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derelictlovefool · 2 years ago

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2, 5, 7, 9, 13, 14 for the writing asks!!

Thank you for sending these in liz !! 🥺 I'm not gonna focus on just one fic for these bc i'm a mess and most of my stuff is WIP's anyway but yeah ajsjshsjshs

Do you have any easter eggs in your fic?

I've been trying to add in easter eggs into my multi chapter fics lately!! Currently in The Snake Followed Me Home From Georgia I've been playing around with names for things that could be easter eggs for Hope County. Like I might have John's law firm be called Holland Law (not sure if that's too obvious and on the nose tho so i'm marinating on it). I am tossing some ideas for other easter eggs but i'm not sold on them yet so I won't say anything ahsjsnsns

What's a piece of lore you haven't shown in your fic or don't think you'll be able to add in?

I haven't shown a Lot (But admittedly I also haven't written a Lot) but I think some OC's backstories may not properly make it to the light of day in most of my fics. Unless I start seperate fics for all of my OC's their childhoods and lives up until the current story events will only be known outside of the fic when I talk about them or in very small snippets of dialogue.

I also haven't gotten to it yet in any of my fics but Marvin (Joseph's right hand man peggie who is basically the compound house husband but in a platonic way) has history with Dean and that history is that Dean was close friends with Marvin's late wife back in the day (and therefore Marvin) and !! This will hopefully come into play during at least my main fc5 fic when Dean is taking over an outpost and stops Jess from killing him! (Common Dean L not letting Jess murder and maim like she deserves 🙄)

What character do you enjoy writing most? Why?

Out of canon characters I really love writing Sharky, as a dumb lil guy myself I find him easy to write and he's just a lovable goofball who sparks joy!!

John is a close second even though i'm insecure about how I portray him sometimes, we all make fun of him but I adore his character and getting into his head is a nice challenge.

Honorable mentions would have to be Deadpool and Alvin Murphy from Z Nation, again they fall into characters I just find come natural to me when I write!

Out of my OC's I feel it's very obvious I love writing Dean, he's just My Blorbo you know? I can toss him around in any context and be happy and confident in how i've written him BUT. MOST IMPORTANTLY. I love his kids and writing him with his kids is pure serotonin and if I could only focus on one fic for the rest of my life i'd choose Second Chances hands down.

What is your favourite line/interaction in your fic?

OH GOD OKAY. So there are a lot but I have a scene in chapter one of my fic Blue (mediaeval au my beloved) where Dean and Sharky have a lil reunion after not seeing each other for a while and Dean had carried a boar he caught to Sharky's hut effortlessly and when Sharky tries to lift it he Struggles. (And then freaks Dean out with his carelessnes with a knife) It's just two of my fave idiots interacting and the whole scene (and chapter tbh as it focuses on them and Hurk) brings me joy even if the writing is old !!

Sharky giggles, nudging them with his shoulder as he passes them and attempts to pick up their sack. His giggles are cut short as he grunts at the effort, sack dropping back onto the dirt as quickly as he had lifted it but a centimeter from the ground. Dean's laughter doubles, sides shaking as Sharky's brows furrow and his head whips around to look at them in disbelief.

"How far 'd ya carry this?!" He asks, struggling to drag the sack towards the campfire as Dean holds themself up with their hands on their knees. They shake their head wordlessly, fighting to mute their laughter only to erupt into small giggles as they calm themself down.

"Only a mile i think, and a bit." Dean says through small giggles, straightening their stance and appreciating the newfound warmth spreading through their cold and heavy limbs.

Sharky guffaws at their casual tone, obviously impressed by their ability to carry the heavy sack that far and not have their arms fall off. He mutters something about witchcraft as Dean sits back down on the log, removing the many straps and weapons on their being and placing them on the ground beside their bow. They watch their friend with an amused gaze as he pulls the wild boar from the sack. He looks down right annoyed and they hear him mutter; "Small my ass—" before he stands and walks back to his hut.

"How've ya been anyway? James didn't say much last time he was here, just that ya were working on a new uh, thing." Sharky returns with one of his larger knives, swinging it as he makes a vague gesture with his hand. Dean watches his hand carefully, knowing full well he was capable of cutting a finger off if he wasn't paying attention.

"I've been fine—busy—designing a new freeze, the one we've got's starting to crack and the meat's thawing too fast." They reply, keeping an eye on Sharky's hands as he begins to skin the boar less then precisely.

"And you?" Dean asks, trying not to wince every time they saw the knife flick upwards jerkily.

Is there a transition in your fic you're proud of?

I'm actually horrendous at transitions, i'm the writer that goes "After a while they got to the where they were going," or puts a text divider if I really need a big time skip. I'd like to test out more artistic ways to transition but that'll have to wait </3 So anyway to answer the question not as of yet no.

What is your favourite relationship featured in your fic aside from the main couple (if you have one)?

Okay so in every fc5 fic I write Dean, Sharky and Hurk's friendship is like. My favourite thing to write ever. They are the goofiest dumbasses on the planet and Dean loses what little braincells he has left when he's with them. They are the ride or die gang in almost every au and I just love them your honor. (Also goes without saying Dean and the kids ! Good dad and epic kids dynamic my beloved)

And also Nick and Kim will forever be my fave canon couple and I love when I get to write them in a fic <3

#Talking Tag #sharkyboshaw

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achillestiel · 2 years ago

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hiiiii beloved

❔️💗

Sana, my beloved ❤️

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

I have the start of an idea for a Dean Smith/Endverse Cas romp because I've been listening to Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High by Arctic Monkeys non-stop. No idea where it's going yet but it'll be more light hearted than recent fics (hopefully)

💗 Is there a scene you can't wait to write for a WIP?

The full reunion scene for thee mute Dean fix it fic. It's going to be a doozy

#sana ❤️

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quietwingsinthesky · 2 years ago

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hi will!!!! can I get uh. ruby & my main man bones mccoy for the character thingy???

absolutely absolutely and you know let's just. pretend i answered this in a timely manner. definitely.

i do think that for the wait you've earned both! (and i want to talk about both so :3)

Ruby

Sexuality Headcanon: It's funny, I don't usually have a set sexuality for any character right up until the moment I'm asked, at which point I receive visions from beyond my understanding that inform me of the truth. and the visions said she's a bisexual lesbian.

OTP: local idiot forced to choose between samruby and annaruby, 69 injured, 420 dead

BroTP: I actually love dean & ruby's weird combative vibes. i love when she saves his life in Malleus Maleficarum, and he immediately gets all huffy about it ("It's called witchcraft, short bus." "You're the short bus … short bus." AFTER SHE'S ALREADY LEFT SKLAJSLDKJALSD) i love the few moments we get where they aren't at each other's throats, but also i do love when they're both so unnecessarily mean to each other like girls. girls, you're on the same side. it's so funny. and the fact that they have the same speech patterns. if you locked them in a room together for a week and they didn't kill each other, they'd come out speaking a pop culture language they invented together that no one but them and sam can understand.

NoTP: i don't think i have one for her? uh. bobby/ruby. sure.

First headcanon that pops into my head: from what i remember, what we know about Ruby is a) she was human once, b) during that time, she was a witch, and c) this was probably a pretty long time ago? let's say it was a long time ago for my purposes. anyway. salem witch trials ruby real. (also, additionally, ruby loved sam. she did. she really did. this was just Not A Good Thing.)

Favorite line from this character: yes yes she is the best of those sons of bitches but that entire speech is bitching. "You didn't need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo!" and obviously the lucifer parallel lines that drive me insane, "Because it had to be you, Sammy. It always had to be you. You saved us. You set him free. And he's gonna be grateful. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine." LIKE. OKAY. YEAH. SURE. IM FINE AND NORMAL ABOUT THIS.

One way in which I relate to this character: she is sooo. god i don't know the word for it, somewhere between determination and loyalty, and i don't know so much about 'relates to this' as i want to have some of that. yes, okay, the thing she was determined to do was start the apocalypse but. but. she did it, didn't she? and that's damn impressive. and i just need some of that energy to finish my chemistry homework.

Thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: SamRuby sex scenes, but idk if that's so much second-hand embarassment as it is me averting my eyes like a scandalized victorian gentleman going 'oh dear lord, this is none of my business, i should not spy on them.' It's just. O-O they really went all in for those scenes huh. huh.

Cinnamon Roll or Problematic Fave: Problematic Fave and i love her for it.

McCoy:

Sexuality Headcanon: gay gay homosexual gay

OTP: Bones/a vacation (but if pushed, i will admit to being a pretty big fan of McSpirk. OT3s my beloved.)

