#nonetheless if you read through this entire word salad. i hope you enjoyed it

[titaniumions]

i think it's probably somewhat clear that i see isolde and kakania as lesbians (seems to be a common hc anyway) but i think i want to explore how that'd fit into their respective characterizations, not necessarily only from a shipping standpoint. note that this does get into headcanon territory, still i try to keep it as in-character as i can

i think kakania would actually be pretty open about it. in the 1910s?? i mean sure, she's already a controversy as she is ... an arcanist, an uncertified psychiatrist with unconventional methods, an outspoken member of society who stirs up public opinion. might as well give herself one more reason to be a subject of controversy. those who are set on hating her probably have no intention of changing that, so hey, might as well authentically be herself in every possible way including this. among those who have a more positive opinion about her, i do think this would make her somewhat of an icon. she draws other members of the community toward her. she lets them know that she is there for them and will fight for them. that they can turn to her and she will not scrutinize them for it. she'd tell them, no, there is nothing wrong with being this way. it isn't something you need to be "cured" from

in line with this, i think it would make sense for the "circle" to be a queer safe space. in fact, i like to think theophil himself could've been bi and thus would've accepted his sister's sexuality. but due to her own inhibitions (which i will touch upon later) i don't think isolde would ever have told him.

meanwhile for isolde ... i think it's more complicated. having a sexuality outside of the norm would be a deviation from the socially acceptable definition of the "perfect noble" she tries to be. so even if she were to ever consider it, she would simply end up pushing those thoughts away. no, not a chance. this shouldn't bother her at all. she's supposed to be perfect, yet she already has enough problems in her life as a member of the dittarsdorf family. considering the possibility of herself being anything but straight would lead to more problems, wouldn't it? and that's the last thing she needs. nonetheless she's ... never been attracted to a man either. but she tries not to think too much of it. maybe she just needs to wait it out. or so she tells herself

now to piece it all together ... i do really like the idea of kakania being her ... awakening. in fact i think it would make a lot of sense for her story, what with kakania being the metaphorical key to the doors that have always surrounded and confined isolde ... so hear me out. when isolde started associating with her and the circle she realized that it felt far less suffocating than ... pretty much any other aspect of her life. it's like a breath of fresh air. kakania in particular would fascinate isolde, in a way that makes isolde question things about herself. perhaps she even comes close to having a realization. but again, isolde remembers who she needs to be, and stops herself short.

eventually though, she would learn what kind of person kakania is, and what she believes in and fights for. this only deepens isolde's admiration further and she finally comes to a point of acceptance about her feelings. alright. i can accept this realization now. she no longer pushes it to the back of her mind. there's still a bit of repression and shame left in there but meeting someone who has not only awakened her, but also wouldn't judge her for it, has changed something within her entirely. the feelings overflow and she can deny it no longer. but again, at the end of the day she still needs to be perfect and socially acceptable. she can't just ... exist as freely as kakania does. but it's alright, isolde has feigned compliance for so long regardless of however difficult it might be. putting up with expectations has been a regular part of her life. so there it is, something authentic about this actor that she can't show to anyone else because it doesn't fit the part that she's supposed to play. kakania is allowed to know though, of course she is. it can just be their little secret. and one way or another, she'll figure out how isolde feels toward her. surely kakania would be quite honored to be on the receiving end of the affection of such a wonderful lady. as long as this affection doesn't eventually turn into a catalyst for destruction, right ...

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 291: The Endeavor Pamphlet

Previously on BnHA: Dabi showed up atop Gigantomachia’s back and was all “you’ll never guess who I really am!” and the readers humored him and were all “who?” and he was all “TODOROKI TOUYA” and we were all “WOW └(・。・)┘ OH MY GOSH I WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED”, except for Shouto and Enji who were GENUINELY SHOCKED. Anyway so Touya was all “and guess what I’m doing right now!” and before anyone could even try, he was all, “STREAMING MY EMMY-NOMINATED MINISERIES ‘HELLO, I’M EVIL BUT ALSO TRAGIC AND SEXY, NOW LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY DAD WHO SUCKS’’, THAT’S WHAT.” And everyone was all “oh my god” and Touya was all “ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪” for basically the rest of the chapter, and that’s pretty much it! Oh, wait, except for the part where he also doused himself in bleach in a fit of pure theatrics, which is actually pretty much the main takeaway from the entire chapter really because it was just wild af. ANYWAYS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi introduces Baby Touya, the world’s most enchantingly sweet character, and is immediately all, “I sure can’t wait to tell you guys all about how his fucking jaw burnt off.” Thankfully he doesn’t (YET), and we cut back to the present pretty quickly, where Dabi explains how he took all of his brain cells that should have been used to stop him from pouring bleach over his head, and instead put them all toward his big brain plot of releasing an elaborate video detailing Endeavor’s various abuses and crimes, and even throwing Hawks under the bus as well because WHY NOT. He then leaps off of Gigantomachia’s back (like I said, no brain cells) all set to blast them with a Prominence Burn, only to be stopped by none other than THE LEGEND HIMSELF, MOTHERFUCKING BEST, PRETTIEST, NICEST, MOST OUTSTANDING MOTHERFUCKING JEANIST. Who’s no doubt outraged by the crime against hair he witnessed only moments earlier. GO GETTIM JEANY BOI.

so I haven’t had time to answer any of them because this has been the stupidest week, but I just wanted to tell you guys that I received no fewer than nine asks about Dabi’s hair. which, in a week filled with election memes and tumblr’s most cursed fandom briefly rising back up from the dead, is a pretty impressive feat for him if you ask me. like, I know I was making fun of it basically nonstop, but it sure did generate a lot of discussion so maybe I should rethink my opinions on Dabi’s PR strategies now, idk

anyway. it’s Saturday. time to catch up on this shit. let’s see how fucked the Todorokis are

OH NO HE’S CUTE

HOLY SHIT THIS IS TOO MUCH TO FUCKING PROCESS. I’M JUST TRYING TO ENJOY MY DAY HORIKOSHI, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TRAUMATIZE THIS POOR CHILD RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD

“thanks for being all right” the fuck

who allowed this child to be so cute. I’m serious. who signed off on this

how could a child this adorable possibly want to murder his equally adorable baby brother. please, your honor. there must be some mistake here

guess how prepared I am to read all about Touya’s tragic past. mm. that’s right. zero ready. none ready

anyway. TWO THOUSAND DEGREES LOLOLOL. NO TRACE OF A CORPSE HOW CONVENIENT. A PIECE OF HIS LOWER JAW BONE FFFFMSGHKLSh. LOVELY. LOVELY

LMAOOOOO

listen you guys. I just want to take a moment to appreciate that Horikoshi Kouhei did one of two things here. either (1) he planned it out FROM THE VERY START that Touya would be born with red hair Because Fire Powers, but would then have his hair turn white due to trauma, thus making the Dabi/Touya connection very slightly less obvious, although Let’s Be Real Who Are We Kidding. OR, (2) the anime got it wrong and gave him red hair, and rather than allowing this plot hole to continue to exist, Horikoshi took it upon himself to concoct this elaborate storyline and pretend it was never a plot hole at all! in which case I sure hope someone at Bones is sending him a VERY nice Christmas card this year. got this man sweeping up all your messes for you. you’re just lucky he has some sort of wild compulsion to address these things

anyways!!

FATHER AND SON. how sweet. :| still zero percent ready for any of this btw

STOP BEING CUTE

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I’M SO MAD RIGHT NOW. HE IS THE SINGLE CUTEST CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, and do you even know how many other baby characters I’m betraying in order to say that?! baby Kacchan, baby Deku, baby Ochako, baby Shouto, Eri, baby Hawks. I’M LOOKING YOU DEAD IN THE EYE RIGHT NOW AND TELLING YOU THAT BABY TOUYA IS CUTER THAN ALL OF THOSE PLEBS. AND YOU’RE LOOKING BACK AT ME RIGHT NOW ALL “YEAH IT SURE IS A PITY ABOUT HIS JAW MELTING OFF THOUGH.” THAT’S IT, I QUIT THE SERIES

and Enji’s smiling at him. he’s so proud of him. but then Touya won’t be able to do it, and Enji’s gonna stop training him, and Touya’s gonna feel like a failure and keep pushing himself in order to try and win his dad’s affections back, because that’s all kids fucking want, all they want is just love, that’s fucking it, you couldn’t just give him that?? and then he’s gonna immolate himself fflkdlskfh THERE YOU SEE HORIKOSHI, I KNOW THE WHOLE STORY ALREADY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THE WHOLE “SHOW THEM THE DEAD DOG” THING YET AGAIN YOU PIECE OF SHIT

OH SNAP THERE GOES THE TWIN THEORY. R.I.P.

BABY FUYUMI. PRETTY CUTE. NOT AS CUTE AS TOUYA THOUGH. HEY LOOK, NO REASON TO GET MAD AT ME I’M JUST STATING A FACT HERE

YEAH THIS IS GONNA GO REAL WELL OH BOY

I keep pressing the emergency stop button but this industrial tragedy machine just keeps on chugging along anyway, I’m pretty sure this thing is not up to code

:| I am so sorry sweet boy, Horikoshi is only getting started with you

FUCKING HELL WITH THIS NARRATION

but he wasn’t actually a child to you, he was just a little puppet child for you to live vicariously through!! and then you went and did the same fucking thing with Shouto afterwards and never learned your lesson until just six months ago!! fucking hell, Enji

so now he’s all “Touya is dead, that’s an unforgivable lie” fflkdhflk motherfucker does he look dead to you. if you really think that, tumblr and twitter have got a little over five years’ worth of archived theory posts to show you

oh shit Touya’s countering with “it’s an unforgivable truth”, which, damn. I actually think Horikoshi’s dialogue is one of his weaker points as a writer a lot of the time, but that comeback was snappy as fuck

actually guys, now that I’ve seen how ridiculously fucking cute baby!Touya was, I can almost understand why Shouto and Enji never put the pieces together before lol. any passing similarities would have easily been dismissed on account of he’d need to be at least 10x more adorable in order to get the full resemblance

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU SLEEP??? SO YOU POINT BLANK REFUSED TO PASS OUT WHILE YOU WERE BUSY MAIMING ALL OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS, BUT NOW THAT THERE’S AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEE YOUR REACTION TO THE “YOUR LIEUTENANT WAS SECRETLY RELATED TO ONE OF YOUR WORST ENEMIES THE WHOLE TIME” BOMBSHELL, YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO GET YOUR FORTY WINKS. I SEE

WOW DABI

I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T ALREADY HAVE YOUR ANCESTRY.COM RESULTS PRINTOUT READY TO FOLD INTO A PAPER AIRPLANE AND ZOOM ON DOWN TO HIM

LOL NEVERMIND

gotta say, so far The Endeavor Pamphlet is just about as spicy as I could have hoped

(ETA: Natsuo’s face as he watches his beloved dead brother come back to life only to literally and metaphorically set everything on fire in one fell swoop is :/. why must you do this to me Natsu. can’t you see I’m trying to throw a Welcome Back Jeanist party here.)

