now I’m keeping my guard up because my shipper heart has been burned too many times before. Instead, for the final season I’m trying to focus more on enjoying their relationship from a platonic POV and if they are endgame I’ll be over the moon, but if not I’ll love and appreciate the depth and emotion in their relationship no matter which direction it takes in canon.

Thanks for asking!

send me a ship and i’ll give my honest opinion…

[fatestemptress]

Paramount Remembrances - Chapter 7 - Part 1

Summary: Dean Winchester has reached a point in his life where he doesn’t have many firsts left to fulfill.  Except maybe falling in love.  This is the story of how he got there.

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut.  Oral (male & female receiving).  Dry humping.  Backseat sex. Teaching/Guiding.  Some Angsty Feels. 18 Plus ONLY! 

Pairings: Young Dean x OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean x Reader (We finally made it!  Woohoo!)

Word Count On this Chapter: 5,180 

A/N:  Sooooo, the Dean x  Reader part kinda got away from me and I realized that I was over 8,000 words in, rambling my way to the conclusion.  So, I decided to break it up.   Good new is, the second part is almost finished.  :)   Again, thank you so much for all the likes and re-blogs.  I’ve had a blast writing this and I’m glad there are those out there enjoying it.  I’ve strayed away from exact canon time periods as I’m not following it as closely as some awesome writers do, however, for purposes in this chapter, this portion is set sometime in Season 7.  Lisa is in Dean’s past and Sam has his soul back with no memories of his experience in Hell.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was thirty-one when he fell in love.  And it scared him shitless.

Over the years, he’d had more sexual partners than he could count, his job never affording him the opportunity to stay in one place for any extended period of time.  He never led any of them on, always left them satisfied, always making sure they both were on the same page as far as the non-status of their relationship would be.  

Dean didn’t want to be labeled as a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type but apparently those rules of the road his father had spewed out to him so long ago held some substance.  

Too much tragedy followed him everywhere he went, and he found he’d rather leave ‘em than have any of the women in his life physically hurt in any way shape or form.

Cassie had been the closest he had come to the word ‘love’, and while he had been hurt so badly by her rejection, he realized when revisiting her years later, it had been too easy for him to walk away from her when she finally knew who he really was for him to believe it had been anything more than maybe a puppy love in its most pure form.    

Lisa was his most recent and the last mistake he would make in believing that he could have ‘normal.’ That whole relationship had quickly gone to shit and while he had cared for her and Ben deeply, love was never a word that he uttered out loud because he had never truly felt that he could love a woman the way they deserved.  Especially, when he spent his days and nights in constant fear that something could happen to her and Ben, coupled with being restless living an ‘apple pie life’.  It didn’t help that he had eventually realized that she had been a poor substitute for the aching hole the temporary loss of his brother had left behind.

So, Dean had resigned himself and made himself believe that one night stands were the way to go.  

Unless of course there was a woman that came along that could, surprisingly, kick his ass.

And when that happened, well, the world seemed to tilt on its axis a little bit.

Dean never thought of himself as a true masochist.  A dominant? Yes.  A submissive?  At times. But one day when a long leg shot out and kicked him in the stomach before bending down into a sweep that dropped him onto his back with a groan….

Well…he was reminded why.

The reason people and, yes, sometimes even he, embraced pain and put it hand in hand with pleasure.

He’d gladly take another kick to his solar plexus if it meant he could look up at her and see her for the first time over and over again.

Long straight dark hair and light brown eyes looked down at him as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen stood above him with a gun pointing at his face.

And his gut twisted in more than just pain from that well-placed kick.

“You move, you die.  Now, who the fuck are you?” She said between clenched teeth.  

Dean lifted up his hands in surrender, “Dean.  Dean Winchester.  And you might be?”

Instead of answering, she cocked the gun, “None of your damn business.  Get up.  Slowly.”

Dean complied, his eyes unable to stop drinking in her form.  Black leather jacket over a black tank top and skin tight black jeans tucked into calf high combat boots, rolling over toned curves, her hands and eyes steady as she followed his movements with the precision of a well-practiced fighter.