BroTP: okay okay hear me out: bones and uhura. she's the language lady, and he's the guy who has about 700 different sayings all tucked away inside his head, and no way do they not get drunk together. asdfhgjljk her teaching him vulcan sayings that are almost equivalent to something he could come up with, just so that they can both see spock's muted confusion (which is practically him shouting "bones what the fuck are you saying to me.") and oh obviously they are the people closest to the eternal disaster that is the kirk & spock dynamic (romantic or otherwise) and if they don't bitch to each other about those idiots, they might explode.

NoTP: Bones/that salt monster from The Man Trap. but in all seriousness, I don't think I have one.

First headcanon that pops into my head: Spending a few years in space means that whenever they get their feet on solid land, he's happy for transport that's less likely to send them into the freezing void if handled wrong. He's happy about this, for all of the ten seconds he's fool enough to let Kirk drive. He is never getting in a car with that man again.

Favorite line from this character: Oh, the first one I can think of is from the hand-off from TOS to TNG (the thing they do every time a new show starts where a character from the last one makes an appearance, however small, to sort of... I don't know. Wish them luck.) Anyway, in Encounter at Farpoint, when he's talking to Data, he ends the scene by saying about the Enterprise-D, "This is a new ship, but she's got the right name. Now you remember that, you hear. You treat her like a lady, and she'll always bring you home." which. feelings. T-T

One way in which I related to this character: we are both southern and grumpy lmao

Thing that gives me second-hand embarrassment about this character: I honestly can't think of any? I think his general 'I do not give a fuck, this is my medbay and you're all going to do what I say' negates my ability to feel second-hand embarrassment from him.

Cinnamon Roll or Problematic Fave: Hm. I'm giving him cinnamon roll status, but he would Not like it.

#ask

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drsilverfish · 2 years ago

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Thinking About Alan Ginsberg and Holy Ghost Narrator Dean

The song which plays out the ending of SPNWin 1x01 Pilot is “I’d Love to Change the World” by Ten Years After (1971) which I think is pretty significant. It’s a song about the counter-culture of John Winchester’s era in the 1960s/70s:

“Everywhere is freaks and hairies Dykes and fairies, tell me where is sanity?

Tax the rich, feed the poor 'Til there are no rich no more

I'd love to change the world But I don't know what to do So I'll leave it up to you”

That sounds like Narrator-Dean telling us he wishes he could change Narrator-Chuck’s story (and hello queer culture reference).

I was thinking about how Kerouac’s On the Road inspired Kripke in the creation of Supernatural, and how Holy Ghost Narrator Dean feels inspired by Kerouac’s friend Ginsberg.

Dean-as-Narrator-God is reflecting on war-trauma and its impacts, in his (re)telling of his parents’ stories in The Winchesters.

John and Carlos’ Vietnam War trauma (which John visited on his sons) Lata’s father’s war trauma (which he visited violently on her) but also Dean’s own war trauma, inherited from his father John and his father God, and lived bloody in his long battle against God (externally) and his father’s ghost (internally).

1x04 Masters of War, in which John seems to accept Mars-Neto’s challenge to become a killer in the war against the Akrida (taking on the continuing mantle of war, rather than dealing with his PTSD by going to therapy, like Carlos) is a reference to Bob Dylan’s anti-war (and anti-war profiteering) song of that name. Dylan and Alan Ginsberg were good friends, and Ginsberg was also vocally anti-Vietnam War.

This put me in mind of Ginsberg’s own amazing anti-war poem Wichita Vortex Sutra (1966) in which he declares the end of the Vietnam War.

Doesn’t it sound like Holy Ghost Narrator Dean to you?

Wichita Vortex Sutra - Allan Ginsberg (1966)

https://genius.com/Allen-ginsberg-wichita-vortex-sutra-3-annotated

I’m an old man now

and a lonesome man in Kansas

but not afraid to speak my lonesomeness in a car, because not only my lonesomeness it’s Ours, all over America,

O tender fellows—

& spoken lonesomeness is Prophecy

in the moon 100 years ago or in

the middle of Kansas now

It’s not the vast plains mute our mouths

that fill at midnite with ecstatic language when our trembling bodies hold each other breast to breast on a mattress—

Not the empty sky that hides the feeling from our faces nor our skirts and trousers that conceal the bodylove emanating in a glow of beloved skin, white smooth abdomen down to the hair between our legs,

It’s not a God that bore us that forbid

our Being, like a sunny rose

all red with naked joy

between our eyes & bellies, yes

All we do is for this frightened thing we call Love, want and lack— fear that we aren’t the one whose body could be beloved of all the brides of Kansas City, kissed all over by every boy of Wichita—

O but how many in their solitude weep aloud like me— On the bridge over Republican River almost in tears to know how to speak the right language—

on the frosty broad road

uphill between highway embankments

I search for the language that is also yours—

almost all our language has been taxed by war.,,,

https://allenginsberg.org/2022/02/m-f-21/

#Supernatural #The Winchesters #The Winchesters meta #SPNWin 1x01 #Pilot #Beat influences on Supernatural #Kerouac #On the Road #Ginsberg #Wichita Vortex Sutra #Holy Ghost Narrator Dean #Winchester Family Dynamics #War trauma down the generations #Robbie Thompson

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years ago

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I absolutely loved your recent fic with domestic sleepy baby!Jack and Dean, you write them so well! Loved that it was from Cas’ perspective, so so sweet! These bits especially:

Cas carefully pushes open the back door and there they are: Dean, spread out on the porch swing, Jack in his lap, both fast asleep. 😍

“I wanna play Barbies,” Jack says. “With you, Daddy.”

“Only if I get to be Veterinarian Barbie,” Dean replies, and he lets Jack pull him back into the house.

Can I request sick baby!Jack and upset Dean feeling all helpless? But cuddles make everything better (with Cas too!) ps sorry if you don’t actually take fic requests, ignore the request and enjoy the love!

okay okay okay I am Big Emotional about this ask I'm so glad you liked my recent fic! soft parenting deancas my beloved. and I love this prompt, thanks for sharing it!

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

Dean thought he had the TV turned down low enough, but clearly not, because he hears a pitter patter of feet behind the couch. About three seconds later, Jack emerges, dragging his blanket along beside him.

"Did I wake you up?" Dean asks, muting the TV. He's probably seen all the movies on Time Warner Classics, anyways.

Jack shakes his head.

"Still can't sleep?"

Jack nods.

"Okay. C'mere, kiddo." Dean helps Jack climb onto the couch and then pulls the toddler into his lap.

Jack's been sick for the past few days--Dean doesn't think it's the flu, but if not, it's one hell of a cold. He's been doing everything he can think of, from making Jack take cough medicine (Jack hated it and Dean had to bribe him with a popsicle, which was maybe not the best parenting move, but he was running low on options) to tea with honey in it (Cas' idea) to elevating Jack's tiny head with a plethora of pillows. But the scratchy throat and runny nose and fever have persisted, and Dean's realized just how germy little kids can be.

(Of course, this is his little kid, so he doesn't mind as much.)

Jack snuggles up into his lap, and Dean tries to wrap his blanket around him. Despite the fever, Jack's been freezing; he's wearing his favorite striped footie pajamas despite the fact that it's the middle of the summer.

"Daddy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"What're you watching?" Jack asks in his four-year-old lisp.

"Just some old movie." Dean thinks it's The Thin Man, but to be honest, he hasn't been paying much attention, too concerned with searching ways to help with colds on his phone and wondering when Cas'll be back.

"Can I watch too?"

"Sure." Dean's pretty sure this movie is kid-friendly.

Well, there might be a murder, now that he thinks about it.

Oh well.

He finds the remote and switches the sound back on. Jack settles in to watch the movie, and Dean leans back into the couch cushions, trying to relax with forty pounds of sick toddler in his lap. He runs a hand through Jack's sweaty blonde hair while he looks at his phone.

Cas had gone to some craft fair today in the next town over with their friend Charlie, and he was supposed to be back fifteen minutes ago. Dean's trying not to worry--and with Charlie involved, they've probably gotten into some kind of hijinks and are just running late--but Jack being sick has him on edge.

Eventually, Jack's breathing evens out and he fully sags into Dean's lap, asleep. Dean's nearly there himself, with the dim lights in the living room and the glow of the TV and only the sounds of William Powell as retired detective Nick Charles on screen and Jack's breathing to keep him company.

Dean sits up with a jolt, though, when he hears keys in the front door, and then quiet footsteps. There's the rustling of a plastic bag--presumably whatever Cas got at the craft fair (the last time he and Charlie went to one, Cas got a giant crocheted cow for Jack), and then the feeling of a kiss on the top of his head. Dean leans his head up to see his husband standing over him.

"How is he?" Cas whispers.

"Just fell asleep."

