#this is how I imagine the next episode going based on the stills and summary.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buck when Eddie can’t hang out because he’s got plans with his girlfriend: Bummer man! We can hang out after our next shift then.

Buck when Eddie can’t hang out because he made friends with a hot, older firefighter with access to a helicopter: OH I SEE. I guess he hates me. Our friendship must have meant nothing to him. He’s going to leave the 118 and leave me and I’m going to be all alone forever. I guess I should try to ruin the friendship subconsciously by being a petty asshole.

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

i lost my y/n

masterlist

SPOILERS! based on season 15 episode 13 “destiny’s child” where au sam and dean get stuck in the wall then are used to trick chuck into thinking sam and dean are still in the bunker

summary : when another sam and dean pop into the bunker, you learn how that dean lost his version of you.

paring : dean winchester x wife!reader, au dean winchester x au!wife!reader

rating : R for language

word count : 1.8k

warnings : swearing, mentions of death, dead (au) reader, au dean “runs his fingers through your hair”, implied sex/nudity

author’s note : “i lost my mj” was definitely the inspiration for the title :,)

“i’m back!” you called out in a sing-song voice as you walked into the bunker then down the stairs. “de, they didn’t have fresh pie so i got a couple frozen ones that’ll take a while to cook but-”

you were cut off by the feeling of familiar lips on yours.

“hey, hey, hey!” dean shouted and pulled the man away from you. he looked about ready to punch his other self but you stopped him.

“i’m guessing the spell worked? i’m y/n, you must be dean, obviously,” you awkwardly smiled and reached out to shake his hand but he pulled you into a hug. “okay, that works too,” you laughed quietly.

“alright, alright, that’s enough of that,” your dean pulled you away from the hug. “what’s your deal? stop grabbing my wife, the fuck!?”

“i’m sorry, she- she looks just like my y/n, and i- i lost her, i lost my y/n,” both deans looked at you, you looked at other-world-dean with such compassion and love; you couldn’t imagine losing dean and you knew losing you must’ve hurt him immensely.

“oh, dean,” you whispered and hugged the man you just met, he hugged you back with everything in him. “i’m so sorry, hun.” you let him hold you for almost two minutes before he let go. “c’mon let’s sit down,” you nodded toward the table, still holding a grocery bag and a six pack.

“here i’ll take that,” your dean took the beer and followed you to the table. you put the bag of groceries away then came back and sat down next to your dean as the brothers told their other selves about the chuck situation.

other-world-dean couldn’t take his eyes off you, he was barely paying attention to anything else going on in the room.

“hey! other me!” your dean suddenly exclaimed, he snapped his fingers a couple times in attempt to grab his attention.

“sorry- sorry i- its just-”

“i know,” your dean stopped him. he knew losing you would kill him and he couldn’t think about that right now; he knew how much pain his other self was in but right now all that mattered was stopping chuck. “i know, i- losing y/n would be the death of me, and i’m sorry you lost her. but please, listen to what we have to say then once we leave you can talk with this y/n and get, i dunno, a bit of closure maybe?”

other dean nodded, “yeah, yeah okay; what were you saying?”

**

“come back to me, okay?” you whispered and your husband nodded. he bent down and kissed you before hugging you tightly and kissing the crown of your head.

“i will, i promise,” he mumbled into your hair. he kissed you again before he left with sam.

you turned to other dean, who was standing near the table and looked desperate to hold you. you wrapped your arms around his torso and he wrapped his around your shoulders.

“god, i miss you, y/n,” he whispered. “i miss you so fucking much.”

“it’s okay, dean, i’m here,” you replied, not really knowing what to say.

“hey, where’s the bathroom?” sam asked awkwardly.

“uh follow me,” you said. you let go of dean, keeping his hand clasped in yours, and led sam down the hall. “here. dean and i will be in the kitchen; it’s gonna be back down this hall on the left.”

sam nodded in thanks before you left with dean. in the kitchen, the pie was almost done and the beer was now cold after sitting in the fridge.

“wanna sit?” you asked him and motioned to the table. he just stared at you. you noticed tears welling in his eyes the longer you stared back. “here, sit.” you both sat down at the table and you took both his hands in yours. “talk to me like i’m her, what would you say?”

“i love you, y/n, i love you so much it physically hurts not having you with me,” he whispered and allowed the tears to fall. “i’m so sorry i didn’t save you, i- i should’ve been there, it’s my fault you- i should’ve saved you.”

“it wasn’t your fault, you have to know that,” you wiped his tears away. seeing dean like this broke your heart and silent tears escaped as you continued talking. “whatever happened i’m sure you did all you could, dean.”

“but you- you shouldn’t have been hunting, i begged you not to go into that fucking nest alone, and-” he rested his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“and i was stubborn enough to go in anyway,” you put the pieces of the story together. “dean, that is not on you. if i wanted to hunt i’d hunt, there’s nothing you could’ve done, please, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“but why aren’t you hunting then? what did this other me say to you?”

“he asked me to stop and of course i said no, and,” you sighed, “i kept hunting anyway. i didn’t stop until one hunt went wrong and- and i almost got dean killed. he was so worried about me he got distracted and i- i knew i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he got killed cause of me.”

“see that’s how i feel about you- or her!” dean sat up and looked at you. “i feel so guilty about not being fast enough to help you- her. and i know, i know it’s not really my fault but then this other part of me is saying ‘yes, yes it is dean, you- you killed her.’”

“i’m sorry,” you smiled sadly. “is there anything i can say or do to help you? i’m not your y/n, but i’m still y/n.”

“i just-” he held your face in his hands and stared at you. “i think i just wanna hold you, if that’s okay.”

“yeah, yes of course that’s okay, dean,” you brushed away more stray tears off his cheeks. “i’ll take the pie out of the oven, and we can just sit together on the couch, how does that sound?”

“sounds perfect, y/n,” dean smiled the first time since you’d seen him. the timer went off so you got up and took the pie out of the oven, placing it on the counter and fanning it lightly with your oven-mitt-covered hand.

sam came into the kitchen, “smells delicious, y/n!” he exclaimed.

“sorry, this sam doesn’t eat pie,” you told him. “there’s kale salad in the fridge though; tastes like ass in my opinion but it’s what sam eats.”

“kale salad?” sam grumbled in response.

“there’s beer too.” you handed him the bowl of salad and a cold beer. “dean n’ i are gonna be in the room down the hall, let me know if you need anything, kay?”

“okay,” sam looked at the salad with a concerned frowned.

“when the other sam and dean get back you can have some pie, how’s that sound?” you offered and sam gave you a nod in thanks. you kissed dean’s temple then motioned for him to follow you. “what?” you asked, he looked like a sad puppy.

“i’ve missed your forehead kisses, that’s all,” he whispered then swallowed thickly.

**

you and dean spent the next several hours laying down on the couch in the dean cave and watching back to the future. you knew dean wasn’t really watching, he was more focused on playing with your hair and running his fingers through it. you let him mess with it, you didn’t mind and knew he was hurting.

he kissed the top of your head several times throughout the movies, he took your hands in his and kissed them; he just held you and to him it had been so long since he held you. it had been years and he missed the feeling of your head on his chest, your legs tangled, as you watched movies.

when the boys got back they let you know it was good news and that jack might be able to take down chuck after all. before other world sam and dean left you let dean hug you tightly one last time. you gave him a couple of your phone numbers and told him if he ever wanted to talk to just give you a call and that maybe once chuck was gone they could visit from time to time. you also reminded him how much other you loved him and that she wanted him to be happy; meaning he could find someone else in brazil and be happy without her.

**

that night you laid with your husband in bed; resting comfortably atop his chest while he traced absentminded circles on your bare back.

“dean?”

“mhm?”

“if i get killed by some monster down the line,” you sat up on your elbow so you could look at him. “don’t blame yourself, okay?”

“y/n? are you okay?” he asked, concern growing in him. “why would you think you’re gonna get killed anytime soon?”

“i’m fine, i promise. it’s just, talking with other you i realized how much he was carrying on his shoulders about other-me’s death, and how much he was beating himself up about it.”

“how’d she die?” dean asked quietly.

“vampire, can you believe that? a fuckin’ vampire killed her! i mean, she had been up against gods and goddesses but she was killed by a run-of-the-mill vampire!”

“yea that’s- that doesn’t make sense.”

“i guess it was a nest she n’ other you were hunting and she got to it first. she went in without other you and by the time other you got there, other me was dead.”

“if that happened to you i would one hundred percent blame myself,” dean stated seriously.

“no that’s, ugh!” you sighed, putting your forehead on his chest in frustration. “if that happens,” you continued after bringing your head back up, “that’s not your fault! that would be my choice to go in alone! and granted, it’s not gonna happen because i don’t hunt anymore, but still!”

“but y/n-”

“no ‘buts’ dean winchester!” you interrupted. “you have to promise me if i get killed by something supernatural you will not blame yourself!”

“what about this butt?” he asked playfully, placing a hand on the sheet covering your lower half.

“yes, that butt’s all yours,” you smiled. “but seriously dean,” you reached your hand up and held his cheek. “please don’t blame yourself.”

“i can’t promise i won’t,” he whispered; he knew if something were to happen to you he’d blame the hell out of himself till the day he died.

“i know,” you replied. you sat up further and kissed his soft lips. “just know that i love you and if it does happen to be your fault i forgive you. no matter what.”

“i love you too,” he kissed you again before you laid back down on his chest.

you both went back to tracing absentminded shapes on the other’s skin as you drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

[mommymlkrs]

~ You Can’t Escape Destiny ~

~ Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/n come across a profit writing books word for word off of their lives. They seek out the writer and he tells them something they may not have wanted to hear. Do they really want to try and escape destiny though?

~ Pairings: Sam Winchester x Fem Reader

~ Warnings: Smut, this is also very long.

*Based off of Season 4 Episode 18* *Spoilers*

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

The bell dings as Sam and Dean enter the comic book store after being sent on a possible hunt by Castiel. They both make their way to the guy at the front counter in their black and white suits posing as FBI agents.

“Uh can I help you?” The worker says confused.

“Sure hope so, agents DeYoung and Shaw, just need to ask you a few questions.” Dean holds up his badge.

“See anything strange in the building the last couple of days?” Sam pipes in.

“Like what?”

“Strange noises? Any skittering in the walls? kind of like rats?”

“And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” The guy asks suspiciously.

“What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?” Sam keeps nagging.

The worker looks like the lightbulb in his head suddenly flickered on as a smile creeps on his face.

“I knew it! You guys are LARP-ing, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me.” Dean says offended.

“You’re fans!”

“Fans of what?”

“What is LARP-ing?” They both question.

“Like you don’t know.” Still finding a bright smile on his face, Sam and Dean both look at him with confusing looks.

“Live-Action role playing, and pretty hardcore too!” He exclaims pointing towards their suits making them both look down.

“Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You guys are asking questions like the building is haunted. Like those guys from the books. Oh what are their names..” He explains as he tries to remember.

“Supernatural.” The guy recalls as Sam and Dean are both utterly confused.

“Two guys use fake Id's with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires." He tells them. Sam and Dean both give each other confusing looks.

"What are their names? Uhh, Steve and Dirk? Sal and Dane?"

"Sam and Dean?" Sam questions.

"That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?"

"Books, it was a series." He corrects.

"Didn't sell a lot of copies though, kind of an underground cult following."

"Let's see uhh" The worker jumps up and searches for the series within his store. Both Sam and Dean follow as he searches through the bargain bin.

"Oh yeah, that's the first one I think." He hands the book to Dean."

"Supernatural by Carver Edlund." Dean reads the title continuing when he flips the book over.

"Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."

"Give me that." Sam grabs the book from Dean frantically scanning the book.

"We're gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you got."

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

Back at the motel, Sam is seated at a desk researching on his computer, Dean is sitting on one bed reading one of their new found books, and Y/n is lying on her stomach on the other bed already starting the second in the series.

"This is freaking insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?" Dean perks up.

"You got me." Sam replies.

"everything is in here. I mean everything. To the racist truck to me having sex. I'm full frontal in here." Dean explains.

"Those were some of the best parts." Y/n chimes in joking. Both Sam and Dean look at Y/n with weird looks. Although Y/n never takes her eyes away from the words on the page she can just imagine their faces so she smirks.

"How come we haven't heard of them before?" Dean says Ignoring Y/n's comment.

"They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uhh started in 05. Publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And the last one, 'No Rest for the Wicked ends with you going to hell." Sam faces the laptop to Dean once he sits down next to him.

"Well, I reiterate. Freaking insane. Oh and check it out, there's actually fans. Not many of them, but still. Did you read this Sam?"

"Yup."

"Really? Oh my god, you guys are like famous!" Y/n gets up to look over Dean's shoulder at the laptop.

"For fans, they do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'The demon story line is trite, clichéd and overall craptastic.' Yeah well screw you Simpatico, we lived it."

Y/n starts to laugh and points to the screen to read it out.

"There are Sam girls, Dean girls and Sam / Dean fans.”

"What does that mean?" Dean asks.

"As in.. Together." Answers Sam.

"Like together together?"

"Yeah."

"They do know we're brothers right?" Dean says wide eyed.

"It doesn't seem to matter."

"Oh come on. That’s just sick."

"This just keeps getting better and better." Y/n giggles.

"Oh don't worry Y/n, there's some of you too." Sam smirks.

Y/n goes wide eyed and her face heats up in embarrassment.

"I take it back, this is definitely too weird."

"Oooh look at that, 'Y/n and Sam ge-" Y/n shuts the laptop closed immediately and releases a breath she didn't know she was holding while Dean chuckles at her action.

"We gotta find this Carver Edlund."

"But how?" Y/n questions Sam.

"I don't know. No tax records, no known address. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name."

"Someone's gotta know who he is." Dean replies.

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

"So you published the Supernatural books?" Sam questions the woman.

"Yup, gosh these books. You know they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

Both Sam and Dean give Y/n side glances knowing that's all Y/n ever reads.

"What?" Y/n whispers looking back and forth between them.

"Well, we're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series." Sam looks back to the woman.

"Yeah, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we could start publishing again."

"No, no, no, no. God no. I mean why would you wanna do that? You know, it's such a complete series... What with Dean going to hell and all." Dean tries to explain.

"Oh my god, that was one of my favourite ones! Because Dean was so strong and sad and brave, and Sam, I mean, in ‘Heart’, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first girl since Jessica he really loved.." She says so excitedly.

"Totally agree, and Y/n, right guys? Personally I think she was one of the best characters." Y/n says trying not to be left out.

"Yeah.. I mean she could definitely use some character growth but she added to the story." Y/n was definitely offended by that, but the woman continued.

"I really wish I could've seen what happened with her and Sam though."

"Her and Sam?" Sam questioned her statement not understanding.

"Yeah, you know, there was definitely something between them. You guys finished the books right?"

Both Y/n and Sam's faces started to heat up trying to look anywhere but at the people in the room.

"Yeah, yeah, totally! Great books." Dean chimes in.

"How do I know you 3 are legit? Hm?" She points a finger at them.

"Oh trust me, we're legit."

"Well I don't want any smart ass article making fun of my boys." She sits down behind her desk.

"No, no, no." The 3 quickly say in sync.

"We would never." Y/n adds.

"We are actually uhm big fans, read the books cover to cover."

"What's the year and model of the car?" Clearly trying to test them.

"1967 Chevy Impala." Dean says like a proud dad.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my-" Y/n quickly shoves Sam's foot.

"Uhh that's Sam's birthday." Sam says correcting his mistake.

"January 24th is Dean's." Dean quickly slides that in there.

"And (your birthday) is Y/n's, i-if you wanted to know."

"Sam's score on the LSAT?" Both Y/n and Dean look at Sam.

"One... Seventy four.?"

"Dean's favourite song?"

"It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Rambling On' and 'Travelling Riverside Blues.’”

"Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?" She smiles.

"What's Carver Edlunds real name?" Sam questions.

"Oh no, no, sorry I can't do that."

"We just wanna talk to him. You know get the Supernatural story in his own words."

"He's very private."

"Please." Sam pleads.

"Like we said.. We are very big fans." Y/n explains rolling up her sleeve to show her anti-posessing tattoo eyeing Sam and Dean to do the same. They both unbutton their shirts showing their tattoo's placed on their chest.

"Awesome." The woman says nervously obviously eyeing their chests. Y/n can't help but roll her eyes.

"You know what? One sec." She pulls down her pants to show her ass. And it just so happens to be the same tattoo. Y/n makes an uncomfortable noise from her throat and coughs to interrupt the weirdness.

"Wow, you are a fan." Dean says without removing his eyes from her tattoo.

"Hah, okay, well here, his name is Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius. So don't piss him off." She explains while writing down the information.

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

All 3 of them get out of the car and head to the house.

"You know what? Maybe this guy can see our futures.” Y/n says as a joke.

"Yeah, he probably has a crystal ball too." Dean making a sarcastic comment as always.

"Ha ha Dean. Lighten up once in awhile, it's just a joke." Sam chuckles at her nagging.

"See, Sam laughed, it's probably because I'm funny." She speaks while skipping on a few steps to get beside them. When she reaches them, Sam’s hand and hers accidentally touch, startling them.

"Or because you can't keep up with us, short legs." Dean remarks once making it to the porch. Dean presses the doorbell and after a few seconds a guy with brown scruffy hair opens the door squinting at them like a vampire who hasn't seen light in days.