She was gorgeous.

She was also still pointing the gun at his chest.

“The Winchesters have an anti-possession tattoo.  Show it to me.”

He considered trying to be funny, but the way she held her gun let him know she knew how to use it, so instead he raised an eyebrow, pulled down his t-shirt from his collar and waited as her eyes roamed over the pentagram.

It was only then that she put up the gun and slipped it back into its holster at the small of her back, “Well, Winchester, looks like your reputation precedes you.  Unfortunately, you swaggered your ass into what was supposed to be a trap for the werewolf in town.  So, if you don’t mind, if you could just mosey your way back to wherever you came from, that’d be awesome.”

Dean pursed his lips at her blatant dismissal, “Apology accepted.”  He said sarcastically.

“What the hell do I have to apologize for?  Kickin’ your ass?  Ain’t nobody told you to come here.”

He stepped forward, his eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance, “I’m here for the same reason you are, lady.  To kill a werewolf that’s eating people’s hearts.”

“Well, I got this.  So, you can go.”

And that’s how Sam found them, engaged in a screaming match over who had the biggest balls.

They had known each other for exactly fifteen minutes and already Dean hated her.

Well, he actually kind of liked her too.

When she got really angry, her eyes lightened dangerously, her voice got lower instead of higher and she poked him in the chest with her finger.

Dean wanted to break that finger so bad.  He also wanted to put it in his mouth and suck at the tip until she melted underneath him.

Needless to say, the first six months of their friendship had been frustrating at best and downright tumultuous at worst.  

Mostly because Dean couldn’t figure out if he wanted to smother her in her sleep or kiss her until she made that low moan in her throat that came out when she tasted something delicious.  

He also had a hell of a time trying to just figure her out.  The layers of who she was hidden deep underneath a gruff exterior and smart mouth leaving him dumbstruck when she gave a soft smile and kind eyes to a grieving family or when she turned into a protective mama bear and practically growled when a child was involved in any of their cases.    

It didn’t help that her and Sam got along like two peas in an annoying pod from the moment they met. It had taken Sam six seconds of puppy dog eyes to get her name that day.

Y/N.

Beautiful, breathtaking, annoying Y/N.

And now?

Whenever the three of them joined up on a case, Sam and Y/N spent hours researching the shit out of them and wallowed in long silences where neither of them needed to speak to one another but they still seemed to know what the other was looking for.  

Meanwhile, whenever Dean and Y/N were in the same room it was as if a fire was lit under their asses and instead of putting it out they spent their time trying to find as many leaves and dried kindling they could to keep it at its hottest temperature.  

Their constant arguments could be as serious as who was going to save the world tonight or as ridiculous as what was better than sex.  

Pie or Y/N’s weakness: Chocolate.

The correct answer was neither.  

But they were both so stubborn they refused to come to an agreement on the subject.

And while he would fight anyone who tried to convince him that his pie obsession was uncalled for, he still managed to pick up her favorite candy bars at various rest stops, making sure to always keep a secret stash in his duffel bag if only to torture her with them as he waved the chocolaty goodness at her from the farthest corner of whatever room they happened to be in.

And when she shrugged as if she could care less before distracting him with a well thrown book, pillow or elbow and tackled him on the ground, wrenching the chocolate triumphantly out of his hands, Dean tried not to think too hard on the way his body buzzed the minute her curves made contact with him.

Or the way he stared at her as she gave him a middle finger and bit into her prize.

She was so ridiculously annoying.

And then, there was the……moments.

Moments of something palatable that rolled its way over the two of them and made Dean feel like there was almost something tethering them together, tightening with each deep breath, each sigh of frustration and each smile that he managed to get out of her.

In fact, if Dean really wanted to be honest, there was one moment that stood out more than the rest.

The three of them had been searching for a Wendigo in a forest outside of North Dakota and they had set up camp around the perimeter of where multiple attacks happened, hoping to draw it out instead of traipsing through unknown forest and getting their asses lost.