"That's good." Cas comes around the couch and sits down next to Dean and Jack. "What movie are you watching?"

"The Thin Man. Old detective movie from the 30s." Dean presses a hand to Jack's forehead--still warm. "Jack seemed to like it."

"Let's watch the rest." Cas leans his head on Dean's shoulder and then finds Dean's other hand (the one not making sure Jack isn't going to spontaneously combust or something) and holds it in his own, and that's that.

(In the middle of the night, Dean wakes up, still on the couch, to the sound of Cas's even breathing and Jack's snuffed up sniffles, the TV now playing informercials. He smiles to himself before falling right back asleep.

Jack's fever breaks in the morning.)

#offbeatwrites #baby!jack #I hope you like it!!!#fic request #anon ask <3 #nice people!!!#also the thin man thing so. my grandfather is obsessed with black and white films (the thin man came out in 1934) and when I would hang out #with him during the summer as a kid we would watch an old movie every single night #the thin man was one of my favorites #and we did watch it once when I was sick <3

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jeanne-de-valois · 3 years ago

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for spn: 3, 4, 5, 8, 14, 22

No, actually! I've unfollowed over fandom opinions for other fandoms, but for SPN usually the discourse is wide reaching enough that I can just mute tags and be fine.

wanna see my muted tags

LOOK, I have beloved mutuals who are big into both and while I do end up clicking on about every cockles post anyway because I think it's funny, Megstiel and like, all other non Destiel Dean or Cas Ships kind of fling me back into being 19 and over-protective of my ship. It's just instinctual and not rational. For Megstiel right now, for me, I can only see corporate meddling and them desperately trying to hit Cas with a case of the Not Gays that I can't see chemistry until right before she dies. Bless you Megstiel mutuals, I'm happy for your bliss.

Not yet for SPN specifically! Fandom has a higher tendency to ruin like, readings on the text for me than actual ships. And that was more of a problem when I was younger and the show was still running as well. Meta would actively ruin the watching experience for me back then. A decade ago.

I don't really do a Discourse so I've only gotten hate like three times, and the most memorable one was nitpicking that I drew Cas too anime. Like buddy. Have you SEEN Cas.

See above, where meta ruined my Supernatural experience a decade ago when I was watching live? This is a general fan culture problem, but when folks get too married to the version of a story that lives in their head, it will ruin the actual text for you. It doesn't mean the text is worse, it's just different.

oh fuck

god I think I just don't like Meg after season one. Oh no.

#autisticandroids #ask game #ask #text post #having some dark realizations about season 4+ meg

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dotthings · 4 years ago

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I’m not using the spn or supernatural tags any more, as mitigation where I still can post what loved about it without contributing so much to the “all buzz is good buzz” rewarding its overall profile after the finale failed so many of us. For tagging and blacklisting purposes, i’ll be using #The15YearShow. The character tags I am most likely to use are Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Destiel, Wayward Sisters, Team Free Will, Saileen. Unlikely I will ever use the “mildew” tag again which I used for spn related wanks but if you want to avoid seeing any drama just in case, blacklist that tag.

A reminder that I’ve been in spn fandom for 15 seasons and I have never seen this many fans, across lanes, so hurt all at once. It’s not because spn ended. There are a host of issues with that finale, and this outcry isn’t driven by any one faction’s lenses.

The fandom was divided over Dabb era, but you could find as much love as anger. The series finale reaction otoh is more overwhelming leaning towards fans hurt by it. This had made a deep ripple effect across factions that don’t even get along with each other. The most prevailing sentiment I am seeing is fans feeling hurt, crushed, flattened, disappointed, baffled, confused, stunned, puzzled. We got a whole thesaurus up in here. Who knows what our feelings are doing. On top of processing the enormity of a show with this long a run, with this kind of emotional engagement, ending.

There’s a lot of deer in headlights for me with this finale because I loved S15 so much. I got what TPTB were doing, I supported and defended the writers room, and I’m not rescinding any of that or my character-based metas. Something, somewhere went bafflingly wrong, that finale didn’t fit the build-up all season.

The disparity between a dynamic, expansive, subversive and warmly character-driven season vs the bafflingly short-changed, oddly muted emotionally (minus Dean’s death scene), oddly paced finale is so jarring it’s making my teeth ache. The finale did harm to Sam, Dean, and Castiel’s arcs in ways that don’t fit what the season had been doing, it lodged found family down to a footnote, abandoned two crucial-to-season-plot canon love stories, rendered a disabled character portrayed by a disabled actor into a faceless anywoman for the sake of plot servicing so Sam can have a son, flung Cas, a now confirmed queer character, off screen at the last minute (with many fans refusing to believe he wouldn’t return because how would that make sense), harming his individual arc and harming Destiel, which is the second biggest focal relationship in canon after the bro bond, and was an A-plot in S15. The finale was so aggressively bathed in nostalgia, so reductive to Dean’s arc especially, so regressive, despite the rebuilt Heaven ending, it feels like the story sacrificed its own story for the sake of mourning the past instead of the sense of freedom and moving into the future that seems to be the actual intent.

Oh and covid doesn’t explain it. Because covid wouldn’t prevent them from adding more dialogue, doing some ADR, adding photographs, adding name-drops, doing other infodumps if they couldn’t get actors to set. Covid doesn’t explain Castiel’s absence. Given how crucial Cas is to the story right along, having his role in the series finale of the entire show be so expendable it could be cut out due to the needs of covid regulations, or it was never planned as necessary, is an unforgiveable story sin, plus making no sense. There was a large number of people on that bridge in the final bts group season shot and you’re telling me they couldn’t swing putting a massively beloved main character who is the third lead on this show into this series finale. No. And I wish the crew of The 15 Year Show and adjacent accounts would stop acting like covid explains it.

There’s some good things in the very end, once they get to remade heaven. Some hope and promise for the future, but that doesn’t change the string of fails as to what wasn’t on screen. Pulling out those gossamer spots of comfort is a triage.

#The15YearShow #lololol i just realized i am doing the 'not speaking to you' thing with this show #i can't just cut it out of my heart #but i will not speak its name #tell The 15 Year Show to pass the salt #The15yearshowmeta

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 4 years ago

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Awkward First Meeting

Summary: When you met Eileen for the first time, nobody mentioned to you she was deaf Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Eileen x Reader, Dean x Reader Squares: Awkward First Meeting for TMAS // Bunker for @winchesterandbeyondbingo Warnings: LSA, Reader is not deaf, bad grammar, bad writing. If there’s anything missing, please let me know Word Count: 840 A/N: This is entirely based on a personal experience, I mean no disrespect to any deaf nor mute people. If anyone felt like I’ve been disrespectful, I want to deeply apologize because in any way I wrote this to make you feel like this.

Dean and you had gone to a quick hunt a few towns over, it was going to just be a couple of days max. Dean had encouraged Sam to take that free time to pay a visit to the girl he was dating. You’d sent a quick text to Sam when you were done with the work and were ready to head back home. -You good? — Dean asked you when you tried again to get comfortable -My back is killing me. The mattress from the motel was too uncomfortable — you complained -Or maybe you are getting used to taking naps on my bed — Dean said smirking. You could only look at your hands.

You were getting impatient, your pain was getting stronger and you didn’t have any painkillers or anything with you. You wanted to be back home asap -How long until we get back to the bunker? I need a hot shower and lay down -We are almost there — Dean said going a little faster

Dean mentioned Sam’s plans to you and that the bunker was going to be empty. You were happy for Sam. On one hand, he deserved to find love after everything, everyone deserves a little love, and on the other hand, you were glad he wasn’t at home because you needed at least one long sleep before hunting again.

You were curious about who was the girl he was dating, you didn’t know much about her, just a few things that Sam had told you, but not more than that. And that was because of the constant teasing from Dean. You couldn’t blame him, he was so happy that his little brother was in love. Also, you were aware that the relationship was recent, Sam mentioned it when it started to get serious and Sam needed advice. You told Sam that this girl was the perfect match. She was a huntress too, so she was able to understand the perks and risks of the job. Besides, Sam was the perfect nerdy and loving guy you’ve ever met. He was the perfect best friend you could’ve asked for. She was going to love him.

When you finally arrived at the bunker, it was awfully quiet, but the library’s lights were on which was odd. Maybe Sam came back early than expected you thought. You went straight to your room to pick some clothes so you could shower before getting something to eat before your beloved sleeping time.

Once you were all cleaned up and changed you headed for the kitchen. You were distracted and you hadn’t noticed that a girl was wearing just a plaid shirt in the kitchen filling up a glass of water.

-Oh shit! I’m sorry! — you said when you noticed her. The woman just looked at you — I’m Y/N — the girl just smiled — I’m gonna grab this — you said while grabbing some chips — and leave you finishing here. It was nice to meet you.