“You Chuck Shurley?” Dean asks.

“The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?” Sam seconds.

“Maybe, why?” The scruffy vampire man replies suspiciously. Y/n steps up between the boys.

“I’m Y/n, this is Sam and Dean. The ones you’ve been writing about.” She explains pointing at them. The man shuts the door so Y/n raises her arm and pounds on the door. Once again the man appears in the doorway.

“Look uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It’s always nice to hear from the fans. But for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” Y/n scoffs at that and stops the door when the man tries to shut it.

“So here’s the thing, Chuck. We have a life, you’ve been using it to write your books, and I’m not in the mood for crap today.” Y/n perks up and walks into his house. The brothers both look at each other not expecting that from her.

“Wait a minute, this isn’t funny.” The man stutters.

“Damn straight, it’s not funny.” Dean starts to get mad.

“Look, we just want to know how you’re doing it?” Sam asks obviously being the nice cop here.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Are you a hunter?”

“What? No, I’m a writer.”

“Then how do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?” Dean pressures.

“Is this some kind of Misery thing? It is isn’t it? It’s a Misery thing.”

“This is not a Misery thing.” Y/n chimes in.

“Believe me, we are not fans.” Explains Dean.

“Well then what do you want?”

“I’m Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/n.”

“Sam, Dean and Y/n are all fictional characters. I made them up. They’re not real!”

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Dean opens up the Impala’s trunk.

“Are those real guns?” Chuck asks.

“Yup, this is real rock salt, these are real fake Id’s.”

“Believe us now?” Says Y/n.

“Uh, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That’s awesome, so.. I think I got some posters in the house.” Chuck dabbles and walks back to his house.

“Chuck stop!” Deans yells.

“Wait, please, please don’t hurt me.”

“How much do you know? About the angels or Lilith breaking the seals?” Asks Sam.

“Wait a minute, how do you know about that?”

“How do you?” Y/n questions.

“Cause I wrote it.”

“You kept writing?” Questions Y/n again, curious.

“Even after the publisher went bankrupt. But those books never came out.” The 3 look at each other then Chuck.

“Okay wait wait wait, this is some kind of joke right? Did that- Did Phil put you up to this?” He laughs pointing to his left.

“Well nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam, and that’s Y/n Y/L/n.”

“Last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.”

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After talking more with Chuck, they all head to the Laundromat.

“‘I’m sitting in a Laundromat, reading about myself in a Laundromat, reading about myself-‘ my head hurts.” Dean recites the paper.

“There’s gotta be something this guys not telling us.” Sam says putting his laundry in the machine.

“‘Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck. Whether he was telling the whole truth.’”

“Stop it.” Sam now annoyed.

“‘Stop it’ Sam said.’ Guess what you do next. ‘Sam turned his back on Dean. His face brooding and pensive.’ I mean I don’t know how but this guy is doing it.”

“Yeah I mean those are definitely his brooding and pensive shoulders.” Y/n responds to Dean.

“See, I knew you were gonna say that, and Sam just thought I was a dick. As well as Y/n daydreaming about Sam’s ass.” This caught Y/n’s attention.

“It does not say that!”

“I’m pretty sure it does, look-ey here” Dean waves the paper in Y/n’s face.

“Gimme that.” Y/n scootches over to Dean on the bench to grab the paper but he waves it around out of her reach.

“Oh my god, you are so childish Dean.”

“Says the one embarrassed she got caught starin’.” Reading off the paper again, Y/n snatches the paper, crumples it and throws it in the trash.

“You gotta admit, the guys good.” Sam chuckles and tries to ignore the previous conversation.

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Back at the house trying to get more information, Chuck holds more paper.

“So you wrote another chapter?” Asks Sam.

“This was all so different before you were real.”

“We need whatever you can tell us to figure this out so just spit it out.” Y/n perks up.

“Okay, uhm this might be a little uncomfortable, but you asked so.” The 3 share glances across the room from where Dean is sitting on a chair and Sam and Y/n are sitting on the couch. Chuck sits on a stool, puts his glasses on and begins to read, obviously seeming like he doesn’t like to read his work out loud.

“‘Y/n grabs him by the edges of his unzipped jacket pulling him closer to her when he hungrily smashes his lips on hers like a wave of relief, a desire fulfilled.’ Chuck stops reading to look at the 3, who’s faces are utterly confused to see if he should read on. Y/n just knows her face is red as a tomato when she starts to feel very uncomfortable at the mention of her name. Chuck starts to read on.

“‘Sam’s hands grab her hips trying to get impossibly clos-‘“

“Okay, I don’t think we need that much information..” Sam cuts Chuck off feeling embarrassed and very sweaty at the moment. Dean chuckles at the very obvious uncomfortableness in the room.

“It’s just a draft..” Chuck states. Y/n stands from the couch.

“I’m uh super thirsty actually, do you have any water Chuck?”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll uhm go get some.”

“Great, I’ll come with you.” Y/n follows trying to leave the awkwardness as fast as possible.

Sam starts to laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Dean questions.

“Nothing, nothing, its just, Y/n and me? In bed?”

“Who are you trying to convince here?” Dean smirks.

“Don’t worry, I definitely don’t see you’re guys’ little glances and hand touches, and staring at the other when the other isn’t looking type of deal.”

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean says innocently causing Sam to roll his eyes.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Y/n and Chuck walk back into the room with her glass of water.

“Thank you.” Y/n says kindly avoiding eye contact with Sam as she sits on the couch but a little farther away this time trying not to make it more awkward.

“How does this whole psychic thing work?” Dean asks Chuck.

“You mean my process?”

“Yes. Your process.”

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“Come on.” Sam starts while they’re all in the Impala.

“‘The minivan accident wasn’t that bad. But Dean was still seeing stars, he scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aid on his face..’” Y/n giggles at that from the backseat.

“So?” Questions Dean.

“So I’ve seen you gushing blood. You use duct tape and bar rags before you’d put on a pink flower Band-Aid.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is this, all this is totally implausible. It’s nuts.”

“He’s been right about everything, you think he’ll ground out at first now?”

“‘Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.’”

“Can we stop with these papers? Our lives aren’t a script we have to follow, reading off of these isn’t gonna help with anything right now except make you guys argue.” Y/n put her hands on the seat and leaned forward glancing between them.

“Yeah whatever, you just don’t wanna come across another part with you and Sam.” Dean smirks.

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Back at the motel Dean still seemed to have questions.

“I’m gonna go outside and try to see if I can contact Cas.”

“Don’t leave me in here Dean!” Y/n whisper yells.

“Sam’s in the shower, I’ll be like 10 minutes tops Y/n. Just don’t go hopping in there with him.” Dean smirks and shuts the door to the room.

Y/n decides to get comfy so she sits on the bed, back against the headboard and watches whatever she can find on the tv. After watching the clock, it had been 10 minutes exactly when she heard the bathroom door open. Sam walked out, damp hair and water dripping down his body with only a towel hanging on his waist. Y/n found herself staring.

“Oh, uhm I thought I heard the door close, I assumed you left with Dean.” Sam explained gathering up his clean clothes.

“He said he would be like 10 minutes, just wanted to contact Cas.”

“Oh okay.” Sam said nervously heading back to the bathroom to change. After a few minutes the bathroom door opened again and this time he had pants on but still no shirt.

“Could you uh pass me that shirt beside you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, here.” She tossed him his shirt. He raised his arms and put his shirt on. Y/n swore she almost drooled. Sam came and sat down across from Y/n on the other bed facing her. She sat up and put her feet on the floor.

“Listen, about earlier..” Sam started as he scratched his neck. Remembering back to earlier Y/n laughed, noticing how funny it actually was.

“Which part? There was so many.” She giggled referring to all the awkward times people said something about them being together. Sam laughed too at that.

“Yeah, I just don’t want that to make things awkward between us, it’s kinda felt that way since earlier.”

“Yeah, I felt that too. But maybe Chuck was wrong? I’ve always believed we write our own futures, so fuck destiny. If we don’t feel what everyone is saying we should feel, then so what?” Sam laughed and nodded his head.

“I agree.” At that, Y/n smiled and stood up to hug Sam.

“See? All better, we can feel how we wanna feel.”

“So I can feel that I wanna tickle you?” Sam smiled and Y/n immediately gasped and tried to run away but Sam grabbed her waist and started tickling.

“SAM! I swear if you don’t stop!” Sam pushed her back onto the other bed stopping her from squirming away.

“You swear what?” Sam stopped tickling her but held her hips to the bed still. After a few moments, Y/n caught her breath but didn’t know what to say. She looked back and forth between his eyes and lips and so did Sam. Suddenly they heard voices and sat up quickly. Dean walked through the door.

“I don’t even wanna know. C’mon we are getting out of here.” Dean stated.

“What where?” Asked Sam.

“Anywhere, okay? Out of this Motel, out of this town. I don’t care if we gotta swim. We are getting out.” Dean started packing his bag.

“Why aren’t you guys moving?” Dean raised his voice.

“Listen, Chuck is not a psychic. He’s a prophet.”

“What?” Y/n stood up.

“Cas showed up. And apparently, Chuck is writing the gospel of us. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“It’s the middle of the night Dean, the road out of here is cut off, we can’t leave.” Y/n walked towards him.

“Fine. We are leaving as soon as the road out of here opens up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean repeated.

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That night, Dean some how ended up getting his own bed and Y/n got the other bed while Sam was stuck with the couch after very much debate between him and Y/n.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes to find it was still dark outside, she found herself thirsty so she got up to grab a water bottle out of the fridge but only found beer. ‘Liquid is liquid I guess’ she thought. Once her eyes adjusted to the room, her eyes found themselves on Sam, quietly laughing at how gigantic he was with his legs hanging off the end of the couch. She looked over to Dean but he wasn’t there.

“Dean?” She asked like he was suddenly gonna appear. She quickly made her way over to Sam shaking his shoulders to wake him up.

“Sam? Sam!” He groaned as he awoke.

“Deans not in his bed.”

“What?” Sam questioned Y/n.

‘Oh my god, his morning voice.’ Y/n thought.

“I don’t know where he is. The Impala is still outside and all of his stuff is here.”

Sam stood up to see Dean was in-fact not in his bed. ‘He doesn’t have a shirt on too? Oh my, what this man does to me.�� Y/n thought.

“Maybe he went for a walk?” Said Sam obviously too tired at the moment to focus.

“I don’t know Sam.” Sam took a step closer to Y/n to get her attention.

“Y/n, I’m sure he just went to the bar across the street or something. Let’s just go back to sleep and when we wake up I’m telling you he will be here. If he’s not, we can take as many precautions as you’d like.”

“Fine.” At that Sam took another step closer to put his fingers on her chin turning her head up to him.

“Y/n.” Sam said sternly knowing she was worried.

“It’s okay Sam, if you think he’s fine, I believe you.” Y/n explained placing her fingers on his hand. Sam smiled at that.

“Goodnight Y/n.” Sam said softly leaving her touch.

“Are you sure about that couch Sam? You didn’t look too comfortable… You can sleep in my bed if you want, I really don’t mind.” Y/n said calmly trying to act as chill as possible as she climbed in under the covers.

“You sure?”

“Just get in Sam.” She smiled at him. Sam made his way over to the side of the bed and hesitantly got under the covers as well. Y/n turned over to face Sam still smiling.

“What?” He smiled at her.

“You’re so warm, the bed was so cold before.” Y/n said, thoughts racing.

“I’ll gladly be your heater anytime Y/n.” She loved when he said her name. She shuffled a bit closer not wanting to roll off the bed during the night. At that, Sam slowly reached his hand up to brush her hair out of her face behind her ear. At the action, Y/n’s cheeks turned pink, thankful it was dark so he didn’t notice.

After a moment of staring into each others eyes, both of their gazes flickered back and forth from their eyes to each others lips. Sam leaned in slowly not wanting to accidentally get the wrong idea. His lips grazed hers and after realization Y/n pressed her lips to his. A slow kiss made faster in the moment turning his hand on her hip and hers on his cheek.

They both separated taking heavy breaths, echoing through the motel room. Y/n smirked and pulled him closer once again intertwining their mouths and pressing their bodies as close as possible to each other. Sam put both hands on her hips now turning them over so he was on top, he started kissing her jawline and down her neck giving them a break to breathe. Y/n put her hands through his hair as Sam looked up at her.

“I remember you saying ‘fuck destiny.’” Sam smirked.

“And I remember you agreeing. So shut up and kiss me Winchester.” She smiled at him and brought him up to her face connecting their lips. Sam tugged at the edge of her oversized shirt making her lean up off the bed so he could pull it off finding her without a bra. He instantly went to sucking her chest and twisting her other nipple. Y/n let out a moan and Sam smiled against her chest switching to give each the same attention.

He went back to her mouth and Y/n found the draw string to his sweatpants undoing the bow tugging at them. Sam got the hint and detached their mouths to kneel and take off his pants. He slowly reached for Y/n’s shorts and looked up at her. She smiled and nodded so he continued to pull them off her. He rubbed his fingers against her covered heat.

“Your so wet.” Sam noticed and smiled at her.

“All for you.” Y/n spoke up. Sam then hooked his fingers on either side of her hips pulling her underwear down and off. She whined at the cool air hitting her suddenly. Sam leaned down toward her heat spreading her legs with his hands and licking a stripe up her slit. Y/n moaned at his action so Sam did it again liking the sweet sounds she made. He then started sucking on her clit harshly making her squeal and try to shut her legs around his head so Sam reached both his arms under and around her thighs keeping them open for him.

He started moving his mouth around more chasing her to moan and stick her hands back in his hair pulling and tugging.

“Sam pleasee.” Y/n moaned.

“Please what? Tell me what you need sweetheart.” Sam replied against her pussy.

“I- I need more!” At that, Sam unhooked one of his arms from her thigh and stuck his finger in her hole. Y/n screamed at the sudden movements. Sam roughly moved his finger in and out adding a second one still sucking her clit.

“I- I’m gonna-“ Y/n tried to tell him.

“That’s it, cum on my fingers sweetie.” At the nickname, Y/n came on his fingers a moaning mess. Still thrusting, he let her come down from her high.

Sam sucked her juices off his fingers coming off with a pop.

“You taste so good.” Sam stated crawling back up to her to intertwine their lips. They broke apart as Y/n tugged his boxers down finding his hard cock.

“You’re so big.” Said Y/n, almost drooling. Sam chuckled and turned her on her stomach with her ass in the air. Sam stuck his arm around to her face.

“Spit.” Y/n did as told and Sam brought his hand back to stroke his cock a few times. He put one hand on her ass spreading her open for him and the other hand guiding his dick in her wet hole. He slowly went in as Y/n started to whine.

“C’mon, you can fit me honey.” She moaned at his deep soothing voice and Sam bottomed out giving her a second to adjust before he pulled out, back in, and started slamming into her from behind with both hands on her hips now bringing her hips to meet his. Their moans and groans filled the room along with the slapping of their hips.

“Sam-“ Y/n moaned into the bed gripping the sheets. Sam grabbed both her arms and pinned her wrists behind her back grunting as he pounded harder. Y/n started to whine loudly and he felt her clench causing him to roll his head back.

“You gonna cum baby?” He said to her reaching his fingers down to massage her clit.

“Mhmm.” She moaned out not being able to form words. He let go off her wrists, grabbing a fist of hair instead making her uncontrollably moan as well as her eyes rolling back in her head. Sam stopped his movement on her clit and let go of her hair before pulling out quickly to flip her body around. Her back now on the bed he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder immediately putting his cock back into her wet cunt causing her to whimper and scream. Sam leaned down grabbing the sides of her face in his palms and kissed her. While pulling away from her lips he started pounding into her like never before shaking the bed. They stared into each others eyes mouths wide open moaning. Y/n’s eyes started to get heavy and started to stutter.

“Sam, I’m-“ Sam knew what she was trying to say and continued fucking into her.

“I know baby. Cum for me.” He said between breaths feeling her starting to clench around him. Y/n moaned his name all the way through her orgasm.

“Good girl.” Y/n then began to shake at the over stimulation.

“Sammy- I ca-“

“Just a little longer sweetie, you can do it.” He reassured her and let go of her head to pound into her a little more when his thrusts started getting sloppy and his dick began to twitch. His cum shot into her causing them to both moan. He carefully pulled out and leaned down on top of her to kiss her swollen lips. She ran her fingers through his hair while both of them panted to calm down and catch their breathe. Sam lied down next to her on his side, pulled her into him by her waist and kissed the top of her head.

“I guess we can’t really escape destiny huh?” Sam joked and Y/n looked up at him kissing him again.

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Y/n’s eyes began to open immediately putting her hand up to block the bright sunlight. She looked around to find Sam’s arm draped over her waist and Dean’s bed still empty. Sam awoke from her movement.

“Hi.” Sam said fluttering his eyes open.

“Hi.” She replied smiling at him. Suddenly the motel room door opened and in walked Dean landing his eyes on them.

“So, destiny huh guys?” Dean smirked. Sam’s cheeks went pink and Y/n grabbed her pillow and tossed it at Dean.

“Hey! Watch the coffee grumpy.” Dean remarked.

“Where were you last night?” Y/n asked ignoring his comment.

“Just at the bar. Why? Seems like your guys’ minds were somewhere else.” Dean placed the coffees down and widened his eyes at the pair.