HAVE YOU READ THIS?! TODOROKI ENJI ABUSED HIS OWN HEIR, AND DABI WROTE IT DOWN RIGHT THERE

WELL HE’S NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT

btw I neglected to mention this last week, but yes I do recognize and appreciate that this is Can’t Ya See-kun himself whom Horikoshi has chosen to be the face of this existential crisis which the general public is about to experience. rip CYS-kun

OOF

excuse me. putting aside the implications of Dabi sharing this context-less murder video of Hawks with the entire world for a moment, I just have to pause for a sec here, because when exactly did he get a chance to edit this all in?? complete with voiceover that seamlessly ties in with the prerecorded footage of him with DNA test results sans shirt?? you’re telling me this motherfucker, with all the smoke that was in the room thanks to his own quirk, somehow got a PERFECT SHOT of the PRECISE MOMENT when Hawks drove his feather knife into Jin’s back, using his MAGIC CAMERA THAT HE I GUESS HAD THE ENTIRE TIME IN THE POUCH RIGHT NEXT TO HIS BLEACH BOTTLE, and then immediately somehow got this very next shot as well FROM AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ANGLE

ALL THE WHILE IMMEDIATELY RUNNING THROUGH SCRIPT REVISIONS IN HIS HEAD, WHICH HE THEN PROCEEDED TO RECORD... WHERE, EXACTLY?? WITH SKEPTIC, WHILST RIDING ON MACHIA’S BACK??

AND THIS IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF???

and this after I just wrote that whole long paragraph positively GLOWING about this man’s ability to plug up a plot hole. jfc. just scratch out every damn word I said lol. just forget all of it

are you fucking kidding me, the footage was from the cameras Skeptic planted on Hawks??

that’s... actually... okay you know what, it still doesn’t make any sense in the slightest, but the determination to address it nonetheless... just, dammit... I feel like I’m constantly at war with myself over whether or not I want to shake this man’s hand or slap him lmao. whatever, then!!

anyway, since Shouto and Enji can’t actually see the damage that Touya is dealing to the hero industry even as they speak, Touya is taking it upon himself to give them the highlights

I think it’s a testament to how much Endeavor cares about Hawks that he managed to zero in on that comment even amidst all the craziness of his eldest son returning from the dead to announce how he’s been carefully plotting their destruction for years and years. like, he heard “Hawks” and his face immediately went like that. you think he’s worried that Dabi did something to him? because he’d be right to worry lol

so the Endeavor Pamphlet narration is now explaining all about how Hawks totally killed the Number 3 Hero Best Jeanist as well! yep... he sure did... totally...

OH MY GOD WE’RE CUTTING TO HIM AHHHHH

Hawks, that is. lol. not Jeanist. NO, JUST MY POOR HALF-DEAD WINGLESS BABY SON

NOOOOO HIS LITTLE WING STUMPS. BUT SOMEHOW HIS FACIAL HAIR IS STILL INTACT. OH TO BE AN ANIME PRETTY BOY BEING SET ON FIRE. “HEY, TAKE IT EASY, WATCH THE FACE”

EXCUSE ME WHAT

interesting! we suspected as much, I think, with the clues that Ending dropped, and the little flashback right after the name reveal. still not clear how Dabi found out about it though!

looooool okay here we go, breaking out the heavy-handed holier-than-thou shit now

you know, I do find it interesting how trying to model themselves after All Might’s noble Symbol of Peace image has kind of ended up being the heroes’ undoing here. like, I could write a whole essay on this, but what it basically boils down to is that they were all trying too hard to be perfect. All Might went out there and did his thing and was amazing, and so the powers-that-be built an entire system centered around this seemingly-infallible person, and they acted like the system was infallible as well. and so most of the population ended up becoming complacent over the years, and meanwhile the people who were unfortunate enough to fall through the cracks understandably wound up disillusioned and perceiving the heroes as these false idols

anyway, but I think one positive takeaway from this is that the new up-and-coming generation of heroes represent a breakaway from that system. like, imo what we’re witnessing is the downfall of the Perfect Hero, and the rise of the imperfect hero. and this new generation doesn’t shy away from their failures or pretend like they never happened. they pretty much can’t pretend, because their failures are all right out there in the open for everyone to see. Bakugou Katsuki, just to name one example off the top of my very biased head, has had his own personal character journey basically play out right in front of the media’s eyes. his humiliation at the sports festival, his kidnapping by the League, and all of the fallout afterward. this isn’t someone who can ever go out there and convince the world that he’s perfect. but what he can do, instead, is show the world that he’s trying. that he’s trying with everything he has to do his best, to be the best. rather than this untouchable godlike image, it’s instead the image of someone painfully human who is nonetheless striving with everything he’s got to keep moving forward, flaws and all, and work his way to the top

and ultimately I think that’s going to be a much more positive image to send out to the world when all’s said and done. because rather than merely inspiring awe, heroes like that inspire people to take action themselves. or at least that’s what I hope! and not just Bakugou, but the others as well. we’ve got Shouto, whose own personal trauma is being aired in front of the whole nation even as I sit here ranting. we’ve got Deku, who cries at the drop of a hat, and who fought to become a hero despite being quirkless (and I think it’s only a matter of time before that eventually becomes public knowledge as well). tl;dr because I’m getting way too long-winded here, but these kids have effectively been humanized in a way that the old generation never was, and I think that’ll go a long way towards building trust between them and the people they’ll someday be protecting, and inspiring the next generation in hopefully a much healthier way

anyway so where were we. ...oh yes, Dabi was explaining that heroes only protect themselves, and is presumably building up to his grand conclusion of “therefore you should all just let the villains take over and burn down the world”

omfg. YOU GUYS

DOES CAN’T YA SEE-KUN’S SHARK FRIEND ACTUALLY CALL HIM “CAN’T YA SEE-KUN.” HE HAS A NAME YOU KNOW!! UNLESS HE LEGALLY GOT HIS NAME CHANGED TO CAN’T YA SEE-KUN. OH MY GOD

ALSO, IS THAT CAN’T YA SEE-KUN CRYING IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT THERE OMG. GIVE THIS CHILD A HUG. EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW AND HUG HIM

BAKUGOU IS BARELY HANGING ON THERE LOL. GOTTA STAY CONSCIOUS... SO MUCH TEA BEING SPILLED... FOCUS... CONCENTRATE

IIDA’S ANGLING HIS HEAD IN A WEIRD WAY, LIKE DUDE. LOOKING SUSPICIOUSLY SNUGGLY THERE. MMM THESE IIDABAKU CRUMBS

HADOU IS ALL “WHAT EVEN IS ACTUALLY GOING ON” LMAO

LASTLY, POOR SHOUTO OMFG. WHEN YOU’RE ALL FINISHED HUGGING CYS-KUN THIS CHILD NEEDS YOUR ATTENTION!!

so now Dabi’s leaping off of this ninety-foot-tall gargoyle man like that’s a normal, smart thing to do. unless he can fly too now? saw his dad doing it back at Fukuoka and was all “hmm”

OH MY GOD SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT WORD SHOUTO IS USING TO ADDRESS ENJI, THESE TRANSLATIONS LOVE TO MESS WITH MY HEAD

ENJI GET MOVING DO YOU NOT SEE THOSE TEARS!!! SNAP OUT OF IT YOU BIG TREE

AHHHHH

OH KACCHAN YOU WOKE UP A LITTLE MORE THERE, HUH

lol he and Deku both look so determined but they’re basically sitting ducks. their “oh shit” faces do look remarkably like their “TIME TO SWING INTO ACTION” faces but don’t be fooled, they have one good arm and about six pints of blood left between the two of them. looks like this one’s all on you Shouto

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

BAH GOD... WHAT’S GOING ON HERE... THAT’S BEST JEANIST’S MUSIC

y’all. can’t even talk right now, my brain has completely shut down lol. just. ...

  °˖✧◝(￣▿￣)◜✧˖°

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 3

“Under the Knife” - Part 3

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talk of Murder, Talk of Crime Scenes, Talk of Murder Victims, Cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection. This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

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

“As most of you know, this is (Y/N) Graham, she will be our profiler for this case.”

“Oh good. Another Graham.” Beverly commented over her clipboard, writing down something involving the case probably. Jack gave her a chastising glance and she held her hands up in defense.

“(Y/N) this is Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, and Jimmy Price.” Jack introduced you very quickly to the science-ier part of the team very quickly before jumping right into work. “So, tell us what you got so far, (Y/N).”

You opened your small notebook and began summarizing your notes from last night’s reading.

“Alright. So far I’ve been able to see three patterns: the ways they were killed, the time frame, and the fact that all of the victims that were dismembered were doctors. The strongest thing I can think of is that this killer was wronged by doctors in some way. I’m not sure if it's a doctor in the general term or if there is some specific way that ties these three doctors, and our killer, together. That was something I was going to work on today. 

The way that the bodies are taken apart is very particular. From what I could tell from the photos in the files, all of the cuts seemed to be straight lines all the way through. Which means that this guy’s gotta have access not only to the tools that can do this sort of stuff, but also whatever drug he got in their system to make them lay still while he... worked. So I’m assuming the murder weapon is nothing with a jagged blade or saw-like teeth until we get to the bone. Do we have any reports on striation patterns or anything that could help us with what was used?”

“It’s like you said, the cuts were almost completely straight lines, even through to the bone. The only things we could think of were surgical tools.” Zeller spoke up. “The skin and muscles were cut similarly to how a surgeon would with a scalpel. But the bone is where it gets tricky. You can’t cut like this through bone with just a scalpel.”

“Unless you have plenty of time and you're very persistent.” Beverly joked; you were the only one that slightly exhaled a laugh through your nose at her quip.

“Alright, so the killer has a medical background.” Jack tossed into the air. You nodded.