The girl was awfully quiet as she was looking at you surprised. You could understand her, you found her alone, wearing just a plaid shirt, in the kitchen. Sam probably hadn’t read your text and warned her.

The following day, when you woke up, you went straight to the kitchen. You were praying she wasn’t there, after having an awkward first meeting the night before, you weren’t ready to have another one.

-Morning Y/N — Sam said -Morning lover boy — you smirked -So you met her — he stated -Yeah — you said pouring some coffee — It was awkward, she didn’t introduce her though — you mentioned -Her name is Eileen. Did she tell you? -Tell me what? — you asked confused -Y/N — Sam sighed — Eileen is deaf — Sam explained -Well, that makes sense because she didn’t introduce herself. Wait, what? She is deaf? So she… Yes, I did — Eileen said from behind — I might not be able to hear, but I know how to read lips — she explained -Oh. I’m sorry — You apologized again even more embarrassed than the night before -I’m Eileen, by the way — she introduced herself — It’s nice meeting you

You were embarrassed and ashamed. You’ve made a fool of yourself.

-Now I’m regretting not taking LSA at school — you mumbled -Don’t worry — Sam said — I’m still learning too

After that awkward moment, you felt bad for how everything went with Eileen. She seemed to be such a lovely girl. It was so nice to have another woman around and you messed it badly. So, you secretly started to learn sign language, you were so embarrassed for everything that happened, that you wanted to make her feel included. The next time you met her, you introduced yourself with sign language and you apologized to her as well.

Everyone was really surprised with what you’ve done. Eileen was grateful to you. You have made a new best friend.

Tag List (Is open, you can ask to be added)

#Tell me a story bingo #winchesterandbeyondbingo #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #eileen x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine

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meg3point0 · 3 years ago

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dean bonding with the trauma mute kid who gives him vital clues via drawings my beloved

#stackednatural #13x05

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guide4cj · 3 years ago

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season 1

1.01 pilot - obviously the setup for the series, should not be skipped

1.02 wendigo - direct continuation from the plot, further establishes sam and dean’s characters/relationship

1.03 dead in the water - optional, but continues to establish dean’s character, including some sweet moments between him + a mute kid with insights to dean’s trauma re: his mom’s death

1.05 bloody mary - optional, but has a scene near the end that explores sam’s guilt regarding jess’s death (it just depends on how invested you are in that part of his character on whether or not you’ll wanna watch)

1.06 skin - the beginning of the winchesters vs. the police side plot, dean’s first public “death”

1.09 home - sam and dean return to the house their mom died in for a case, john appears briefly at the end (so tw for jdm :/)

1.10 asylum - optional but has some good moments for sam

1.11 scarecrow - first appearance of recurring character meg who becomes a huge part of the series, also one of my favorite hunts from s1 personally

1.12 faith - dean’s first actual death, reaper lore, huge foreshadowing for s4

1.13 route 666 - optional, but provides background information for dean regarding relationships and love, features cassie robinson my angel

1.14 nightmare - very important to sam’s character and the s2 finale

1.15 the benders - optional, but one of my top five s1 eps; no big lore dumps, but the monsters are human, and it’s interesting to see sam and dean deal with that

1.16 shadow - return of meg and john

1.18 something wicked - flashbacks to childhood that establish john is a shitty parent, overall a very emotional episode

1.19 provenance - optional, but features a character named sarah who is the first character sam really has an attraction towards since jess’s death (she also makes a brief return in s8)

1.20 dead man’s blood - first introduction of vampires, john is here, very important worldbuilding which sucks because like i said, john is here

1.21 salvation - penultimate ep of s1, john is here too :/ but important for the plot

1.22 devil’s trap - season finale, bobby’s first appearance i’m pretty sure (and he’s their real dad and i love him), obviously very important

season two

2.01 in my time of dying - dean is dead again, john dies in this ep, generally an important episode (though this is true for all first eps i guess)

2.02 everybody loves a clown - first appearance for ellen and jo and ash whom i love, dean and sam deal with their grief over john dying

2.03 bloodlust - optional, introduction of gordon who shows up again (he eventually tries to kill sam and dean, this ep is the setup for that. there’s some commentary on humanity and when a monster isnt a monster etc but i don’t think skipping it will cause too many issues. it just depends on your interest in this based off of the desc i guess)

2.05 simon said - spiritual sequel to 1.14, introduces a character important to the s2 finale, continues to explore sam’s psychic abilities, etc

2.06 no exit - optional; the return of jo and ellen. viewing depends on your interest in them i guess.

2.07 the usual suspects - sequel to 1.06, dean vs. the cops again, which is a pretty important part of his character overall imo

2.08 crossroad blues - optional, but has a lot of lore for demons and crossroads, foreshadowing/set up for s3 (plenty of the lore can be picked up without this ep/will be repeated but i like this one, personally)

2.09 croatoan - prequel to 5.04 ! poetic cinema. apocalypse vibes

2.10 hunted - optional. continuation of 2.03, with the introduction of another character similar to max from 1.14 and andy from 2.05 who will be important to the s2 finale, but if you aren’t interested in gordon then the recap for the s2 finale will cover it

2.12 nightshifter - continuation from 2.07, more winchesters vs. the cops, introduces victor my beloved

2.13 houses of the holy - optional, has some commentary on the way sam and dean view religion that continues from 1.12 and adds perspective to s4 but not exactly necessary

2.14 born under a bad sign - optional, but kind of an important episode for sam. spoiler is that he’s possessed by meg and there’s some uncomfortable scenes regarding what she makes him do while possessed (and is one of the reasons i dislike her)

2.15 tall tales - optional bc i feel like i’m listing too many as essential :( it does introduce an important character (the archangel gabriel who is masquerading as a trickster) but i feel like the eps he appears in after will have sufficient enough recaps covering the events of this ep to catch you up

2.18 hollywood babylon - extremely optional this ep is just very comforting to me for some reason. dean and sam are working on a horror movie set that ends up having real ghosts and it’s just fun

2.19 folsom prison blues - optional, but the next thrilling installment in the winchesters vs the cops. victor from 2.12 returns. i like this ep a lot but if you aren’t interested in this subplot it can be skipped

2.21 + 2.22 all hell breaks loose - two part season finale. actually i won’t spoil this for you but it is important (just like with the first eps of every season i think finales will always be relevant)

season three

3.01 the magnificent seven - deals with fallout from the s2 finale, explores the hunting community a little more. introduces ruby, an important character

3.02 - introduction of lisa and ben (who are important to s5/6)

3.03 bad day at black rock - optional, but introduces bela my beloved (maggie twd). continues gordon’s plot from s2 as well

3.06 - optional, the return of bela (my beloved)

3.07 fresh blood - optional, the finale to gordon’s plot

3.08 a very supernatural christmas- optional, but there’s some childhood flashbacks and in general it’s a cute episode and i typically hate christmas eps skjfnskjn

3.10 dream a little dream of me - dean talks shit about john and in general talks about his feelings and it hurts me

3.11 mystery spot - the return of the trickster/gabriel (still not revealed as an angel), dean dies 100+ times, it seems dumb but is important

3.12 jus in bello - winchesters vs cops again! victor returns

3.13 ghostfacers - optional. i have no good reason for you to watch this im just obsessed with it

3.15 time is on my side - penultimate ep, deals with a lot of dean’s feelings, bela returns/this concludes her arc

3.16 no rest for the wicked - finale, dean dies :(

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samuel-dean · 4 years ago

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The Conference

INVOLVED: Samuel Evans and Mercedes Jones LOCATION: Exxonmobil; Irving, Texas TIME FRAME: - NOTES: Samuel and Mercedes finally address the press about the oil spill and fire in the Gulf Coast.

Samuel looked at her again before he looked away, he nodded his head “yeah” he said to her. They were escorted out of the building by security, Patty stood beside the car waiting to escort them away from the building. He looked at her and then looked elsewhere.

Samuel sat in a corner alone, the press conference was to be held at the headquarter and in the middle of the large building’s lobby. His foot tapped lightly as he read over the words he’d written out over and over again. This happened to be his worst nightmare contrary to popular belief he didn’t work well under this kind of pressure. He just knew he was going to be sick and calling his father had proven not to help. It is moments like this that set him apart from his father, the man would have straightened his tie and done the deed but not him. Instead he was hiding in a corner trying to mute out the World around him and pray hard that he could even muster the strength to get up and speak to these people, to the World.

Patty watched Samuel from a distance, she clasped her hands together as she stood against the wall. Poor baby. He was scared to death, his anxiety had to be through the roof and there was really nothing anyone could do he had to do the deed himself.