“Couch comfy Sam?” Dean asked, obviously amused. Sam just rolled his eyes at his joking behaviour.

[thebestofoneshots]

WOLFSTAR X READER SERIES

Gilded Constellations | THE INTERLUDE Part 2

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally see Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Series Masterlist | Previous episode | The first Interlude

You guys know I wanted to make another interlude, but upon lack of time, and because I don't want to have you wait another week to read the next chapter (darling @aremuslupinsimp for sure needs someone to vent about the absolute rollercoaster of emotions that it is) I've decided to make it a WEEKL-LONG EVENT!

But Lilly, What does that mean? It means you can send as many questions as you might have and I'll try to address all of them within the week. Including anything related to last week, this week's, and the next week's chapter (although I will not spoil that one).

Adding a few questions here, just as a start:

Have you always known where the story is going or have you kind of figured it out along the way? do you have the ending planned?

Hey love! I do have a base idea of where GC is going. I've had these big plot points thought out from the very beginning to the part where they all start dating. Having said that, a lot of things that happen in the story, and that are in between those points, are just me letting my imagination soar, and a lot of those chapters end up being some of my favourites.

I wanted to end the story either before they end school or before 1981, but now that I've gotten so attached to the characters, I've honestly thought of writing past that, and "fixing" some of the things that happen in canon. But who knows, that's like a whole other fic just on how much plot it would have.

SoIi can’t really remeber if the ‘prank’ that Sirius pulled on Snape had already happened in Gilded Constellations, if it hasn’t will it be happening or will it just get skipped over?

It's happened already (in 5th year). That's the reason Snape is weary about leaving Vixen in the Shack in "Bad Moon Rising". He knew she would be in danger because there was a werewolf inside. He couldn't say anything to them because of the young twisting charm Dumbledore put on him, and he's never been brave enough to stand up to the other Slytherins, so he went straight to Lily and told her Vix was in danger.

That's why Lily knew about Vixen being in danger when Sirius showed up with a fox in his hands and was livid about it.

Tu penses prévoir combien de chapitre pour GC si tu sais sinon si tu sais pas une estimation de chapitre que tu aimerais écrire pour GC ?

I'm terrible with estimations, originally it was going to be a short 5 chapter-long series. And then I wanted to end it at thirty, and then at forty. So far I've written 55 chapters, but I'm thinking of ending before chapter 70. (That's IF I don't get carried away).

Do we get to know if Sirus ever got that necklace back from the first few chapters?

Oh, the necklace is still on Vix's neck and it's going to be HUGE in the next couple of chapters. I've been building on is for a while and I'm really excited about it finally happening.

How is it going with Remus' and reader's fireworms?

They are amazing! They've implemented a whole system that helps them get fed automatically. They're probably going to ace that test.

Are we seeing more to Nina?

Definitely.

After they come back from winter break will the study group start again?

I mean, there're going to be a LOT of things happening after the Winter Break, but I assume yes. Also the reading club, the reading club is going to happen.

How long do we have to wait 'till Remus, Reader and Sirius go out?

I think I'm about one or two chapters away from writing that, but I'm a few chapters ahead. But it's waaay less than before.

Does Nina have a little crush on Reader or is it just me?

I mean, there's a reason why the ribbon she tied on her quidditch gear was enough to defend Vix from Barty's spell. And why, more than once, Nina's love has proven to be a strong protective spell over the reader.

Are we getting more lessons like some of the first chapters?

Yup, not very soon, since the next few chapters will all be happening over the winter break, but once they're back in school, certainly.

Further questions will be answered directly on asks as they come.

I'm really excited about the questions I might get, also a bit terrified about the questions I'll get after Chapter 44, but of well, the show must go on.

Love ya lots, Lils xx

Series Masterlist | First Interlude

Taglist: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[she-karev]

Birth (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Head canon Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

AN: Here’s the final chapter for the story you guys and I will try to post the next one as soon as I can and until then enjoy and I always appreciate and like and a reblog!

Editors Note: Hey guys so I just learned how to make GIF’s and decided to reblog this beautiful chapter with a GIF I made myself. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber gives birth to a girl with Andrew by her side and Dr. Montgomery delivering.

Words: 1441

October 20th, 2022

Simone Griffith stands outside Amber DeLuca’s delivery room peeking through the transom on the closed door. It’s been six hours since she and DeLuca found out Amber was in labor. She was curious on how her chief resident was after her water broke causing Dr. DeLuca to have her close after his surgery and couldn’t help but go up and see how they are.

Also, after witnessing her grandmother have an Alzheimer’s episode, she wanted a reminder that there were good things in this world too, like babies being born. Alex Karev walks down the hall with a welcome home baby girl gift basket from him and Jo to give to Amber. He spots Griffith outside the room and clears his throat causing her to stand back and look at him.

“Dr. Karev hi I-I was just uh-”

“Spying on my sister while she’s trying to bring a new life into this world right this second?”

“…It looks weird, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!” Alex confirms causing her to look down in shame, “Is there a reason you’re doing this very weird thing?”

“I just…I just needed a reminder that there’s good things in this world too. And watching a birth happen in real time works more effectively than faith in humanity videos.”

Alex grins at that understanding where she’s coming from, “Yeah there is something magical about my baby sister becoming a mother.”

“That is all I am saying sir.” He motions for her to step aside and she does so. He walks inside the room to find Amber lying on her side in her bed with Dr. Montgomery behind her inserting the epidural catheter. Andrew is standing by her side and holding her hand as she groans at the needle insertion.

“Hey kid how are we doing?”

“Terrible! You’re lucky your ex-girlfriend knows what she’s doing otherwise I would judge her based on her poor choices from sleeping with you.” Alexs eyes widen at his sister’s knowledge of his and Addison’s past relationship. Andrew looks at him in shock as well just learning about this.

“Is this true or is it the hormones talking?”

Addison finishes the insertion and looks up at Alex in disgust, “You told her?”

“No! I swear I didn’t.”

Amber groans and lays on her back on the bed, “Oh please the nurses keep tabs on your love lives and they love to gush with me. They could write romance best sellers with Alex’s disaster of a love life. I mean I’m still at the Ava/Rebecca chapter and it is a doozy.” She turns to Addison, “For the record you could’ve done way better back then.”

“You know I’m in the room, right?” Alex points out before putting the pink basket on the table.

“I’m gonna check how dilated you are.” Addison sighs and feels the need to clarify to Amber while she does her cervix exam, “And for the record I didn’t date him. I found him attractive, I was horny and he was there. It was one time and I judge myself for it enough as it is.”

“I’m his sister I know how shameful you’d feel sleeping with him when he was an intern and an asshat.”

Addison grins at that and looks back at Alex who averts his eyes from the exam looking at the wall instead, “I like her.”

Andrew asks trying to comprehend it, “Wait you slept with your sister’s OB and you didn’t think to mention it?”

“You slept with my sister and I had to find out after the fact.” Alex bitterly points out.

“I didn’t even know she was your sister man.”

“And I didn’t think my ex was gonna be delivering my sister’s baby over ten years later but here we are.”

Amber inhales and exhales in annoyance at their petty squabble, “Hey boys?” They turn to her and she looks disheveled while Addison checks her cervix, “I need you two to read the room because I have enough on my plate right now, I don’t need to mediate an argument between my husband and brother.” They quiet and look at her concerned as she continues, “I am just trying to squeeze a giant Escalada out of a compact FUCKING PARKING SPOT!” The boys look scared by her last exclamation.

“Very good.” Addison calmly says, “Swearing helps a lot, you’re at 7 centimeters.” Addison stands back up covering Amber with a blanket.

“Ugh I hate you tell me when I can start pushing this sucker out. Speaking of suckers exiting, Alex get out.” He looks offended by that as Amber continues, “You dropped off the gift and unless you can transport my daughter out of my body you are useless to me. And do me a favor. Let it be known that the only people allowed in this room are Dr. Montgomery and the people who provided genetic material to this baby otherwise they are gonna be in a world of hurt, now out!” Amber points at the door causing Alex to nod and pat Andrew on the back seeing the road ahead of him.

“God speed.”

Andrew nods, “Yeah.” Alex gets out of the room and closes the door behind him.

TWO HOURS LATER

I scream out loud as the next contraction comes and push per Dr. Montgomery’s instructions. While this happens, Andrew is by my side holding me encouraging me. My lower region is covered by blue tarps with Addison behind the curtain delivering my daughter, out of all of us I think she has the easiest job in the room because Andrew is no doubt in pain from me holding his hand with monster strength that’s coming from being in labor.

“Good Dr. DeLuca! Okay at the next contraction I’m gonna need you to really bear down but not until I tell you.”

I whimper at the never-ending cycle, “Oh god come on! I know my brother rejected you but don’t take it out on me!”

Andrew rubs my arm to soothe me, “It’s gonna be okay, you’re doing great, it’ll be over soon.”

I am too in pain and too mad at him to take in his soothing words, “If you think we’re having sex again after this you got another thing coming Andrew DeLuca!”

He chuckles at that and kisses the top of my head wiping the sweat off my forehead, “I think we’re stalled in the sex department until this kid goes off to college.”

I chuckle lightly at that but then I stop and gasp as I feel another contraction coming, “Oh god not again!” I scream as the pain courses through my body.

“Okay one last push Amber!” Dr. Montgomery instructed me and even though it hurts I do as she says, pushing with all my might. Andrew is holding me and encouraging me to push through my piercing screams. After what seems like forever, I feel relief in my body and slump back down on the bed panting for breath. I hear a baby crying and I felt my heart stop as I look down to see Dr. Montgomery holding our small, wriggling and bloody daughter already crying her lungs out. Addison is smiling and laughing in joy, “There she is!”

I’m so shocked by what’s happening I’m laughing and crying at the same time, “Oh my god.”

I can see Andrew laughing in joy too with tears glistening in his eyes, “Look at her oh my god you did that.”

“You helped.” I remind him. He takes the scissors from Dr. Montgomery and cuts the umbilical cord. After that Addison takes the baby to get her cleaned up and comes back a few moments later with our baby daughter wrapped in a baby blanket. She’s crying on the way until she reaches my arms and I hold her shocked at how tiny she is. I smile down at her still overcome with so much love and awe over this tiny human that made the last eight hours of pain I’ve endured so worth it, “Hi. Oh my god she’s…she’s…”

“She’s perfect.” Andrew finishes and I nod as he smiles. I can see the love in his eyes and grin at him.

“Here let’s go to daddy.” I carefully place the baby in Andrew’s arms and he handles her so carefully, no doubt shocked at how light she is too. He croons at the baby speaking words of affection in Italian cradling her head, “Ciao bambina, sono tua mamma e tuo papà.”

I sniffle and grin at the sight of both of them before cooing at our daughter, “Hi welcome to the world. Right now your the only pure and innocent thing in it at this very moment. And I promise we are gonna name you by the time you come home.” Andrew chuckles at that and we just enjoy this moment together as a family.

The Babys Name Here

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch02: Fur

Summary: The Winchesters and their new companion plan their next move... Referenced Episodes: None CW: Gore. Disclaimer: Pretty much all the lore I have in this story is vastly inaccurate to Navajo legend. The Navajo have decided to keep their legends largely a secret and don't share much about their culture. So please take note of the fact that all information in skinwalkers is either from the show, or from my own imagination, and not culturally accurate. Word Count: 6057 Recommended Song: Rock of Ages -- Def Leppard Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

"Get up!" I shouted before jumping onto the bed, shifting mid-air. I landed paws first beside the younger Winchester brother and bumped his cheek with my wet nose. Sam groaned and threw his hands up, swatting at my fur. I growled and licked a stripe up his cheek.

Sam immediately jolted up, vigorously wiping the slobber off his cheek with his blankets. Unphased by his disgust, I bounded over him and leaped onto the other bed, where Dean still slept, blankets tangled around his waist. He slept on his stomach, lips parted and green eyes tightly shut. I tackled him, knocking him off the edge of the bed, the blankets falling with him. He hit the floor with a loud yelp.

Dean swore and sat up suddenly, only to find himself nose to nose with a wolf. He groaned, rolling onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes. "So it wasn't just a bad dream. We did actually adopt a mutt."

I shifted back into my skin and glared at the elder brother, arms folded tightly over my chest in indignation. "I am not a mutt," I grumbled dramatically, holding my head high. "And I'll have you know that I think any dream about me would be a pleasant one."

Sam laughed from the other side of the room. "Only if you're a dog-lover-"

"- Which I," interjected Dean, "am not." He mumbled some swear words under his breath and stood to his feet, dragging the blankets with him, dumping them onto the bed. "Especially not untrained, glorified dogs."

"Mm, that's a shame, considering you're about to be waist-deep in a horde of them," I joked, bumping him in the shoulder with my fist.

"They're not dogs, they're monsters," Dean retorted, pulling a gun from under his pillow. He slipped it into the waistband of his jeans, and I marveled at how he could possibly be comfortable sleeping in such clothes.

"Yet I'm a mutt?" I questioned, pursing my lips and frowning teasingly.

"You're the exception."

I growled playfully and slipped off the edge of the bed. "Whatever, Dean. Just get up. I'm eager for a fight."

Dean glowered at the wad of tangled blankets. "No reasonable hunter should be eager for a fight."

I glanced ruefully over my shoulder, taking in his deliciously disheveled appearance. "I'm not a hunter, Dean. I'm a mutt."

A smile crept onto his face.

—

With the Impala loaded and ready to go, the three of us exited the empty motel parking lot. The sun had just peeked over the tops of the trees, leaving the sky filled with a gray and pink tint. It was still early in the morning and a sleepy feeling hung in the air.

Sam had pulled up directions for the skinwalker base on his GPS. I had only been there once and frankly, I never wanted to return. I wanted nothing with anything involving the typical skinwalker lifestyle. I didn't want a pack, to hunt humans, or anything else that came with the skinwalker title. I just wanted to be left alone.

Why wouldn't they just leave me alone?

Sam turned to glance at me in the backseat and creased his eyebrows with worry. "You look unsettled," he commented. I nodded and fiddled with my fingers restlessly.

"I am," I agreed, avoiding eye contact. "I'm nervous. I've fought before but... it's been a while." There was more to it than that. I didn't like fighting or the thought of having to take a life. I shivered at the thought. "When was the last time you fought?"

I paused to think. "With a human? Before my uncle... left, we used to spar all the time, but it was never a life or death situation. Even on hunts with him, I was never too concerned," I grumbled. Whatever monster we were hunting, I doubted it would be able to kill me so long as I didn’t get cocky. "I'm certainly not rusty. You'd be surprised with how much spunk alligators have in them."

Sam's eyes widened at that. "You've fought alligators?"

"Well yeah. They're pretty easy if you can keep their mouths shut. They don't have a ton of power in their jaws when it comes to opening them. And if you can get them on their backs, they're done for. Taste like chicken too," I remarked with a grin, hoping it masked my nerves.

Sam shook his head and faced forward once again, clearly disgusted at the thought of eating alligator.

After a few minutes, Dean cleared his throat. "How about some music? We have some time to kill before we get there." Sam quickly obliged, searching the glove compartment for a cassette. He handed one to Dean, who quickly read it and popped it into the cassette deck.

Rock of Ages, by Def Leppard, started playing loudly throughout the car. I could see Dean smile from the rearview mirror. The car accelerated, leading us closer to our destination. My mind was spinning. How was the fight going to go? It had been ages since I had fought another skinwalker, and had certainly never killed one. I knew I was capable of killing when the time came.

I couldn't help but think that something would go horribly wrong.

The car sped forward and trees whipped past. Spanish moss clung to their trunks and limbs, absorbing the light the trees needed, all while suffocating them. I sighed and propped my chin in my palm, gazing out the window. The brothers needed my help, they didn't know what to expect when it came to a skinwalker, let alone a pack. I couldn't leave them, no matter how much I wanted to avoid this fight.

I just wanted my life back. Everything had changed when my uncle died. I was alone for the first time in my life, with no one to look for me and keep me in check. I had been so afraid, afraid that I would lose control without someone there to keep me in line. I was afraid I would hurt someone. It wouldn't have been the first time.

The trees cleared up ahead and I caught sight of a rundown old gas station off the side of the road. I straightened, lifting my chin from my palm, and strained to get a better look at it.

"That's it," I said quietly.

"What?" Dean said, glancing in the mirror.

"Dean, that's it! The gas station! Quick, pull over!"

Dean obliged, swerving quickly to the side of the road, crossing traffic. He carefully selected a spot hidden from the view of the station, before parking the car and exiting. His feet hadn't even touched the ground before I was standing at the trunk of the car, waiting for him to unlock it.

The three of us wordlessly stocked up on weapons. I holstered a gun on my waist, adding several magazines of silver bullets to my pockets. Two silver knives hung from my belt, although I was careful not to touch the blade. My skin itched at the proximity to the silver.

Sam, who was polishing the barrel of a gun, glanced at the knives strapped to my belt. "I thought you didn't need weapons?" He joked, smiling down at me.

"You can never be too careful. I'm really only taking them just in case. I doubt I'm going to have to fight without my teeth and claws, but something might happen where I don't have enough room to shift, so I have to resort to your barbaric ways of fighting."

"Barbaric?"

