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magdaclaire · 4 years ago

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partner

read it on ao3

a/n: This fic is at least a little based on the fact that as soon as I met my boyfriend, the very first day I met him, I spent 5 and a half hours with him, and he became my best friend. Some people, you just know. Partner.

He’s got, probably, three million things to do today. Football practice before school, the 6am slot because lacrosse had booked the 7am, and a Student Council meeting at 7am anyway, first period math, second period english, a lunch interview with one of the kids from the school newspaper (“Are you ready for the game against the Bronx Hydra? Do you ever feel like you’re going to let the team down? Now that you’re… not at your best shape?”), actually eating lunch, maybe getting a glimpse of his friends, and he’s still got half the day left after that. He’s only done the practice and the meeting so far. He could do this math in his sleep, of course, because high school Algebra 2 is child’s play, but it’s so time consuming, as if not showing his work is evidence of cheating. Everyone here knows that James Rhodes doesn’t cheat, but some people are just waiting for him to slip. It’s fine. He won’t slip. He’ll show his work. He’ll be perfect. He’ll do it all.

“James,” a clear voice cuts into his monologue as he walks into English, his bag slung over both shoulders evenly because only rebels and boys who don’t care about their future throw around their things, Jamie. He turns loyally and puts on a perfunctory smile, smiling down at the principal he recognized from voice alone, because of course he did. Nicholas Fury is a man of slightly shorter stature than James, but rather large presence, and he has his hand on the shoulder of a rather beautiful young man, despite the fading bruise above his right eye. “This,” Fury says, putting an undue amount of emphasis on the word, “is Anthony Stark. Anthony, James Rhodes. James, I’d like you to show him around a little. He’ll be in this class, and Miss Harvelle will be assigning you as his study partner. I trust you’ll be treating him well. That’ll be all, Mister Rhodes.”

With that, and no explanation to boot, Fury turns and leaves. Typical. He had done the same thing to Clint when he had brought Natasha in, and she had barely spoken any English. He hopes this one speaks English. He knows this one speaks English. Everybody knows who Anthony Stark is - even though he usually goes by Tony in the tabloids. Maybe he goes by Anthony in everyday life though, James can’t assume. Just because somebody is tangentially famous because of who their Dad is doesn’t mean you know them, right? And, everybody has heard that Howard is kind of a dick - it’s all over social media. But, that’s not James’s business.

“Tony,” the guy says, still not looking directly at James.

“What?” James asks, startled. He hadn’t really been expecting Anthony to talk. Anthony’s eyes snap to him, and those pretty brown eyes are sharp, dangerous in their analysis and wow. It’s a lot of attention, a lot of terrible, awful attention. It might say something about James that he doesn’t quite mind it.

“I prefer Tony. Where do you sit? If we have to sit together. Honestly, I don’t care. If he’s not seriously, I’d prefer to sit anywhere else,” Tony says, looking James up and down. James raises an eyebrow, shifting his bookbag on his shoulders.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, slightly defensive. Tony snorts.

“You wear your bookbag on both shoulders, like a fuckin’ narc. You get assigned the new kid, like a fuckin’ narc. You wear a letterman, which means you play sports, which means you have cronies, which means not only are you able to get away with shit because you’re a narc, you’re a narc with backup. I’m not interested in being a chew toy. Count me out. I’m gonna go sit in the back with that kid who’s definitely high even though it’s second period, which means he definitely smoked between classes, because that’s a kid who isn’t a narc. See you around, quarterback,” Tony says, the bell ringing in perfect timing for him to slide into the seat next to Brock Rumlow.

James doesn’t know what to think.

“James, is there something you need? Please, take your seat,” Miss Harvelle requests from the doorway, and James hadn’t even noticed her come in, given his distraction. He clears his throat, but finds he has exactly nothing to say, thrown completely off kilter by that interaction. He slides into his own seat, the desk next to him empty, and he wonders what the fuck just happened to him in here on this day, really. Brock Rumlow laughs from two rows back, a barking laughter that James hears probably everyday because of just how little Brock cares about his classes and the reputation he holds with teachers, but it holds more of James’s attention this time. Because Tony is back there. A kid he just met.��

James turns his attention to the front of the classroom and doesn’t allow himself to look back there again for the rest of the class. Miss Harvelle doesn’t insist upon the study partners thing, not like Fury said she was going to, and James tries not to feel disappointed by that. It’s not because Tony is pretty or anything. James isn’t that easily distracted by a pretty face. He has enough to do today.

He catches Tony after class anyway. With a tap on the shoulder, Tony follows him reluctantly to the stairwell that has emptied out for students heading en masse to the cafeteria. James thanks whomever for the small blessings of his life.

“Hey, I think we got off on the wrong foot there. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do to you, but I’m not a bad guy, Tony. You can ask anybody. Fury wants me to show you around, and you don’t seem that bad either. Maybe we could try again?” James offers, putting out his hand for a shake. Tony narrows his eyes, ignoring the hand to cross his arms.

“I was really rude to you, Rhodes. What do you mean that I ‘don’t seem that bad?’ And maybe you just put on a good face, honeybear. Doesn’t mean you’re a good guy,” he says, looking smaller, actually, in his defensiveness. Something in James, something that he’s never had before because he’s never been an overprotective friend, not even of Pepper or Wanda, and never of Nat because she could fucking kill him with a spoon, but something in James wants to wrap him in a blanket and take him home to meet his mom. Something has made him damaged, and Jesus Christ, what is his fucking damage?

“Come meet my friends, Tony. Come meet my friends, come sit at our table, and everything will be okay. Okay? I promise nobody will do whatever you’re thinking is gonna happen. You have my word,” James promises, looking in Tony’s eyes then. He tries to put as much of himself as he can into that eye contact, and he watches as something in Tony wants to believe him. He watches as that desperate kid wants to believe in something, anything, wanting to protect him and like him and get to know him, and he watches as Tony lets himself believe in it, even if just for a lunch period. Tony sighs, looking put upon, but somehow, James knows, James just knows, that he’s okay with this.

“Alright, I’ll come with you. Don’t be a baby about it. I’ll come. Lead the way. I don’t know my way around quite yet, and you’re supposed to show me around anyway, right, Rhodes?” Tony says, his voice taking on a teasing note that isn’t half bad, and James grins. Not bad. He takes Tony’s wrist in his hand and guides him toward the cafeteria, leading him directly toward their table, not toward the line at all.

“The food here is trash, and Thor always brings enough food for everybody, even extras, so you’ll be fine,” James promises, his hand still not having moved from Tony’s wrist, though now it was a little further down. His fingers are now wrapped around Tony’s palm without him having realized at all. He doesn’t remove them, just drags Tony over to meet his friends.

“Rhodes! We’ve been waiting for you - Thor brought that kroppkakor shit you like, and he won’t let anyone else get into it until you have first dibs,” Bucky says from the table, perched on the side of Clint’s lap like he nearly always is. His legs are in Steve’s lap, who is also balancing Bruce on the side of his lap, like they can’t just sit in their own seats. Tony snorts derisively.

“Even your friends call you Rhodes?” he asks, looking at the other boy incredulously. James raises an eyebrow.

“Bucky over there, his first name is James too. Don’t want everybody getting confused on who is getting talked to, so it’s easier. Why? What would you call me?” James challenges, nudging his shoulder. The others, silenced by a newcomer, look on interestedly. Even Pietro and Wanda have stopped their usual squabbling to show their interest.

“Isn’t it kinda obvious? Rhodey. Rhodeybear. Rhodey is the obvious take here,” Tony says, a bored front forced into his voice, but his hand is tense in James’s. Rhodey’s. Yeah, okay, he can see where that could work. That isn’t half bad. He tosses it around in his mind a little bit, and maybe his distraction is why he doesn’t notice Mary Jane Watson saddling up beside him, clipboard already out.