Mercedes entered the lobby immediately overwhelmed by the surrealness of the situation. A cluster of microphones were centered on the podium. A microphone to represent every news outlet from CNN to TV1. She felt wholly out of place. Never did the depth of the divide between her and Samuel seem so great. She arranged her jacket needlessly, heart pumping erratically in her chest. She glanced about looking for Samuel. Her eyes found him tucked well away from everyone. The focus of being shifted from her own weariness to his face. She made a beeline to his side, stopping before him well within his view. Hazel eyes staring up at him. He looked like a man headed to the electric chair. “Samuel?” She said as she carefully took his hand. She wasn’t even sure he’d seen her approach.

Samuel eyes scanned the words, he rescanned certain sentences over and over before he’d move to the next line. Licking his lips he exhaled slowly trying to calm his nerves as best as he could. He ignored the voice and the grip the voice had on his hand before he pulled his eyes away and looked at Mercedes “Huh?” He asked her, having heard nothing she said.

Patty watched as Mercedes made her way over to Samuel. “Amateur” she breathed as she walked over to grab the man a cool bottle of water to drink. When she grabbed it and a napkin, she moved for him and said “here you are Mr. Evans” politely. “Let me know if you need anything” she reminded him with a soft smile.

“Baby…” Mercedes said, squinting. “You need to breathe.” Patty appeared from somewhere offering a bottle of water. She glanced at the woman dispassionately, then took the water and napkin from her hands opening the top. Only a slither of aggravation bubbled to the surface her jaw bending into a slight frown. “Thank you, Patty. Please and make sure everything is ready.” Absently, eyes on Samuel’s flushed face. She took Samuel's arm and repositioned him so his back was facing the crowd. “Take a sip of this and let me hold those for you.” She reached for the cards.

Patty looked to Mercedes keeping herself all together as she nodded her head. “Of course” she told the woman turning on her heels to do as she was told. She could push the woman off the top floor and it still wouldn’t be enough for her.

“I’m fine” Samuel lied quickly, he didn’t even know the point of his own lie because it was clear to all that he in fact was not okay. As Patty walked up he swallowed hard, she was an ever growing thorn in his side now. As Mercedes all but dismissed her he watched her depart from them and turned with Mercedes assistance. He nodded his head wordlessly as he took the bottle of water and guzzled half of it down, offering her his note cards. He pulled the bottle from his lips and exhaled once more slowly. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Mercedes rendered a look that was altogether black female and screamed bitch please, as Samuel said he was fine. “I know you are, baby.” She said, rearranging her face into something more pleasant. She took his cards and reshuffled them back into order. Then slide them into his top coat pocket. Her hand rested on his chest and marvel at how his heart pound beneath her hand. “I take it you don’t like giving speeches.” She said, stepping closer to the man. “Take some more deep breaths before your heart explodes. What do you need me to do? We can stall them a little while longer.”

“Speeches don’t frighten me” Samuel replied back to her and it was the truth. It wasn’t the speech, it was everything revolving around it. “I don’t like bad publicity...” he countered. Samuel continued to breathe in and out gently. “You’ve done more than enough” he said, he never looked at her while he stood there, clutching the water and staring off into space. His mind was a roller coaster right now. “It is inevitable, it has to be done” he told her sensibly.

Mercedes smoothed the front of his jacket, nodding her agreement with his sentiment. Bad press was something she knew personally. “Oh. We’ll get through this..” She said, searching for something comforting to say, “You’re right.” She mumbled, taking the bottle from his hand. She reached up and touched his face gently, “Sooner this is over the sooner we can move on.”

Samuel sighed and nodded his head, he didn’t know if that was to be true or not. “You are right” he replied back to her knowing engaging with her made her feel a little less uneasy. He just needed to make it through this one thing and maybe get a little wiggle room to breath before the next was thrown at him. Moments like this made him miss just being home and playing around with Nouvel. The other side of his life was so simple in comparison to the one people saw publicly.

Patty resurfaced again, this time to tell Samuel “they are ready for you Mr. Evans” simply as she looked at Mercedes and moved to walk away. She stood off to the side with the lawyers present and faded into the background as she watched the crowd of reporters and camera men.

Mercedes didn’t think she was right or wrong. She agreed with Samuel, though they needed to move forward. At Patty’s prompt, she nodded, tossing the used water bottle into the nearest, waste bin. “Ready.” She asked, unsure of what her actual place was in this, but determined not to leave his side. “Let’s go.” She said, reaching up to fix his tie, satisfied she stepped out of his shadow and stood beside him.

Samuel nodded at Patty and he looked at Mercedes finally as she asked if he was ready and he said “yes” to her quietly. He allowed her to fix his tie and he tried to offer her a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes nor was it properly displayed on his lips. Samuel moved over towards the podium and cleared his throat a bit as he waited for the go ahead to speak. In that time he grabbed his cards and sat them before himself. He looked at all the people and even as he was given the go ahead he stood frozen in place. He inhaled and exhaled, silence had fallen and people were waiting for the man to speak, eyeing him curiously. Samuel looked down for a second before he looked back up.

Mercedes' heart dropped as Samuel tried to offer her comfort. She’d been less than pleasant in the last few days and yes he deserved it, but watching him now made the whole thing seem stupid and petty by comparison. She fought to keep her head up as she moved along with Samuel, he broke away to go to the podium and she took up a place in the row of photographically familiar faces around her. Nervous she balanced on her toes, holding her breath waiting for Samuell to start.

Samuel continued to stand there for a few more minutes before he finally began to speak. “I, Samuel Dean Evans, Chief Executive Order of Exxonmobil Corporation stand before the press today in regards to a very unexpected tragedy forgoing in our beloved Gulf Coast'' he told them in a voice that was unlike his own. “The unpredicted explosion and the resulting oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico should have never occurred. At this time it is still unknown as to how this unpredictable disaster occured, but we at Exxonmobil will do what we can to make certain that an incident like this shall never take place again” he said finally looking up at the cameras. “I understand how serious this situation is, the tragedy that has caused the loss of lives, while others injured, the destruction of the ocean and marine life alike is a terrible reality we have to grasp of this situation. I have learned through the pending investigation that 11 men have lost their lives in this explosion and fire” he said and paused for a very long time. The number of deaths had been eating at him like a cancer since this entire thing started. “I myself as well as the corporation executives are devastated” he said pausing again, and he cleared his throat, his eyes focused on the cards before him as he avoided the cameras. “I sincerely offer my condolences to their friends and families, I can not imagine their sorrow” he added looking up at the cameras again. “As of right now the Gulfs are still ablaze and with the help of our great rescue teams across our beautiful USA I am confident enough to tell you that the fire will be extinguished before it can cause further damage. As for the health of the marine life we at Exxonmobil fully intend on making provisions to assist in the cleaning of the ocean and the marine animals that have been affected by this global crisis. At this time we do ask that all reports of this event is to be reported with only factual statements. With that being said, at this time the floor is open to prospectors and press, I will both truthfully and honestly answer the questions and sincere concerns of our extended family, that being you all” he said giving the floor to the crowd and as the noise surfaced again, he inhaled and exhaled softly trying to calm his anxiety once more.

Mercedes held her breath as Samuel began, the nerves still present but wrangled into strength as he spoke to the crowd. She mouthed the words of the speech, nodded at every line or dramatic pause. She would have smiled but that would have been inappropriate. With one part done, she exhaled deeply fighting the urge to gnaw at her lip.

Samuel looked at the faces of people he didn’t know, in some odd way it comforted him more than to look upon someone like Mercedes face right now. So many hands he didn’t know who to choose and he sighed pointing to a young girl nearby.

“How will you all proceed in honoring the men that have lost their lives and those injured by Exxon's negligence?” the young journalist questioned him directly.

Samuel looked at the woman and then he looked down at Mercedes before his eyes bounced down to his cards. He thought of a quick answer “we aren’t disclosing the matters of which we will proceed in regards to the deceased individuals. I will say that ExxonMobil is a family and as a family we ask for more allotted time to grieve the loss of our family members. Respecting their families as well as their friends, and their privacy” he answered in confidence hoping he nailed that.

Mercedes nodded, the answer wasn’t as firm as she might have hoped, but there was a balancing act. Samuel could only assume so much of the risk. Too much and the families would try to own Exxonmobil. Clasping her hands in front of her she wondered how many questions he would have to field.

“How much oil has escaped into our Gulf Coast?” another reporter asked Samuel.

Samuel looked at the man and he looked over at his lawyers before he looked down. “Uh” he paused at that. “The number of barrels per day is constantly changing, unfortunately at this time I don’t have a definite number to give you” he told the man nodding his head.

“What would happen if a hurricane passed over during this spill?” someone else asked.