"Yeah. I at least have the decency to fight with my God-given weapons. Humans manufacture weapons that kill easier and faster than anything else. You'd have to be a barbarian to want to improve on killing someone." Why would anyone want to kill easier?

Sam smiled thoughtfully. "I guess that's true. But if you had to defend yourself, even if it meant killing, wouldn't you want the best weapon for the job?"

"I guess," I replied, thinking for a moment. "Are you a lawyer or something?"

Sam's smile dropped. "I was going to be. I dropped out recently."

"Why?"

He opened and closed his mouth as if looking for a good answer. Finally, he shook his head and said, "I'll tell you some other time."

I basked in the glow of the morning sun, loving the feeling of it warming my skin. The pleasant warmth could never compare to the pull of the moon, but I still reveled in its brilliant rays. "I don't think most of the pack will be awake for a while. I think they’re usually awake at night, so they'll want to sleep for another few hours, at least. I'm sure there are a few on guard though," I mumbled out, eyes turned to the sky.

Sam nodded in response, holstering his gun. "Then we should probably get Dean and move in."

I nodded in response and walked around the car to where Dean was leaning against the hood of the car. I had to admit, he looked quite attractive in the weak lighting, with his tousled hair and brilliantly green eyes flecked with bits of gold.

"Dean," I began, "Sam and I are going to move into position." He nodded and straightened, holstering his own gun.

"I know. I could hear you two talking."

I smirked and folded my arms teasingly. "Really? I'm surprised humans can even hear that well."

"I'm better than you think," he smiled softly and quickly walked off to where his brother was waiting.

"Sure. Stay safe," I replied, briskly walking away from the brothers and to their vantage point. The point was on top of a small hill, a knoll technically. It was surrounded by trees, with long strands of moss hanging from the branches, making it difficult to see the hunters.

"We all remember the plan, right?" Dean inquired, as he crouched in the brush. Both Sam and I nodded. "Good. Then let's do this."

The two brothers focused their attention on me. My eyes flashed gold as I began to shift. My nose elongated, my spine changed shape – I could feel my bones breaking as they changed position, fur sprouting along my back as my clothing became one with my body.

There was a time when this would have been painful for me to do. Now, it was second nature. In moments, I was once again a wolf. The light filtering through the trees showed brown highlights beneath the thick outer layer of black fur.

Without turning to look at the Winchesters, I burst out of the foliage and into the sunlight, beginning the short trek into the belly of the beast.

—

Tom Chikaltio was just awful in every way imaginable. He was a brutal leader who hated living in the shadows, who demanded everything and more from his pack, even those few things they couldn't give. He was power-hungry and animalistic, only caring for his status and defending his title. Why none of his pack members had left him, I would never truly understand – perhaps they were afraid of what he would do if he ever found the deserters.

Chikaltio was a fearsome opponent. He'd won a number of difficult fights and ruled his meager pack with an iron fist. His dominion was the equivalent of barbed wire slowly squeezing around an animal's torso until it pierced the skin and blood burst forth in the form of revolution.

I had only seen him once in my short life, and it was an experience I never wanted to relive.

It was a midsummer afternoon, only a few months after my uncle's final hunt. The kitchen was unearthly quiet. My uncle’s little dachshund, an orange fluff ball by the name of Peony, would often waddle around the kitchen, her uncut toenails clicking against the linoleum tile. She never liked me much.

The kitchen was quiet, the lights dim in the bright afternoon sun. I had been nursing a beer with my feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in my lap – frankly, I had never been a big fan of alcohol, but it helped to take my mind off my grief. It was better than other bad habits I had picked up. There wasn't much to do other than enjoy the quiet. Although, there was little to enjoy, as I was so used to my uncle’s booming voice and constant motion. He rarely rested, and the house felt so empty without his lively presence.

A sharp screech was heard from the road, the sound of a car turning into the driveway. Despite the months of solitude, I half expected it to be my uncle’s old truck turning into the drive. I realized quickly that couldn't be the case, as he was never returning home. I stood languidly and stretched, attempting to hold back the flood of negative thoughts, threatening to break through the dam I had built around them, and made my way to the door.

I frowned, leaning against the doorway with my beer still in hand, and glared at the approaching silver Toyota Camry. It was an older model, at least ten years old, and the paint was chipped in places. I took another unimpressed sip of my beer and narrowed my eyes at the man who stepped out of the car. The first thing I noticed was his scent; it hit me like a semi, the smell of car oil and fir tree. The fir was one of the most shocking first impressions I had ever had, as it was a rare smell in rural Alabama.

He was tall and stocky, a coat of thick, wiry hair covering his arms and legs. A thin layer of dirt covered his skin and his short-cropped brown hair stuck out at odd angles. He had fearsome, icy blue eyes trained over my relaxed form, and a heavy palm hovering over a pistol on his belt.

The encounter went smoothly, fear lodging itself into both parties. I feared for my life, knowing if I stepped out of line this man would surely try to kill me. Whether he would succeed was unknown to both of us, and that was what scared him. He feared for his position, knowing a third-generation purebred could easily knock him from his throne.

—

I paused on the outskirts of the parking lot, allowing my scent to drift closer. I wanted them to know I was on their land and to ignore the nearby human presence.

I shifted back, knowing full well that starting this fight in my wolf form left me at a disadvantage. I shivered with worry, disregarding the thick Alabaman heat. The small lot was empty, save for the two cars, one a beaten-up pickup and the other a totaled Camry, both covered by blue tarps and surrounded by wood scraps.

Bones littered the lot, teeth marks evident along the many ridges. The front of the gas station had open windows, some with the glass blown out and others covered in a dirty film. A few shadows could be seen milling within the building.

I squared my shoulders, steeled myself, and set one foot back. This was my home, and I was tired of being pushed around. I just wanted to be left alone. It was wishful thinking, but I hoped that maybe my bold display would send Chikaltio away from my home without a fight. I whistled and all movement from within the station stopped.

I jumped when the door slammed open, a small mob exiting the crumbling building. Growls issued from the mouths of mutts and people alike. My eyes widened slightly, seeing the array of dogs rushing me, snapping their jowls aggressively. Few of them looked truly dangerous, and most were just sitting back, watching the display with interest.

I lifted my head with pride, masking the nerves that had my heart fluttering. It had been so long since I had fought something other than a predatory animal. I didn't know what to expect from Chikaltio, but I did know I wouldn't let him continue ruining my life, or the lives of the nearby humans. I would send him on his way, or I would die trying.

Or so I believed until Chikaltio stepped from the shadows of the abandoned building, a gun clutched loosely in his large palms and a cocky smirk on his whiskered face.

Fuck.

"Finally decided to take up my offer?" he asked, his yellow, sharp canines flashing with triumph.

"You mean the one where you said 'join or die'?" I answered with malice, clenching my hands into tight fists. My eyes flickered between his eyes and the gun in his hand, his finger tapping against the trigger. While I was capable of using a gun, I doubted I'd be able to reach my own before he shot me.

Buy time, I told myself. Keep him talking.

"Not quite, though I do like the analogy. I never took you for a patriot," he continued, crossing his burly arms over his chest and holding his pistol on full display, light bouncing off the barrel. I grimaced.

"I never took you for a historian," I spat. My eyes drifted over the crowd and my hands shook with nerves. "I'm surprised you're able to store any useful information in that tiny grapefruit."

His smile only grew. "What are you here for, purebred?"

"I want to talk, mutt," I countered hastily, heart pounding. He seemed so unphased by my antics, and, truthfully, it set me on edge. "I'm tired of being terrorized. And sending two brainless hunters after me was a low blow. I expected something better from an alpha." I spit out his rank like it was poison. I had little regard for the ways of most skinwalkers – I hadn't been raised the way they had, nor was I bitten and forced to conform.

His shoulders tensed slightly, and his eyes fell to a dog beside him. The animal looked like a mixed breed, with russet, wiry fur, and long drooping ears. Its eyes glowed a metallic yellow.

"I was not the one that told Chavez to send them after you. But-" he looked up, meeting my eyes with his own blue ones that seemed to be glowing more now than they had before, "I don't regret how he handled the hunters. It was clever. More clever than I expected him to ever be."

"You don't give him enough credit. He may have the brain of a gerbil, but even gerbils know how to find scraps."

Chikaltio chuckled at this, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you just come to insult my pack, or did you want something?"

I swallowed slowly and clenched my jaw in determination. My hand moved to the handle of the silver knife attached to my belt. I exhaled shakily, cheeks reddening with nerves. This wasn’t something I really wanted, but it was necessary; this ended now – I would finally have my life back and would never again attract the attention of hunters. 

"Tom Chikaltio, I challenge you for the position of alpha of this pack."

Chikaltio hissed, fangs protruding from his lips in both shock and disgust. "That wasn't part of the offer, darling."

I swallowed, preparing myself for the fight ahead. I paused to think before spitting out, "Well here's my offer, shitbag. Give up your pack now and run back to wherever your pine tree-smelling ass came from, or lay down and die like the inbred mutt you are." I hissed with malice and the intent to kill if necessary, eyes filling with a molten gold color and hoping my message was clear. A few dogs howled at the challenge, some wagging their tails in amusement, eager for a fight.

"You little bitch," Chikaltio snarled, "I'll fucking kill you."

"Tough words for such a small dog," I responded with a shit-eating grin, crying from fear on the inside. The wolf in me was ready to lunge itself at him and tear his throat out for challenging me, a naturally higher ranking skinwalker. But I held back, acknowledging that I had to keep the ball rolling for this plan to work.

The scent of sweet dough, cherries, and beer filled my nose and I had to restrain myself from looking toward the alluring scent. It was an oddly comforting scent, one I had grown to enjoy over the last twenty-four hours. I couldn't give them away - but if I could smell them, certainly Chikaltio could too.

I widened my stance, throwing my hands up in fists, the now yellow bruise and thin scab from where I had been shot showing clearly. "You want to fight, dipshit? Let's dance."

Chikaltio snarled and lunged, shifting almost immediately. The gun he had been holding dropped from his hand. His brown hair, hinted with red, grew to cover his muscled body, and the skin around his jaw loosened, dropping into jowls.

My eyes widened as he lunged forward, jowls flapping and teeth bared menacingly. He was shifting immediately? Did he have that much confidence in his abilities, or was he going all out because he wasn't sure what to expect?

I snarled as his massive paws collided with my shoulders, throwing me backward onto the ground and knocking the air out of my lungs. He snapped at my throat, fangs only inches from the delicate skin. With an angered cry, I lifted my leg to knee him in the ribs, sending him sprawling on the ground at my side. I lifted myself to my feet, crouched low, and prepared for another assault as he pulled himself to his paws. He stumbled to his feet and circled my tensed form, wariness evident in his blue eyes. Realization hit like a tidal wave, slipping over me and bringing a shiver down my spine. Chikaltio had never seen me fight – he had no clue what to expect from me.

I grinned cockily and held my arms wide, welcoming his onslaught. "That all you got, Tom?" The mastiff snarled and whipped his head to the edge of the circle, blue eyes narrowed at a pair of mutts. The dogs stepped into the thin ring, lips drawn back and growls rumbling in their throats.

Shit. Could I really take on three of these mutts at once? I had never tried such a thing – hell, the only other skinwalkers I had fought had been my parents, and that was years ago. These dogs were larger than their mastiff alpha, but certainly not as fearsome. They were littered with scars from previous fights and the two were in rough shape, looking as though they hadn't won many of their encounters. I had faith that if I could separate them from Chikaltio, I could easily take them.

"Three against one?" I asked coyly, redirecting my attention back to the slobbering mastiff. I had to keep him distracted long enough for the Winchesters to make their move. "Don't you think that's a bit unfair?" Don't give yourself away just yet, I thought. Make them work for it.

The monsters didn't make me wait for them. The larger of the two mutts growled and lunged forward, taking me to the ground once more. The ground was where I was in my element – with all four limbs on the ground, furred or not, I knew I could win. My molten eyes swelled with color as I delivered a swift kick to its gut. The beast's whimper quickly turned into a snarl as he was thrown off like a limp rag and onto his back, a strong punch coming down onto his jaw.

I howled as claws dug into my back and the smaller of the two mutts bit into my shoulder. Their fangs sunk deep into the soft flesh and struggled to tear through the thick skin. I rolled and gripped the animal's jaw in my hand, pulling back on its gums until it released. I snarled and pushed the side of its face into the concrete, only to have the other quickly on top of me. An inhuman sound escaped my lips as the animal clawed at my stomach, attempting to shred the sensitive skin.

The two animals had me pinned, clawing and biting and tearing at whatever they could reach. I fought back, thrashing under their weight with all my might. I gripped the throat of one of the drooling beasts and lifted, putting pressure on its arteries until it loosened its claw grip from my body. My arms shook under the weight of holding the monster, and yet I locked eyes with Chikaltio. His skin went cold at the look of pure rage I cast at him.

I was so tired of this mongrel trying to control my life when all I wanted was to be left alone. Now, he had the audacity to have others fight his battle for him. My skin burned, the blood beneath burning with rage and hatred for this incompetent mutt.

Time seemed to slow around me as my eyes skipped from Chikaltio's worried eyes to a shadowed figure behind the totaled Camry. In the shadows stood Sam, a horrified look on his features as he watched the bloody display.

I flashed him a reassuring smile, meeting his eyes with warmth, hoping he understood my feelings in that moment. I wasn't going to be bested by Chikaltio, or anyone else.

Lifting a toned arm to the throat of the dog above me, I pushed hard. He fell to the side, blocking Chikaltio's view of the fight. I inhaled deeply and rolled my shoulders, ignoring the feeling of nails and fangs in my skin. Fur burst from my skin and my bones cracked, reorganizing into a canine's skeleton. In a matter of seconds, I was in my fur, fangs bared and flying towards Chikaltio.

Chikaltio went down, claws latched to his ribs and fangs sunk into his shoulder, grinding the bone until it shattered between my jaws. Claws raked over my back and sides, though I didn't care. I wanted him gone from my life, even if that meant killing him.

He was an example, something to show all other opposing skinwalkers that I was not to be trifled with.

I was dragged snapping and snarling off Chikaltio's battered form by three dogs, fangs barely reaching my skin through my thick fur. Chikaltio righted himself, blood dripping down his shoulders from several puncture wounds, the skin of his ribs torn and flayed. He pounced, forelegs shaking and jaws aimed for my stomach.

An explosion went off, tossing nearby mutts to the ground. The Camry was splintered, bits of metal raining down over the dogs and persons around it, flames rising high. My sensitive ears were ringing, and through the smoke, I saw the Winchesters charging forward and shooting at any dog who dared to come their way. With a victorious howl, I ripped away from the mutts holding me and slammed thick paws down onto the spine of a russet-colored hound.

I tore into the skin on his back, damaging the dog's spine before rolling to the side and leaving it to rot. A surprised yelp tore out of my throat as another came flying forward, tackling me from above. It snapped its thick jaws at my face and I snarled, lips pulled back to reveal pink gums and blood-stained teeth. With a mighty shove, I dug my nails into its neck, threw it to the ground, and sunk my fangs into its throat. Blood spurted across my face as I yanked, hating the feeling of its blood slipping down my jaws.

I glanced over her shoulder, seeing the third animal writhing on the ground, a silver bullet lodged in its chest. I winced and padded towards it, brushing its cheek with the end of my wet nose. The animal whined, the silver preventing it from shifting back. Taking pity on the bloody animal, I took its skull between my jaws and squeezed, ending the poor skinwalker's misery.

I whipped my head around to face a shaking, bleeding Chikaltio, his short tail tucked. He snarled in defiance, blood slicking his shoulders and running through his red fur. Thin bits of metal decorated his back and he kept most of his weight on one leg, favoring his left shoulder.

I took a few slow steps towards the battered mongrel, teeth bared and lips drawn back in a silent snarl. He held his head high, feet planted wide, and prepared for more. I stopped my slow pursuit and gazed down at his much smaller form with an intensity in my eyes I had only felt on a few occasions. I bent my neck until I was eye level with the smaller mastiff, hoping my eyes portrayed what I was thinking. I hoped they were telling him that if he would submit and leave my home, I wouldn't need to kill him.

As much as I would have liked to send him on his way, I couldn't leave him alive unless he agreed to go willingly. My simple act of kindness would become my downfall – Chikaltio was not one to let something like this slide. He would come back stronger and with help.

He growled, snapping and dripping slobber onto the ground. That was enough of an answer for me. I lunged, gripping his neck just under his strong jaw muscles, and squeezed. He fought but eventually succumbed, muscles relaxing until finally, he fell limp to the concrete.

—

I nursed my wounds and watched the last of her new pack cart out the dead. There were seven of them left and four of them were injured. The only two I recognized left uninjured were an Irish Setter by the name of Sasha and a blue heeler I didn't know. Sasha was rather kind, assisting the pack in whatever way she could, and even provided me with bandages to patch myself up.

To my surprise, I had come out of the fight with no serious injuries. Sure, I was bruised and bleeding in place, but my shoulders and back were the main sources of my pain. The puncture wounds left by the monsters would heal soon enough.

Monster. Nobody fit that title better than I did. I pulled my arms tighter around me, shivering in the nonexistent cold. I understood that fighting was the way of skinwalkers, but I couldn't help but be appalled by what I had done. There should have been another way, one where no one had to die. Perhaps if Chikaltio had shared my philosophy, he would still be alive.

If he had shared my philosophy, there would have never been a problem to begin with.