“Come on, Rhodes, you and I have an interview to get to, and you’re already late. My photographer and dramatic artist are already in the interview room,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulder. He holds in a groan at the mention of who will be waiting. The photographer is fine, but the artist. Michelle Jones, one half of the dynamic duo (Mary Jane being the other) known as MJ&MJ, is the bane of pretty much every male’s existence. She hates guys, especially upperclassmen.

“Come on, Tony, right? I heard you introduce yourself in English. Stay with us, okay? Let Rhodey do his interview. He’ll be fine. Stay,” he hears Clint coaxing, only then realizing the grip he still has on Tony’s hand, and the fact that Clint must have turned up his hearing aids to have heard a conversation in a full classroom at 9am at all. James lets go of Tony, but leans in to talk to him anyway.

“You don’t have to stay with them, not if you don’t want to, but I think you should. They’ll like you. It’ll be okay,” Rhodey says gently, leaning in just a little too close, before MJ snags his arm.

“Let’s go, Rhodes,” she says, and then they’re off. The interview goes about like he expects it to, with the prying questions he didn’t want to answer. He does fine on his braces, he’s not scared of the Bronx Hydra, their own team, Shield, plays good enough football that it’s fine even if Hydra wants to dry and play dirty. It’s not like they’re playing hockey and somebody can try to cut a tendon with their knife feet. He gets a laugh out of Parker with that one, which is always fun; the kid is just a freshman, and he just lost his uncle, so startling a laugh out of the kid is a point of pride. He and Rogers have been trying to get him to join the team - he’s small but he’s fast, they’ve seen him run from Thompson, as many times as they’ve tried to get him to stop giving him a reason to run - but he’s stubborn.

“It’s been nice, kids, but I’ll be back to my friends now. Let me know when that’s hitting the paper,” Rhodey says as he leaves the newspaper room, which is really just one of the old conference rooms that Michelle bullied her way into keeping. He pretty much sprints back to the cafeteria and checks his phone on the way; ten minutes til the end of lunch. Awesome.

“Hey Rhodey,” Tony greets him when he gets back, sitting between Bruce and Maximoff like he was born to be there. Rhodey laughs, shouldering Pietro sideways so that he can sit beside Tony, just because he wants to and just because he can. Snorting, the Sokovian takes no offense, just sliding closer to his sister like it was his idea in the first place. Pretty much all of them just move Pietro - he’s a wide receiver, tall, sure, but real thin, and light because of it, and even with his braces and Bucky’s arm, they’ve both carried Pietro on their shoulders a couple of hours each.

“Hey Tony. Enjoying my kroppkakor?” he asks, because low and behold, Tony is already eating his kroppkakor, which Thor was supposed to be saving for him. Tony, who is proving to be a little shit, eats a forkful of it cheekily, grinning.

“It is delicious, and did you know that Thor makes it himself? Yeah, his mom used to make it, but when his brother started poisoning him, you know, as a prank, Thor started making his own food so he could make it and store it in his room and always know where it was and be sure and stuff. Isn’t that so funny?” Tony asks, giggling. It sets James’s teeth on edge, and he leans in, sniffing Tony’s jacket. The smell there makes him want to go out to the back lot and knock Brock Rumlow’s block off.

“Tony, are you stoned?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. Tony’s face goes dark.

“Are you my fucking mom? Wait, no, ‘cause she’s in Argentina, just like she’s been for the last fucking month. Couldn’t even come home for me getting kicked out of school, could they? Never good enough or bad enough to fucking matter for a good goddamn, even when it’s not my fucking fault I’m getting kicked out, so why should you fucking care if I’m stoned, Rhodeybear? We just met this morning, partner. You’ll be fine,” Tony says, standing up roughly, patting Rhodey’s face. Every single person looks at James before any of them follow Tony, and it’s him and Clint that struggle out of their seats to do it. He looks at Clint, begging him with his eyes to sit back down, to which their archer complies.

Great. One less thing to worry about.

He catches Tony at the exit of the cafeteria, catches his arm and leads him over to an alcove that is relatively devoid of activity. He’s already decided on investment. He’s a man of commitment. So stay committed, Rhodes. See it through.

“I fucking care, Tony. I fucking care because I’ve decided to care. It’s time to get good with that, alright?” he asks, crowding Tony against the wall, just a little bit. Tony leers up at him, a false smile taking over his face.

“Is that what it is, Rhodes? Do you want something else from me?” Tony asks, scanning Rhodey up and down. Rhodey pushes down the impulse to be flustered, pushes down the impulse to say no, why would you say that?, pushes down the impulse to lie, and instead sighs. Smiles. He leans his head down, and looks at Tony honestly.

“Maybe one day, when you’re not as fucked up, and I mean more than just sober, Tony. I don’t know what shit you’ve got going on, and I know it’s something - you don’t have to tell me, but you need to tell someone. My friends, they’re good people. You can tell them, you can go to a counselor, you can tell an adult, you can go to therapy, but anything but this, okay? I’ve known you for one day and I can see the self-destructive on you from a mile away. You need to tell somebody what’s eating at you, Tones,” Rhodey rambles, running his fingers along his short shorn hair, the speed across textured curls leaving a buzzing feeling in his fingertips. He’s nervous, maybe more than nervous, but it needs to be said. Tony looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Jesus, Rhodes. Don’t hold anything back,” he says, coughing, “couldn’t have said that when I was sober?”

“Maybe don’t get high in the middle of the school day then,” Rhodey quips, a huff of laughter escaping despite himself. The bell rings then, with Rhodey having eaten exactly nothing for lunch, with Tony still half high and neither of them at all prepared for the rest of the day, and that is the first time that James Rupert Rhodes skips class in his entire junior year of high school. He and Tony peel out of the high school in Tony’s obnoxious cherry red custom Ferrari, because of course he drives something terrible, and they go get lunch at the Avengers’ favorite diner. The Avengers is something that their friend group calls themselves, which is a story that gets told that afternoon. They exchange quite a few stories that afternoon.

Tony comes down more as he eats more, and Rhodey tells stories to fill the space; he doesn’t want Tony’s trauma when he’s too out of his head to hold his jaw shut. Apparently, he had given Rumlow eighty fucking dollars for six consecutive hits off of his pipe. First of all, who hits a pipe six times in a row? Second of all, eighty goddamn dollars? James doesn’t fight. But Bucky and Sam sure as fuck do, Bucky boxes, metal arm or no, and Sam does whatever the fuck Sam does, and if James texts them underneath the table, that’s none of Tony’s business. He lets Tony Stark buy him a milkshake for skipping his fourth period (because apparently, that’s a separate offense from skipping third), and they have a nice afternoon.

When the high has completely faded, Tony does tell him.

“I was kicked out of my last school, a private school, for fighting. Howard paid to keep it out of the media, and paid enough to keep Jus- Hammer’s parents to keep from pressing charges. But, Rhodey, you gotta know, I didn’t fight anybody. Justin was my best friend. His… lackeys, they backed him up, they lied. Anything to get baby Stark kicked out, you know? I skipped a grade, fourth grade, and they never forgot it, still resented me, and I-” Tony is rambling and ranting, and Rhodey needs to get him back on track. He takes Tony’s hand from across a shitty diner booth, holds his hand across the table.

“It’s okay, Tony. Just continue. Tell me what happened,” he encourages, his voice much calmer than he feels, because he has a feeling he knows where this is going. Tony still has a bruise on his face. He doesn’t know if he still has bruises anywhere else.