“Possibly. But why would a doctor be going after other doctors?”

“Maybe they’re taking all his patients?” Beverly shot out. You just nodded and looked back at your notes to see where you left off.

“The uh.. The most concerning thing is the time frame. They were all killed two weeks part from each other. Dr. Everet was almost 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten almost 4, and Dr. Loriet about 2.” 

“Which means we could have another dead doctor within the week.” Jack solemnly spoke as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Alright, you three keep looking over everything to see if we missed something. (Y/N), start working on possible correlations between the victims and the killer. Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

And that’s how the next two days went. Researching, thinking, and trying to get into a mindset that you weren’t totally sure of yet. 

You had checked in with Will like you promised and said that you were fine but you were going to be very busy for at least the next few days. Hannibal had called you after your first day and could hear the slight exhaustion in your voice. He asked you to have lunch with him tomorrow and you very quickly agreed.

But the next day, you spent more time than you thought flipping through the databases to try to find any correlation between Everet, Chasten, and Loriet. The three of them never worked in the same hospital, clinic, or even the same city. Their wives didn’t know each other. Their neighbors didn’t know each other. They didn’t have any sort of communication with each other. They were all different types of doctors. Everet and Loriet went to the same med school, but they graduated 3 years apart.

So what the fuck am I missing?

You kept looking back over the crime scene photos. You couldn’t understand why the doctors were mutilated and positioned so intricately, but the others were cast aside. The focus has to be on the doctors. They must have done something to ‘wrong’ the killer. So what the hell did all three of you do to make someone want to murder? 

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at your office door. You let out a slightly aggravated sigh.

“Jack, I told you I will let you know when I-- Oh! Hannibal! Hi!” You looked up from your computer screen to find Hannibal standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand. 

“Should I come back later?” 

“No! No. Come on in. I probably should take a break. I feel like I’m going in circles anyways.” You looked at your watch and saw it was almost 3:30 PM. The last time you looked at the clock, it was 10:30 AM. “And I missed our lunch meeting.” You put your head in your hands and groaned in annoyance with yourself. “I am so sorry, Hannibal. I--”

“No need for apologies, my dear. I figured Jack had put a lot on your plate, so I thought I would bring lunch to you.” Hannibal made his way into your office and shut the door behind him. 

“You really didn’t have to.”

“When was the last time you ate, (Y/N)?” Hannibal questioned you, looking you dead in the eye after he sat down in one of your office chairs. 

You weren’t entirely sure. You started to speak but then stopped yourself, really trying to remember when you ate last. I know I had ½ of my breakfast at 7:30 this morning. Did I have my granola bar? Does coffee count as a meal?

“The fact that you have to think about when your last meal was, is a bit concerning. But nonetheless, I am more than happy to remedy that. ” He smiled one of his rare but small smiles and began unpacking whatever culinary art he brought. You tried to condense some of your piles of papers and folders so you had enough room to put food down. 

Hannibal had brought a home-cooked meal for the two of you to enjoy. A ginger salad with fresh pan-seared scallops and even some infused water that he had marinating in his fridge overnight. This was so much better than the PB&J you had packed. 

As you began to dig in, Hannibal couldn’t help but look at some of the crime scene photos and your notes. 

“So what are we calling this killer?” 

“‘The Virginia Scalpel.’” You said with slight annoyance. “He has a medical background and is within a reasonable distance from all of the vics. Yet, we have no idea who he is.”

“Does the killer have to be a medical professional? Maybe they just have very steady hands.” 

“True. But there is almost no way that a regular guy could cut through muscle and bone that cleanly without surgical tools or the knowledge of how to use them. Not to mention the fact that he would have some serious explaining to do on how he got the succinylcholine or whatever paralyzer he plans to use next.” You rub your eyes gently, feeling the strain from the computer screen hitting you. Hannibal could feel the stress radiating off of you. 

“Do you want to talk about this case?”

“Not really. But I’m not sure what else to talk about. This has been my life for the last 3 days, the killer could strike again any day now, and I still don’t know why these three doctors were targeted or who will be next!” 

You started to fidget with your ring unconsciously and a bit aggressively, a sign to Hannibal that your anxiety was starting to catch up. Despite the physical signs that you needed a break, you continued to glance over an open file near you while you took another bite of food. He leaned forward in his seat a bit as he closed the file that you had been rereading for what he assumed to be at least the tenth time.  

“(Y/N), you need to breathe.” You just nodded and closed your eyes to try to help your deep breaths relax you faster. “How about we go for a walk? Get the blood flowing.”

“I would love to. But I feel like I can’t afford that break right now.” You shook your head slightly as you reached down for a stack of papers you had bundled and put on the floor earlier. You didn’t see him get up, but Hannibal was standing, adjusting his jacket before holding a hand out to you.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked from his hand to his face before standing up, shrugging. A small walk around the building wouldn’t hurt, right?

Before your hand could land in his, your phone rang and you felt your heart sink, dreading what could be waiting for you on the other end of the line. Both you and Hannibal looked down at your phone and saw the caller ID: “Jack Crawford.” You took a deep inhale and hit the answer button.

“I really hope you’re calling just to bug me to work faster, Jack…” You tried your best to control your voice. You looked up and Hannibal was watching, trying to listen in and gauge how you were going to react.

“Afraid not. There’s another Scalpel vic. I’m texting you the address. Drop whatever you're doing and get down here.” Jack hung up before you could say anything, leaving you in a bit of shock. 

Dammit! What the hell am I missing?! Someone else is dead--Another doctor is dead because I don’t have any answers yet. How can--

“(Y/N)?” Hannibal’s hand on your arm broke your stream of internal chastising before it could get too bad, but you did unintentionally jump at the contact. He instantly raised his hands up and let you process for a moment. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

You just nod. A second later, your phone flashed a message from Jack with an address. 

“Guess my ‘walk’ is going to be to a crime scene.” You try to joke despite feeling a tinge of guilt spreading through you. Hannibal tried to walk you to your car but you kindly denied him. You wanted to be alone as you prepared yourself for your first real crime scene. 

[mercifuldeaths]

Interrupted

Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: You’ve been missing Michael due to his long hours spend working with the Cooperative. He has an important phone call, but you aren’t going to let that stop you from reminding him of what he’s missing out on.

Notes: I submitted this into someone’s kink hour in December and I can’t get over the concept (obviously, it’s been months.) Not exactly what I was going for, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Also what the hell is this...like a form of exhibitionism? Also did I just write kinda sub!Michael....? Who am I?

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), phone sex...kinda? A vague form of exhibitionism? Who even knows anymore. 

Work Count: 2K

Thank you to micheallangdons for the gif

It had been a longer day for Michael than you, but you were still exhausted. Home earlier than him, you managed to make some dinner, shower, and generally unwind while tucked into the oversized bed you shared, surrounded by sheets of a ridiculously high thread count, no doubt.

He still wasn’t home. And it was late.

This, of course, wasn’t a new thing. Since working with, and essentially running, the Cooperative, he had been overworked. Him coming through the door and collapsing into bed still dressed was a common occurrence. You’d be the one to pull off his boots, unbutton his shirt, while he dozed with eyes at half mast. Childlike wonder would color his features, forever in awe of the genuine care you had for him.

He had to be home soon though, you figured. And you hated to admit it...but you were feeling needy. Almost a little whiny. And really in the mood for him to fuck you until you were a screaming mess-something that had been occurring less and less due to his new schedule.

You couldn’t help but perk up when you heard the key unlocking the front door, an unconscious smile pulled and heat already pooled in your belly. Michael. Kicking off the stark white blankets, quickly lamenting the loss of warmth, you ran to meet him in the kitchen where he was already looking through the fridge for the leftovers you kept for him.

By the time he noticed you, he was halfway done practically inhaling the unheated lasagna, completely bypassing the salad. His eyes widened as he was surprised you weren’t already in bed, comfortably asleep and ready for him to curl around. “My dove,” he mumbled around a bite and he tried to repress the way Constance would have reprimanded him for it.

“How was your day?” you asked as you made your way over to the counter that he was standing at.

Michael simply nodded, fork scraping the bottom of the container his dinner was in.

“You’re tired?”

“Exhausted. Jeff and Mutt are still there on a coke bender. They’re going to work through the night,” he murmured. “Close to a ‘breakthrough’ on something or other.”

“Oh…” you trailed off, unsure of what he really wanted to hear.

“Probably should have staye-”

“No,” you said maybe a little too fast to seem casual. “It’s good you’re home. I missed you today.”

He abandoned the now empty container, the fork clattering and breaking the silence that fell. Looking at you, his lips pulled into a tight, small smile. You quickly identified it as pity...he knew what you were after.

It was an incredible thing, your silent communications with him. Entire conversations were had with just subtle movements, a twitch of a lip, eyes rolled, a sharp exhale-they all were specific. He knew exactly what you wanted.

And you knew he wasn’t interested.

He closed his eyes and breathed a small sigh. My love, I’m just...tired.

Your head turned a fraction. You say that all the time.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead. I love you, you know that.

I know that.

Sure, it was a bit selfish to want him after he was so hard at work but that was really all he did. Michael headed toward the bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable than his customary dramatic ensemble. Dutifully, you followed him all the while making small talk-trying to put the thoughts of the throbbing between your legs at ease.

His ranting was usually entertaining, but it was grating on your ears compared to the sounds you’d rather draw from him. But you were admittedly surprised from the, “Fuck,” he near shouted, distracting you from more interesting thoughts.

“I forgot I have that thing with the Russians,” he said in response to your quizzical look, as if that meant anything to you. It was irrelevant, at least for the night.

Michael stood at the foot of your shared bed, shirt off, as he’d been in the process of changing. You weren’t sure if it was appropriate to thank god for the convenience. Satan, maybe?

In just a step your were close enough to rest your head on his chest, forcing yourself into his arms. Unconsciously, you started placing small kisses along his collarbones, one hand settling on his lower back while the other moved to his groin.

Before you could get your hand on his cock, Michael’s hand wrapped around your wrist, gently but firmly removing it from his person. His eyes narrowed in warning. “My love, I’m asking you...not tonight,” his words were measured, suppressing the arousal he felt practically radiating.

You couldn’t help but scoff when taking a step back, a little offended. “I know you’re tired, Michael, but god give me something. It’s been forever.”