The Winchesters had done a number with their bullets, although they had eventually run out. There were only so many bullets you could carry in a pistol, and silver bullets weren't exactly easy to make or come by. They had a limited supply.

I sat by myself now atop the beaten pickup surveying the aftermath of the explosion, a sandwich in hand. One leg was hung over the side of the truck and I swung it with little attention. I surveyed my new pack with curiosity, waiting for one to meet my eyes. So far, none had.

I took a thoughtful bite of my sandwich, thinking about the recent fight. My face fell at the thought of Chikaltio's throat between my jaws. It had been so much like hunting a deer, and yet so different. My appetite fled, replaced by feelings of remorse.

I hopped down from the pickup, worn boots hitting the graveled parking lot now stained with blood and ash. I mulled around the pack, hoping to catch someone's eye and strike up a conversation. Oddly enough, the feeling of having a pack made me giddy.

After another few hours of attempted chatter, I was back on the pickup, this time standing on top of the cab. I whistled before I could think to stop myself and all heads turned towards me - furred and not. From within the crowd, I caught Dean's eyes, a reassuring smile on his freckled face. I was thankful that he had agreed to help with the aftermath of the fight. Truthfully, I doubted if I could have done it alone.

The dogs immediately seated themselves on the ground around the truck - those who could at least. Some stood, leaning against each other like makeshift crutches. The air was thick with tension as I struggled to find the words I wanted to speak.

"I'm a vegetarian," I began and then sucked in a shaky breath immediately after, face flushing. That was not what she wanted to say. "My point is... we all have very different lives. I never wanted to be an alpha. I wanted the threats against me to end, and I wanted the deaths of the humans to end. I never wanted..." I gestured to the pack, "... this..."

I ran a hand nervously through my hair and turned my gaze away from my newfound pack. A part of me was disappointed that I had chosen to send them away.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know I... hurt a lot of you. I know I disrupted your life here. And I know that many of you have very different morals than me. That's why..." I paused and took a deep breath. "That's why I've decided to disband the pack." Hushed whispers filtered through the skinwalkers below me, some of relief, some of shock.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone, and I worry that if I stay alpha – something none of us want – then someone else is going to get hurt. This pack would never thrive by the way I've taken it. So... let's cut our losses and go our separate ways," I spoke with a final weak shrug, not entirely sure how to explain this to them. It felt so alien to me, talking to a group of skinwalkers as their apparent leader, even though I was one of them.

"But," I started again, tone firmer this time, "If I hear that any of you have been hurting innocent people again, I'll be sure to track you down and kill you myself. Worse than I did Chikaltio. That's it."

I hurriedly hopped down from the truck, avoiding their gazes, and passed through the few dogs that were, for a short time, my pack. The Winchesters watched me with intent gazes as I marched towards them, head held high.

I stopped in front of Dean, holding his stare for a moment before saying, "Take me home." I had meant to phrase it as more of a question, but it sounded blunt and demanding as my voice shook. The elder Winchester smiled. "Gladly, sweetheart."

—

I had never been happier to be home, in my own house, in my own bed. I was so excited when I took a shower, washing the dirt and grime and depression from my skin, and cleaning the blood from my hair. The tub would be a nightmare to scrub, but at least I was finally clean.

I sighed and rolled onto my back, gazing at the ceiling. Despite my exhaustion, sleep evaded me, always just out of reach. Images of the recent fight floated through my mind; in a way, I was glad, as I was not yet plagued by the nightmares that were sure to come.

I rolled onto my side once more, gazing out the large window of the second-story loft. I tried to imagine running in that open glade just outside the thin glass, tall grasses brushing against my fur, the wind parting my thick coat until it trailed its icy fingers down my skin. Instead, all I saw were the broken, bleeding, and lifeless faces of those I had killed. The skinwalker with a bullet-ridden chest that I had chosen to put out of its misery. The russet hound his neck I had crushed until blood dripped into its throat, staining my jaws. And finally, Tom Chikaltio, blue eyes lifeless and fur receding back into his skin as he fell to the ground with a dull thump.

I didn't even try to stem the flow of tears that slipped down my cheeks.

[fandomgirlz01]

This Can’t Be The End Pt. 2

Nick Stokes X Reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,890

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here. {Coming Soon}

Post Date: July 23rd 2023

Post Time: 12:31 AM

Summary: Based off of: Season 5 episodes 24 and 25 When Nick gets kidnapped, the reader is forced to fear the worst for her husband as she and the team work the case with hopes of bringing him home safe. 

Reader’s Pov:

When I finally decide to get up from the couch, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders before walking out of the break room. I walk down a few halls in search of someone I can talk to and I soon find Warrick talking with Hodges. 

I walk up behind him with my blanket still wrapped around me and Warrick looks down before putting an arm around me. I lean into him and Hodges smiles at me softly before continuing to talk to Warrick. 

“I’m using your track and wheelbase measurements, plus or minus five percent to account for rain-shadowing and/or drying effects,” Hodges explains as the program does its work. 

“All right, print it out,” Warrick tells him and he nods before typing on the computer. 

“Hey. How are you doin’?” Warrick asks me and I shrug. 

“I mean, I slept. It was only half an hour, but I slept. I just want Nicky back…” I tell him with a frown and he nods in understanding. 

“I know, mamas, I know. We’ll get him back. I promise you that,” Warrick tells me as he rubs my shoulder. 

“Here’s the list,” Hodges speaks up as he holds it up and Warrick takes one arm off of me to reach for it. 

“Thanks, man,” Warrick replies as he takes the stack of the printed list. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever will help find Nick. What’s your next step from here?” Hodges asks as he crosses his arms. 

“Imma head over and see Rachel. She said she’d show me the traffic cameras in the area,” Warrick tells him and he nods. 

“Well, good luck. Don’t worry, y/n, we’ll bring Nick home to you,” Hodges promises me and I smile weakly at him. 

“You comin’ with me?” Warrick asks as he pulls back to look at me. 

“Yeah. I suppose so,” I agree with him and he nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s go. Bye, man,” Warrick replies as he stands up and Hodges gives him a nod before going back to his work. 

He turns me around and together we start walking towards Rachel’s office. Soon we walk in to see Rachel typing something up on her computer. She turns when she sees movement and gives us a small smile. 

“Hi, guys. I have the footage loading up right now,” she tells us as she stands and rolls another chair over. 

“Here you are, y/n,” she says as she points down to the chair. 

“Warrick, you can take that chair over there,” she tells him as she points to one at another desk and sits back in her seat. 

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically before walking over to grab the chair. 

He walks back over, pulling it along with him before settling down to my left. He starts to look at her screens and analyze them as it seems the program is up. 

“I need you to bring up the traffic cameras in a three block radius between Flamingo and Koval in the last 24 hours,” he explains to Rachel as he stands up and leans over the table. 

“We only buffer the video for the past few hours,” she quickly informs and he looks at her. 

“I can take you back as far as 10:37pm,” she continues and he rocks back before taking his seat again bringing his hand up to his chin. 

“That’s good enough. Our guy was taken around 11:00,” he tells her as all the cameras pop up simultaneously. 

Together we all look for a few minutes and nothing really seems to jump out at us. My leg starts to bounce as I start to feel more anxious and Warrick gently puts his arm around me. Rachel then pulls up two specific cameras and we watch them. 

“Scan forward. We’re looking for a big truck,” he tells Rachel as he lets go of me to point at the screen. She types something on her keyboard, doing just as he says. 

“How about that one? Looks like a Suburban.” She brings the video on the left to a pause. 

Warrick takes a moment to look at what she points out before looking down at his list that Hodges had given to him. He flips through the pages for a few minutes before looking back up at the screen. 

“It’s on the list,” he confirms as she pushes play again. 

“Whoa, he’s really movin’,” he comments as we continue to watch. 

“Wait a moment… that one, the big Ford,” his voice escalates just a tad, making me jump lightly, but hope flows through me. 

“Follow it,” he decides and Rachel nods. 

“The expedition truck left the area around 11:15,” Warrick starts to explain as he looks over his paperwork. 

I look up around the table of people who have become my family. Sara takes a drink of her coffee and I resist the urge to cry when I think about how Nick would lean over to me to make some sarcastic comment about what she was drinking. 

“Definitely in a hurry. Took a right off Koval onto Tropicana, crossed Las Vegas boulevard onto the 15 south and then it drove off the grid,” Warrick continues to explain as I snap out of my thoughts. 

He puts his paper down and leans back before scooping my hand into his and giving it a squeeze. If Nick wasn’t the best at knowing my emotions, I’d say Warrick is a good close second. Both can almost always sense when I’m upset and need a good cuddle. 

“At least we have a general direction,” Grissom comments from where he sits. 

“Great, so Nick could be anywhere from Green Valley to Seven Hills to Arizona,” Sara comments in a very sarcastic, dead-end tone and I let out a small puff of air. 

“Sara, not really the time for sarcasm, yeah?” Catherine lightly scolds her as Warrick gives my hand another squeeze. 

“No. It’s ok. She’s right. He could be literally anywhere at this point…” I speak up and everyone nods along understandingly. 

“That is assuming he was even in that truck,” Greg adds on as he leans back in his chair. 

“Well, according to Hodges, the white fibers on Nick’s vest were cotton with traces of ether…” Catherine explains after taking in a breath. 

When she says that, I instantly close my eyes and images of Nick putting up a fight with the person plays though my mind. I feel another squeeze to my hand and it pulls me back to the real world as I open my eyes. 

I look at Warrick and he gives me a tight smile, silently clearly asking me if I’m ok. I hesitate but nod, telling him I’m fine and he turns back to the table. 

“Ether? That’s old school…” Sara comments after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah, stuff is volatile. Flammable. Outside of meth cooks, no one uses it anymore,” Warrick adds on his two scents and the room slowly gets warmer. 

“People use what they know,” Grissom adds as he starts to fidget a bit in his chair. 

“All right, so, where are we on possible suspects?” Catherine asks as she takes her glasses off and looks at Greg. 

“So far, none of Nick’s active or recent cases stand out. And his old stalker’s still behind bars,” Greg explains his findings and I start to shake my leg. 

“Are you 100% sure Nigel is still behind bars, Greg?” I ask, sitting up as I slowly seem to grow more agitated. 

“100%, y/n, I saw him on live video footage myself,” Greg replies and I sigh as I slump back into my chair. 

“Maybe it’s a random act,” Sara comments and I immediately sit back up. 

“Well, that’s possible because whoever staged the crime scene couldn’t have known that Nick was going to respond,” Catherine agrees and I shake my head in disbelief, even though I know what they’re saying is perfectly logical. 

“Yeah, it’s just bad luck he did,” Warrick agrees from next to me, making my leg bounce more. 

“Sara, what about the coffee cup?” Grissom asks as he sets his paperwork back on the table. 

“No DNA or prints on the cup or in the bag,” Sara replies in a matter-of-fact tone. Just then, we hear some sort of commotion going on out in the lobby.

“Don’t touch the edge of it!!” We all hear Hodges scream. 

“You got to sign…” another unknown voice yells out. 

“Security! Security!” Hodges yells out again and Grissom’s the first to get up to his feet. 

We all quickly follow behind him and he runs out to the lobby. Once in the lobby, we can see Hodges and a security guard fighting an individual who holds a package of some sort. 

“Get your freakin’ hands off me, man!” The individual yells out as he fights the security guard. 

Hodges clearly gets a hold of the package and moves over to the desk to inspect it. Grissom stops in the doorway, watching in confusion. 

“Hey! I told you, you gotta sign for that!” The guy that’s still fighting security yells out. 

“What are you doing, Hodges?” Grissom expertly asks what we’re all wondering as we watch from behind him. 

“Guy comes in here with a package with no return address,” Hodges tries to explain as he tries to catch his breath. 

“You’re violating my rights! I want a lawyer!” The delivery guy yells out as he continues to fight with security. 

“Shut up!” Catherine admonishes him as she points at him and he does just that, looking shocked. 

“Way the guy was pawing that envelope, I figured I better get it away from him before he wipes off all of the trace,” Hodges starts to explain himself again and Grissom looks at him, confused. 

“What trace?” Grissom asks, confusion clear in his tone. 

“Oh! It’s about Nick…” Hodges calms down right away as he breaks the news. 

We all step forward when Grissom does only to see what it says on the envelope; 

Crime lab 

3057 Westfall AVE. 

Las Vegas, NV 89109

RE: STOKES

Silence falls as I let out a small gasp when I see my own last name on the envelope. Warrick grabs me and pulls me into his side as Grissom puts gloves on. He then picks the package up very carefully and takes a second to look over the details before turning to Catherine. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out and she shakes her head. 

“Let me do this,” Grissom says before pushing past us and walking off.

Nick’s Pov: 

When I come to, I try to sit up but only end up hitting my head against a hard surface. I groan as I lift my hand to my head and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. When I do, I quickly jump and there’s a thud as my hand hits the top. 

I look around me, trying to figure out what’s going on and find a glow stick. I grab it so I can get a better look around and soon start to breathe heavily before I feel around me some more, only to find my service weapon. 

I grab it and bring it up to where I can see it. I pull the clip out and see it’s still full, making me sigh. I put the clip back in and cock the gun before setting it back down. I then pick the glow stick back up and look around some more before knocking at the glass. 

I reach down to my side again and feel something else. Once again I pull it up so I can see what it is and it’s a tape recorder. I click the play button and at first it’s just static, but soon a voice is leaving me a message. 

“Hi, CSI guy. You wondering why you’re here? Because you followed the evidence. Because that’s what CSIs do. So breathe quick, breathe slow, put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you’re going to die here. Okay,” the voice explains and then the tape shuts off. I slowly start to try and break my way out, but when I can’t I scream only to start sobbing.

Y/n’s Pov:

We all watch through the window to the lab as he walks in and starts to feel around it. When he’s sure it’s not dangerous, he fully sets it down and grabs an x-acto knife. He carefully slices into the top before putting the knife down and picking up a flashlight. 

He turns the flashlight on before holding the package open from the sides and peering into it. Confusion crosses his face before he empties the package onto the table and something falls out from it. We then watch as he looks for any sign of prints with the blue light. 

Soon he’s waving us all in, but I freeze, not knowing if I want to go or not. Catherine stops when she realizes I’ve frozen before looking at me. 

“You ok, y/n/n?” Catherine asks me, but I only shake my head. 

“I don’t know…” I tell her as I stay frozen. 

“Hey. Go ahead. I’ll get her to come, just… uhh, give us a sec,” Warrick tells Catherine and from the corner of my eye, I can see her nod before she walks off. 

“Hey. I’m sure he’s fine. I promise you he’ll come home,” he tells me as he stands in front of me and holds both my shoulders. 

“You can’t make a promise like that, Rick. You don’t know what’ll happen,” I argue back and he sighs before pulling me into another hug. 

“I know I can’t. I’m sorry, but I will promise to do everything in my power to bring him home to you,” he informs me and I sigh before nodding against him. 

“Come on. Let’s go get our boy back,” he says as he pulls back from the hug before pulling me along with him into the room where everyone stands. 

They all watch as I walk in and I give a small smile to them before they all circle around me. Grissom holds up the tape he pulled out earlier and slides it carefully into a tape player. He presses play and we all listen to a few minutes of white noise before 60’s rock music starts to play. 

♪ You can try to please me 

But it won’t be easy 

Stone walls surround me

I’m surprised that you even found me

And you don’t stand an outside chance 

Don’t stand an outside chance 

You don’t stand an outside chance 

But you can try ♪

Outside chance by The Turtles is the song that plays and we all just listen for a good few minutes. We all intently wait for anything else that could help us find my husband, but the song continues to play on. I sigh in anger and Warrick puts his hand down to rub my back soothingly. 

“Son of a bitch… he’s screwing with us,” Catherine curses out loud in anger, shaking her head. 

♪ Whatever you do girl 

You know you can’t get through girl 

Can’t bring me down ♪

The music continues to play and I can’t help, but feel like it’s mainly me the song is taunting. I let out a sigh and Warrick again rubs my lower back to try and comfort me. Grissom then picks up the flash drive that was with the tape and turns to walk over to the desk behind him. 

We all walk over with him and we watch him plug it in as the music continues to play in the background. After he plugs it into the computer, he opens the drive and words start to slide in from the left. 

‘ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN 12 HOURS,’ is the first line, making me gasp quietly and again Warrick quickly pulls me into him, but I turn my head to watch the rest of the lines slide by. 

‘OR THE CSI DIES.’ I gasp again and tears start to fill my eyes as it continues on. 

‘DROP-OFF INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW.’ It continues to have words in all caps slide across the screen. 

‘AND NOW FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE…’ it reads and Warrick tries to get me to turn my head away, but I can’t bring myself to. 

“YOU CAN ONLY WATCH,” it ends off with the watch seemingly looking like a link. 

Grissom moves the mouse and clicks on the link, making us all watch with bated breath as it brings up the video. I let out a gasp when we see Nick pop up on the screen, he’s buried in a clear coffin box and clearly freaking out. The timer at the bottom of the screen clearly counts down, making me have to force myself to try and swallow, but the lump that seems to grow bigger and bigger stops me:

I push Warrick off me lightly and walk right up next to Grissom. I touch the computer screen with my thumb as tears make their way down my face. I feel Warrick put a hand on my shoulder and I close my eyes, not wanting to see his face contorting in fear any longer. I just stand there with my eyes closed for a moment as everyone else watches on in sadness. I take a deep breath hoping it’ll ground me, but it doesn’t work. 