It had been unseasonably cold that night.  Sam was up keeping watch wandering around the base of their camp jumping up and down to keep warm.  Meanwhile, Dean and Y/N were in separate sleeping bags laying by a fire that hadn’t been enough to keep Y/N from shivering in her sleep.  Dean had stayed in his sleeping bag for twenty minutes contemplating how hard she would hit him in the nuts if he decided to lie down next to her and try to help her stop shivering.  The decision was made for him when she rolled onto her side and her teeth started audibly clattering and he couldn’t take it anymore.  

Grabbing up his blanket and sleeping bag, he laid his sleeping bag next to hers and wrapped her body under the plaid wool of his blanket.  He lay on his side against her back and after hovering his arm over her this way and that he finally said fuck it and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her body flush against his.

She woke up immediately and tensed and he swore he could feel her reach for her gun that she had kept next to her.  But before he could say anything, he heard her take a deep breath through her nose as if sniffing the air, then she visibly relaxed into him, saying nothing.

It was ten minutes later, as his nose was in her hair and he was trying to not make it obvious that he was trying to figure out the scent of her shampoo, (Oranges?  Mangos?), when she finally spoke up.

“What are you doing, Winchester?”

Dean tensed against her and tried to surreptitiously move his face out of her hair, “Trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death, what else?”

She hesitated before answering him and to his surprise moved her body even closer to his, moving until her ass was right up against his now very interested cock and burrowed even deeper under the blanket he had thrown over them.  Dean let out a silent curse as he felt himself swell even more when her delectable backside rubbed against him and he tried his best to picture and name the ugliest monsters he had seen to date in an effort to get his dick to stop being an asshole.

He had finally gotten himself to relax some when he heard her clear her throat, “Thank you.”  She whispered, “This…this is a lot better.”

Dean closed his eyes against the warmth that amplified in his lower belly and took a deep breath, “Yeah, well, the Wendigo aint gonna want no frozen meat, so, gotta keep his dinner warm somehow.”

Y/N let out a harrumph but didn’t move from her position against him, “Moron.”

A half smile graced his features as he felt his body settle into something he hadn’t felt in so long, if ever.  Despite their current circumstances, despite the fact that they were on a hunt and could very well be dinner, he felt….safe. Warm.  Content.

And before he could talk himself out of the feeling, he felt his heavy eyes finally drift closed and he fell asleep.

The next morning, found him still alive.  

And hard.  

Sometime during the night, he had rolled onto his back and Y/N had rolled into his chest with her arm wrapped tightly around him and her face buried in his neck. Her leg was bent and thrown over his waist, and either Y/N was deliberately trying to get him off or she was having a very good fucking dream because her hips were undulating against him slightly causing her calf to move against his very interested, throbbing cock.

Dean blinked a few times and desperately tried to hold back a groan but he was unsuccessful.  Y/N’s head sleepily popped up and she looked up into his eyes.  He watched as unnamable emotions flickered through the light brown depths as she stared at him, her hair adorably sticking up haphazardly, and he would have bet money she was going to kiss him.  Except his asshole dick chose that moment to twitch in interest and her eyes clouded before she reared back, sat up and hit him in the chest.

“Really, Dean!  We’re being hunted by a monster and yet you still can’t control yourself?”

He hid his disappointment by bringing his arms behind his head as he grinned up at her, seemingly unrepentant, “It wasn’t me rubbing all up on you, Sweetheart.  If you’re gonna offer it, he’s gonna take it.”

Y/N gave him a disgusted look even as she blushed, “What the fuck ever, Dean.  Aint nobody offering nothin’.”

He winked at her, “Sure, Darlin’.  Keep telling yourself that.”

“UGH!”  

And with that, Y/N threw the covers back and quickly made her way to Sam where he was standing at the edge of camp giving them extreme side eye.

While Dean was sure they had killed the Wendigo, the who, what and when’s of it was a blur.  

Because the only thing he could focus on from that moment in time was that split second when her eyes were clear and the guards were down and he saw….something in their depths.  