His patience were thinning, clearly evident from the steading breaths. Perhaps the stress made him a bit more prone to outbursts, but it looked like he had it under control. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

“You promise? I’ll need better than that.” You didn’t know what was taking over you, maybe plain frustration or a deeper layer to maybe awaken that primal anger in Michael.

He didn’t snap, exactly, but it was clear that the topic was to be dropped by the sarcastic tone of his, “By all means, take care of it yourself. Nobody’s stopping you.”

A little taken aback, you decided to do exactly what he suggested. Voicing as such, you walked to the armchair, mostly for decoration but occasionally having purpose in more fun activities, and sat. You stripped of your panties quickly and flung them over to the bed, close to where Michael still stood, eliciting an eye roll.

Maybe he was right. Sure it wasn’t his fingers dipping into you, but it was getting the job done. And yeah, your wide spread legs weren’t exactly a necessity but if you were going to put on a show, you were going to do it right.

A low groan fell from your lips when you first started properly rubbing into your clit. “Mmm fuck,” you mumbled, imagining your fingers were Michael’s long ones, finally slipping inside of yourself, curling exactly how you liked. As much as you wanted to take your time, you were a bit tired, too. But Michael was looking surprisingly...less tired as he still stood at the foot of the bed, eyes glued to your dripping cunt.

You noticed this, obviously, and your sighs became louder, a little more obscene. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking into your hand, fingers stretching you out while your palm hit your clit. Another moan dropped from your lips as you looked over at Michael through heavy lidded eyes. He was still stood, frozen in place just watching you rub against yourself, body writhing, hips grinding.

“Michael,” you gasped out and that seemed to get his attention. His eyes reluctantly peeled away from your cunt to meet your face. He was breathing heavier, you could tell, and a slight flush colored his cheeks. “Michael,” you repeated to snap him out of whatever trance he slipped into. “It’s okay, baby. Go back to whatever you had to do.” You offered a small smile. “I’m good over here.” Finishing the statement with another gasp you knew you had him.

His eyes glanced back to your hand, working itself into you. “You want some?” The smirk that crossed your lips couldn’t be stopped, the satisfaction adding to the pleasure. He swallowed thickly and was obviously embarrassed to admit that he was dying for just a little taste.

“I...have that call…” he mumbled, voice small.

“You must have a few minutes, right?” You meandered over to where he was standing, your hand glistening with your arousal made its way into Michael’s mouth and he sucked obediently. With just the placement of your hand on his shoulder, he sunk to his knees and was already nuzzling at your thigh, needy for access to what he really wanted.

Deciding on kindness, because his work really was important, you understood, you leaned a knee into the mattress, granting him full access to your now needy cunt. Michel’s head tilted up, eyes bright and suddenly more awake, before he practically dove into you. He made short work of lapping at your folds, working those sinful lips against your clit.

“That’s it,” you mumbled as your hands wound themselves into his crown of golden curls. The hum he let out sent shivers up your spine and the little nip he tried on your clit left you tugging on his hair. It really just encouraged him, you knew from experience.

You were both lost in the moment, him using practically his whole face against you, tongue darting in and out of your entrance, and you gently pulling on him, fingers rubbing into his scalp soothingly, when you saw Michael’s phone light up from its place on your bed. The contact read ‘Coke Whore’- something you decided on calling Jeff and snuck it into Michael’s contact list. He never changed it, so you imagined he found it entertaining enough.

Michael immediately pulled away from your heat, head whipping to the direction of the ringing. With a shake of your head and a gentle hand guiding him, he found his way back to sucking on your clit easily enough. You grabbed the phone off the bed and answered with a professional, “This is Langdon’s personal phone, how can I help you?”

Michael heard your tone, immediately sobered and far from the lustful moans you were letting out moments ago. He silently cursed himself for being lured in, knowing it was your game from the start. But in the moment, he really could care less, just focusing on mouthing at you, messy and wet, until your supporting leg was shaking. But your composure was steely, voice hardly wavering as you explained that Michael really couldn’t come to the phone. He couldn’t help but agree, he really didn’t want to be doing anything else but lick at you, lips slicked with your arousal, his head filled with the idea of properly fucking you after you came on his tongue.

“I am so sorry, he really is busy……..Yes, I know it’s late, but he really can’t.”

The tightness of his pants decided to become an issue and as he started rubbing his hard cock through his pants, he couldn’t hold back the deep moan that echoed around the room. It had been to long and the idea of being buried in you had him practically ready to cum on command.

The moan echoed and he immediately felt his stomach drop as he looked up to meet your eyes, wide and a little concerned. He heard you keep talking, ignoring it, and hoping that Jeff or Mutt or whoever was on the other end of the call pretended that they didn’t hear it either.

Michael promised himself he would be quieter because he really did need to feel something with the way he was already leaking precum. But taking himself in hand had apparently been a bad idea with the way he was then dropping small sighs and whimpers, clearly audible on the other end of the call. They knew what he was doing. And he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to stop. The combination of you dripping on his tongue and the way he was stroking himself was really exactly what he needed. Inconvenient timing, sure, but worth it.

After a particularly loud whimper he heard you say again, “He’s busy. I told you.” Your eyes met his as he pulled himself away from you for a moment to catch his breath. Looking up at you, lips slick and face flushed, he saw you roll your eyes. This time, directed at Michael, you said, “You are busy, aren’t you?”

He quickly nodded, desperate to please, and dove back into you. The sigh you let out couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “Mmm, my sweet boy,” you hummed and tangled your fingers back into Michael’s hair. 

The phone was carelessly tossed back onto the bed and if you forgot to hang up, so be it.

Tag List: @ccodyfern @langdonsrapture @langdonsinferno @antichristwrites @starwlkers @babypinkstyles94 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @wroteclassicaly @lvngdvns @1-800-bitchcraft @cocosfern @i-will-die-for-jim-mason

[girlobsessed21]

The 100 6x12 discussion: Screw protocol and kill them all

My fingers hovered over the keyboard with nerves and you will see my prudence shine through in the post. Look, this is my favorite show, probably of all time, and this entire season has been an absolute doozy to experience. Then, I get to the penultimate episode and I suddenly feel off my game. Not sure if it’s the abundance of storylines happening at once, the few plot holes, Sheidheda or inconsistency, nonetheless, here’s my experience.

You can go back and read all my discussions from the trailer to 6x11 and I never wavered in my stance that Russel may have morals but he is a well-rounded baddie and the main villain of the season. Sure, we had Josephine and whether it’s Eliza and Sarah’s remarkable acting or the sociopath's substance, I’d love a spinoff series about her. It sure is a fruit salad when you add the monstrous commander to the mix, though I don’t expect that storyline to be resolved by next episode. Clarke never found the notebook and Raven seem to be struggling with his disengagement.

In line with the rest of the season, this is filled with the good, the bad and the beautiful. Russel vs Gabriel, Abby vs Simone, Emori vs Murphy, the devout vs nonbelievers and ultimately kill the few to save the many vs taking no lives at all.

Before all the gory details, I just have to say Eliza Taylor is out-and-out iconic. I cannot sing her praises enough with the shrewd way in which she fits into each character’s skin. The lucid distinction between Clarke and Josephine with her emotions surfacing in her ruse as the latter is exceptional.

In peace, you left this shore, Abby

If you follow my weekly posts, you’ll know my opinion on Abby is quite brutal. I’ve never liked her, perhaps a little in season one but she still caused her own husband’s death.  Season after season, episode after episode my fury towards her grew exponentially and I was more than ready to say goodbye - until now.

Looking into your daughter’s eyes, knowing it’s not her must be soul-crushing. I felt it with Abby, Clarke and Delilah’s parents, which is why I completely understood her threatening Russel. A little tear escaped my own eyes when she cried for the loss of Clarke while Raven tried to comfort her.

Keeping her promise to her daughter, Abby turned herself into a nightblood to save Madi. This has to be one of her most heroic moments ever. I’m not sure if Kane’s final words or this instance bears the turning point in which her past mistakes catch up to her, either way, it’s appreciated. Albeit a strong callback to the Finn and Pike’s deaths.

She did not get a redemption arc but at least her sendoff included a final forgiving chapter.

Ugh, I wanted to punch the smugness from Russel’s face when he realized Abby will be the perfect candidate for his wife. But it came as no surprise, I suspected it.

Her moment with Jackson and the apology to Raven was delivered with such intimacy and poignancy that it provokes a chilling heartbreak when Russel plunges the needle into her neck. Not to mention the way her life flashed before her eyes as she fell to the ground. Paige Turco truly is an amazing actress and I’m curious to see her portrayal of the prime queen even if it’s just for one episode.

At least she had a beautiful, although short, reunion with Clarke.

One last thing I need to add, Raven’s humbleness this episode was more than welcome. I needed to hear that she acknowledges her judgmentalism as a flaw which requires resolve. A lot can be said on the topic, as I’ve done many times before, though I hope it holds up. Seeing such a strong and smart character in constant high-horse mentality is infuriating, to say the least.

To the glory and grace of the primes

Props to Emori, she has really grown into quite the benevolent character. I’ve always liked her, but throughout the entire series, she has only improved. From a scavenger to becoming Raven’s skilled apprentice and a loyal member of the Spacekru family. And if 6x08 wasn’t enough to lionize her, she refuses to play house with people who deems a threat to her and her friends.

All while, Murphy’s plan was to show Russel that they’re useful and on-board with being false gods. I thought he would try to find a way to save Echo but clearly being immortal is his first priority. Apart from asking nicely, he did nothing to protect his friends. Did he justify the decision in his mind? Where is the John Murphy I’ve come to love? Raven’s look at Murphy mirrored all of my own feelings on the matter.

I just have to add that both of them looked stunning when they emerged hand-in-hand as brother and sister. Emori’s dress, damn baby, she hot as hell.

Clarke, on the other hand, is more than resourceful by using Ryker as a bargaining chip. No pun intended. As a mother herself, she knows it’s the quintessential key to Priya’s compliance. And Echo’s attempt at stopping them - top-notch. But can someone please explain when they became friends because if my memory serves correctly, the last time they were together, Echo tried to kill her? Even if she defended her in 6x01, I wasn’t aware they are on hugging terms.

Raven’s perception of the primes as serial killers in royal robes couldn’t be more fitting.

Like I said last week, Gabriel reminds me so much of Monty. Perhaps Mr. Green was slightly stronger; he did kill his own mother when it was necessary. Though, it doesn’t compensate for the lack of Jordan, where is he? Being such an innocent yet brave member of the ensemble, I cannot help but take his absence personally. It’s slightly ridiculous in my opinion.