“The night that Justin… decided we weren’t friends anymore, he punched me in the face. It wasn’t even that good of a punch, but it surprised me, you know? And, uh, two of his cronies were in our room, because me and J were roommates before I got kicked out and he let them in, but… yeah, he and they… beat the crap out of me, I don’t know. Lied about it. Really committed to it, you know? I thought Justin was… he was my friend, you know? God,” Tony says, shuddering. Rhodey squeezes his hand.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re gonna have better friends now, Tony. Nothing like that is ever gonna happen again,” Rhodey promises, dipping his head to look Tony in the eyes. Tony smiles bitterly.

“How do you know? You gonna follow me to college, Rhodes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Rhodey shrugs a shoulder, sitting back and splaying out confidently.

“Depends, where do you wanna go?”

#ironhusbands #rhodeytony #tony stark #james rhodes #could be read as mostly platonic #high school au #bullying cw #past bullying #justin hammer cw #im not tagging all of the characters that's too much #mine

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risingphoenix761 · 5 years ago

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She Dreams In Red

Summary: Shifters don't have soulmates. Or so she believed, until the day the red threads appeared on their fingers, she the shapeshifter on the fringe of society and he the hunter committed to fighting monsters. But with distorted perceptions of humanity and the memory of a lost love between them, was it fate or a mistake that brought them together?

Pairing: John Winchester x Ellen Harvelle

Tropes: angst, bed sharing, canon divergent, creature fic, cuddling, fluff, pining, shapeshifter!Ellen, soulmates, strangers to friends to lovers, touch starved

Word count: 7,230

A/N: whew, am I glad this is finished. You have no idea. A million thanks to @slytherkins and @letsby for the beta awesomeness! And a thumbs up to @samatedeansbroccoli for the artwork! Also, a salute to @annablack1102. I still owe you a John fic, but I offer you this in the meantime. Enjoy!

Link to art

###

"Mom, can I ride my bike when we get home?" the child asked her mother as they approached the register.

"As long as you're home before dark," the mother replied, handing cash to the clerk behind the counter. "Ten on pump seven, and a pack of Marlboro Reds."

The clerk turned for the cigarettes and the little girl looked around the convenience store, eyes falling on the security monitor in the corner. She watched herself for a moment, then glanced at the camera mounted next to it--

"Ellen!" Her mother's voice was soft but sharp, speaking where the clerk couldn't hear, "Keep your head down…"

Ellen nodded and looked away from the camera.

***

"Mom, Dad, Jesse asked me to prom, so I was hoping…"

Her mother looked sympathetic but shook her head. "Ellen, we've talked about school dances," she replied. "They're after dark, there's too many lights, too many things that can go wrong--"

"Please, I promise I'll be careful--"

"Hang on a second," her father said, turning up the news on the television.

"--don't know what to call the bizarre scene," the anchor said. "Neighbors reported what sounded like a violent argument at the house on Hester Road, but when police arrived, the house was completely empty. There were, however, signs of a struggle including blood at the scene, and investigators found everything from stolen goods to, believe it or not, human skin in the basement. The owner of the house has been reported missing, and anyone with any information is urged to contact authorities."

There was grim silence following the report. Ellen looked between her parents, thoughts of high school dances driven out of her head. The scene described wasn't bizarre at all to any of them, though no news station would believe them if they offered to shed some light on it.

Ellen's father sighed and passed a hand over his face. "Richie Brandon lived on Hester Road," he said. "I'll--I'll try and give him a call." The silence held as he went to the phone and dialed, waiting and waiting before finally hanging up. "Nothing."

Ellen hesitated before asking, "Hunters?"

Nobody told her yes, but no one said no, either. And no one had to say anything, but she knew prom was out of the question. If something like that news report could happen to one of their own, it could happen to her. And you never knew when hunters were around...

***

Ellen Harvelle was alone from the time she was old enough to understand her family wasn't human. Keep your head down and stay away from strangers, her parents' constant rule; she was safest if she kept to herself and kept out of trouble. It made for a lonely childhood and an even lonelier adolescence, deliberately friendless and always alone, but it wasn't so bad, she decided. When she was alone, she could shift. She could be anybody.

She shifted into either of her parents and the other had to guess which was the impostor. She shifted into her favorite television characters and pretended she was on one of their adventures. Most often, though, she merely shifted a fine, red thread onto her finger.

Shifters don't have soulmates.

Soulmates. The ultimate happily-ever-after for humans. Most everyone claimed to know someone else with a red thread of fate around their finger, the mysterious signal that meant the one meant for you was nearby. Starting as a mere wisp, the line tying two people together always grew clearer the closer they got to each other, and once they found each other, there could never be another for either of them. That wasn't so for shifters. Soulmates were constant and unwavering, and shapeshifters were the opposite. Change was in their natures. How could they be tied to anyone, when they themselves couldn't stay tied to one form?

The idea of aloneness didn't get easier to live with as she got older, but she managed to get used to it. With age, she accepted the red thread as a dream of her childhood. Retreating farther and farther from the world, she let herself lose touch with the few friends she had in school. She went from dating to casual encounters to nothing at all. She took a job as a waitress and did her best to stay at home after dark. Solitude of her own choosing was easier to bear, and if it couldn't assuage the loneliness, then at least she didn't have to hide what she was.

***

The shrill ringing of the telephone on the nightstand roused her early. Opening her eyes just enough to squint at the alarm clock, she gave a huff of irritation. It was a full two hours before she needed to get up.

Another ring, and she reached for the phone, not bothering to lift her head from the pillow. "Hello?"

"Have you heard yet?" her father's voice, graveled with age, came through the line.

"Heard what?" she asked. "I was asleep."

"There's been break-ins and robberies a county over," he answered. "A clerk at one of the convenience stores that was hit swears the guy on the tapes had glowing, silver eyes."

Ellen raised herself up on one elbow, no longer bleary. "You're sure?"

"It's a pretty random thing to make up, El. And if he keeps on talking, and the right people hear about it, there's going to be hunters all over before you know it."

She let out a deep breath, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Just great…"

"Listen, until things quiet down, promise you'll be extra careful," he entreated. "Your mother's worried sick about you, out on your own."

"Yeah, Dad, I know the drill. Head down, stay out of trou--"

She broke off, looking down at her hand and staring in shock. Hard to say whether it was more light or smoke, a fine wisp of crimson twined around the base of her finger, with a strand trailing off about two inches from her hand before vanishing.

A single red thread of fate.

"Ellen?"

"Uh," she answered, struggling for words while her mind reeled and spun. "I'm here. Just...just tired." She gave an exaggerated yawn to sell the point, eyes still on the thread.

"All right, then. Just be careful."

"Yeah, Dad. You too."

She hung up the phone and sat up, the early hour forgotten. Lifting her hand, she studied the thin strand of red, mystified. How was this possible? Unless she had shifted it there on her own, like she did as a child?

She picked at the thread to shed it off the way she shed off every other before it, but it stayed put. Ignoring the way her heart started racing, she peeled at her hand, stripping away the skin on her fingers, her palm, all the way to her wrist...and the thread didn't move.

What the hell?

Surely it was a mistake, she reasoned, running the trailing end through her fingertips; it looked insubstantial, but it felt surprisingly strong. This wasn't meant for her. She was a shifter. Her nature contradicted everything the threads represented. This couldn't be possible!

And yet, the thread remained where it was.

She tried to ignore it, pushing it out of her mind as best she could. There was no way she was going back to sleep, so she got out of bed, deciding on a shower and breakfast and actively avoiding looking at her hand. But the thread grew longer and longer, catching on anything and everything she touched. It took nearly ten minutes just to wash her hair, it kept tangling in her strands, and the kitchen was suddenly full of previously unknown hazards, the way it snagged on cabinet door handles and trailed into everything from the coffee maker to the butter she tried to spread on her toast.

She flung the knife down in frustration, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to get herself under control. First, her dad's call about hunters, now this? Her head started to pound and she winced at the beginning of the migraine; good, she could use the reason to call out of work.