Something that made him both exhilarated and fucking terrified.

From that trip on, the fire that burned was slowly turning into an inferno and the tension was at an all-time high.

But they still had each other’s back.  Still steadfastly protected one another in dangerous situations, taking hits when it meant they could distract would be bad guys from hitting the others; from hurting the team they had built on a precarious platform constructed from frustration, sarcasm, smirks….and that something else.

He would be damned if admitted how much he missed her when she was gone, on her own, hunting the bad guys on her terms.  

But he did.

And it made him even angrier when he felt it. That something missing, gnawing at his belly and deep inside his chest.

He wouldn’t even touch the emotion he felt when he saw her name pop up on his or Sammy’s phone or the rush of elation when he saw her truck pull up beside them on whatever no name highway they agreed to meet on.

However, it was during a particularly stressful case, where they couldn’t agree if it was a God or a Djinn causing havoc that apparently Sam had finally had enough.  

Enough of them and their unnecessary arguments.

Enough of the yearning dance they had perfected as they circled around one another.

“I’m soooo glad Dicky Dean is coming out to play today.”  Y/N growled as she threw a pillow at his head, the movement of her arm making her breasts jiggle slightly in her tight red tank top.

Not that he noticed.

Dean ducked just in time before casually sitting back in the motel chair and taking a drink of his beer as if he didn’t have a care in the world, “Why am I a dick?  ‘Cause I don’t agree with you?”

“It’s not that you don’t agree with me.  It’s the way you don’t agree with me.  All high and mighty with that cocky grin.”  

Said grin slid across his lips and he shrugged, “I’ve been told I have a big reason to be cocky.”

“Yeah, well, people lie to spare our feelings all the time, Dean.”

“Facts don’t lie, Sweetheart.”

“For the four millionth time, don’t call me Sweetheart, you ass.”

“Sorry, Baby.  I’ll try not to.”

“Dick.”

Sam stood up, “All right! Enough!  You two are driving me to drink.  As a matter of fact, that’s what I’m gonna go do.  Go to a bar and get a drink and maybe it’ll muffle the sound of this nonsense and we can go back to actually solving this case.”

“Wait, Sam,” Y/N said as she stood up next to him and grabbed a jacket, “I’m gonna go with you. I need a drink too.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air and walked to the door, “Whatever.  Let’s just go.”

Dean blew a kiss at Y/N as she gave him one more glare before sticking her tongue out him and the door closed behind them.

Childish?  Yes.

But that tongue?  He could imagine it doing any number of things to his body and the thought made him groan deep in his chest.

Pretty soon the silence of the room started to grate on his nerves and when he noticed himself pacing over the same space over and over he finally gave in, grabbed his jacket and headed to the bar down the block from the motel.

The music was loud but not too loud and it was fairly crowded for a weekday.  There was any number of available conquests waiting for the kill but his eyes automatically gravitated to the one person who made his blood boil for so many different reasons.

She had discarded her jacket somewhere and was swaying to the current song, standing in front of the digital juke box, vodka club in hand, as she perused the other music selections.   Her round ass encased in her skinny jeans had the attention of most of the bar and if she continued to shimmy it for much longer, she’d have a line of eager suitors ready to roll.  

Dean’s feet started making their way over to her before he had to physically stop himself.  

What was he doing?  Let her annoy someone else for the night.

He made his way over to where Sam was keeping an eye on Y/N from the bar, beer in hand.

“Was wondering how long it would take you to make your way over here.”  Sam said in greeting.

“I got bored.”

Sam smirked at him, “Uh huh. And I’m sure it had nothing to do with Y/N.”

Dean gave him a look of disbelief, his eyes following Sam’s stare to where Y/N was laughing with some random male stranger over who knew what, “Why would it have anything to do with that pain in the ass?”

“You guys fight like cat and dog.  And the tension keeps building and building…”

Dean raised a hand at the bartender and deliberately turned his back on Y/N’s form across the room, “There’s no sexual tension, Sammy.  She just makes me want to choke her out.  And not in the good way.”