Anyway, the prince of peace is hellbent on putting a stop to namings day and instinctively changes the plan. Even if I enjoyed his “there is nothing more powerful than the truth” speech, facing a king singlehandedly is foolish. Unfortunately, his presence alerts Russel that the red sun trigger is a fluke. And I suppose unlike all the other heroes of this show, he’s never killed anyone with a gun before. Then again, would pulling that trigger have made any difference with Simone being alive?

Why did Russel not kill Gabriel though? Was it because Dr. Santiago brought his daughter back and gave them the privilege of immortality? Sorry, that part confused me.

Abby!Simone sure is a vision in white, wow but what a total self-centered biatch!!! At least Abby’s death blew the morality right back into Murphy. The two of them have always had a strong bond since he kept Clarke’s heart beating.

Poor Clarke though, seeing Madi bound and realizing her mother’s dead must have shattered her soul. That, right after seeing Bellamy and Echo in each other’s arms. My heart goes out to her still playing the role of Josephine with enough conviction to fool her parents. Our female lead is one strong woman, blaming the tears on her mother’s return and Gabriel’s betrayal.

Now, Madi being alive and well is a bit of a conundrum. Sheidheda said he’ll kill the girl if Raven continues. So, my guess is that he let her live since Raven’s tied up and he needs to wake the Wonkru army and they’re playing right into his hand.

Finally, that standoff ending between the primes threatening Madi and Gaia against Indra, Niyalah and the rest of the crew was supercharged. I’m still yelling, “No, this can’t be it!”

The calvary protocol adjusted

There’s nothing more fun to watch as the Blake’s on good terms. Man, I love it. Octavia being the supportive sibling even more so. And It seems like Bellamy is becoming quite the clown this season. If I’m not mistaken, “I told you she’d get it done,” was like his third joke. He’s always been my favorite, can’t help but smile when he graces my screen.

Fun stuff aside, death to primes.

Bellamy and Echo reunite. Clearly, he’s delighted to find her safe and sound after learning him she’s in trouble. I believe him to be more than guilt-ridden about abandoning her to save Clarke, even if it ultimately was the right choice. I hate to sound like a typical Bellarke shipper but if their relationship continues with no addressing the last three episodes, it would trigger grave blemishes in the storyline.

It’s degrading for Echo to idly accept her boyfriend’s dedication to another woman. And Bellamy has to face those conflicting feelings inside and make a choice; right now he has his cake and takes little nibbles when the hunger strikes badly.

Of course there’s no time right now. It doesn’t have to happen right away or even in this season, yet it can’t simply be ignored. The looks on both Clake and Octavia’s faces suggest they're less than pleased with the intimate embrace.

Moving on, his inspirational declaration of the truth took me right back to season one. The man sure has a way of influencing the masses. Sadly, Russel’s had a bomb of his own which causes one hell of an outbreak for those without anti-toxin and Priya’s death by the hand of Delilah’s mom.

Convenient how there just happened to be a lockable storage unit nearby which Echo knew about. Was it one of her hideouts? And won’t they have to kill all the believers anyway once they break down those doors? Guess we’ll find out next week.

I can’t believe there’s only one episode left, I’m already dreading the hiatus. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! May we meet again next week.

[gotboredwrote]

Rings // JRD

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.9K Style: One-Shot (prompt: “you can keep it.”) Warnings: Fluff (ahhh so much of it toward the end), one sexual implication in joke form Summary: Y/N is the groundskeeper at Ridge Farm and mainly keeps to herself, despite the loud presence the Queen boys present themselves with. When her usual organized demeanor falters lightly, one of the boys is there to help her get back in check. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I finally had a day off from work, and I really wanted to write, but I had no inspiration whatsoever. So, thanks to the lovely @love-me-a-good-prompt (I don’t know your name otherwise I would give you that credit, too, hon!) and their amazing lists of writing prompts, I found the one I want to use for today! Not sure if you ever read the stories that are written inspired by your prompts, but if you do, I hope you enjoy! Didn’t carefully proofread.

Masterlist

~

Typically, you were never one to mind if someone needed to rent out your farm house for any reason. The extra money was always helpful, and you typically got to meet some interesting characters. You had gotten a call about a semi-small group needing to rent out the space for an entire month and you lightly buzzed with enthusiasm. The money would be fantastic this time around, and having more than one or two people use the lodge meant that you just might be able to get some help around your house and keeping up with the landscaping. The person who called you told you his name was James Beach, and that he was in the music industry. He would not be joining the people coming to stay with you, but he was able to give you all the information you needed regarding your new tenants. He started with their names, and then proceeded to summarize them with one jarring sentence.

“The four make up an up-and-coming band named Queen, and they want to record an album up there. Is that alright?”

~

A band, huh? That was a new one. You had gotten everything from vacationers not wanting to spend fortunes on a hotel to honeymooners, to even that one time you had someone hiding from the law. But you never really talked about that – it makes you a little scared for your own safety. But that is beside the point. A band had never stumbled their way to your little farm, and you accepted Mr. Beach’s offer without even thinking about asking him if they would be bringing everything they needed. Typically, you never really had to provide anything for your guests, except the actual house they stayed in. Naturally, all these thoughts cascading through your mind evoked some panic, so you decided to call Mr. Beach back to ask him a bunch of questions that you had not asked originally.

Ring… ring…

“James Beach, how can I help you?”

“Mr. Beach? Hi again, this is uh, Y/N Y/L/N from Ridge Farm.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N! I didn’t expect to hear from you again. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, actually, I was doing some thinking about the group that will be coming to stay with me.”

“You’re not retracting the offer, are you?”

“Oh gosh, no, sir! I just normally only have to ask a few questions over the phone, but I’ve never actually had a band stay over before. I just had a couple other questions I wanted to run by you before their arrival to make sure I’m as prepared as possible. I know you must be a busy man, what working with rock stars and pop stars, and the like, but would you happen to have a few minutes now for me to ask a few things?”

“Ask away, my dear. My next client isn’t in for almost an hour.”

“Wonderful. Um, so I know the date the band is arriving, and I wrote down that there are four members. Is there anything specific I should know about any of them?”

“Well, Freddie is basically a drama queen that lives for the local gossip and a fancy cocktail. Mimosa in the morning kind of guy. John is shy and reserved, and if you give him cheese on toast and a pack of cigarettes, he should be content. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Brian is reserved and intellectual, but isn’t afraid to argue right back with someone if they need someone to defend them. Roger is a loud mouth, but harmless nonetheless. Might attempt to make you swoon for him, so just pay attention to him. He wouldn’t hurt you, just watch his antics. He’d also be happy with a carton of cigs. Is that okay for a basic introduction?”

“That’s perfect, Mr. Beach. Um, moving on. I have enough bedrooms and space for them, and I always keep food and drinks on hand, so I’ll make sure to buy John some cheese and bread. But one thing I don’t know is what they need for their music. I assume they’ll be bringing their own instruments and stuff, right?”

“Correct.”

“So, they are aware that this isn’t an actual studio, right? Like, I’m out in the middle of the countryside with minimal amenities. Just the necessities. I only have one space I can think of that they could use a recording studio.”

“Whatever it is you have will work for them, trust me. They’re an eclectic bunch. Be ready for some bickering, love.”

Jim was a very kind soul, and if the boys he managed were anything like him, you felt that you were going to have no trouble with them. You had a few other small things on your mind that you ran by him and got answers that suited your needs. After the phone call, you looked at the notes you had jotted down, ending on the date that the boys were scheduled to arrive. You only had two days to get what they needed, but that was plenty of time. You just had to remember a handful of things; clean up the basement and make up the boy’s rooms, buy some cigarettes for those that wanted them, and pick up some fresh cheese and bread from the market for John.

~

One thing you had forgotten to ask Jim was what time the boys were slated to arrive, so you made it a point to get up early with your chickens and hens like usual, and stay on the property all day. You had a peaceful breakfast on your porch, watching your chickens interact with one another, calmed by the quiet clucks they made. Most people found them annoying, and always made it a point to scream at you about it in some way despite the fact that you warn all potential guests about them. You, however, took comfort in having another living thing around. Your family all lived in town, and there was no significant other in your life. But you were always happy. None of it mattered. You always got to see your family when you travelled into town, but they respected your choice to remain on the property full-time. The rest of your morning and all of your afternoon was spent mindlessly cleaning or daydreaming at different spots on the farm, not really thinking about the possibility of chaos entering onto the property any minute. You walked inside, ready to prepare yourself a quiet dinner. As soon as you set your pan on your stove-top, the all-familiar sound of tires on dirt in the background over the quiet hum of your radio. Another thing to make you feel less alone when there were no other tenants on the property, a gift from your parents. Making your way through your porch door and down onto the grass, you saw the van parked in a spot it made for itself and you saw four men climb out of the back while the driver turned off the car. You walked half the distance between the houses and the car and paused until they were turned in your direction to greet them.

“Evening, gentlemen! You have impeccable timing – I was just about to cook dinner for myself, but now I’ll make six portions and you can all come join me! You can bring your belongings in my house for now, and after we eat, I will show you all to your respective rooms.”

With that, you walked the other half of the distance and approached them, all of them smiling fondly at you, except for one. He did not look happy at the arrival of your presence, but you attempted to not to pass any judgement until you got to know them. You went to pick up a piece of luggage in order to help them, when a younger looking, long-haired, skinny man approached you.

“I got it, you don’t have to help.”

His voice was a quiet, and slightly higher pitched than you imagined it would be for someone of his height. It was cute.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. It’s hot out, and I don’t want you guys breaking out into sweats before you even start playing.” You smiled sweetly at him, not really sure which member you were talking to yet, but he did not fight back. Making you assume it was not Roger or Brian. Freddie or John, though, that was still a toss-up.

Once all five of the men who would be staying on the property were inside, you told them that they could sit and chatter in your living room watching television, come and sit in the kitchen while you cooked and talk, or wander around the farm seeing and feeling the calmness settle around them. All of them, to your surprise, elected to join you in the kitchen. Either these were the most polite and distinguished of rock stars in the world, or they felt awkward just walking around your property. Either way, you were thankful for the company. Your kitchen table had one chair on either of the shorter sides, and benches accompanying the longer sides. Three of the men sat on one of the benches, and the other two took the single chairs. You never felt anxious in front of new tenants, so you just started talking to them.