“Warrick, get her out of here. She doesn’t need to see anymore right now,” Catherine’s voice speaks up and I feel Warrick grab me lightly by the arm. 

He drags me out into the hall and steadily holds me by the shoulders. He says something, but I don’t catch it in my panic mode and he gives me a small shake to break me out of it. 

“Why don’t you go back to the break room. I’ll come check on you in a bit,” he tells me and I shake my head as I immediately sober up. 

“No. I’ll be fine. Let me back in there,” I demand as I cross my arms across my chest. 

“Sweets, are you-” he starts as he stands big and tall in my way, but I stop him as I hold up a hand, shaking my head. 

“Let me back in there, Warrick… now…” I tell him as I cross my arms and put a scowl on my face. 

“I don’t think-” Warrick starts, but I cut him off. 

“Ok. So I had a moment of weakness, Rick. So what, that’s my husband on that live feed. It may be the last time I can fully see him. Please… I’m good now, I swear. If I get overwhelmed again, I promise I’ll go shower or something. Just… let me go back,” I beg him before casting my eyes down to the floor as they start to fill with tears again, but I will them away.

“Please… B…” I whisper out, still refusing to look up at him and he sighs, making me look up at him. 

“Ok, but if it gets the slightest bit bad, you’re out of the room, got it?” he asks me and I nod with a small smile. 

“Thank you, B…” I tell him as I walk over to him and reach up to give his cheek a kiss. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know Nick would literally be sitting over there day or night if roles were reversed. Just don’t make me regret it,” he lightly jokes as he steps to the side to let me though and I shake my head. 

“Wouldn’t think of it. Nick would have my butt for making you regret it anyway, ” I tell him as I pat his chest as I pass him and he chuckles lightly. 

I walk back into the room just as they click on the watch link again and my smile instantly falls. I walk over next to Catherine and Warrick stops behind me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. Grissom now sits at a desk behind us all, writing something down. 

“I don’t think he knows we can see him,” Catherine comments as we all continue to watch. 

“How can we be sure it’s a live feed?” Sara asks as we all don’t take our eyes off the computer. 

“We’ve got to assume that it is,” Warrick replies grimly and I feel him rub my shoulder ever so slightly. 

“The space in that box looks like two by two by six, which would be 24 cubic feet. That would hold approximately 600 liters of air,” Grissom speaks up, getting all of our attention and making us turn to him to see him doing the math. 

“If you figure half a liter per breath… slow breathing…” Grissom continues, but pauses to look at his watch. 

“Maybe twelve breaths per minute. Panic breathing would be, what, twice that much,” Grissom analyzes more as he looks up at us, then back down to his paper. 

“Well, if the math is right, he’s got about an hour and 15 minutes of air left in that box,” Grissom finishes off and we all turn back to the screen. 

“But if they’re going to keep him alive for twelve hours, it must mean that he’s got an additional air supply,” Catherine adds on and we watch for a few more minutes until the video clicks back to the beginning page. 

“We lost the feed,” Johnson, our tech guy who stands next to Sara, tells us and we all look confused for a moment. 

Warrick pushes me slightly out of the way and grabs onto the mouse. He uses it to click on the WATCH again and the video pops up. 

“Looks like a live feed to me,” Warrick comments. “I say we keep the light on,” he continues as we all watch on. 

One by one, the others leave to try and learn more. Now it’s just me and Warrick sitting here, constantly clicking the link to watch it. Every once in a while, I find myself playing with my ring as well as the necklace that sits on my neck:

I switch off playing with my ring, spinning it around my finger over and over before letting it sit idle for a few minutes. Then I play with my necklace, moving it back and forth on my neck. I sigh and look down at my ring and I feel a hand land on my hand. 

“Stop that. I know you’re worried, that’s what you do when stressed, worried or trying to hide something. Seeing as the situation is a little difficult, I’d say it’s definitely the first two, but the more you do it, the more you freak out,” Warrick tells me and I shake my head, letting a puff of air out. 

“You’re right, I need to calm down…”I agree wearily and he nods. 

“There ya go. He’ll be home and cuddled up in your bed with you before you know it,” Warrick practically wills it in his tone and I sigh. 

“Maybe I should go-” I start, but pause when my phone goes off. 

I pull it out of my pocket and the face lights up, showing me there’s a text. Opening it, I find a text from Catherine: His parents are here. Still wanna come in with me and Griss? 

I frown lightly, but text back: Yeah, it’ll be helpful for his mom if I’m there. Which room are we doing it in? I’ll be there in a minute.

It’s only a minute later when she replies: We will be in the smaller meeting room. 

When done reading the last text over, I let out a sigh and look at Warrick. He raises an eyebrow at me and I shake my head. 

“It’s Catherine. She’s informing me that his mom and dad are here,” I explained and he nods before rubbing at his cheek. 

“Go. Come find me if you need me after, ok? I’ll drop everything if you need me too,” he promises and I give him a small, sad smile. He gets up as I do and pulls me into a hug. I sigh and sink into his warmth for a moment before pulling away. 

“Here I go. I’ll possibly see you after,” I tell him and he gives me a thumbs up. 

“You got this, sunshine,” he encourages me and I give him a half smile as well as a small nod. 

He turns back to the screen and I catch him grimacing before I turn around. I take one last sigh before starting to walk towards the small meeting room. When I get there, I can see Catherine and his parents just sitting down. 

“Y/n. Hi, dear. How are you doing? You don’t look well,” his mother comments in a concerned tone as she gets up from her seat and comes over to hug me.

“Umm, honestly Jillian, I’m far from feeling fine. But maybe you should sit back down before me and Catherine tell you what’s happened,” I tell her as she pulls back from the hug and frowns at me. 

“Of course, dear. If you think that’s best,” she agrees with me and together we walk over to the table. 

She walks around and sits next to her husband and I sit across from her. I look at his dad and give him a soft smile. 

“Y/n,” he greets with a firm head nod. 

“Judge,” I greet back the same way. 

“Where’s Griss?” I ask Catherine as I look around, not finding him. 

“He had something to look into. He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Catherine explains and I nod, taking a gulp. 

“Do you wanna break it to them or me?” she asks me and I nod. 

“I guess I can,” I sigh before turning to look at his mom and dad. 

“Mom…” I prompt as I pull my hand out and shakily hold it out to her. 

“Judge,” I prompt after she grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze while I look at her husband, who nods firmly to me again. 

“Nick’s been… kidnapped. They want one million dollars in twelve hours…” I explain and his mom immediately gets tears in her eyes. 

“Ok. We can make that money. We have starter money right here,” his dad informs us as he holds up a yellow envelope. 

“Do we at least know he’s safe? Y/n. Is my baby ok?” she asks me as she again squeezes on my hand. 

“From what we’ve seen. I think he’ll be ok. If we can get to him,” I tell her and the room goes quiet for a moment. 

“Bill…” his mom whispers as she lets go of my hand to hold onto his arm. 

It stays quiet for a moment more before we see Grissom walking up to the door. He seems to just get off his phone before coming in as Catherine clears her throat. 

“Judge Stokes, Mrs. Stokes. Gill Grissom,” Catherine introduces them as she motions to Nick’s mom and dad, then to Gill. 

“Your honor. Mrs. Stokes. I’m… uh… sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances,” Gill gives his condolences and I pull in a rough patch of air. 

“Y/n. Honey. Come here,” his mother tells me as she holds her arms open. 

I move my chair over to her and she pulls me into her arms. I hold back my sobs as much as I possibly can as she strokes my hair. 

“Have you been able to make contact with the animals who took my son?” his dad asks Gill in a very straightforward tone. 

“No, we haven’t yet, but… they should be contacting us in roughly four hours,” Catherine explains as Gill takes a seat next to her now. 

“We were able to rustle up $20,000 cash. Our bank's prepared to wire another $100,000. Now we can sell the cars. We can hock the ranch... We can make the number, but it’s gonna take at least another day. We’ll do whatever we can to bring our boy home to his wife,” his dad explains his plan in a very detailed manner as a judge would.

“Judge Stokes-” Gill starts to try explaining. 

“Can we give them the money we have now, try to buy more time?” His mom asks as she pushes the envelope towards Gill. 

“Mom. Please listen to what Gill has to say,” I beg her and she nods as she stops pushing the money towards him. 

“I don’t think that will help,” Gill tells her honestly and she sits back in her seat. 

I take her hand that’s still around my shoulder and pull it to my front so I can hold it. She looks at me, confused for a moment, but I bite my lip as I nod my head back at Gill. 

“There’s got to be something we can do,” his dad replies in disbelief that there’s nothing that he can do to help. He’s always been the one to rush in and save Nick from anything, whether it be his own mistake or not, making me roll my eyes. 

“You’ve already done it by coming here, by showing your support for both Nick and y/n…” Catherine tries to explain and his mom squeezes my hand. 

“We’re not here to show support. We’re here to get Nick home to us and his wife. Where he belongs,” his mom cuts in with an angry tone and I squeeze her hand softly as her voice falters at the end. 

“We’re not sure who has your son… or why…” Griss tells them and his dad gives him a confused look. 

“Well… what the hell do you know?” Judge asks in a borderline angry tone and I close my eyes for a moment. 

“Judge, please…” I almost whimper out and he sighs before looking at Grissom. 

“Very little…” Grissom answers his question and his mom squeezes my hand again. 

“Let’s just cut to the gist. What proof do you have that my boy’s still alive?” he asks and I let out a sharp gasp along with his mom. 

Catherine and Gill give each other serious looks as Nick's mom still holds onto me. I shake my head when I look at Gill, but it’s almost like he ignores it. 

“Gill, don’t. They can’t see it. Jillian, tell them no. You don’t wanna see it,” I burst out, shaking my head as I frantically get up out of my seat. 

“Y/n. You're ok. Calm down, it’s going to be ok,” Jillian is quick to stand up, coming over to me and pulling me into a hug. 

“Y/n, honey, I think even if we don’t want to see it, we have to,” she tells me as she strokes my hair and I sniffle. 

“Ok… I’m sorry. It’s just very hard to see…” I reply to her and she hums, nodding. 

“No. Don’t be sorry, dear. You’re just trying to keep us from hurting more. We understand, but we have to see it,” she tells me and I sigh before pulling away from the hug. 

“Ok. Griss, let’s show them,” I whisper out with a reserved nod. Grissom nods softly before standing along with Catherine as I walk back over. 

“Judge. Mrs. Stokes, if you’ll follow me,” Grissom says as he looks at his dad and the Judge nods as I wrap my arms around myself. 

We all walk back to the room that Warrick and I had sat in earlier. Grissom leads us over to the computer and he looks at Catherine for a moment. 

“This might be a little hard to watch, like y/n said before, but it’s the only proof of life we have for you,” he explains to them and Jillian nods as she gets a little closer to her husband. 

“We’re ready…” Bill tells him and Grissom nods solemnly before pressing the watch button. It goes completely quiet in the room. 

Nick's face pops up on the screen again and I let out a shuddering breath. We watch for a few minutes as Nick keeps his arm over his eyes and away from the bright light. The countdown that beeps at the bottom of the screen stares at me, taunting me and it takes everything I have not to break down right away. 

His mom freezes for a moment, tears filling her eyes before letting out a devastating grunt. She walks off just outside of the lab, but I can’t tear my eyes away quite yet. His dad watches on with me for a moment more. 

“Oh, Pancho… what the hell you got yourself into?” Judge asks and that’s when I break. 

I walk over with him to Jillian and he pulls her off the wall she’s leaning on and hugs her from behind. I stand there and can’t help, but wish Nick was here to do the same thing with me. She turns and looks at me for a moment before holding her arms open for me. 

My lip wobbles slightly before I rush into the hug and she just holds me as her husband holds her. We stay that way for a while before I pull back and wipe at my cheeks. 

“I’ll, ahh… see you guys later. I’ve gotta go find Warrick. You guys go home and we’ll update you as soon as we can,” I tell them and Jillian reaches back out for me. 

“We’re not going home. Bill has a hotel for us to stay in. Y/n, you should come back with us,” she tells me and I shake my head. 

“No. I’m ok. Really. I’ll text you when there’s something that comes up. Please just go try and sleep,” I tell her and she sighs. 

“Ok, but please promise you’ll take care of yourself, dear,” she tells me and I nod as I purse my lips. 

“I’ll do my best. I’ll text you, ok?” I promise one last time and when she nods in confirmation, I start to walk away. 

I walk down a few halls and stop to lean against a wall when I feel like I’m going to puke. Once the feeling passes, I stand back up and continue on to find Warrick in the break room. I sigh and quickly rush over to him. 

When he hears me enter, he puts his chips down and looks up at me before getting up to come over to me, pulling me into a much needed hug. 

“Rick… he’s just so terrified… I’m terrified I won’t see him again…” I whimper out and he sighs. 

“You’ll see him again, mamas. You will. Just gotta have hope. I don’t want you watching that video again unless I’m there, ok?” he asks and I sleepily nod against him. 

He leads me over to the break room couch and together we sit down. He pulls me into a hug and just holds me as my whole resolve breaks. The last thing I remember before falling asleep from exhaustion and crying was him laying me down with a blanket over me. 

To Be Continued…

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[constantcompanion]

Committing my once-a-fandom crime of attempting fanfic.

The summary for next week’s episode mentions Buck developing some new abilities as a result of being struck by lightning. I’m sure it will be something like doing math (or, based on the preview, card playing), but wouldn’t be more fun if he developed some form of ESP? Or Eddie Sensory Perception?

Also, this is @darriness 's fault.

On AO3.

I Bet You Think About Me

It’s his first day back at the firehouse, and Buck is feeling fine. Great, even. Well, physically, anyway. If things in his brain are feeling, well, louder, that’s something he can deal with. He figures as he continues dealing mentally with everything that’s happened, that will get better too.

But walking back into work after those weeks away brings a sense of relief and calm he hasn’t felt in a while. This is where he is supposed to be, these are the people who he’s supposed to be with.

The calm is shattered quickly.

Buck opens the door to his locker, putting away his things, Eddie’s familiar voice behind him calling out, “welcome back!”

Buck turns and grins. “It’s good to be back.” He turns back to his locker.

*well, the time away hasn’t done any harm to that backside.*

Buck jumps, hits his head on the top of his locker, and yelps. What did Eddie say?

“You okay, there, Buck?”

“Yeah, um, I thought I heard you say something.”

“Nope. Just waiting for you so we can head upstairs.”

Buck pulls his shirt over his head to change into his uniform shirt, pausing for a second to catch his breath. No, Eddie didn’t say anything like that. He must have been imagining things.

*I’d like to trace that tattoo with my tongue.*

Buck chokes on his own saliva, hurriedly pulling his uniform shirt on, feeling his cheeks heat up. This is not happening.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re looking a little flushed.”

“Yeah. …I’m fine.”

The two men head up the stairs, Buck leading the way.

*yep, still looking good.*

Buck stumbles on the step. Okay, not again. He did not hear that, nope. Maybe being dead really did hurt his brain.

Eddie catches him by the arm. “Excited to be back, huh?  You’re practically tripping over yourself.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Totally. Just missed this place.”

Not so surprisingly, the pair are greeted at the top of the stairs with a loud “SURPRISE”. A large cake waits on the table, and Hen runs forward, arms outstretched to give Buck a big, long hug, followed by hugs and back slaps from the rest of the team.

Chim chuckles. “Welcome back, kid. Missed making fun of you.”

*oh I’ve missed that beautiful smile*

Buck closes his eyes. No, this can’t be happening.

Hen laughs. “Aw, look how touched he is! We’re so glad to have you back!”

Buck glances at Eddie, who is smiling fondly at the scene unfolding. What is going on? It’s clearly Eddie’s voice he’s hearing. But Eddie has never said things like this to him, and no one else seems to hear it. This is messed up.

Buck tries to act normal, hugging Bobby, joking around with Ravi, asking questions about thing he might have missed. But in the background his mind keeps turning over the things he’s been hearing. Or not hearing. And he watches Eddie and wonders. Is he imagining things he wants to hear Eddie say? Or could he be hearing Eddie’s thoughts? No, that’s not possible.

The alarm goes off, and the team heads out to their first call of the shift.

As the day goes on, and they respond to emergencies, things seem to be normal. The scenes are loud, and Buck is too occupied to notice much other than what he is focused on doing, and he calms down. None of that earlier happened, he’ll just put it behind him.

They return to the firehouse after their last call, each member of the team tired and ready to be done. Buck begins to pull off his turn-outs.

*apparently I do have a thing for a man in uniform.*

Buck’s face turns red.

*I wonder how far that blush goes.*

Buck leans his forehead against the wall, desperately trying to cool down.

Eddie looks a bit concerned. “I know I’ve asked this already, but you still doing okay? It’s been a long shift.”

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.”  Buck pauses, deciding whether to test his hypothesis. “What would you say if I decided to kiss you right now?”

“I would say you’ve been reading my mind.”