A sly smile slid across Sam’s face as he leaned against the bar on one elbow, “Who said anything about sexual tension, Sigmund?”

“Shut up.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Sam shrugged, “Okay.  Okay, Dean. So, then, uh, I want to ask you something.”  Sam shoved his free hand in his pocket, a sheepish expression sliding over his face, “Ummm, if you’re really not interested, then, uh, you wouldn’t mind me going for it, right?”

Dean stilled as he stared at his brother’s face in shock, “You’re not serious….are you?”

Sam shrugged, “She’s hot. And she’s smart and brave and can tell your ass off as fast as she can sew you up after getting hurt.”  Sam’s eyes flicked over to her, watching as she picked up a cue stick and started playing pool with the random guys she had been speaking to earlier, “And she has the nicest ass I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Sam!”

“Oh, please.  Don’t start.  I’ve seen you checking it out plenty of times.”

“Yeah!  Cause I have eyes!”  

The bartender finally made his way over to them, “What can I get ya?”

Thanking the bartender silently for the interruption so that he could gather his thoughts, Dean replied, “Whiskey.  Neat. Thanks.”

The bartender nodded and made his way back to the other end of the bar as Dean took a deep breath and raised his gaze to Sam’s, “Look, things like this can get complicated, Sammy. She’s independent as hell and prefers to work alone.  Making a relationship like that work would be hard.”

Sam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “Who said anything about a relationship?”

Dean shot Sam a confused look his own, “Huh?”

“We’re both adults, Dean. Sex doesn’t have to equate to a relationship.”

An anger that Dean wasn’t sure he understood shot through his body and he felt his jaw involuntarily clench as he turned his body toward his brothers’, “You sayin’ you just wanna bang her and act like nothing happened after?”

Sam’s eyes scrunched further, “Dean…I’m not sure what part you’re not understanding.  If there’s anyone who could comprehend something like this, it’s you.”

Dean threw his hands up in frustration, “Yeah, Sam!  With random chicks that know the deal and are okay with having a one night stand that’s not gonna amount to nothin’.”

Sam bit down on the inside of his mouth, his lips quirking slightly before he turned it into a frown, “And if I tell Y/N what the deal is and she’s okay with it, what’s the problem?”

With a growl, Dean tossed back the whiskey that had appeared in front of him and wiped the side of his mouth before pointing at Sam, “The problem is that she’s not just some random chick, Sam.  It’s Y/N! She’s our friend and she deserves more than just some random fuck and a ‘See you around sometime.’.”

“So you do care about her?”

“Of course I fucking care about her. It’s…she’s….SHE DESERVES MORE DAMMIT!”

Sam finally let that quirk at the side of his mouth slide into a full-fledged grin as he drank the last of the beer in hand, “Then why don’t you stop being a dick and tell her how you feel already.”

Dean blinked at Sam, momentarily thrown at his change in demeanor and his mouth opened and closed like a fish as he realized just how telling his words were, “Wha-?”

Slamming the empty bottle on the bar, Sam rolled his eyes, “Get out of your perpetual hole of denial and go get the girl you’ve been in love with for months already.”

Dean stubbornly ignored Sam’s last statement, “Soooo, you don’t want to bang her?”

Letting out a scoff of disbelief, Sam rubbed at his eyes in frustration, “God, please give me strength. No, Dean. I don’t want to bang her. I would never, ever get in the way of what I’ve seen between you two.”  He grabbed at Dean’s shoulder and tightened his grip forcing his brother’s eyes to his, “It’s okay to love someone, Dean.  It’s okay to love her.”

Dean stilled and stared at his brother as he bit the inside of his lip, a million thoughts racing in his mind.  The most prominent one being the nonononononononono that was echoing in his brain bouncing around like a pinball against the memories of all he had endured.  Every moment in his too short/too long life that had changed who he was before to who he was now.

He didn’t love her.  

He couldn’t love her.