Samuel whipped his head in the direction of the question and he cleared his throat again. He wasn’t a fucking meteorologist nor Scientist how would he know that shit? “I am not-” he said knowing this happened to not be going in the direction he needed it to go right now. “I am unable to answer that question at this time, I am sorry” he said knowing that it would be smeared all over the news and papers. Damn. He looked down at Mercedes before he looked back at the raised hands.

Mercedes frowned. How much oll? Who would know. That was a trick question any answer he gave was going to be to damn high. The next made her physically side eye the reporter. A hurricane? Now that was entirely too much. Regardless, she started ringing her hands. This was getting bad quickly.

“Who was responsible for the accident?” a voice called out.

Samuel looked towards the cameras and said “at this time there is still an ongoing investigation, I do not have the answer to that question at this time” he said. He sounded like a broken record, they’d hung him out to dry.

“Are Exxon’s safety standards adequate?” a woman asked Samuel next.

Samuel froze again and looked over at the lawyers lined up before he looked out at the crowd. He didn’t know what to say to that and professionally he didn’t know the truth. He was the face of the company but in so many ways there were things he didn’t even know about the company himself. Were they adequate or inadequate?

Mercedes head darted toward the wall of smug faced lawyers, her stomach twisting and turning violently. With each question Samuel became more off balanced by the mulitudie of idiotic question that had no real baring on the tragedy at hand. She moved without thought or reason, stepping up and taking the podium gently moving Samuel out of the way. Raising her hand for silence, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please. We will do our best to answer your question, however you must understand that this is an unfolding, and multi-layered issue that will require many experts to get ahead of.” She paused, holding her breath as the room of reports all hummed the question she didn’t want to answer. It was absurd, and she knew it. “Who are you? Mixed with aren’t you Mr. Evans fiance?” “I am Mercedes Jones COO of Exxon. As Mr. Evans has stated, we will be as forthcoming as we can in answering your questions. You ask how many gallons and what if the spill is exacerbated by a natural disaster. Here is what we can say, in over 121 years of operations, Exxon has maintained best practices to safeguard our employees and the environment. And at this time we have been exceptional. Are our standards adequate? Our track record says they have been. However, in light of recent events we must strive for something beyond adequate, we will rewrite our policies and practices to ensure that our standards are head and shoulders about the hundred and twenty one years of excellence, so that this tragedy will stand as a testament. Honoring the men who have given their lives and a promise to the world that we all must protect our family and the world we share so, that this will never happen again.”

As Mercedes moved towards him moving aside Samuel shifted on his feet. He placed his hands in front of himself and listened to her speak. She had managed to handle everything ten times better than he had this entire time. Dammit. It was a crushing blow and a huge shame in his opinion, he was totally disappointed in himself. However she made good points and he nodded his head at her every time she did make a very good point that he didn’t. When she concluded he swallowed hard and licked his lips slowly waiting to see if there were any other questions they had for her. As they pondered among themselves what to hammer at them next he looked down at Mercedes for a moment. Samuel heard someone ask “how much did his disaster cost?” and he looked at the reporter before he looked at Mercedes.

Mercedes tiny hands tightened on the side of the podium. She felt small and stupid only the will to protect Samuel holding her in place. The question cut the new silence in the room, but the sound was without heat. She chanced a sidelong glance at Samuel, looking down at his note cards still left upright before her. “The actual cost has yet to be determined. Any number that we give here would only be a rough estimate, bound to be eclipsed by the total. The number will be forthcoming in the weeks to come. If there are any further questions you may direct them to the board. Thank you.” Mercedes turned quickly, taking Samuel’s arm to move off from the stage.

Patty watched as Mercedes took center stage, “tsk tsk” she breathed to herself as the woman answered everything in a fashion that was both noble and domineering. A chord was struck, even if he didn’t show it. She knew him, it would never reach his face, but his eyes told all of his stories. She smirked to herself and began to strut away, check mate.

Samuel watched Mercedes as she answered and he had to admit within himself that was a better response than he probably would have been able to come up with so quickly. She thanked the people and he had finally fallen back down to Earth again, the whole time his mind had been wandering off in more negative places. As she led him away he bowed his head respectfully to the people and he moved to walk off with her. “You almost sounded like you were made to lead the company” he commented.

Mercedes had Samuel’s arm in a vise grip, she had no breath left in her lungs. Which was a good thing, cause at the moment she was sure she wasn’t alive or breathing anyway. Everything was a blur of faces as she smiled mechanically, hoping it was warm and genuine at least. It was Samuel’s voice that brought her back to real time. The sound was more normal and himself then she’d heard in sometime. The smile she wore, warmed fractionally, and she tightened her grip on Samuel’s arm. “Don’t tease… My legs are barely holding me up.”

Samuel looked at her, and he shook his head “no” he commented “I won’t lie to you” he breathed easily. She was good, too good. And he wasn’t good enough. That was a huge problem for him. Despite being someone who hated having been given the company to run, he didn’t like the feeling in his gut he had knowing there was someone so close that was far better at what he should be.

Mercedes looked up into Samuel's face, eyes softening. “I do run a company Samuel. Though I mostly have to sell myself to people on a one on one basis.” She sighed, as they cleared the bees hive of reports, still thrusting cameras in their faces. “Can we just get away from this please.” She asked, feeling a melt down coming on.

#thread.#thread: the conference.#samcedes rp

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thecleverdame · 6 years ago

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The Woodsman - One

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings: A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon. subscribe for a pledge of $2.50 a month and get access to this and other Patreon exclusive content.

You’ve ridden since you were a girl, but leisurely weekend rides through the French countryside with your father did little to prepare you (or your buttocks) for this never-ending journey. The pain from weeks of travel has set in and you find your day-to-day is little more than an exercise in controlling the pain. Your backside and thighs are so sore that every step the horse takes results in pure agony.

“Do you need to stop?” Peter inquires, trotting up beside you with a hand on his hip. He is truly in his element.

You hired two men when you fled France, offering them just enough money to ensure loyalty, or so you thought. Peter had been a member of your father’s personal detail, a former knight of the king’s inner circle. When your brother took the crown he retired Peter, an act the old knight is unlikely to forgive in the near future. He’d been all too happy to assist you, eager to leave the past behind him and, although he’s getting on in years, it appears that he can still wield a sword and take a punch.

You gave him the liberty of choosing his second.

Peter chose Luther, a young blacksmith whom he trusted. Luther swore he’d traveled to Scotland so many times that he could make the trip without a map. Now, as you wander lost somewhere near the border, it’s becoming increasingly clear Luther often exaggerates his navigation skills.

“I’ll be fine for a little while longer.” You force a smile, flinching as the horse jerks forward.

“I think we should stop here for the night, it will be dark soon and you’re in pain, m’lady.” Peter slows his horse and you follow suit. Dismounting with a grunt, legs chattering.

“We should find the river by midday tomorrow,” Luther’s looking at a hand-drawn map that you’re fairly sure he’s holding upside down.

“I certainly don’t want to be the one to shake your confidence, Luther, but we’ve been moments away from this elusive river for days now.” You shake your head as Peter takes the reins, leading your horse to a small tree.

“She’s right,” Peter confirms. “We can’t keep investing time in a plan that doesn’t seem to be working. I’ll ride ahead at first light and scout our path. If we fail to cross the river to the east, we’ll head west instead.”

Luther builds a fire and Peter divides what’s left of the food rations, which is little more than bread and water. You unroll your pack, finding a patch of thick moss for padding and make your bed for the evening. Sleeping on the ground doesn’t get any easier. If your thighs aren’t throbbing from the ride there’s a twinge in your back that takes over.

You unpack your things, subtly checking the small sack that contains all the wealth you have in the world. You absconded with your late mother’s collection of jewels and enough gold to start a comfortable new life if you can just lay low for long enough.

Making your bed for the evening you settle in as close to the fire as one dares. The meager heat helps your bones from chattering in the night and you drift off to sleep on the naked ground under the wide, open sky.

The thieves come in the middle of the night. You’re awakened to the sound of shouts in the dark, rolling to your feet in a panic. Two men have Luther by his arms, dragging him across the ground.

“Don’t kill me! I can help you. She has gold in her pack!” Luther cries, pointing to you. That little shit.

While his defection isn’t a complete surprise, you’re in awe it happened so quickly.

“It’s in her saddlebag,” Peter confirms, turning on you just the same as Luther. There’s a man behind him with a knife to his throat, and you might’ve forgiven his treacherous words if he’d put up at least some fight. The old man’s betrayal is just as swift as your useless blacksmith-turned-guide.

This is how you find yourself alone in a strange land at the mercy of ruthless marauders.