After phoning in, she lay down on her couch and stared at her thread. The trailing end was getting longer, and she ran it through her fingers, still confused but getting more and more curious. What if she followed it to the other end? Should she? Almost certainly yes; she grew up believing this was impossible, yet the proof was there on her finger. She might as well see it through, to the literal end and whoever she found there.

Trying to recall every story she had ever heard about the threads binding soulmates, she knew they had to be nearby. The closer two soulmates got, the more the thread between made itself apparent. Hers only appeared that morning, but had only grown longer since then. Whoever was attached must be close…

Setting off from her front door, she ventured through her neighborhood, into town, along the streets she grew up on. The thread grew more and more visible, and she drew it through her fingers as she followed, coiling it up in one hand, until it went taut. She glanced along the red line, the longest and clearest it had ever been, to see it ended with a man who looked as baffled at its existence as she felt. Thick, dark hair, warm hazel eyes, and a stern, serious face that didn't seem like it smiled very often; his brows knitted together and he raised his hand, eyes on the thread and following it to her.

Her heart started racing. It was...it was real. Even with the thread in her hands, she hardly let herself believe it, but now seeing proof to the contrary, she felt the first rush of excitement and nervousness and elation. She had a soulmate.

He walked towards her slowly, still looking puzzled but never breaking his gaze. Her hands trembled and she stood frozen in place, watching him come closer, heart too full of feeling for her mind to hold a thought.

They finally stood nearly toe to toe, and he looked down at the thread wrapped around his finger before looking back at her. “I'll be damned,” he murmured.

Her breath caught in her chest at the sound of his voice, a smooth, deep baritone that calmed and excited her at once.

“What's your name?” he asked.

She focused on her breath before she got the voice to answer. “Ellen.”

“Ellen,” he repeated, nodding. “I'm John.”

She was too stunned to speak, the coiled thread falling heedlessly from her hands. He watched it tumble to the ground between them, then glanced around the sidewalk where they stood. "Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else?" he suggested.

"Yeah," she replied absently, then more firmly. "Yeah, sure." Every rule she was raised to follow, every warning she was meant to live by, vanished from her head as she said, "I live a few streets over, we could…"

She trailed off but he nodded, adding, "I'm parked a couple blocks up the road. If you want, we could drive to your place?"

He spoke slowly and softly, perhaps understanding how the offer might sound, but she disregarded any red flags the question might typically have raised. She copied his nod and said, "Lead on." He turned and set off up the sidewalk and she followed, watching as the thread between them faded away and left the red strands around their fingers.

***

The walk to John's car was mostly silent, though Ellen was impressed into speech when he led them to the vintage Impala parked at the curb. "This is your car?" she asked, incredulous.

"Last time I checked," he replied, smiling at her reaction. "Wait, let me…" He opened the passenger door for her and held it while she climbed inside, then closed it with a creak of the hinges.

The interior smelled of leather polish and there was an old photo on the dash of a beautiful, smiling woman with long blonde hair. Before Ellen could do more than notice it, John plucked it from its place and stowed it in his wallet, then turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. He looked calm and comfortable behind the wheel, so different from the puzzled, shocked man she first saw on the sidewalk. She kept stealing glances at him as he drove, half a million questions on the tip of her tongue and eyes switching from his face to the thread on his finger.

The drive to her house was short and almost silent, the quiet continuing until they were seated in her living room. Odd that they went somewhere private to talk, and now neither knew what to say. Ellen looked from her thread to his and back again before venturing, “I didn't think this was possible."

“I'm a little surprised, myself,” John admitted. “I thought I'd already found my soulmate.”

“Oh?”

“My wife, Mary.”

“Oh…”

He looked up at her tone. “She's...she's been gone for a while,” he said, and his voice seemed to catch on the words. “I knew about the threads. We weren't bound like that, but that didn't matter to me. I loved her just the same.”

Ellen glanced down at her hand, toying with her thread. “I'm sorry you lost her.”

He shrugged one shoulder, the serious expression never leaving his face, discouraging her from saying more on the subject.

She looked down at her hands, still playing with the thread. “I'm sorry,” she said, “I'm not usually so...I mean, I just don't know how I should behave right now.”

“There's a lot of pressure,” he agreed. “I'm stuck, too, if that makes you feel better.”

She smiled faintly, but she was so nervous. Nobody had any stories about this part, what to do when you found the one at the end of the thread. Did they fall in love right away? Was there any kind of connection? She knew by the thread, but should she know by her heart?

John's eyes were on her, intent and inquiring. “What's on your mind, Ellen?”

She shrugged. “Is there...something we should do?” she asked.

“What do you want to do?”

She hesitated, feeling foolish, then stood and went to him. He sat looking up at her, and she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. She couldn't remember the last time she touched someone on purpose, or count how many times she caught herself wishing for something as simple as a brush of hands. How did she convince herself for so long that solitude was easier? Their interlocked fingers felt almost miraculous, for all that they just met. Strangers, but bound together. He was hers, and knowing that made her heart start racing all over again. Running the fingers of her free hand through his hair, she leaned down and kissed him.

He tensed in surprise at first, and for a moment she was afraid he wouldn't respond to her, then he reached up and cradled her face in his palm, pulling her in closer. His calloused hands felt so good against her skin, and he smelled of leather and whiskey, and the taste of his lips made her hungry for more.

Drawing him to his feet, she broke away to lead him through the house to her bedroom, thanking whatever higher power existed when he followed close behind her.

***

She lost track of time as they whiled away the hours in her bed. Conversation was brief when they used words, but more and more eloquent with their bodies, and the setting sun didn't stop them, headlights of passing cars through the window blinds offering momentary relief from the darkness.

She couldn't say when she fell asleep, but she knew exactly what woke her up; the calm, blissful stillness being scorched away by a hot, searing pain on her bare flesh. Waking with a scream, she jolted upright, a hand pressed to her burned shoulder.

John was awake and dressed, his back to the window and his face hidden in shadow, a silver knife clutched in his hand.

“John!” she burst out, edging away from him. “What are you--”

“Thought I was paranoid,” he said. “The light through the window caught your eyes and I thought I imagined the flare. I figured I'd better be sure.”

Ellen's heart sank and her blood ran cold. “You're a hunter.”

“And you're a shifter.”

She shot to her feet and darted across the room, heading for the door. He lunged after her but she was faster, footsteps swift as she fled the bedroom. Guard your eyes, keep your head down, watch out for hunters… Every warning she ever heard sounded in her head as she ran, the echo of his pursuit fading away behind her…

She slowed her pace, feet shuffling uncertainly. She knew the warnings, but it wasn't just a hunter she was running from. That was her soulmate behind her, hers, and she'd be damned if she was going to run from the only thing she ever dreamed of.

Mind made up, she halted altogether and turned to stand her ground as he caught up. He stood a few feet away from her, each watching the other warily, waiting to see who would move first. John feinted to the left and raised the blade as he struck right, and she reacted with inhuman speed, dodging the blow and twisting his arm back. “John,” she began, “wait--”

He spun away from her and shoved her back. She recovered and blocked his next strike, slamming him back into the wall. Seizing his wrist, she dug her fingers into the pressure points of his arm and squeezed; with a groan and a curse, he dropped the knife.

“Listen to me,” she urged. He struggled and she pressed her arm across his throat, just enough to keep him still. He was taller and broader, but she was stronger. He wasn't going anywhere unless she let him. “I don't want to hurt you,” she insisted.

“Shifter,” he repeated, the words faint and hoarse through the pressure on his throat. “You're a monster.”