He still had so much darkness in him.  Guilt. Pain. And he struggled every day to put those feelings of inadequacy into a small corner of his mind until they reared their ugly head at night when it was too quiet to drown out the memories.  

Everything in his world ended in tragedy and tears and so many had been hurt or died because of him.

He couldn’t risk it.

His eyes flicked over to where he saw Y/N raising her hands in victory before holding her hand out to the poor schlep in front of her.  She playfully curtsied in thank you as the money was slapped into her palm with a grumble. As she smiled, she turned her gaze towards the bar and met Dean’s eyes with her own and waved the money at him with a smirk and a wink, before letting the smirk drop into a frown as the intensity of his stare seemed to burn her from across the room.

He couldn’t risk her.    

Dean swallowed thickly as she gave him a concerned face.  Y/N brushed off the guy currently trying his best to earn his money back and pushed her way through the crowd to them.

He could feel Sam watching him from his perch “Moment of truth, Dean.  She’s making her way over here and since she’s seen you go pale as a ghost, she’s gonna wanna know why.”

Flicking his eyes everywhere but at her, he felt his heart start to pound even faster and panic quickly set in.  He reached into his pocket and flung some money on the bar before making his way to the door.

“Shit!  Dean!  Dean, wait!”

Ignoring Sam’s calls, he opened the door to the bar and disappeared into the night.

He wouldn’t risk her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

“Oh my, God!  It’s a Wednesday.  Why is it so fucking crowded in here?”  Y/N muttered as she finally made her way to the bar where she saw Sam standing by himself, his mouth set in contemplation.

Grabbing his arm none too gently, Y/N pulled his attention to her, “Hey!  Where’d Dean go?”

Sam let out a soft sigh and shrugged, “Not sure.”

Ignoring the disappointment in her chest, she pulled up the empty stool next to him and sat down, “What do you mean?  He was just here and he looked like he was gonna puke.  Is he okay?”

Sam let out another sigh and motioned to the bartender, “I, uh, may have said something that he wasn’t ready to hear yet.”  He lowered his head to the bartender when he appeared, “Another beer and a vodka club, please.”

Y/N stared at Sam’s profile and took note of the hard clench of his jaw, “Sam, he looked physically ill. What could you have possibly said to make him react that way?”

The ridiculously tall hunter’s eyes flicked over to hers before looking away.  He rubbed his hand over his face and then he suddenly shrugged and threw his hands up, “You know what?  I’ll tell you because I honestly can’t take much more of this.”  

“Sam?”

He placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders and lowered his head to look into her eyes, “My brother is head over heels, madly, insanely, in love with you,” Sam squeezed her shoulders tight, “And at this point I’m convinced, he will never tell you.”

Y/N blinked up at Sam as her mouth dropped open.  She let out small sounds of disbelief before she swallowed hard, shook her head and let out a loud laugh, brushing his hands off of her, “Get the fuck outta here!  No, he isn’t.  Sam, you’re outta your mind.”  She plucked the vodka soda out of the bewildered bartenders hand before he could place it on the bar and quickly swallowed two large gulps before turning her attention back to him, her hands trembling slightly, “Did he…did he tell you that?”

Sam gave her an indulgent, gentle smile, “He didn’t have to.  There’s no one in this world I know better than my brother.  So that means I also know he’s drowning in a denial pool and with each day that passes, he keeps going deeper and deeper and he’s gonna drive both you and I crazy until he either drowns or runs away.”  

“Soooo, he didn’t tell you this himself?”

Sam groaned and slapped himself on the forehead, “Do you two ever listen to anything other than what you want to hear?”

“This isn’t what I want to hear, Sam!  Do you know how stubborn, how controlling, how much of a pain in the ass that man is?!”  Y/N let out a growl, “H-he is constantly trying to tell me what to do.  He’s always challenging every thought I have,” She threw back the rest of her drink; “He’s always nagging me about every move I make.  Make sure to check your six, Y/N.  Make sure you don’t hesitate, Y/N.  Make sure you watch Sammy’s back, Y/N.  Why didn’t you say you were cold, Y/N? Like, what the fuck?!  When we’re in the same room it’s hard to breath as is and he just makes it so that I feel like I’m suffocating when he…when he…”

Sam let out a small laugh as he watched her struggle, “When he what?”