The man behind Peter drives the knife into the knight’s gut and you scream in horror. Two men flank you when you try to run. In the blink of an eye, there are hands grabbing your arms, pulling and tugging as you thrash, fighting as hard as you can until it becomes a futile effort.

The rock to the back of your head abruptly ends the struggle. It’s a quick blow that doesn’t hurt, more confusing than anything as your vision goes blurry, then dark. You don’t feel your body hit the ground with a soft oomf.

If one were to look for a positive in the situation perhaps it could be found in that the men who robbed and beat you had no interested in dominating you sexually. After the hit to the back of your skull, they could easily taken advantage of your limp body. Whether they assumed you dead or simply had no interested in rape, they leave you bleeding and lifeless.

And that’s exactly how Dean finds you.

Your mind wakes up before your eyes open.

The smell of the hearth is overpowering and the flames are close enough to warm your arm. You blink once, twice, then wink all the way open. The world is blurry, the muted outline of shapes moving the shadows. Groaning and twisting you try to sit up only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder pushing you back down.

There’s a rush of panic and confusion. You try to move again only to be held down as two rough hands hold you in place. You can feel the touch of calloused palms on your bare shoulders. The voice that speaks to you from somewhere in the ether is low and distinctly male. “Try not to move yet, you were hit on the head.”

“What…” you mumble, blinking again and this time it shakes the clutter free. Your vision clears and the crackling fire in the dark of the room comes into focus. Suddenly, there’s a face above you, that of man. He tucks hair behind his ear and looks down with a grimace.

“How many fingers do you see?” He asks holding up two digits.

“I, uh,” your throat is on fire and you sputter before answering. “Two?”

“Two is right. Are you thirsty?” You nod empathically and he disappears from view. Feeling a tad more lively, you begin to take stock of your situation. You reach up to explore the throbbing at the back of your head and wince when your fingers make contact with a sizeable goose egg. The man chastises you immediately.

“Don’t touch it.” He commands as if he’s quite used to giving orders that are summarily followed without question. While you’re not accustomed to being spoken to so harshly it’s the least of your concerns as you begin to inspect the rest of your body only to find that you’re stark naked under the thick blanket. Panic rises in your chest at the scent of this man who’s apparently taken such liberties.

He’s an Alpha.

He must be watching this realization because he snorts from across the room. “Your clothing was in tatters and you had wounds that needed to be dressed. I have clothes for you but they needed to be washed. They’ll be dry by morning.”

He kneels beside you again and this time you get a better look at him. He’s tall and imposing with wide, strong shoulders, he’s no doubt a manual laborer. His face is handsome if one prefers a jugged, scruff of a jaw. When he hands you a cup of water his enormous hands dwarf yours and you gulp. He could take anything he wanted from you with minimal effort.

You drink the water, sputtering before pulling yourself together and tipping back the entire glass. When you’re finished he takes the mug from you and offers you a hand to sit up. You’re weary but in no condition to refuse him so you accept.. His palm is wide and rough against your soft skin and you curse your Omega biology when your body responds to the contact, eliciting a low stir in your belly.

“Thank you.” Snatching your hand away you hold the blanket over your chest and sit up straight, determined to preserve what little modesty you have left. Your mother always said that personal fortitude in the face of adversity could make any situation better. So, you gather what confidence you can muster, lifting your chin. “May I be so bold as to ask who removed my clothing?”

“I did” he retorts, sitting on the floor next to you, his arm draping over a bent knee. You pray that he doesn’t see the blush in your cheeks.

“You found it necessary to leave me nude on the floor of your…” you look around taking in the surroundings, “your small hut.”

His eyes twitch. It won’t be the last time you manage to insult him without a second thought.

“Yes, I did.” He states, watching you intently.

“Well, I can see you are a man of many words.” You quip refusing to be intimidated.

He forces a strained smile. “My brother found you in the woods along with two other men, both of whom died. It would appear that you were left for dead as well. He brought you to me. I dressed your wounds and did my best to keep you alive.”

“Oh,” You feel a bit foolish, but the reality of the situation is that you’re an unclaimed Omega in the presence of an Alpha who’s motives remain unconfirmed.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be a healer.”

“I’m not.” He shrugs. “I’m a forester, a woodcutter.”

“There is no healer in the village?”

“There is,” he nods “but I wouldn’t trust him with my brother’s pig.”

He just compared you to a barnyard animal.

“Well, I am glad that to know that I hold the same value as your brother’s beloved swine.”

“You are quite bold, madame,” he runs a hand over his mouth.

“Would you prefer it if I were timid?” You raise an eyebrow toward him.

“No. I would prefer that you don’t speak at all.” He appears to enjoy the look of shock on your face. He stands up and hands you one of his oversized shirts. “It’s clean enough. I’ll let you dress.”

He moves to the other side of the room and turns his back to you, offering privacy. You pull the shirt over your head, wincing as the sore muscles of your arms strain with the effort. Gathering your strength you stand on wobbly legs and the tunic drops down nearly to your knees.

He is large indeed.

Glancing to make sure he’s not watching, you lift the hem of the linen and twist, inspecting the massive, dark bruise on your buttock. There’s a bandage around your thigh just above the knee and it aches enough for you to know the gash must be deep. Satisfied that with state of your injuries you look to him, “I am dressed. You may turn around.”

“Good. Are you hungry?” He asks moving to stir the pot over the fire.

Your stomach clenches at the mere mention of food, making you realize that you’re starving. “Yes, very much.” You watch him stoke the fire. “May I ask your name?”

“Sam Winchester, and may I ask yours?” There’s an air in his tone that irks you, but you chose to let is pass.

“Y/N,” you offer only your first name with no details. He doesn’t press the issue.

“Take a seat,” Sam gestures toward the small table.

You sit gingerly in the chair. Your bottom is bruised, not only from days of riding but the fall you took during the attack. You’ve got sore parts you didn’t know you had.

“Samuel,” you begin.

“Sam,” he sets a bowl of rabbit stew in front of you. It’s been more than a day since you last ate, and then it was only a meager amount of flatbread. Your stomach growls as you watch him carefully prepare his own meal before settling in across from you.

“Eat, you must be hungry and you need your strength.”

“Samuel,” you start again. You think it’s best to stay formal, there’s no need for such familiarity with a stranger, especially an Alpha. It’s important to set boundaries. “How long have I been here?”

“One night, two days.” He tears the end of a loaf of bread and hands it to you. “Eat.”

“Would you mind telling me exactly where I am?” Picking up a spoon you stir the soup, finding chunks of meat along with carrots and potatoes. It’s a heartier meal than you imagined from a man with such meager surroundings.

“A village just north of the Midsomer outpost. You’re in Scotland.”

“Thank goodness,” a sense of relief falls over you. Peter was sure you were out of England, but he couldn’t be sure. You’d been lost for days wandering in the wilderness. “My party was lost when the marauders attacked. Even our tracker wasn’t sure if we had crossed the border. The men that I was traveling with were both...less than courageous when the assault took place, I thought for sure I’d be killed, or worse.”

“You want to tell me what you were doing lost in the woods with two men who barely knew where they were?”

“We were,” you stumble over your words. The cover story you prepared fades away as your head wound throbs. “On our way to visit relatives.”

“You’re a long way from France, Princess.”

You freeze, dropping your spoon back to the table. “You know who I am?”

“Yes,” he replies casually, shoveling stew into his mouth.

“How?”

“I tended to the man that was with you, the younger man survived for nearly a day. Once the fever took him he said a lot of things. I thought maybe he was delirious until you started talking. You’re clearly accustomed to giving orders, not taking them. ”

“Well, I-” You’re also not used being spoken to in such a brazen manner. “So much for discretion.”

“Drink your wine.” There, he does it again, telling you what to do. You hesitate, it’s been days since you’ve eaten a full meal and wine always has effects on you. No, it’s best to keep your wits about you.

Sam seems rather subdued, but you’ve heard stories your whole life about Alphas of his stature. The very nature of an Alpha is that of barbaric fulfillment, or at least that’s what you’ve been lead to believe. In your circles the few Alphas that exist have spent their lives learning the finer points of refinement, they’re fastidious in their gentlemanly arts, restrained and polite but only because they’ve had the restraint of social obligation to do so.

A man like the one across from you has had no such civilized training, and, although he’s not yet tried to mount you like an animal, you don’t know that he won’t.

“My head hurts quite badly. I don’t think the wine will help.”

“The nights here are very cold, you’ll do well by drinking now to keep warm later.”

“And I am to spend the night...here?” You look around at his small cottage, the thatched walls and dirt floor. Sam watches somewhere between wonder and amusement as you lower your voice and lean across the table, whispering. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to be here with you...in the night.”