“If I may, I have a few things I would like to tell you guys before I leave you to make your music,” looking over your shoulder at them while getting dinner started. “Oh, I also hope you all are good with homemade spaghetti and salad for dinner, everything is from scratch, including the pasta.” The one who glared at you the minute he got out of the van continued to stare at you, seemingly disapprovingly, while the other four smiled at you, patiently waiting to hear what it was you had to say. While you waited for the water to start boiling, you turned around to face them, getting your first real look at the men.

“So, normally, one of the first things I like to do is introduce myself and give the story of the little old farm to my new tenants. And I like to go over the boring stuff like the few rules I have and traditions I keep. If you would all be so kind as to oblige me, I would like to begin with that, and then I can leave you all alone to eat your dinner.”

You waited for a response, an auditory one, mainly, but all you got in response was more soft and small smiles and daggers from the one man. You decided that that was your cue to continue.

“Well, you should know that my name is Y/N, and I have lived on this property my whole life. Ridge has been in my family for the past four generations, and it fell onto me to keep the place going. Our family didn’t intend for it to be rented out, but extra money is always useful, and plus, living by myself out here, it’s nice to have some interesting company every once in a while, even if I don’t interact directly with them all that much. Anyway, the other house on the property is where you all will stay. Six bedrooms, so you have choices, three bathrooms, a fully-stocked kitchen, some lounge rooms. Everything you could need. Plus, I made sure that the basement was ready to go, which is where I assume you will be spending most of your time. I won’t be bothering you too much, unless something important comes up and I need to inform you all of something. I typically don’t inform my guests when I’m running errands, because I have enough faith in the people that stay to not want to break into my home. Otherwise, there are separate phone numbers for each house, so feel free to phone me if you have anything you need to ask me. Otherwise, the only other rule I have is don’t trash the place.”

You could hear the stove behind you start to boil, so you turned back around to toss the pasta in, and you began to heat up the sauce, as well. Once you were situated with that, you continued to talk to them over your shoulder.

“Continuing on, a couple small things you should know. I never mind if you want to me come cook your breakfasts, lunches, dinners, or if there is something specific you want to make and you don’t have it, I can run errands for you. I will never impose myself on your meal time or work time, and I will not drop over uninvited unless you specifically give me permission to. For the month you are here, the house is yours, not mine. Um, what else… Oh! If I ever need help with something on the farm, whether it be yard work, something with the chickens, or maybe running a particularly large errand, if no one is busy, I wouldn’t mind some help. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to or can’t, though. I completely understand.”

You turned back around to check on the stove, and once everything was stirred, you turned to face the boys one last time.

“I think that’s everything! I didn’t mean to talk your ear off, I just like to get formalities out of the way so you can start on whatever it is you wanted to do while you were here. If there is anything –”

“God, could you just shut your mouth and continue cooking us dinner? I would like you to do the thing that you just told us you would do.”

You stood in a stunned silence. The man’s words searing right through your chest and penetrating your heart to the point where you physically felt pain from the harshness it beat at. And from the looks on all four of the other men’s faces, you could tell that this was something they had worried would happen.

“Jesus, Paul, you really don’t know when it’s your bloody turn to talk, do you?” The blonde, seated at one of the end chairs, sounded intense and exasperated already at the man.

“Paul, she only has about two rules, and one of them is mutual respect from the tenants. You already broke that, and now I feel as though I need to apologize on behalf of all of us.” The taller man with dark curls spoke sternly at the man who you now knew was named Paul, and then turned to address you much more quietly. “I’m sorry for him, love.”

“It’s… it’s okay, guys. I’ll just keep making… dinner. Then I’ll take mine to my room.”

“Please don’t.” The man from earlier with the long hair hurriedly spoke at you. Before his outburst, he had hung his head with a small grimace adorning his face. Hearing the defeat in your voice prompted a change that was clearly unusual for the man, considering his face went a little red at the recognition of his own outburst. “I’ve… liked hearing you talk, and would like to get to know you more.”

“I’ll second that,” spoke the curly haired man. “Plus, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”

“Allow me to help you with the rest of dinner, darling.” The last person who had not spoken finally spoke up, and it was the man with dark hair to match the curly man’s, but straighter.

The four seated at the table chatted amongst themselves, three of them clearly ignoring the one named Paul, while the fifth helped you with dinner. He appeared like he was holding back on saying something, and you had barely expelled any air when he cut you off.

“I’m so sorry about Paul. He… we’re trying to rid the group of him, but he just won’t leave. It’s almost like he’s a groupie, but worse. And I wish I could tell you what his problem with you is. He just automatically became villainous when we arranged to stay here.”

“It’s not a problem, really. I’ve had worse guests.” Your mind flashing back to that one criminal.

“I sincerely hope you don’t think we’re all like that, darling, because we are far from it. Also, my name is Freddie, by the way. The blondie is Roger, curls is Brian, and our shy friend is John. Maybe you could impress them at dinner by remembering their names.”

You turned your neck to look at Freddie, who was now beaming at you, and you smiled back with a small giggle. You both turned your attentions back to dinner, and finished cooking. You brought plates for everyone at the kitchen table, and proceeded to strike up some conversations between the boys while you ate. You mainly got to know each other, and you asked them a little bit about the album they were recording. They had remembered the part where you said you would not intrude without their specific permission, and without even acknowledging Paul, they told you that you could come to the studio at any point if you ever wanted to hear some live music. You were really thankful that these guys did not seem to be rambunctious, besides in the little brotherly way they seemed to have. You had also made it a point to recite their names when you first sat down, like Freddie told you, and you got them all right. Brian and Roger just looked smug when you got them right, while John tilted and turned his head slightly, trying to hide the flush that washed over his face. Not one of embarrassment, just one of pure shock that someone cared enough about him to remember his name. Once dinner was finished, you told the boys to just throw their dishes in the sink. Paul took it a little bit too literally and you were afraid that one of your plates had been shattered. All six of you then made your way to the guest house where the boys would choose their rooms. Once rooms were decided on, you helped each of them to their rooms, ending with John. He chose the smallest room, as if to make your job easier once he left. You told him he could have had whichever room he wanted, but he was content with the smaller one. You were not one to argue. You reminded him that if there was anything he needed at any time to just give you a call, and you were about to walk out when he stopped you.

“May I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I happened to notice you wear rings.”

“Oh yeah,” you fondly looked down at your hands. “Most of them were passed down from my parents, a couple have been gifted to me from tenants over the years.”

“They suit you. I wear a few myself. Just noticed that we have that in common, sorry if that came out as strange. I don’t want you to think I’m strange, because I promise I’m-”

“John, really, it’s okay. I like that pay attention to small details like that. It shows you aren’t superficial.” John just stared back at you, at a loss for words at how well-spoken and sweet you were. “I look forward to getting to know you this month. I hope you sleep well.”

“You too, Y/N.”

~

About a week had passed by, and many breakfasts and jam sessions later, you decided it was time for you to do the first official surface cleaning of each of the boy’s rooms. They had already been in the studio for over an hour when you made your way over around ten in the morning, and you stood quietly in the doorway listening to them work for a few moments. When they finally settled down, you took the initiative to wave at them, so as not to ruin a recording they were working on. When you were sure it was safe to talk, you spoke up.

“Hi, lads. Just wanted to let you know that I am going to be floating through the house today doing a surface cleaning. I won’t rummage through any of your belongings, but I’ll be dusting and scrubbing the surfaces of the rooms you are staying in. If I happen to be in your room and you need it, or the bathroom you’ve been using, just let me know and I can leave. I’ll see you for lunch in a little while. Remember, sandwich bar today!”

As you were leaving, you heard Paul shout back that he would never let you live to see the next day if you rummaged through his room, so you just shot an okay sign through the doorway on your way out to let him know that you heard him. And you started cleaning. Once you noticed it was time for lunch, you started to make your way back to your kitchen to start the prepping. The boys had made it a habit of eating in your house instead of their kitchen, and only opting to use their kitchen if they wanted snacks or got hungry working through the night. You had told the boys that they could make their way to your kitchen around 1:30pm each day if they wanted lunch. John usually left a little bit earlier than all the others so he could help you out with meal prepping. He felt that it was the least he could do to make up for inconveniencing you, which you tried explaining to him on multiple occasions that he was the farthest thing from an inconvenience. Before heading over to your kitchen, John stopped in his room to freshen up a little bit after a particularly energetic session, and he caught a glimpse of something shiny underneath his dresser. He knelt down to pick it up, and he immediately recognized it as one of the rings you always wore. If he remembered right, you wore it on your thumb. It was just big enough, he noticed, that it fit on his pinky, so he placed it on his hand as a reminder to give it back to you. He glanced at the ring one last time, the strange feeling he got from wearing it slowly subsiding, and finished refreshing himself before making his way over to the kitchen of your home. Normally, no matter the time of day, John and the boys could always expect soft music to be coming from the small radio you had in your kitchen. The only time you turned it off was when you went to sleep. Otherwise, it was on all the time. Having the background noise eased your nerves if they ever flared up for any reason, and it was always nice to have a relaxing atmosphere fill the air of your home. Except that this time, all he heard were small groans of frustration, not accompanied by any music. Clearly, that was not your attempt at singing. He walked into your house with a quiet knock on your door, one that you never heard. Then he made his way into your kitchen and knocked a little louder on the door frame, hoping he would not startle you. Thankfully he did not, and his heart started to beat a little bit quicker when he noticed the look of relief wash over your face when you realized it was him that walked through the door.

“John! You have impeccable timing. You told me you have a degree in electronics, right? Do you think you could help me figure out what is wrong with my radio?”

Oh. You only needed him for his help. What else would it have been? He scolded himself for thinking it could have been anything else. He sat down at the table right next to you on one of the benches, and peered into the inside of the radio.

“Hmm… this is pretty standard wiring, so my guess is something came loose, or one of the wires is fried. Let me take a look.”

You watched John tinker with the radio. You had not sat in on many of their rehearsals, not wanting to interfere or receive an unwarranted and snide comment from Paul. But one thing you immediately noticed was that the way he handled a piece of electronic equipment was completely different than his bass. He was slow and careful with the radio, but he was confident and more fluid with the strings of his bass. It was interesting – how one person could be so different regarding two things. Your mind wandered a little bit, thinking of all the possible scenarios his hands and fingers could work in. You felt your face heat up, so you turned your attention back to the radio, hoping John had not caught you lost in your thoughts. John had been examining the wiring for about three minutes when he finally had his ‘aha’ moment and told you what had happened. Or rather, the radio spoke for itself when it came back on.