Y/N wiped at the side of mouth, catching a stray droplet of liquor before whispering, “When he teases me and then nudges me trying to get me to smile at him.  When he waves coffee under my nose trying to get me to wake up in the mornings.  When he steals the bacon on my plate because he already finished his and then he fucking winks at me and….and…”  Y/N closed her eyes and swallowed deep, “When he looks at me….with those eyes of his…..”  

Oh, God.

In the months that she had known him, Y/N had pushed whatever she might be feeling deep into the caverns of her heart because she knew, she fucking knew, Dean was never going to address the proverbial elephant in the room.  She would watch him, watch her out of the corner of her eye and would see…she would feel this utter sense of loss coming from him.  

At first, it confused her. But then the nights she was forced to share a room with them, she would hear him struggling in his sleep, whimpering as memories of pain assaulted his senses and she understood.

Dean Winchester couldn’t afford to feel anything.  

Because everything that mattered was eventually taken away from him.

And Y/N understood.

So, she left it alone. And she ached.  But she left it alone.

She was a proud, stubborn woman and she wasn’t going to force herself on anyone.  

No matter how much she loved him.

Fuck!

Now what?

A whimper left her mouth and she banged her head on the bar top in front of her and groaned, “Why did you have to tell me that, Sam?  I was just fine doggy paddling in my own damn pool.”  

His large hand rested on the top of her head as he affectionately ran his hands through the strands of her hair, “No you weren’t.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 7 - Part 2

@akshi8278 @curly-haired-disaster @chook007 @scorpiongirl1 @pisces-cutie @winchesterbroys

[sextonsharpwinhalstead]

Chicago Med Review 4x03 Heavy Is the Head

It looks like Chicago Med is back to following it’s every other episode pattern. Last episode was the crossover, and, in my opinion, it was weaker than the premiere. This episode did NOT disappoint.

On One Chicago Day Brian Tee hinted that this was his favorite episode for Ethan to date and honestly, I can understand why. I wasn’t sure how they were going to play out the gun/dad hostage situation and truthfully, I was worried Med was entering bootleg John Q territory but the climax to that resolution was shocking! Like Med WENT there. They showed that guy blowing his brains out to save his son’s life, because profits matter more than patients (I’ll get back to that a minute). Every step, every decision, Ethan made he had to wonder if he was making the right call, handling things the only way he knows how. And he wasn’t without his critics.

April did not want him to immediately call the police and I can understand why. But he did, and the situation unfolded in a way he didn’t count on. To add insult to injury for whatever reason the writers have decided to make Emily mentally challenged cause some how she has no idea how to work a microwave and burned something which cause Ethan to fly-off the handle and yell at her. A move April caught and judged him on too. (Real quick are these two together? On a break? Or broken up?) I’m confused and so is Ethan. He snapped on her and to be honest, it was a valid assessment of the situation. April clams up when she is angry and frustrated instead of voicing her feelings about why she feels the way she does. But to be fair; that’s the writers’ fault. April has lacked agency since this show began. We don’t really know who she is. We know she’s stubborn, soft hearted, naturally nurturing, and bends over backwards for others but that’s not personality. Not really, it robs her of intellect, so we never get a rebuttal to Choi and we won’t; because they have no idea why April does what April does. Their inconsistencies don’t lend her to be a woman with nuanced thought who understands that every situation does not require the same response. That could be an answer to Choi. But like I said; it won’t.

In the end we got the same tired ass dynamics of her comforting him and us not knowing her motives or feelings about ALSO witnessing someone blow his brains out in front of them. Med do better by your women!

Let’s talk about the women in this episode because this was a heavily feminized episode if you didn’t notice. (Not necessarily executed in respect but women outnumbered the men 2:1).

First let’s start with Sharon and Gwen.