“Says who?” she demanded. “I keep to myself. I've never hurt anyone. How does that make me a monster?” Her eyes moved to the thread, still visible around his finger. “Shifters don't have soulmates," she said. “I thought I was going to be alone the rest of my life. Do you know how comforting it is to know that no matter what, there's someone out there meant to be yours? My kind don't. Finding the one you're bound to after believing you had no one? You can't imagine what that feels like. And for that person to think of you as a monster to be put down…”

John tried to throw her off, but she tightened her grip. “Soulmates, John,” she said. “This was supposed to happen. Why you and me, of all people, I don't know, but there it is, like it or not." She paused, seeing the steely glint in his eyes, then added, "I'm not a monster, but if you keep trying to kill me, I'll show you what one looks like.”

He went still, seeming to consider his options, then nodded. She relaxed her grip and stepped away, ready in case he tried again, but he didn't move for the knife.

“Fate,” he said, “is that what you think this is?”

“I don't know what else to call it,” she replied.

He stood and stared, watching her. “Fate or not, I hope you didn't think I was going to stay.”

“I...hoped,” she admitted. “I know that's asking a little much, after all, even if I wasn't what I am. I've heard what a hunter's life is.”

He nodded.

She raised her hand where they could both see the thread on her finger. "This led us to each other," she said. "It's not going away as long as we live. I don't know how long you've been alone, but...I don't think I can be after this. And we don't have to be anymore. Don't you see that?"

He didn't answer, but she saw his hand, the one with the thread, flex slightly.

“I'm not asking you to stay,” she added. “God knows I don't expect you to love me. But you're as lonely as I am, or you wouldn't have stayed this long. I want you to remember that next time you're lonely, then come find me.”

“Then what, Ellen?” he asked. “What exactly do you expect?”

“For you to remember me. That you're mine as much as I'm yours. Remember that we're tied together, and we don't have to be lonely.”

He didn't reply, didn't move, and she felt her heart break as hope began to die in her chest. “Please, John…”

Finally, he sighed and nodded. “All right. I'll remember.”

***

Everything changed after that night. John left with as few words as he arrived, and Ellen's life went back to whatever normal she could achieve. The truth was, she felt torn. The idea that her soulmate was out there in the world was comforting, and the knowledge that he was a hunter was terrifying. The world was full of monsters, and there was always the possibility one would get the best of him. She lived with that fear every day, right up until he made his way back to her.

She didn't lie to herself. He came back for the very reason she said he would: he was lonely. They each filled a gap in the other's life, a safe way to get something they were missing. Nothing more.

And yet it didn't stop her from wanting more, or from falling in love with him a little at a time despite common sense. They should have been enemies. She was raised to see them that way. And yet...he was hers, the one fated for her, and she sensed a good man behind the sternness, behind the hunter.

Things were strained and tense between them the first time he came back, but their need for each other surmounted that, and by his third visit, they were as relaxed with each other as they were their first night together--before he knew what she was.

"Dean's my warrior," he told her over dinner. "That kid's a lot tougher than he should be, I forget sometimes he's just a kid. Sam, too. I swear, Ellen, I don't know where I'd be without those boys."

"They sound like their daddy's boys," she replied with a smile. She hesitated, then reached across the table and rested her hand over his; it was hard to resist the temptation to touch him whenever he was with her. "I'd like to meet them one day."

He paused, then said quietly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Her smile dipped a bit. "Why not?"

"They don't know about you. I haven't told them anything." He paused again before adding, "They think I'm on a hunt right now."

She gave a brief hum of understanding, and after a moment, lifted her hand away. "Of course," she agreed, "a hunt. What else would you be doing, but fighting monsters?" He didn't say anything, and she asked, "So, do they stay with grandparents, or neighbors, or…"

"They're with a friend," he answered, his tone changing, no longer so relaxed, taking on a trace of an edge.

"That's...that's a good idea. That's probably what I'd do if I had kids, had to travel, couldn't leave them alone. I don't know much about parenting, but it's got to be tough doing it alone--"

"It's fine."

The words were sharp enough to cut and she fell silent, looking away. He sat rigid for another moment, then shoved his chair away from the table and stood, walking from the room without a backward glance. She got up a few beats after him and followed, finding him in the hallway with one hand braced against the wall, the other scrubbing wearily at his face. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he stiffened beneath her touch. "I'm sorry," she said, not sure why she was apologizing if not for him being agitated, "it's really not my business, I--"

"I don't need your help raising my children, Ellen," he retorted.

"I know. I mean, you've managed for years taking care of them on your own, and with hunting on top of it--"

"I said drop it!" he burst out, his voice rising. He stormed away from her and moments later, the front door slammed as he walked out of the house. She stood where he left her, shocked at his sudden exit, then slowly went to the window, waiting to hear the sound of the Impala's engine turning over before he drove away. Instead, when she pushed aside the curtain, she saw him sitting on the front seat, staring motionless at a photo in his hand.

The photo from his wallet.

Ellen let the curtain fall back into place, stepping back from the window and sinking onto the couch. What else should she have expected, but his wife. He never spoke of her, but his silence spoke for him. That look on his face as he looked at her picture said more than his words ever could. The soulmate of his heart, even after she was gone.

Fingers moving to her thread, Ellen wondered again at the turn of fate that brought them together. So much stranger than a hunter and a shapeshifter, a grieving man and a woman trying to find her place alongside the memory of another. She plucked at the string tying her to him and couldn't imagine anyone more different from Mary than her. Cherished wife, and mismatched soulmate. Human, and shifter. Beloved, and bound.

The skin beneath her plucking nails itched and loosened, and her stomach lurched at the sight. She hadn't shifted since she woke up with John's knife burning into her shoulder, the thought of it making her uncomfortable with what she was in a way she never was before, and now more than ever she longed to be someone, anyone, else. But now, more than ever, the thought of what she was seemed to divide her from the man she wanted more than anything.

She went to bed alone that night, but not without leaving a key under the doormat for him, just in case. She was almost asleep when she heard it turn in the lock and the sound of his footsteps to her bedroom. He undressed and slid into bed beside her, hands cautiously seeking her body beneath the blankets while he leaned in close and whispered his apologies into her ear. She accepted them, accepted him, as they both knew she would.

It grew to be their pattern. She would do her best to be what he needed, and he would be hard to read and even harder to open up, and when he did it was often in pain that had no outlet but temper. He would atone for it later, showing her the tenderness and warmth she fell in love with, but there was no denying he didn't feel the same way. He came back to her, that was all. Maybe he only saw her as the creature he was bound to, maybe he cared about her only as far as she served his needs, maybe he felt something, but as far as she could tell, it wasn't love. Not even close.

She could almost live with that as long as she could make him happy, though she couldn't ignore the way he shied away from her at times. When he thought of Mary, when he spoke of hunting, he remembered what they were to each other, he and Ellen, and she could see the walls going up between them in his eyes, telling her that she would never be enough for him, threads or no threads.

Was it because she was a shifter? She hadn't forgotten the way he looked at her when he lunged at her with the silver knife, like something less than human. Surely it weighed on him, the hunter with the creature soulmate. She tried to make it easier on him, keeping her form, staying the same even when he wasn't around, as if denying her nature would make him forget it.

She lay awake beside him one night, listening to the duet of his breath and heartbeat. They had gone to bed reaching for each other, giving and taking as they had from the beginning, and once they had their fill of each other, they talked for awhile until he fell asleep. But he didn't touch her again. He never did. And she tried not to let it upset her, but tonight she just wanted to be held. Just once. Her skin tingled and itched, and she couldn't tell anymore if it was her need to shift or her need for his touch.

He sighed and mumbled something, then again more urgently. She leaned closer, wondering if she should wake him; if she roused him from the dream early enough, it was all right, but she startled him too far into a nightmare once and he nearly throttled her. "John," she murmured, "John, wake up…"

He sighed again, sounding less anxious, "Mary…"

Ellen froze. Surprise yielded to acceptance, along with hurt and resignation. He slept with her, next to her, and he dreamed of Mary. The truth, the irony of it, left a bitter taste in her mouth. She spent her days pretending she wasn't a shifter who could be anyone she wanted, and it didn't matter after all. She could be anyone, and he would still dream of Mary.