Sam chuckles, it’s a good thing he’s the only one here, and he already knows your true identity, because there is no way you’d last in the real world. You’re as out of your element as a fish on dry land. “It’s here or it’s the barn, your choice.”

“I don’t, well I…” you sit back in your seat. He might be teasing you or he might very well serious but you’re not having either one. “I hate to point out such an obvious circumstance but you are an Alpha.”

“I’m aware,” Sam nods trying to hold back a smile.

When he doesn’t have a reaction you shake your head and look around as if there might be someone hiding in the corner. Whispering again, as if you’re telling him a secret, you explain “And I am an Omega.”

“Yes, I had noticed that.” He sits back in his chair. You’re struggling to explain what’s concerning you but he has a pretty clear idea. “Are you worried what people will think? Or that I’m going to take you like a wild beast in the middle of the night?”

“Both.” You admit looking at the uneaten dinner in front of you. Embarrassment doesn’t begin to describe the regret you instantly feel. Here is a man who’s brought you into his home and done nothing except for tend to your wounds and feed you. The fact that he’s already seen you naked notwithstanding, he’s mostly been a gentleman save for a few cheeky remarks.

“Not to worry,” he stands up and moves to the pot, refilling his bowl. “My brother and Martha are the only ones who know you’re here. And as far as my uncontrollable urges, I can assure you that I’ve no interest in someone like you.”

Someone like you?

You’re partly offended by his statement and you want to ask him to clarify exactly what he thinks you are. Are you not desirable? And royalty at that? But you force down your objections and set your jaw. “Well, I am pleased to hear there will be no misunderstandings.”

Sam picks up his mug and reaches over the table, clinking it into yours. “Now drink so that you don’t freeze to death.”

Taking a small sip, you look to the nest of fur on the floor by the fire where you woke up. “Won’t I be warm enough by the fire?”

“The fire dies down in the night. Besides, you’ll sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll stay down here.”

“I’m fine on the ground.”

“Your body is covered in bruises, the ground is only going to make it worse. I only had you sleeping out here because I had to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t die in the night. You’ll sleep in the bed. I won’t have a woman sleeping on my floor like a stray dog.”

Sitting in silence you fill your belly with stew and allow yourself two glasses of his questionable wine before excusing yourself for the remainder of the evening.

As you climb the ladder to the small loft at the back of the cottage you’re glad you didn’t protest. The entire platform is a giant soft bed lined with layers of wolf pelts. You stretch out in the soft nest closing your eyes and running your fingers through the silky fur. After weeks of sleeping on the ground, this is a welcome indulgence. You turn onto your side as Sam’s smell washes over you. While your rational mind doesn’t desire him, his Alpha scent is undeniably consoling. The Omega in you purrs at the comfort of his smell enveloping you as sleep sinks in fast and deep.

You sleep hard, better than you have in ages. When you do awake it’s to sunlight streaming through the small window above the loft. You roll to your side slowly coming back to reality. Stretching your arm above your head you forget where you are as the warmth and comfort of the soft bedding cradle you.

It’s a combination of Sam’s scent and your sore body that wakes you up. Opening your eyes, you lie still, listening to the silence and the distance chirping of birds. If given the option, you’d sleep for days curled up in this secret refuge but you need to get your bearings and attempt to formulate a plan.

You allow yourself a few more minutes of leisure, rubbing the side of your face into the fur and drawing in a deep breath of the Alpha scent. It’s been an agonizingly long time since you’ve shared a bed with a man and woke up to his aroma. Even then it was not an Alpha. You’d be ashamed if anyone knew you were rolling around like a happy kitten in the bed of a man you hardly know, but as long as it’s a secret you’ll allow the indulgence.

Clad only in the woodman’s enormous shirt you descend the short ladder to find the dim cottage still and tranquil in the morning light. The fire is nothing more than embers and the makeshift bed where he slept the night before has been folded into a neat pile stacked beside the hearth. On the table, there’s a mug of milk and a bowl with two boiled eggs. You take an egg, feeling the weight before rolling in on the table and carefully peeling the shell. You sip the fresh milk as the morning chill leaves goosebumps up and down your legs.

You’re not sure you’ve ever eaten in complete solitude. Even when a meal was brought to your chambers you ate while maids prepared to clean and dress you. There was always someone nearby waiting to fulfill your next request. Finishing your breakfast, you pick up a cloak laid over his chair and wrap it around you.

Sam is nowhere to be found, a fact for which you’re thankful. Last night left you feeling like a newborn fawn, confused and weak, trying to stand for the first time. Taking advantage of his absence you explore the small cottage. While it’s certainly of humble means, everything is in order, herbs placed with care above the fire and tools lined along the wall.

Above the stone mantle of the hearth, there’s a mighty sword affixed to the wall. It looks to be heavy and old, uncleaned from its last use which was no doubt long ago. You wonder if it belongs to Sam. If in a former life he was an infantryman or perhaps the weapon has a deeper meaning.

Much to your surprise, you find a narrow bookshelf hidden away in the corner, it’s shelves lined with many titles you recognize. It’s nothing compared to the grand library where you completed your studies as a young girl, but it’s certainly more than you expected to find tucked away in the shadows of a Scottish cottage.

You jump as the heavy wooden door groans open and Sam ducks under the doorframe. He sets a satchel on the table, the contents clanking together. It takes him a moment to spot you and when he does you detect a subtle look of displeasure across his masculine features.

“You found the food I left for you?”

“I did, thank you.” You smile, determined to be more charitable than you were last night. Perhaps you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. For an unattached Alpha of a certain age, he seems to have a remarkable lack of interest in you, which is fortunate but surprising. You’re not exactly as young as you once were, but you’re a Princess after all and there have been many songs written about your beauty. It’s an allure that seems lost of the man in front of you. “I was just taking a look.” You gesture to his bookcase.

“You’re welcome to borrow any of them.”

“Thank you but I doubt I will have the time to invest. I don’t plan on staying long.” You chatter, unsure of exactly why you’re nervous. “And that’s not a testament to your hospitality. You have been more than generous with me. Once I have established myself I will be sure you’re compensated in full.”

“Repayment is not necessary,” Sam wipes his hands on his trousers and comes to stand beside you. Feeling the need to shift his focus, your finger trails over the leather spine of a thick volume of Chaucer.

“And you are able to read?” The question falls carelessly out of your mouth. The delicate wrinkles around Sam’s eyes crinkle.

“Quite well, actually.” He nods stiffly.

You’ve insulted him and the realization makes you feel ashamed at the assumption. You’ve always fancied yourself a better person than your brothers, who often compare the commoners to livestock. If there’s one thing your father instilled in you it’s the importance of refined social manners, no matter the station of the person before you.

You square off your shoulders, holding your head high. “When I hit my head it must have knocked my manners right out of me. What I meant to say was, as a man who spends his days in the woods, working with his hands, I’m surprised to find that you have the occasion to read. Perhaps what I should have asked is: how is that you read so well?”

You seem very proud of the way you’ve reworded your insult. Sam would be irked if he wasn’t partially entertained. You’ve spent your life surrounded by dandies and handmaids, he doubts anyone’s ever corrected you before.

“When I was a boy my mother worked for a Lord in the south country. When their son’s tutor came for his lessons my brother and I were permitted to observe. They had a vast collection of books stacked floor to ceiling and I read whatever I could get my hands on.”

You smile, imaging this tall brute of man as a tiny boy with a novel in his hand. “And now you have your own collection.”

“A meager one, yes.” Sam turns toward you, “this may surprise you Princess, but it’s difficult to get one’s hand on literature out here in the countryside.”

“It does not surprise me,” you seem to miss his sarcasm and it entertains him all the more. “And you should not call me Princess.”

“There is no one here to overhear us. I will refrain if we suddenly have an audience.”

“Still,” you continue. “You’ve made some very fine selections. I love Chaucer.” Sam watches as you take the book from the shelf and look over the worn bindings.

“I haven’t read it in years,” he comments.

“Time and tide wait for no man.” you recite and then look to him. “It’s a quote.”

“Thank you for clarifying.” Sam narrows his eyes and a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “I believe he also said Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed.”

Your mouth falls open at his forward statement and a wide smile spreads his face. You blush and Sam grunts.

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation.”

“You slept in my bed last night, we’ve moved past royal piety.” He takes the book from you and sets it back on the shelf, the apples of your cheeks glowing red. “If your plan is to fit in among us common folk, you’d better get used to a crude word from time to time. You can’t walk around with that look on your face.”

“What look?” You snip.

“You wouldn’t like my description.” He turns, picking up the sack off the table. “I’ve brought you clothes. You can dress, then we can discuss where we go from here.”

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#the woodsman #Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #alpha!sam winchester #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester smut

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