“Think I fixed it.”

“Oh, thank you John! Thank you so much!”

You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, while simultaneously grabbing the sides of his face to pull him close. You felt him grab your wrists lightly in response, and you heard a small hum of satisfaction come from him. If any of the band was there, they would have pointed out how out of character that was for their friend. But you had only known them a week, so you had no real way of knowing that. When you pulled your face away from his, you noticed a new ring on his hand, one you had not noticed before. Yet you recognized it for some reason. Like you owned that ring.

“John, is that my ring?”

“Oh, y-yeah! I found it in my room just now before I came over here. I meant to hand it to you right when I walked in, but you caught me off guard with the radio. Here, let me take it off-”

“Don’t.” You stopped him by placing your hand over his. “You can keep it. It suits you, Deaky.”

You had continued to smile at him sweetly, and he just started to return it when you heard your porch door wing open and a ruckus of men swarmed into your kitchen. You and John turned to look at them, trying to hide the moment you just shared, to no avail.

“Well, what has our little Deaky gotten himself into now?” Freddie’s voice cut through the noise.

“I don’t know about now, but it looks like Y/N is the goal.”

“Roger! Don’t say that!” Brian had secondhand embarrassment for you, and the four men standing in your doorway could see the bright reds adorning your faces.

~

You would forever be grateful and owe a debt of gratitude to the man who called himself James Beach. By the end of Queen’s stay at your farm, you had earned a decent chunk of change, and a boyfriend to top it off. Ever since John had fixed your radio, you and him seemed to be attached at the hip. He wore the ring you gave him every single day, and eventually got the courage to ask you out on a date. You just had to get you guys there since he was not familiar with the area. You never minded driving him – he always looked so at peace watching the countryside scroll by. It pained you the day the boys left, but John made you a promise. Anytime he passed through the area, or needed a place to stay that was even remotely close to Ridge Farm, he would come see you. And he kept up on that promise. He came to visit more than once a month, and would sometimes stay for up to a week at a time. You had that fear in the back of your mind every time he would leave again that you imagined all people in relationships with people in the media had; was he cheating on me? But every single time he came back, he always brought you letters from the boys detailing their travels, and they all made it a point to write about how much John talked about you. There would be discussions of happy thoughts, whines of missing you, and the occasional under-the-breath mention of a special dream he had. It always reassured you in his faith. That, and how he would treat you and smile at you every time he came over to the farm. The other indicator is that he would always bring you a new ring. Everywhere he went for shows or recording sessions, he made sure to pop in a local shop and buy you new rings. They varied in design – some were simple bands, others elaborately engraved, others with stunning gems. It showed you that he never forgot where your relationship blossomed. That day on the farm when he found your ring. You were not a very material person, but you never turned down a ring from John. Especially not on the day he got down on one knee with a stunning, traditional diamond ring to give you.

End Note: I wanted to use a gif from Ridge Farm, but I couldn’t find one and I wanted one with John’s iconic™ rings in it.

Permanent Taglist: n/a

Specific Story/Character Taglist: @ziggymay

[impala-dreamer]

The Last Straw

SPN FanFic

~Sam takes things a little too serious, and all you really want out of life is a freakin’ cookie.~

Sam x Reader, Dean, surprise OC

3,495 Words 

Warnings: Supremely Fluffy with a hint of spicy Angst. But mostly disgustingly fluffy. Please brush your teeth afterwards. 

A/N: This is another gem for my ‘Give Em A Merry Christmas’ treasure chest. A shout out to @fandom-queen-of-wonderland who submitted an idea for a Dean x Reader with the line “All I want is Christmas is a gingerbread man and some peace and quiet!”. As you can see, it’s not Dean x Reader, but trust me, Dean is as sweet as a freshly baked blueberry pie in this. I hope you like it. Also, there is a surprise for one of my favorite followers in here. I’m not going to call her out, but I’m pretty sure she’ll pick up on it when it gets to that bit. ;) Hope you all enjoy!

Feedback is GOLD ~ My Masterlist ~ Christmas 2017 Fic Corral

Like many things in your crazy life, getting pregnant was not planned. Well, honestly, if you took it a bit further back, meeting and falling in love with Sam Winchester wasn’t planned either. Neither was getting into Hunting, or even being aware that all the things that went bump in the night actually did go bump in the night, but hey, it happened, but that’s a story for another day.

While you and Sam had no plan to officially marry, the unexpected news of the bun now occupying your oven was nonetheless welcomed. From the moment Sam had thoroughly absorbed the news, he went a little bit off the deep end helping you to prepare. Like the true nerd he was, Sam read every single baby book in the Lebanon Library, scoured the internet for information, even joined babycenter.com as Soon2BPapaWin2017. He stalked the message boards, chatted with expectant mothers, and dove headfirst into taking care of you and his future bundle of joy.

He was so adorable when researching baby gear, often spending late nights reading every review of his chosen product only to write it off in favor of something that looked just a tiny bit safer. He filled up his online shopping carts on Amazon and BabiesRUs with the best of the best, never buying anything, because he knew he could find better. He only wanted the best for his child, and in turn, you.

While Sam couldn’t protect you with rubber bumpers on table corners, or wrap you in bubble wrap, he could try to protect you in another, rather annoying way. Sam took it upon himself to get you healthy, and while he meant for the best, and you loved him for it, it was driving you nuts.

He had tried to insist that you stop hunting, but you slapped him so hard upon the first mention, that he didn’t bring it up again. It wasn’t until well into your seventh month that you voluntarily stayed back, not wanting to slow the guys down. The worst part, though, was that during the entire nine months of your pregnancy, Sam insisted you follow a strict diet that he concocted, filling you up with more vegetables and random vegan proteins than you had ever seen in your life. Add to that Sam guilting you into joining him in prenatal yoga, and taking no less than three walks a day while you were home, by your third trimester, you were done.

Through all your whining and discomfort, Sam was by your side, never letting you drink a single kale smoothie by yourself. He was getting you both healthy, and he practiced what he preached. While he was pushing every last one of your buttons, you did appreciate the love he put into every annoying thing he did.

Dean was another story altogether, and the soon to be uncle slowly became your best friend and savior, often sneaking you chocolate when you needed it most, and letting you fall asleep on him when Sam had pushed you an extra mile.

Both Winchesters were excited and happy for the next generation to arrive, but they went about showing their joy in rather opposite ways. Sam answered your complaints with offers of cocoa butter lotion and random science facts, while Dean would tuck a pillow under your back, flip on Netflix, and rub your tired feet. When watching you choke down green leafy things, Dean often jokingly promised to take you out for a steak dinner before the baby arrived, and it always pissed Sam off. He would throw his hands up and stalk away, mumbling to himself about how he was just trying to help and make sure everyone was healthy.

Sure, he was over the top and the food was disgusting, but he was just trying to help.

As Christmas rolled around, you found, much to your dismay, that you were rolling around too. Your ankles were swollen, your back ached, and your stomach shot out so far in front of you that it looked like you were having triplets.

Waddling through the Bunker in search of something to do that wouldn’t get you in trouble with the father to be, your nose picked up a deliciously warm, spicy scent and your feet turned towards the kitchen.

Nutmeg and ginger filled the air, making your stomach grumble as you floated towards the oven. Sam turned around to greet you with a kiss and a smile as he set a freshly cooled plate of cookies down on the counter.

“Hey, Baby,” he said, kissing your nose. “And Baby…” he smiled and bent down to kiss your giant belly.

Laughing at his goofy smile, you shook your head. “You’re gonna have to come up with a new pet name for at least one of us or it’ll be confusing.”

“Well that will depend on what Little Baby is,” he told you, gently rubbing a huge hand over the apex of your stomach. “Still don’t want to find out?”

“Nah,” you said with a tiny laugh. “I’m only doing this once, might as well keep the surprise.” Your smile faded to a deep grimace as the baby kicked hard, and Sam jumped in shock. His face lit up with such a smile as he felt his child press against his hand, that you couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s so cool,” he said under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, maybe for you. Little Winchester’s been kicking the shit out of me all day. He’s very aggressive. I think he takes after his uncle.”

“He?”

“Just a guess,” you shrugged and then licked your lips as you looked around Sam to the cookies not being eaten. “And, like his uncle, Baby is also hungry.”

“I made you a treat,” Sam grinned and went to grab the plate.

“I’m starving, thank you!” Happiness filled your soul as you looked down to see what appeared to be a plate of real, legitimate gingerbread men cookies. With an excited grin, you picked up the top cookie and lifted it to your nose, taking a sniff. It smelled right… but…

Sam watched carefully and without comment as you opened your mouth, but something in his eyes made you stop before the treat hit your tongue.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s in this cookie?”

An innocent laugh left his pink lips and Sam shook his head in shock. “What? Nothing.”

“Sam…”

“It’s good, trust me.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked from the cookie to your boyfriend, not for one second believing his lie. Nine months of quinoa and spinach cakes had made you more than suspicious. Even being Christmas, there was no way that Sam was suddenly going to let you have a normal cookie.

“What’s in this cookie, Sam?”

“Just taste it.”

“Not until you tell me what it’s made of.”

“I’ll tell you after you taste it.”

The baby kicked again, clearly wanting some food, and so, after a deep breath, you closed your eyes, took a bite, and instantly spit it back out. “Oh good God, what is this?”

“Flax seed,” Sam laughed.

“What?” You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and stared up at him in pained shock.

“Flax seed. It’s good for you.”

A deep, burning anger rolled through your gut and pushed out from your lips with a screeching wail that echoed through the Bunker. “Dean!”

Boots pounded the hard floor as Dean flew through the hall, and he jumped down the kitchen steps, out of breath and panicked.

“Y/N! What is it? You gonna have the baby?”

“We’re gonna have a funeral!” you yelled, fists clenched as you stepped forward, scaring Sam enough so that he backed away slowly.

Dean gripped the wall, catching his breath as he assessed the situation. “What?”

“I’m about to murder your brother.”