[semper-legens]

27. Thank You, Jeeves, by P.G. Wodehouse

Owned: No, library Page count: 263 My summary: Thanks to his insistence on playing the banjolele, Bertie Wooster has been 1) kicked out of his flat and 2) dumped by Jeeves. But not to worry. He's out into the country, where nothing can go wrong! Except maybe love triangles, wacky escapades, imprisonment on a yacht, forced marriages, and a distinct lack of butter. Just his lucky day. My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

You know, despite my usual tastes in literature and my general predilection for the stuffy English gentleman, I've never actually engaged with any Jeeves and Wooster. I've seen clips from the Steven Fry/Hugh Laurie show, as every English person is legally required to, but I've never actually sat down to read any Wodehouse myself. Well, one of my coworkers is currently working her way through Jeeves and Wooster, and decided that I'd like it too. So, on her recommendation, I've gone in blind with this book. Let's see what it's like!

First off - Wodehouse's voice is delightful. Archaic without being impenetrable, sardonic and drawling, punning and witty in all the right ways. I was charmed and captivated from the start, not less because of how full-on it is right out of the gate. It's a very droll writing style, the kind that was definitely a spawn of the 30s; I can't imagine someone writing like that now except to satirise. Still, it's wonderfully charming. And Wooster himself is well-characterised as a complete brainless twit. He actually had a lot more heart than I was expecting from what I knew of his character, but he's still a big idiot who doesn't ever help himself out of any situation at all.

Also, like, I know calling Jeeves and Wooster gay isn't exactly the hottest of takes, but it surprised me just how gay it was. Seriously, Jeeves says that he's got a policy of never working for a married man. I can't be the only one reading implication into that. And he's always at Wooster's beck and call, even in this book where he's not technically working for him. (More on that in a bit.) And Wooster is not all that put out that the eligible young lady who is also his ex in this book isn't into him. In fact, he goes out of his way to avoid getting into a relationship with her! Any tension between them is coincidence and awkward encounters. Just…so gay.

Unfortunately with literature written in the early 1900s, and particularly literature by white people, you're gonna get some racism. In this book, it takes the form of the banjolele and the blackface. The former is the inciting incident for the novel; Wooster has to move to the country because he has taken up playing the banjolele, a cross between a banjo and a ukulele. Everyone hates the noise, but it's the instrument itself that's brought up as being the problem. Jeeves, in particular, hates it. The racial connotations of this can't be ignored - the banjo is associated with black Americans, where obviously the ukulele is a native Hawaiian instrument. But more egregiously, Wooster spends half the novel 'comically' in blackface. There is a never-seen troupe of minstrels referred to with the n-word - whether they are actually black or white people in blackface is unclear from the text, but apparently that was the contemporary term for blackface performers. And every person who sees Wooster in blackface assumes he's a devil and screams and runs away, again 'comically'. Look, I know this was written in 1934, but honestly I don't care. This is just straight-up racist. The idea of Wooster being blacked up is treated as hilarious rather than insulting, and of course not a single actual person of colour shows up at all. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, the casualness of these stereotypes and this behaviour. It's just bad. (And apparently, the TV episode based on this book also had the blackface in 1991. Plus ca change…)

Next, we're off to the Arctic, where there's a haunting on a beached ship…

[deepautumncolors]

Book Reviews

12/28/23

This book was such a sweet holiday romance! I’m really glad I waited until December to read it right before Christmas. If you can get past the idea that nobody noticed the twins weren’t who they were supposed to be, you’ll like it. I mean, I know a pair of twin sisters and even though they look alike, their voices still sound different. Anyway, I was a little surprised that Charlie and Cass didn’t tell each other what was going on in “their” lives and that they didn’t confess to Miguel and Jake a little sooner, but it didn’t bother me. I don’t watch baking shows nor do I even cook that much, but it didn’t take away anything from the story for me. The book had a few minor errors, like missing punctuation, that would have been caught with careful editing. And once in a while I would have added a comma or put certain words in a different order within the sentence, but I can overlook that. There were a few times the dialogue was a bit juvenile and some moments were slightly cheesy and predictable, but I knew what I was getting into when I decided to read it. That’s just how this genre is. Overall, it was a cute, clean, and appropriate story with only kissing and no swearing. I thought the structure was set up well with one chapter from each twin’s point of view on the same day. I didn’t have a hard time keeping their stories straight. I loved the role that each character played in the story, including the townspeople like Sharon and Faye. I thought the plot was thought out very nicely and I liked how everything was tied up at the end. I am looking forward to reading the other Christmas book by these authors. (Maggie Knox is a pen name for the writing duo Karma Brown and Marissa Stapley.)

1/7/24

This is the second holiday romance book by these authors. While I was in the middle of reading their first one, I called the library to order this book a couple weeks before Christmas so I could read it over the holidays. But they didn’t have it and the librarian said there were already some holds for it, so she put me on the waiting list and I wouldn’t get to read it for a while. Well, it turned out my husband overheard me on the phone and stealthily ordered it from Amazon, so I was surprised to receive it as a gift on Christmas Day! Anyway, I just finished reading it. I enjoyed it, but I liked The Holiday Swap a little bit better.

This story is about two singers named Sadie Hunter and Max Brody competing on a show called Starmaker, which is a lot like American Idol, in Nashville. They have amazing chemistry when they sing together onstage, so the audience loves them and roots for #Saxie to win. The producers convince them to compete as a couple for the rest of the show in order to boost ratings or else they will be eliminated, so they maintain a fake relationship in their everyday lives even though they “can’t stand each other” offstage. At least, that’s what the plot summary says on the back cover – I wasn’t convinced. They butted heads a couple times, but to me it didn’t seem like they hated each other enough. They also had a lot of miscommunication throughout the story that was somewhat implausible at times. Why didn’t she just TELL him about her grandma instead of rushing off? Also, it frustrated me that Max kept jumping to conclusions without just talking to Sadie first. It seemed like every time they needed to talk to each other, one of them never answered their phone. And I found it to be a bit of a stretch that they didn’t talk for an entire year. I get it that the authors wanted it to take place at Christmastime two years in a row so they had to skip from one December to the next, but it’s doubtful that they wouldn’t even call or text each other during that time.

As a fan of the former TV series Nashville, I liked the setting and I could easily picture certain scenes taking place based on what I saw in the episodes. Whenever Sadie and Max performed, I imagined that their voices sounded like Scarlett and Gunnar’s together on the show. I wish I could have heard some of the songs that the characters sang, or at least that a few more lyrics than just a couple lines had been revealed. Perhaps a nice addition would be to add the entire songs at the back of the book. It would make a nice Hallmark movie, being able to actually hear them sing. The character of Cruz was definitely believable even though it’s unfortunate that sleazy producers like him exist in real life. As a Swiftie, I appreciated several references to Taylor Swift. I thought the dialogue was a little stronger than it was in the previous book. There was also a little swearing and the romance scenes were spicier. I liked Saxie’s happy ending, even though it took them a while to finally get there.

[eightwholebreads]

doccy who thoughts

This series was basically fine so long as yo don't actually think about any of it. Moment to moment is fine but overall its like well okay what was all that even about. After the specials it ws very clear that this just wasn't going to be a good jumping on point for people. (idk maybe it is but idk because I've seen most of nuwho and that can't be undone). I do feel like if series 1 was written by RTD as a fan wanting to write for people his age and maybe younger then this series was written for their kids. Personally I'm not that fussed about the optimistic and energetic tone but whatever I can sit with it for 45 minutes a week fair enough.

This was a really weird series too. Of the 7 stories, the doctor more or less wasn't in 2 of them and completely immobilised in one AND those episodes were 3 in a row.

Episode opinions summary

Space babies: cringe. Didn't enjoy it. When they weren't doing the basic plot they were speedrunning dw lore. There was a couple of good ideas in there but I didn't enjoy it

Devil's chord: Okay. And probably not much better than okay. Maestro was alot of fun but the actual plot was kind of eh. The musical number at the end was fine and whatever. I didn't enjoy it but I'm sure someone out there did.

Boom: Good. I was wondering how moffat would trap ruby in a b plot and then she spent most of the episode unconscious

73 yards: Interesting but didn't do it for me at all. Whatever

Dot and bubble: The slug thing actually scared me a bit like imagine walking into something you're not even aware of augh. I'm sort of going back and forth on whether the racism twist was actually good or not. I watched josh must win by coincidence shortly before this episode and you could feel maybe similar thought processes in that show where several of the other contestants were saying stuff like Oh he just needs to try more and I don't think he's comfortable here so I hope he gets voted out. Like the thought processes sort of look similar from the outside where you can't see the underpinning mechanism and its one people can fall into from various different angles so when the underpinning mechanism turned out to just be space racists it was like oh so now we don't have to think about our own possible behaviour because they're doing it about this one specific and unacceptable thing. On the other hand it is made for all ages and keeping it simple means you're less likely to lose people and the final scene was pretty good. Basically most of my criticism boils down to "ah this episode didn't do what I thought it would" so whatever.

Rouge: Oh boy I sure hope the doctor and rouge flirting doesn't take up the whole episode. Romance isn't my thing but I can appreciate it as a little side dish to a decent episode... and then the romance takes up the whole episode

The legend of ruby sunday: setup. The time window scene was neat. Literally don't understand why classic fans were all Oh maybe the nuwho only peeps won't understand sutekh. Yeah they make it super clear he's the (probably egyptian) god of death. Easy to understand

Empire of death: Eh. The payoffs didn't really work. The solutions were cheap and based on lying to the audience. The final few scenes really worked. I don't particularly care for the drama stuff but they worked.

Excited for christmas? No not really but I'll still watch it and the next series. Not as actively irritating as the moffat era, not as crushingly dull as the chibnall era.

[moku-youbi]

omg, omg, omg. Like. I feel like this is my time to shine! First, let me say that Wangxian is my current main OTP and has been for the past several years. Untamed/MDZS got in my head and will NOT let go, so even while I'm writing in other fandoms, I still read almost exclusively MDZS. I love it so fucking much you guys, I would beg everyone to check it out, because having been in SO MANY fandoms (including a vast majority of the ones involved in this poll) it has the most quality fan created content BY FAR.

All that being said, The X-Files is the property that introduced me to fandom when I was in 6th grade. I was there, Gandalf, when the COTR happened (conversation on the rock, from Quagmire). If Spirk is the granddaddy of fandom as we know it, then MSR are the parents of online fandom, as we know it. The early 90s saw a huge shift in how fans connected with one another and distributed content, from the old phone conversations/chain mail-esque fics that started back in the 60s, to the conventions and 'zines and usenet forums that followed over the next few decades. But with AOL bringing internet into the average American living room, it wasn't just die hard fans who already had the internet know-how or fandom hookup who could get more involved. Now anyone could make a free website on geocities or angelfire, and boy, did we ever.

The X-Files wasn't the only fandom big at that point -- you had the newest (at the time) Treks, Xena and Hercules, Interview with a Vampire (whether Anne Rice liked it or not), Due South, Stargate, etc, to name a few -- but X-Files was the most mainstream. It managed to pull in huge audiences across demographics, was critically acclaimed, and sort of defied the expectations for a genre television show. The first several seasons captured the zeitgeist of the era. Add to that, Mulder and Scully had a sizzling, undeniable, compelling chemistry from the first moment they appear on screen together, and that developed into a deep abiding love, trust, and unshakeable partnership over the rest of the series.

So of course it dominated those early days of dial-up internet fandom. There were countless individual websites for just about every aspect of the show, the characters, the relationships, and of course you never ran out of fic to read. And in those spaces, you had two main groups (hello proto anti/proshippers lmfao): The Noromos (who were opposed to a romantic relationship between Mulder/Scully and, like modern queer-baiting shows, told us we were imagining things) and The Relationshippers (which yes, eventualy was shortened to 'shipper, and voila! there is the origin of the word as you know it today!) Amongst the shippers, there was also a lot of squeeing over the beautiful moments between our beloved Mulder and Scully, and frankly we were spoiled. There were SO MANY of those moments.

Now, I know it might be difficult for some of you who have never lived without AO3, or indeed even other multi-fandom sites with the ability to search and sort fics based on ratings/topic/summaries/etc, but back in those days you mostly either had an alphabetical list of all fics (and maybe broken down by ship if there were enough to warrant it) or a chronological list. Summaries were very brief, and ratings were often only NC-17 or not. This is a good example of one of the better archives that remain..

But when you have so many episodes that you might be setting your fic before or after, so many profound shippy moments you might want to refer to (and, while episode titles were useful, often episodes contained more than one good scene/conversation/look/touch/etc, which makes it trickier). Which is where all our acronyms come in -- so many that YAXA, yet another xfiles acronym, became a thing. It's where MSR (mulder/scully relationship) and COTR come from. We had extensive dictionaries at the time, so you could quickly refer to specific scenes or lines of dialogue and everyone would know what you meant. You had MIJ and SIJ (Mulder or Scully in Jeopardy), CITDBTB (conversation in the dark by the bed -- pilot ep), CITC (conversation in the car - Tooms), you had DDEB and the GATB (David Duchovony Estrogen Brigade, Gillian Anderson Testosterone Brigade) and the SWILS (straight women in love with Scully ahahahah), and on, and on, and on. Hundreds of them, fam, I have forgotten so many. We were so unhinged! But you can see how it might be a precursor to what we think of tagging, now.

Anyway, between coining the word 'shipper and jumpstarting internet fandoms, MSR has a HUGE part in fandom history.

AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Semifinals

This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[dustfiremediafanatic]

Trophy Campaign Update:

Today the Forge had another episode of Trophy, with Danny as GM. Joining us again as players were Steve, Johnny, Justin and Nick! Since this is a Patreon only show when released as podcast, I won't go into specifics but I would like to talk about the experience I have when I join in the Livestream.

First of all, anyone can join the stream chat. Though it's a Patreon only show later, it's free for everybody to drop by on Twitch to take a look! I'll add their usual link to the bottom of the post.

A Dustfire Media Livestream is an absolute riot of a time. Watching people make their jokes live helps add a feeling of realism and inclusivity, like what I'd imagine going to a live comedy show would be like. They're hilarious above table and in character these players know how to be diverse with who they represent, and yet still so very them.

What makes the Patreon episode streams that bit more special is most likely the Devil's Bargain mechanic. Usually, like with the streams for The Professionals (as far as I know, I'm dead to the world when those streams are live because it's 1-3am in my time zone), the GM can present a consequence that must be accepted by the player if a player wants an extra dice. A trade off of sorts to help progress the game with certain actions. If they don't accept, they don't get a bonus dice to the roll.

With the Trophy streams however, a Devil's Bargain is open to ANYONE to suggest - other players, or chat. So we the viewers get to add in our own potential consequences to the plot. This makes for some hilarious twists and turns, trust me.

Another thing in particular I enjoy specifically is talking with chat about the characters and story events themselves. If (SOMEHOW) you're not a Patreon, then there's likely someone in chat more than happy to give you a quick summary of what you've missed so you can join in like the rest of us. Or even if you just have internet connection issues! (Like me! Lagged pretty bad so a pal in chat helpfully posted the important points I'd missed in the 20 seconds of buffering I experienced).

I also find I learn new words, or even new ways to say certain words thanks to differences in upbringing/accent. Like the word Cuirass (Sorry Justin calling you out here for this particular one since it stuck out to me!) Justin was pronouncing it as "Coo-rass", whereas I've always thought it was pronounced "Cure-ass". I've not really heard the word spoken before however so now I'm curious! Is it just a Justin thing, or is that really how you're meant to say it?

I might have digressed a bit there, but the Dustfire never fails to deliver on great cliffhangers and full-depth stories leaving people eager to know what's happening next. Whether it's a one shot base being worked on and brought to life, or a completely new story created with a rulebook of any game, I'm yet to be dissatisfied with any of their content. Not kidding, it's all amazing!! Doesn't matter who is running the game either, all of them tell incredible stories.

Final note, and weirdly enough the reason I started typing this post; one major change between this session of Trophy and the last is that last session the game was Trophy Dark, whilst this one upgraded/morphed into Trophy Gold. The story is still the same (well, as much as we can tell for it!) And the Dustfire guys have assured us everything will make more sense in the end - alas it's only one episode a month!

Maybe if we get more Patreon participants they can stream it more... Come be a White Lotus Agent with me! More agents against the forces of evil is always a wonderful time ♡

I hope you enjoy your time with them as much as I do. Please find a link to both their Twitch page, and their website below (bonus - they've got merch too!)

[stifledlaughterao3]

End of Year Fic Writing Bingo

This year was a pretty good one for fic! I think a key element of 2023 for writing was that I dug back into some WIPs that had been languishing and just sort of forced myself to finish them, even if they weren’t as perfect as I imagined they would be, or went in a different direction than I had originally intended. A lot of these, looking at the list, were gifts or inspired by prompts, which helps in having a firm deadline. I didn’t do my ‘write daily’ thing I did in 2020 and 2021, but I still wrote a lot, and initiated WIP hours with friends so that I would have a dedicated time to write. 

Fannishly I did a lot of other things this year too: 3 Fic Clique Ficlet episodes and a handful of podfics! They were really fun and I hope to do similar things next year. 

As you can see, I sadly did NOT make bingo (despite being so close SO many times) but hey, I tried! 