A final look, and she rose from the bed, walking softly to the bathroom. She stood staring at her reflection in the mirror, comparing herself to the woman in the photo in his wallet. She was the one he really wanted, and there was no competing with a dead woman. Who did Ellen think she was fooling? Mary was the love of his life, and she was just the creature trying to act like she was human. There was no denying it anymore, and all she could do was the one thing that could possibly make him happy.

She heaved a sigh and tugged at her skin.

The relief was nearly orgasmic. It was always a messy ordeal, and not at all comfortable, but satisfying in a way nothing else was. Like scratching an itch she'd ignored all day, or kicking off uncomfortable shoes. It had been so long that the feeling went even deeper than that. Now, it was more like taking the first breath after near suffocation.

She was trembling by the time it was over. Clinging to the bathroom counter to keep herself upright, she looked down at the skin and hair left piled on the floor, seeing it with a human's eyes. A hunter's eyes. There was nothing natural about this. She turned her eyes to her thread, almost afraid it would have disappeared after...after, but it remained unchanged. The only thing unchanged, as far as the mirror was concerned. Fair skin, long blonde hair, soft blue eyes…

One last breath, and she returned to the bedroom. He was still asleep, so she slid back into bed beside him and listened to the sound of his breathing until she drifted off.

She awoke only moments before he did, opening her eyes to see his open as well and fall upon her. It took a second for him to focus, then a flash of confusion, disbelief, and anger. He scrambled out of bed in an instant, drawing his knife from the bundle of clothes by the bed and holding it at the ready. “What are you?” he demanded, his voice hard and furious. “What do you want? Are you a demon?”

“Wha-- demon?” Ellen repeated. “No. John, it's me.”

He tilted his head slightly as he recognized her voice--the one thing she couldn't mimic from a faded picture. “Ellen?” He looked her over, seeing his wife where his shifter soulmate once was. “What do you think you're doing?”

She fumbled with her response; he sounded much angrier than she had expected. “I...saw the picture in your wallet,” she explained, her voice unsteady. "I just thought--"

“Change back,” he ordered, fire blazing in his eyes, “now.”

“John, I--”

“Do it!”

“John…” Her voice shook so much, the words almost wouldn't come out. “Maybe this is why we're together. In this body, I can--can give her back to you…”

“Don't--” The hand holding the knife wavered and his voice cracked. The anger in his eyes was lost to anguish for a split second, but she saw it nonetheless. “Don't ever try that,” he warned. “You could never be what she was, do you hear me? Never!”

Tears stung her eyes before filling them, distorting her vision of him. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought...I don't know, I just...I wanted to make you happy.” In a rush, the pain of his words transmuted into anger, anger that he couldn't see how she was trying, anger that she stooped so low to please him, anger that he couldn't let go of the past. "That's all I want, John! That's all I try to do, and it's never enough for you! I'm trying! I've been trying! I know I'm not your dream girl, I know I can't replace her, but…" She broke off, words failing her.

"Ellen," he said, pleading in a broken voice, "please, change back, you can't do this--"

"I thought...maybe seeing her again--"

“Seeing her again? You think I don't see her? She's not there when I close my eyes, or in every memory worth holding onto?” The tight, clipped tones in his voice told her he was trying not to shout, but every few words grew louder than the last. “I see her everywhere, Ellen! Everywhere! Every minute since I lost her! The only place I don't see her is with--” He broke off again, squeezing his eyes shut and his knife hand falling back to his side. “Damn it, Ellen,” he whispered.

There was a knife in her chest, driving deeper the longer she looked at him, and she could barely see him at all through her tears. “I'm sorry, John,” she told him again, whispering past the knot in her throat. “You just seem so distant, and I only want you to be happy. I don't care what it costs me anymore.”

He was breathing heavy, his eyes still closed, and his shoulders shook every now and then with whatever he was trying to keep inside. “What does it cost you?” he asked. “Why does it cost you anything at all?”

“You really don't know?”

He opened his eyes, and she was nearly afraid of the emotion she saw there, unsure if it was for the face she wore or...not. “I thought you were lonely.”

“I thought you were.”

“I was,” he admitted, “and you kept taking me in, despite what I am and what I might try to do to you, because of what you are. I didn't know if it was because we were tied, if we were lonely, like you said, or what, but you did. And after a while, I didn't care why, as long as you let me in.” He hesitated, taking several long, deep breaths, then adding, “And loving her the way I did, still do, that felt too much like being unfaithful to her. And I can't stop coming back to you, but I can't--I can't replace her. I don't want to. You can't do that, Ellen.”

She didn't know what was worse, the guilt in his eyes or the pain in his voice. There was a moment's silence before she asked, “What do you want me to do, John? Tell me, and I'll do it…”

“Just...be you. It's not fair to either of us if you try to be someone else, after all this time when you were only ever you.”

“But I...I wasn't. Since I met you, I've kept to one form. I haven't changed a thing, even though that's in my nature. I haven't…” The words stuck in her throat and she lowered her eyes, whispering her shame. “I haven't shifted.”

She couldn't look at him. She didn't want to see whatever was in his face, the hunter facing the monster who tried and failed to be something she wasn't. It would be hard enough to hear whatever he chose to say.

“Why not?”

Her breath came up short, and she looked back at him before she could stop herself, the confusion in his eyes a mirror of what she felt. “What?”

“Why haven't you shifted?” he asked. “It's--it's what you do. That's how you were made.”

“A monster?”

He looked away for a moment, no doubt hearing his own words the night they met, words she had carried with her ever since.

Shifter.

You're a monster.

“I've seen monsters,” he replied. “I've seen things that most people can't even imagine, things that feed on fear and flesh. It was a monster that killed Mary. I know what things like that look like. They take, with no thought to what they leave behind.

“And you? You give. You give so much and ask for so little, I feel like I'm only using you in comparison. I don't see a monster in you, Ellen, and I should have told you that a long time ago. And denying what you can do, trying to be anything but who you are because you think it will make me happy...I never want that for you. You deserve better than that.”

“Do you…” Come on, don't be a coward… “Do you think you could ever love me?”

“Ellen.” He closed his eyes and she stood and walked to him, raising her hand to his face; he sighed as she passed her fingers over his features. “Ellen...”

She leaned up to him and kissed him, moving her lips against his and her tongue brushing at the seam of his mouth. He reached up to tangle his hands in her hair, then paused, fingers caught in Mary's blonde waves. Ellen felt the change in him and pulled away, keeping her head bowed. “I'm sorry, John…”

He spun her around so she faced away from him, his hands clasping her shoulders. “Change. Back to you.”

She hesitated. “John, it's...it's not exactly pretty...you will think I'm a monster if you see…”

He slid his hands down her arms and back again, and she found the gesture soothing. “I want to see you.” His hand brushed hers and she looked down, the threads visible on their fingers, and if she looked carefully enough, she could faintly see the thread running between them.

One last breath, and she tore at her skin.

She felt his eyes on her the whole time, peeling away the image of the woman in the photo and returning to her own form, and she felt self-conscious in a way that shifting never made her feel before. It must look so strange, even disgusting, and she felt more and more like a creature in a horror movie as she wondered what he must think of her. She couldn't help her sounds of relief and pleasure as the skin fell away and with him watching her, she felt repulsed by what she was.

She didn't turn at first after she finished, staring straight ahead, fresh skin feeling tender and sensitive. She didn't want to see it in his eyes if he thought she was a monster after all, after seeing the evidence himself.

“Turn around.”

Taking another deep breath, she faced him and braced herself to look him in the eye--and she saw recognition. Familiarity. Even a touch of softness. He smiled slightly at her. “There's my girl.” Her heart fluttered in her chest at the words, but before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her again.