Did anyone else wonder when Stohl’s contract was up? He was gone two episodes later and in a sad new way that Med’s been doing lately his departure wasn’t even announced. In steps Dr. Lanik and out steps all protocol and common decency. I get the Lanik is Gwen’s “man” but when the hell does the COO start making the decisions she was making? The whole situation reeked and in my opinion a hospital would start asking why they needed Sharon’s position at all when nothing was put through her. Gwen is shaping up to be the Robert Haywood shaped hole in my canonical villain life. Cause she’s going to bounce out of this tragedy like it’s any other day and keep her on agenda. Watch. Lanik…I don’t know. He was shook. And to be honest he doesn’t come across nearly villainous enough to continue fostering the current climate in the ED.

Natalie, Elsa, and Daniel.

First things first. I was raised Christian for the first twenty years of my life. I don’t practice the faith anymore but when I did I never met any Christians as disillusioned as the ones Med writes. To be honest it’s ridiculous. There are few modern women, who are trying to have babies, who aren’t privy to what an ectopic pregnancy is. They are always fatal to the baby and almost always fatal to the mother if left untreated. There is no new way to be re-planted into the uterus and thus the pregnancy is not viable. I know Catholics who know and honor this too. So why they felt the need to go all the way there was lazy and took away from what could’ve been an even more impactful and frankly frightening story. Did Elsa misuse the machine, so she could fudge the test results and save the mother’s life? I’m leaning towards probably. Does Daniel have a fucking leg to stand when it comes to being manipulative when trying to control the outcome of situation? Y’all already know the answer to that question. The fact is that she didn’t bow down to the sage knowledge of Daniel Charles when he approached her in the dining hall. He assessed she was an intelligent woman who really didn’t care about patient medicine and already had her future mapped out. What Med still won’t do is allow her to be truly aloof about it. Elsa wouldn’t care if the patient decided to basically die instead of getting the surgery, she would’ve pulled an Okafor, shrugged her shoulders and walked out to find the next case. Natalie was there to play up the narrative of why what Elsa was doing and HOW she was doing it was wrong but, in all honesty, when the fuck has anyone on this show gave the patients the respect of their autonomy? Especially Natalie, but maybe she’s learned from past? If she had than they should have had her mention it (like with the orthorexic mom).

But this isn’t about that; this is about making sure that no woman on Med dares to be the smartest one in the room and it will punish any of them that attempts to own it too. The men on the show play God all the time and aside from Will none of them have gotten the jilting or stern wake-up call to cool it like the women have. Too many of the women’s arcs on this show prove they are either frauds, or indecisive. I don’t think Elsa is either, and it’ll be hard for Dr. Charles to find mistakes she’s made because her personality type is A, and those types don’t make mistakes.

The last woman I’m going to mention is Ava. Oh, how the mighty have been dragged to the ground. Did anyone else catch the way her eyes slightly watered with rage when she talked about advocating for Connor for the hybrid surgery room. Yeah…I’m calling it, she fucked his dad. All so he could kick her out of the OR. This is not what I wanted out of this character and it’s a disservice if they want her to be a fully-fleshed out lead (which they don’t). Ava is a prop for Connor and it’s an unfair and sexist storyline I’m frankly tired of. Also, how is going from an OR scrub nurse to a Charge nurse a demotion? I did appreciate the little Maggie tidbit of history. Maybe that’s how she and Sharon became close. Anyway, this story was secondary only to the growing size of Connor’s ego. Boy I miss season one Connor. This douchebag is the worst.

Finally, was the Halsteads story. I enjoyed it for several reasons; mainly leaving the hospital. I loved all the little Irish bits of history and culture weaved into the memorial. That saying “May you be in heaven a half-hour before the devil knows your dead” still runs a chill down by my spine. But they brought a light-heartedness to it that I appreciated. I personally do not see Will giving up the venue for the wedding and it’ll end up being some messy crossover event that’ll split the Halstead brothers further…only time will tell.

I will say this; the episode was good but I’m not sure who is wearing the crown that holds the weight.