(Individual fic commentary below the cut)

something else entirely holds me in thrall (Pokemon)

“Everyone lives and nothing hurts” – I had started this fic due to re-playing Pokemon games from my childhood (Pokemon Crystal my beloved). It’s just my friends and I in the Pokemon world having idealized jobs with our Pokemon. I was encouraged internally to finish it so I could give it to one of the friends who had a character in the fic to help them through a hard time. So less “everyone lives” (all friends in it are alive!!) but “nothing hurts” definitely hits in this self-indulgent, really happy AU of our lives. 

shorn-off children like them (Call Me Chihiro (2023))

“If no one else will write it, I will” – so I watched the movie on a whim and it REALLY hit me where it hurts. So few movies get the ‘estranged child’ feelings well, and I saw a lot of myself in my mid-twenties with this character. So I wrote this because I just don’t see analysis of people in my situation in media, and I wanted to give her the character development I went through to end up in a happier place. 

The Archon is Too Sublime (原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game))

“Thought of a great line” – I really liked the summary line of this fic, it sets the tone for the whole thing. I just honestly love writing irreverent, silly but sincere fics like this. 

beloved gem, plucked rose (原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game))

“I was joking with my friend and then it happened” – shoutout to Purple for fucking around with “haha what if Tighnari accidentally became a cult leader and Cyno loved the idea of being a beautiful cult leader’s beloved” and it spiraled into one of my most popular fics of the year. 

it flows as the breaths inside the lungs (Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters)

“This is going to be SO hot” – My first fic in a new fandom is giving pharaohs heat cycles based on the Nile flooding?? Sure!! It was definitely one of my horniest fics I wrote this year, and I was very pleased by the result. 

ex situ by stifledlaughter (Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters)

“But what happens AFTER canon?” I quite liked Marik’s character when I first watched YGO– I related a ton to the ‘very bitter after religious abuse’ backstory he had, and I wanted to explore how he seemingly mellowed out a ton in the last season. 

Dragon-In-Wait (BNHA)

“Thought of a great scene” – so this was the prequel to one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written, Last Out the Winter. I started it in 2020 and sometime in early 2023 I was like “I have 40k down. I just need to slam out 10-20k more to finish it.” 40k later, I had finished it, and, amusingly, the “great scene” I had in mind from the beginning was slightly changed! But that’s what happens when you let a fic languish for 3 years. 

(space) riot when I'm with you (IT - Stephen King & Pride and Prejudice)

“It came to me in a dream” – While this was indeed a prompt from the Fic Clique podcast, the plot to it was a hazy contrivance of having read a LOT of Yu-Gi-Oh fanfic and wanting to explore the horror genre a bit more. It just sort of coalesced in my brain to the surprisingly coherent fic it turned out to be. 

A Timely Convergence of Melodies (new chapter) (Kuroko no Basuke)

“I just want them to kiss” – Ahhh, my fic that is the slowest to update of all time. I went 3 years in between updating this chapter and the last. Since each chapter focuses on a different couple reliving the same 5 or so hours, I do consider this mentally a ‘one shot’. This was another “omg just FINISH IT” fic I yanked out of my drafts and slammed out. It wasn’t what I originally wanted for it, but I’m glad it’s done all the same. 

A Handmade Scrapbook (new one-shot) ("Designation: Miracle" fandom, a Kuroko no Basuke AU)

“Fuck this character in particular” – I love Masaomi from Designation: Miracle with all of my heart but boy is it fun to Put That Man In Situations. Doing a SVSSS crossover with the OT4 appeals to the nichest audience of like 4 people on the planet who have read D:M and understand SVSSS but it was fun for ME to write and that’s what matters. 

deep in the night, I am looking for some(one) (2 new chapters) (Fanfic of the "Letter to the Headitor" AU for BNHA)

“I want this universe and those characters” – As always, my fanfics of the LTTH AU are my little bouncy house of humor and fun to roll around in. I went a little more serious with the most recent chapter, but it felt very earned after the other more lighthearted ones. LTTH will always be a fic that, in watching it update in real time, helped me through some real bad stuff and I will always write about it with joy in my heart. 

Untitled Fic Clique Episode (Fandom RPF & Untitled Goose Game (Video Game))

“Just to see if I could” – The SECOND I got the idea for this I yanked out my computer and slammed this out in approximately two hours. I was losing my gourd, possessed, feral with my goose teeth and wings. It is possibly the funniest thing I’ll ever write and I may have peaked but that’s okay. 

Game of the Scene by stifledlaughter (原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game))

“This idea won’t shut up until I write it” – I’ve been noodling on this Razor/Fischl/Bennett future fic for a while now, and part of my “just write it!!” mentality this year involved me taking the noodling thoughts and stir-frying them into something edible. I was pretty pleased with it in the end, especially the female OC, who is definitely one of my favorites I’ve written. 

adularescence (new one-shot) (原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game))

“Gift fic” – my yearly solstice gift for my metamour! She let me write Zhongli with two dicks this year, I was really excited about that. 

the skin you're in (Wizard of Oz) 

“Found a prompt list” – more specifically, a Yuletide recipient’s list! What’s funny about this one is that originally, I had been assigned to them for a different fandom (Neopets) only to read the rest of their prompts and read their cool prompt for a genderqueer Ozma. It prompted me to re-read select books from the Wizard of Oz series so I could better write this fic, which was pretty fun. 

more mundane and magical (Love and Leashes (2022))

“I saw the plot and needed it for my OTP” – So I have been really really wanting to write a fic set in the modern day kink community/scene, even though I left my in-person kink community several years ago due to burnout. I still have many fond memories of it, and truly wanted to write a fic that reflects the good parts of the community with rose-colored glasses, so I no longer felt as bitter about the bad parts. When I saw this movie requested for Yuletide, I knew that I had to write for it, and that finally, I could marry this plot idea (“put those characters in the kink scene”) with this fantastic movie that lends itself so well to that idea. Writing it was joyful, cathartic, and a little melancholy, which I feel really enhanced the fic. 

Clean bingo card:

[letsasoiaftogether]

Targaryen x Otto Hightower...

...IMAGINE being the younger sister to Viserys and Daemon, and having some sort of tension with the Hand of the King that comes to a head a few months after the death of Queen Aemma

(I suck at summaries lmao/this is based between episode 1 and 2)

Word Count: 2,473

Warning: Character death (canon)! Death of an infant (canon)! FIRST ATTEMPT AT WRITING CHARACTER/S (so I apologize in advance for that!)

A/N: OKAYYYYYYYYY, this is my first EVER attempt at writing for Otto Hightower! SHOW!based as I’m not too knowledgeable about book!canon dance of the dragons stuff. I REALLY enjoyed writing this! I don’t know why but Otto Hightower just...has me in his grasp lmao wrote this in like three hours if that tells you how strongly I felt for this idea! lol I hope you all enjoy it! And thank you for giving it a chance!

(p.s. I’ve tagged this asoiaf and hotd, but should I tag these as got? lmao is this still technically game of thrones? how is everyone else describing this show? game of thrones? JUST a song of ice and fire and house of the dragon? lmao)

(GIF ISNT MINE)

Your brother’s wife and son had only been dead for a few days when the talk of the succession started anew – just as bad as it had been for the last few years, but more urgent now that the King of Westeros was a widow.

By the precedent set at the Great Council eleven years earlier, your youngest-oldest brother, Daemon, was Viserys’ heir, but very few were fond of that idea and wanted either Princess Rhaenyra to be named heir or for Viserys to remarry and try for another male heir. The fact that the mourning period had even begun, that your House was hurting, didn’t seem to matter to the Small Council.

Logically, it didn’t matter. The realm needed certainties, not maybes, but that decision didn’t need to be made right then. Not that night. Or even that month.

Viserys was healthy, Daemon and Rhaenyra were healthy. Daemon was healthy enough to have children (if he ever decided to do so), and Rhaenyra was old enough to be betrothed (at the least) and married within the next year or two.

Seven hells, there was you even. Widowed for three years from a second son of House Tyrell, and the mother to two sons (neither who were likely to inherit Highgarden). You could be an heir to your brother if Viserys willed it, or your sons could until Daemon or Rhaenyra produced one.

All of this, and more, was what you informed the Small Council that night as you stood next to your King’s chair in the Small Council chambers, your hand tightening around his shoulder to give him some, silent comfort in the whole mess.

“…even if my brother agrees to remarry, the mourning period is a year. Unless I am mistaken, My Lord Hand.” You threw a sharp look at Otto, silently begging him to try and argue with you. Like you and Viserys, Otto was a widow as well – his wife having died just shy of two years earlier.

“You are not, Princess.” The man smiled, tightly, but softly at your words. The two of you hadn’t always been at odds. Often, the two of you were quite a united front at keeping Viserys on track and the realm prospering, but Otto had grown ambitious in the time since his dear, lady wife’s passing.

“Alright then,” you offered a small smile of your own and threw a glance around the room at the others in attendance, “The mourning period will be respected or there will be consequences.” Two heart beats, waiting to see if any of the men were going to argue or try to talk down to you. “If talks must be had, leave them for six moons. Allow our King to put the memory and his love for our, sweet Aemma to rest.”

Viserys sighed and you caught his gaze, the two of you smiling fondly at one another as your eldest brother took your hand in his own and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. His sweet smile melted your heart. He was a good, gentle man, and he always tried to keep the peace in his House and his kingdoms…

“Now,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead just as your grandmother Alysanne used to do when you were a little girl, “I’m going to look in on my niece and the boys. Try to get some rest, Your Grace, please.”

“Give them all a goodnight from me, please.” Viserys whispered and squeezed your hand as you pulled away.

You promised that you would and then dropped into a perfect curtsy, wishing the Lords, knights, and Maester of the Small Council “the gentlest dreams” before leaving the room.

The Red Keep was dark, cold, and silent. With the King’s grief, the entirety of the royal court had taken to mourning as well, taking every voice from the halls, and leaving only whispers in the shadows.

Otto has always hated Daemon. He doesn’t want Rhaenyra, but he would back her if she was his only option.

Lyonel is loyal and intelligent. He knows that no one would truly follow Rhaenyra. They will only use her until someone better, someone with a cock came around.

Corlys backs Daemon and then Rhaenys. It’s only natural he would back his wife, but is it because he feels my cousin deserves the throne? Or is it because he craves the throne for himself?

The others would pretend to not have sides, but it was a lie. They all had their own agendas covered with the lie of being best for the realm.

“I was told, once, by a Lord of Winterfell, that the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.” The voice of your father, Prince Baelon the Brave, came to you suddenly and you had to catch yourself on the wall as loneliness and a long-buried grief came rushing to the surface of your heart, “It is the same for us, for Targaryens. One of us may die, but we are only at our strongest when we are united.”

You were ten when your Prince-Father told you that, and seven years later he was dead. His death is what prompted the calling of the Great Council later that same year. You hadn’t understood his words for a long time, but now…now you understood.

Everyone is frightened of House Targaryen because of the dragons. Without them, there is no true reason to have your family as the ruling House of Westeros. The realm followed the commands of the King on the Iron Throne only far enough to not be seen as treasonous; otherwise, they were self-serving and didn’t truly have your House’s interests at heart.

Daemon is seen as a cruel monster, the second coming of Maegor the Cruel. Rhaenyra is a girl of near fifteen; they wouldn’t easily follow her now just as they weren’t willing to follow Rhaenys eleven years earlier. And Viserys…the King was gentle and open handed, but he was so naïve that there was no way it wouldn’t come back to hurt the House of the Dragon once he was gone.

“Your Highness?”

A gasp slipped past your lips at the sudden voice, your head snapping up to stare at the servant who stood some feet away – hesitant and skittish. It was only then you realized you were crying and shaking, your face had been in your hands when the young girl’s voice had pulled you out of your grief-filled-thoughts.

“Oh,” clearing your throat, you wiped at your cheeks with the sleeve of your dress and tried to look as presentable as possible in your condition, “Forgive me I…it…”

The girl – not much older than your niece – smiled shyly and stepped forward, “Pardons, Your Highness.” She pressed something into your hand before curtsying and hurrying away, up the stairs to wherever she was meant to be.

It was a handkerchief and a small gesture, but you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Wiping at your eyes and blowing your nose, you took a few moments to pull yourself together before continuing back to the royal apartments to hold your sons and your niece.

*

“You’ve been sending Alicent to the King’s chambers.”

There was no point in trying to pass it off as a question. The two of you had known each other for far too long for you to try and play ignorant with him. Admittedly, you hadn’t meant to open the conversation with that but the moment you were let into his office within the Tower of the Hand, your gaze landing on him seated behind his desk, the words fell from your lips on their own.

Otto had looked up the moment you were announced, and as you accused him of overstepping by sending his daughter to Viserys over the last two months, he sighed and stood. “Princess,” he bowed and waved the guard away.

Once the door was shut and you had moved closer, putting only his desk between you and him, you asked, “To comfort him only, My Lord Hand? Or something else?”

“Alicent is looking after the King just as she did the last one, Princess. She feels…”

“You feel,” you corrected with a raised brow, arms crossing over your chest as you said, “Please, Otto, do not treat me like I’m stupid. Lady Alicent is doing as you and your brother have commanded her to do. It’s a risky game,”

“Your Highness,” the Hand began to say only to stop as you raised your hand, silencing him even if it pained him to do so (if the fisting of his hands at his sides was anything to go off of).

“Making your daughter the King’s mistress…” you let your voice trail off as you tried to bite back your temper and tried to think a dozen steps ahead of the man in front of you. “…I adore Alicent, just as I adore Rhaenyra, My Lord Hand. And as a widow, myself, I understand how our King – my brother – is feeling. Of course, only a fraction. Viserys loved Aemma far more than I loved my late husband. My brother and his wife had far more time together, of course, for me to fully grasp their devotion for each other.” Shaking your head, you moved around the desk and grabbed Otto’s hand in both of yours, trying to get him to see reason – to think carefully about whatever it was he was planning.

Holding his gaze, you whispered, “Viserys is not ready to move on. If he takes Alicent now…in any capacity…it will be nowhere near what your daughter deserves, Ser. Someone must be a voice for Alicent while Viserys is the voice for his grief and broken dreams, as you are the voice of the High Tower.”

Otto was silent for a long moment after you had finished speaking, his gaze locked onto yours.

His other hand had come up to cover yours covering his as you finished speaking. He had moved closer to you when you rounded the side of the desk, naturally towering over you in a way that felt comforting when you were younger, but now often left you…confused.

There had been a strange tension between the two of you for months, years maybe, that you had purposefully ignored – not yet ready to admit to yourself what you knew, deep down. It was never much of a problem until moments like this. When the two of you were on opposite sides, and although you felt strongly about your own opinions, more than anything you wanted to agree with him – to see things his way – if just to avoid hurt feelings and resentments.

“As the Hand of the King, I must do what is best for the realm.”

“Obviously,” you laughed, smiling teasingly as you tried to push away the nerves that were beginning to creep into your stomach.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile of his own as Otto continued to speak, “You don’t want Viserys to remarry, but I think we both know that he will not last without a companion of some sorts.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling your hands free of his, “And you think Alicent is the best to do this? Better than…myself? Or some older noble woman from some other House?”

His jaw ticked as he questioned, “Would you prefer to be in her place instead, Your Highness?”

There was something about the way he asked it that set you off. Normally, you wouldn’t have been snappy or oversensitive, but something about the way he had worded his question – even with his voice being so monotone and impassive – made you defensively spit out, “Well, I have proven to be fertile and capable of producing male heirs which is the only true reason my brother would need to remarry, Ser. What does Alicent have besides a pretty face and ambitious relations?”

The Hand of the King who had served your grandsire and your brother, for many years, looked at you with a cool look that gave next to nothing away. If your words upset him more than they (naturally) would anger any man, you couldn’t tell. But he was bothered by them in some amount. Otto Hightower was too proud of his House and the name that had been made for it to feel indifferent toward your insult.

“I will ask this again.” Otto finally murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand then moving to grab the back of your neck as if to keep you from fleeing the room (and the conversation), “Do you want to be the Queen of Westeros?”

You laughed, breathlessly, and shook your head.

All amusement was gone from you despite your short laugh. How could he ask that of you? How long had the two of you known each other? How many times had you commented on how being the King or Queen felt lonely and tiresome and suffocating? Did he think you had been lying all those years? Simply saying those things because Aemma existed and was Queen at the time making it impossible for you to be?

Grabbing his wrist, huffing when his grip only tightened when you tried to pull free of his hold, you finally answered his question by saying, “I want to be a mother to my sons, a mother-figure to my niece who is now without a mother, and an advisor and companion to my King. You know I’m not interested in Viserys like that, Otto. I would be a poor wife for him. I would be more likely to bed Daemon or Corlys before I would even consider doing such acts with His Grace.” And there was zero desire in your body to bed either the Rogue Prince and/or the Sea Snake.

Otto leaned downward and smiled to himself, “That…is good to hear, Your Highness.”

You opened your mouth to hiss some half-ass attempt at an insult at him, once again calling him out for his ambitions regarding Alicent and Viserys, but any thought of doing so flew out the window when the lips of the Hand of the King were suddenly pressed into yours.

He…Otto Hightower is…kissing me?

His free hand – the one not clutching painfully tight at the back of your neck – grabbed your hip and shoved you back against his desk, his body pressing into your own, drawing every bit of air from your lungs as he kissed you.

Your eyes widened, a gasp rushing from your mouth into his own as realization struck you of what was happening.

And then your hands flew up to grab at his upper arms, your eyes snapping shut as you kissed him back.

What in the Seven Hells is happening?

And why am I not pushing him away?