Relief even greater than that of shifting surged through her and she wrapped her arms around him, shivering at the feel of his calloused hands across her sensitive skin. He was rough, but when he touched her he was nothing but tender. He was always on the move, but when he kissed her, he kissed her slow and sweet. She sighed against him, melting deeper into him with every touch of his hands, and too soon, he pulled away, looking down into her eyes.

"I'm gonna try, Ellen," he promised. "I know I'm not perfect--hell, you know I'm not. I'm gonna try to do better by you. Just tell me what you need from me."

She didn't answer right away, losing herself in his warm gaze before asking, "So, it really...it doesn't bother you?"

"That you're a shifter?"

She nodded.

He shook his head. "No. It doesn't. I think I…" He heaved a sigh and took a deep breath. "I didn't learn about any of this until Mary died. That was how I learned. And the way she went, it--it stayed with me. Probably shaped the way I saw everything that wasn't human. If it wasn't human, it must be a monster. But it's not so cut-and-dried, is it? You're not human, but like I said, you're not a monster, either." He ran his hands along her arms and across her face, threading through her hair and combing it back to look at her. "You are what you are, and it's what you do that counts. You're a good woman, Ellen, and you deserve a good man."

She smiled up at him. "You think I don't already have one?"

He let out a breath that sounded like a brief laugh. "You deserve a better one. And I promise, I'm gonna try to be what you deserve."

She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the stubble on his jaw beneath her palms, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers. "I love you, John," she said. "Perfect or not, I love you."

He smoothed a hand over her hair and the softness in his eyes grew more pronounced. "You're so much braver than I am," he told her.

"Why is that?"

"You said it first." He kissed her on the temple and added, "I love you, too."

She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, though she was certain she had never felt so happy. She spent her childhood dreaming of a soulmate, for all that it was impossible. Yet between finding him and hearing those words, she knew which felt like the dream come true.

He reached down, his fingers twining through hers to lead her back to her bed, and this time he held her, arms tight around her and keeping her as close as she could get. She felt safe there...warm...loved.

Ellen Harvelle could be anyone she wanted. Anyone at all. And in the arms of her soulmate, she didn't want to be anyone but herself.

###

Forever/SPN tags: @rckyfrk @letsby @slytherkins

#supernatural trope celebration #spn fanfic #john winchester #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester x shapeshifter!ellen harvelle #ellen harvelle #john x ellen #risingphoenix761 #samatedeansbroccoli

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hannahhostofheaven · 6 years ago

Text

Shadows of the past Chapter three

Characters: Castiel, Hannah, Dean, Sam, Jo Harvelle, Eileen Leahy, Gabriel, Charlie, Jack, Claire, and Kaia. So a very full cast!

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Sam/Gabriel/Eileen, Dean/Jo and Jo/Charlie, Claire/Kaia

Rating: at the moment, I’d say T. But there will be some medium grade smut, and I don’t know what trigger warnings might come up but you might as well assume dark themes, torture, gore, assault, and who knows what else.

Summery: Sam and Dean arrive at an abandoned Men of Letters bunker deep in the forests of Maine. Naming this their new headquarters, the brothers, Castiel, Hannah, Jo, Charlie, and many of their family decide to put down roots. But things aren’t all they appear to be. When one after one, women in the village start becoming pregnant, including Hannah, Jo, and Eileen, the hunters begin to suspect something sinister. At the same time, Hannah is being haunted by the memory of past lives she knows nothing about and a mysterious little girl that no one else seems to be able to see appears to be following her around. From Jo and Eileen’s deep dark secrets to Gabriel’s abusive affair with Loki to Claire’s angsty teen attitude, everyone is wound up in a web of scandals, deceit, secrets, and treachery.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Why pumpkins?” Jack asked as he glanced around at all the activities as the three of them approached the entrance to the pumpkin patch. “Well I consulted the google for appropriate Halloween related activities,” Castiel explained as he and Hannah came to a stop at the ticket booth. “Visiting a pumpkin patch is a significant ritual. We have to journey through the corn maze, eat nutritionally deficient but seasonal foods, ride the carriage, and at the conclusion, we must select some pumpkins to take home so we can carve them into faces to frighten young children on Halloween.” Hannah mimicked the confused look on Jack’s face as the Nephilim cocked his head to one side. Both looked at Castiel for clarification as the angel glanced up from reading the list off of his phone. Castiel smiled as he noticed the two of them looking at him like confused lost birds.

“I don’t understand how consuming nutritionally deficient foods is necessary for this activity, Castiel,” Hannah spoke up, trying to wrap her mind around yet another strange human concept. “And wouldn’t frightening the children cause a traumatic reaction?”

“I’ll show you both,” Castiel assured them, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took Hannah’s hand and ushered her towards the ticket booth while Jack looked on. “Three tickets please,” Hannah told the ticket booth attendant. The woman glanced at the three of them, eyes lingering slightly on Jack, who seemed preoccupied with the activities going on just beyond the gate. “How old is he?” the woman asked as Hannah handed her some cash. “He just turned one,” Castiel explained, proudly. Hannah glanced at him as he received a dumbfounded look from the woman. Now it was Castiel’s turn to be confused. “Was… that not the correct answer?”

“Well… he looks a little big for his age,” the women replied, glancing at Nephilim who stepped closer, trying to understand the reason of her confusion.

“Oh I grow fast,” Jack insisted. “Dean said it’s because I eat my wheaties.”

“Right…” the woman seemed skeptical but she reluctantly handed them the tickets and moments later, they were through the gate and immersed in a labyrinth of tables and booths with vendors selling everything from food to artisan crafts. The ground beneath them was sprinkled heavily with hay and straw and just beyond the crowd of vendors was a twisted thicket of pumpkins. People wandered around, young children bounded about in their thick jackets, laughing and socializing about. As Hannah strode through the crowd with Castiel, she had to smile to herself at the look of wonder on Jack’s face as he took everything in. “Look at this place!” Jack exclaimed enthusiastically as he walked up ahead of them. ��I want to see everything, can we please see everything, Castiel?” “Of course,” Castiel replied pleasantly as walked hand in hand with Hannah. “Just don’t get too far ahead of us, we don’t want you to get lost.” Hannah found herself feeling a little protective of the young Nephilim; her eyes watched his every move as he bounded about ahead of them, while the two of them tried to absorb the atmosphere of the pumpkin patch as well.