Sam held his palms up in surrender as you came closer and closer. “Y/N/N, I’m just trying…”

“Don’t!” you shouted and shook a fist up at him. “Don’t you ‘Y/N/N’ me, Sam! This is all your fault! I’m fat and tired and starving and you won’t let me eat! I hate seeds! I hate salad! I want Indian food, goddammit! The baby wants pizza and Hostess cupcakes! You’re trying to kill me is what you’re doing! And now? This cookie?” You threw the offending gingerbread man at his head, barely missing him. Sam ducked and looked to his brother for help, but Dean stood in the doorway, smartly keeping his mouth shut. “How dare you! All I want for Christmas is a motherfucking Gingerbread Man and you gave me this! I hate you!”

Sam’s lips quivered in shock, struggling to find something to say that would soothe you, but there was nothing. He watched with sad puppy eyes as your rage turned to tears and your knees gave out. He tried to catch you as you sank to the floor, but you pushed him away, angry and tired.

“No! Leave me alone, Sam! This is the last straw! I can't...I can't…”

Finally, Dean moved from his place by the door and hurried to your side. He scooped you up without a word, and you gratefully fell into his flannel covered arms.

Ten minutes later, you were out cold on the couch, having passed out with your head on Dean's shoulder. Carefully, and with the finesse of a cat burglar, Dean slid out from underneath you and stretched.

Sam was in the doorway, watching with a frown. “She hates me,” he said as Dean pushed himself up from the sofa.

Dean shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh!” Waving Sam out of the room he went on, “She doesn't hate you, Sam. It's like...hormones and shit. And the poor girl...dude, you gotta let her eat; she's starving.”

“She eats!”

“Rabbit food, man. She's eating for two and neither one of them likes tomatoes. And you know that and still you put tomatoes on everything. Also, seed cookies?” Dean hung his head in disgust. “It's Christmas, Sammy. How could you?”

Sam’s jaw twitched. “I'm just trying to do what's best. You don't know, Dean. You haven't read all the books, you don't know what could go wrong. Gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, placenta previa...You just don’t know!”

“Sam…”

“The baby could be breech! Do you have any idea what that means, Dean!” Sam’s hands swam through his hair as his eyes grew wide with worry. “Peripartum cardiomyopathy...she… she could have a friggin’ heart attack at any time!”

“Sammy…” Dean tried to snap Sam out of his rant, but the taller brother began to spin as his eyes darted about the room, seeming to read all the horrible things he’d seen on the air.

“That’s not even what could happen during labor! She could get an infection, she could bleed out! Just… die. You don’t understand, Dean. I have to keep her safe. I have to!”

“Damn it, Sammy, stop!” Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulder and jerked him to a halt. “Listen to me! You have to calm down. That’s all worst case stuff. Y/N is healthy, so is the baby. You’re the only one causing any problems.” Sam stared at him, silent and pained, but Dean sighed and went on. “Now, just relax. Nothing that could go wrong is gonna be fixed by force feeding your girlfriend plexiglass seeds or whatevers.”

“Flax.”

“What?”

“Flax. Flax seed.”

“Whatever,” Dean cringed. “The point is, you have got to let up. She’s miserable, can’t you see that?”

Sam pulled away enough to look over his shoulder at you. Your cheek was smushed against the seat, your hair a mess of sweat and tears. “She’s fine,” Sam argued. “Besides, we’ve only got a few weeks left.”

“Exactly, so why not let her enjoy it?”

Sam shook his head sternly and turned back to Dean. “No. I have to protect her, and this is the best way I can right now. This baby is…” He paused, not sure how to explain himself.

Dean filled the empty space. “It’s just a baby, Sam. People have them everyday. Sometimes more than one at a time.”

“No. You just don’t get it.” Sam gave up, and after a last look at your snoring face, he pushed passed Dean and set off in a huff. “And you can stop sneaking her Snickers when you think I’m not around, Dean.”

“Well, screw you too,” Dean muttered under his breath. “I’ll give her a damn Snickers if I want. This ain’t prison.”

You stirred on the couch, and Dean popped his head in the room to check on you. He would have attempted to carry you to bed, but you always hated that, and he was afraid he’d drop you now anyway.

“Dean?” You blinked into the dim light, woken by a ridiculously loud grumble in your tummy.

“Hey, Sweetheart, you want to go to bed?” Dean extended a hand, which you took, but shook your head, declining his offer.

“No,” you told him as you tugged his arm, pulling him down close to you. “What I want… what I need… is meat.”

Dean laughed and bent closer to kiss your forehead. “I know, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“No, Dean, I’m serious.” You lifted your chin to look him straight in the eyes and took a fistful of his shirt between your fingers. “I need you to break me out of here. You’ve been saying for months you’re gonna take me to a steakhouse. Come on, El Chapo, Today’s the day!”

“Y/N/N…” Dean’s hand closed around your fist and he patted your fingers gently. “We can’t. Sam’s just being…”

“Nuts,” you cut in. “He’s insane. Do you know he makes me take this giant vitamin every morning? It’s the size of a golf ball, Dean.” Tears were springing up behind your eyes as you begged him to help you. “And I have to wash it down with… he calls it milk, but goddammit, Dean, it didn’t come from no cow. You gotta help. If I smell another blade of wheatgrass I’m gonna cut my nose off. Please. You gotta help me.”

You could tell you’d won in the way his shoulders dropped. Dean sighed and bit his lip, looking down at you with such sympathy it tugged at your heart. Sure, you were pathetic, but that was your card to play right now. It wasn’t as if you were milking it, Sam was literally torturing you with all the health food. For the last three weeks you’d been dreaming of oreos; that couldn’t be normal.

With one last pitiful pout, you whispered your prayer to the green-eyed superhero you called friend. “Please, Dean.”

“If he finds out, he’s gonna kill me.”

“It’s just a burger, Dean. What could go wrong?”

The steakhouse was not open, as it was nearly one in the morning on Christmas Eve, but Millie’s Diner was open all night.

You sat sideways in the booth because your belly wouldn’t fit, but you couldn’t care less about how you looked. Dean ordered a giant meal for you both, and you matched him bite for bite. The fries were overdone and deliciously crispy. The milkshake was cold and divine. The burger… you couldn’t find a word for it. Your brain frizzled when the rare meat and melted cheese hit your tongue, and all you could do was close your eyes and sigh happily. Dean watched you with a smile as you devoured your dinner, and even gave you a strip of bacon right off his burger. “For the baby,” he said with a wink. You didn’t care if it was for the baby, or your hips, you needed it all.

Smacking your lips, you sat back with a satisfied grin and rubbed your belly. “Thank you, dude. That was amazing.”

Dean mirrored your pose, right down to the belly rub. “It was. Good idea, Y/N/N.”

A flash of pain wrapped around your middle and you cringed as it stopped your breath. “Ow.”

Dean’s head snapped up from his plate where he’d been eyeing a drop of cheese that had been left behind. “You OK?”

You nodded quickly and shifted a bit in the seat. “Yeah, this table is just uncomfortable.”

“Well,” Dean laughed. “We could have sat at the counter, but you’re a little off balance lately.”

“Shut up,” you laughed and then tensed up as another wave of pain circled your belly. “Ouch!”

“Y/N/N…”

Dean sat forward, eyeing you suspiciously, but you waved him off. “Just indigestion,” you assured him. “I’m good.” You hissed at another stabbing pain, this one harder and coming up from below. “Gaah!”

“OK, that’s not OK, Y/N.” Dean scooted to the end of his seat and moved to stand up.

“No! No! Sit.” You took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m good.” Another crackle of daggers around your sides. “Fuck!” You gasped but kept your lips lifted in a smile that was nothing short of creepy now. “Pie? They have pie. Let’s get pie.”

“Sweetheart, the only thing we’re getting is you to the hospital.” Dean finally stood up and had your elbow in his hand, trying to urge you up.

“No, no hospital. I’m fine.” The last word came out on the end of a scream that turned every head in the brightly lit diner. “Dean! I think I’m in labor.”

“Yeah, Y/N/N, I know.” Dean picked you up and slung your arm around his shoulder, carefully guiding you to the exit. He paused to hand the waitress some cash, who basically pushed you both out of the door.

“Dean!”

“Oh, Sam is gonna kill me.”

Sam probably would have killed you both, but all of his anger, fear, and months of worry faded away when he held his daughter in his arms. Tessa Rose was born on Christmas Eve after an exhausting seventeen hours of labor. She was soft and squirming, already a loud and feisty Winchester as she cried as Sam tried to adjust her against his chest. He’d read every book ever written on infants, but holding the newborn, his newborn, was something he was not prepared for.

You lay in bed, slipping in and out of sleep, watching with a pain-killer induced smile as Sam struggled in the chair next to your bed. His face was twisted with nerves, but his eyes were calm and happy. Finally, Tessa found a spot that she seemed to like, and fell asleep against her daddy’s chest. Sam rocked gently side to side and looked over at you with a truly contented smile.

“You did a great job, Mommy,” he said.

“Well, I had help.”

Sam frowned and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I went a little…”

“Psycho Father To Be?” you laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.” Sam nodded sadly and looked away, but you sat up and reached for his hand. “Hey, Sam, I get it. It’s OK. I love you. You’re gonna be an amazing dad. You just have to learn to go with the flow.”

Sam smiled and fit his fingers through yours. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Dean appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. “OK, can we roll the credits on this RomCom? I want to see my niece.”

“Come on in.” Sam sat up and gently lifted Tessa from her spot, showing her off to Dean.

“Oh, she is… awesome.” Dean grinned and took the baby in his arms, smiling down at the perfectly chubby cheeks and dusting of brown hair. Tessa popped open her eyes and batted her delicate lashes, instantly wrapping her uncle around her finger. Dean kissed her forehead and then set her down on the bed. “I got a you a present, Tessa.”

Sam climbed into bed with you and you snuggled together as Dean pulled a red velvet Christmas stocking from his jacket. Before you could stop him, Dean pulled the sock up over Tessa’s legs, and the baby sank down into it, her chin popping up over the white faux fur.

“Dean, what are you doing to my baby?” you asked from your spot under Sam’s arm.

Dean laughed to himself and snapped a picture of your festively swaddled daughter. “That one’s going on the fridge.”

“Take it off,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Why?” Dean picked Tessa up and held her aloft. “She’s the best Christmas present ever.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Sam echoed, and pulled you close. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Sam.” You looked up and placed a warm kiss on his lips. “Merry Christmas, Dean,” you added, looking over at the giddy man holding a stocking full of baby.

Dean shifted Tessa to lay in the crook of his arm, and kissed the tip of her tiny nose. “God bless us,” he said softly. “Every one.”

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