“Should we tell him?” Castiel asked suddenly as they walked together. Hannah glanced at him with a frown. She knew what he was talking about. She knew Jack and Claire had both been suspicious when she had spent the morning being sick. “How do you think he will take the news?” she wanted to know, eyes darting about the area. “Better than Claire will, I assure you,” Castiel warned. Hannah sighed. The still had a few people to tell about this pregnancy. Jack, Claire, the Winchesters. Castiel assured Hannah he would take care of the Winchesters himself, which left only Jack and Claire to worry about. Hannah did not doubt that Claire would react negatively. The girl had made it clear she was opposed to Hannah having anything to do with Castiel. Hannah had tried her best to stay out of the girl’s way, to let Castiel take care of caring for her, but Claire was determined to drive Hannah away, and this would solidify her relationship with the only father Claire had. “We’ll tell him today,” Hannah replied just as Jack rushed over to them with a big grin on his face. “I’d like my face painted,” he declared, pointing to a booth where a line of children had formed in front of a woman who was busy painting their faces. Castiel dug out a few dollars and handed them to the Nephilim who took them eagerly and hurried to join the line. He was easily the oldest looking child in line, and a few of them gave him some quizzical glances. Hannah frowned as she and Castiel stood nearby to watch. Human children had a hard time figuring Jack out. He was a conundrum. A one-year-old who should still be wearing diapers, but with the body of a teenager and the intellectual capacity of the angelic being that he was. As they waited, Hannah happened to glance towards a small popcorn stand and caught sight of something else out of place. There, standing beside the wooden building, stood a young child. Children abounded about her, so it wasn’t her presence so much as her appearance. And the way she stared at Hannah, her blue eyes unblinking as if trying to pierce through the angel’s very soul- that is, if the angel had a soul. The girl seemed to be about five, her dark brown hair woven into large, thick ringlets and pulled back with a bonnet. Her thick red wool dress looked out of style compared to the other humans around her. If Hannah knew anything about human history, she might have placed this girl’s clothes and hairstyle as being from some time in the late 17th century. “I suppose Jack isn’t the only one who is out of place here,” Hannah murmured to herself, not taking her eyes off the girl. “She looks out of place as well.” “Who?” Castiel’s voice cut through Hannah’s interest in the girl and the angel turned to look at his deep blue eyes. Those eyes… they were similar to… Hannah glanced back only to find that the girl was gone. She squinted in confusion. “Nothing,” Hannah said quickly. “It was my imagination, I suppose.” Castiel regarded her with concern but was distracted when Jack returned at that moment, beaming ear to ear as he donned a large red dragon painted on the side of his face. “Quite fierce,” Castiel commented. “Come on Jack, let’s get something to eat, Hannah and I have something to share with you.” “What shall we eat?” Jack wondered, glancing at all the food vendors. He narrowed in on a booth selling cotton candy, sugar cookies, and hot cocoa. “Could we have that?” Moments later, the three of them sat on a picnic table, and Jack happily nibbled on his tray piled high of various types of cookies. Hannah had to smile as she watched the Nephilim eat his way through his lunch of sugar and dough. “I am uncertain if Nephilim requires the same nutritional needs as humans,” Castiel said. “So you must eat a healthy dinner tonight to compensate for this.” Hannah took a breath as the moment approached. “Jack there is something we need to tell you,” she began carefully. The Nephilim looked up from his meal with alarm as he studied both of their faces, noting the seriousness in their expressions. “What is it?” he wondered. “Is everything alright? Is someone ill?” “No one is ill,” Castiel began. “But it seems that Hannah and I will be expecting a baby.” Jack blinked, puzzled as he received the news. He squinted at them both. “Expecting one?” he wanted to know. “Is it being delivered by mail? I’m… not sure I understand.” “No,” Hannah explained, glancing at Castiel as she realized the Nephilim had no idea what they were talking about. Hannah could see how this conversation was going to take a turn for awkward and she wasn’t sure she understood what they had just walked into. Castiel cleared his throat, considering his next words. “Jack, er… Hannah is having the baby. It’s inside of her. Like you were inside of your mother at one point. Do you understand?” Jack’s gaze shifted to Hannah, his eyes scanning her as if trying to discern where exactly the baby might be. Hannah frowned as she realized what the Nephilim’s next question would be. “I remember being inside my mother,” He admitted. “But I don’t quite know how I got there. How did you get the baby inside of you, Hannah? Was it sex? Because some kids at school have suggested that-” “Uh, perhaps we will answer that question a little later,” Hannah stammered quickly, blushing bright red as she glanced at Castiel for help. “But the baby is growing inside of me, according to the doctor, it will be born sometime in May or June.” “I will be the baby’s brother? Like Sam and Dean?” Jack asked a hopeful note in the tone of his voice. Hannah nodded, relief flooding through her as Jack seemed excited about the news. “Yes,” she said. “You and Claire will be the baby’s older siblings.” Jack frowned. “Claire will not be happy,” he pointed out. “I don’t think she will like hearing about this.” “There are a few people we still have to tell, so you have to keep this to yourself for a while,” Castiel explained. “Don’t tell anyone.” The Nephilim nodded. Hannah smiled, daring to allow herself to feel excitement for the first time over this pregnancy. She dared to hope that this was something she could look forward to, that she could be happy about. In the back of her mind she worried about the possibilities, would she even be able to survive, would heaven approve, what would Michael do? So many concerns still haunted her thoughts. But for now, she was happy. She never thought she could be satisfied living on Earth. It was the last place she ever wanted to be before she met Castiel. She never knew there could be happiness outside of heaven, but here she was with a family, with friends, with a life, people who cared about her. Maybe this was what humans treasured so much. They spent the rest of the day enjoying the pumpkin patch before Jack selected a number of pumpkins to take home and carve. As Castiel lugged an armful of pumpkins to the car, Jack talking excitedly about having a baby brother or sister, about how he was going to carve pumpkins, about how he had been learning things at school, Hannah thought surely this was bliss. If only it could stay that way.

#supernatural #fan fiction #Castiel/Hannah #Jack Kline #pumpkin patch #fluff

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sofreddie · 7 years ago

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The Winchester Way - Part 20

Summary: Mary’s Memorial Service and the Council Meeting of all Elite families.

Characters: John, Sam, Dean (Winchesters), Linda, Kevin (Trans), Garth (Fitzgeralds), Bobby, Mark, Gadreel (Singers), Ellen, Jo (Harvelles), Samuel, Unnamed Others (Campbells), Reader (Y/L/N), Crowley

Word Count: 2,104

Warnings: Angst, Um, yeah, that’s it, just ANGST.

A/N: HEED THE WARNINGS!!! I’m just gonna let the story speak for itself here. Feedback is appreciated. : ) If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee?

Series Masterlist

The funeral pyre stood erect at ten feet tall and was constructed of various wood from the surrounding trees. It took several hours to build, all available hands lending their strength to its completion. Mary’s body lay atop the pyre, wrapped in cloth and surrounded by several flowers. As the sun began to dop beyond the horizon, several torches were lit and placed standing in the ground around the pyre, casting light upon the stack of wood and its surroundings.

The Council meeting was postponed to the following day, making room for Mary’s memorial service. All Elite families, and any Hunters who could attend, were present for the service. John stood on a wooden platform overlooking the pyre, Sam and Dean flanking him on either side. Y/N stood on the ground, opposite of the Winchesters, looking up at them as they started the ritual to send off Mary. It was all very formal. Everyone seemed to set aside their problems and differences, if only for a moment, to share in their grief over the loss of a loved one.

Y/N had to admit, the sight of the three large and stoic Winchesters would be intimidating at the least, if not for the grief lingering in their eyes. Y/N hadn’t known Mary. Though she felt the collective mourning from all around her, she didn’t feel it. If anything, she felt angry. Angry that her father didn’t receive a similar treatment. Angry that all were being forced to sympathize with the Winchesters. But she also felt fear. With Mary gone, what would stop John from terrorizing everyone? From changing Sam and Dean again? With all three Winchesters lost in grief, what would that mean for the rest of them? For The Way?

She tried to push aside her thoughts as the service continued. John, a smaller torch in hand, held the torch out above the pyre as he spoke the words of tradition.

“Today,” John spoke with a clear and booming voice, somehow amplified by the silence of the many attendees and the night air around them, “We say farewell to a sister of The Way.” His voice softened slightly as he continued speaking. “Mary Campbell Winchester served The Way as an Elite. She was a friend, a mother, a wife, and a skilled Hunter. May Heaven throw wide its arms and welcome her.” He dropped the torch onto the pyre. Each head of the Elite families took a similar torch, placing it into the base of the pyre. All stood in silence as the flames roared to life, consuming the wooden pyre and engulfing it in large flames.

As people began to leave, the flames wearing down the pyre, Y/N stood, seemingly entranced by the fire. She couldn’t help but feel a symmetry to it. The way the flames, started by these Hunters, encased the body and burnt it to ash. She felt the Hunters had done the same to her life. When she walked through those doors, she too had been consumed by fire, her former life nothing but ash. Y/N decided to leave any lingering remnants of who she once was, and the life she onced lived, to die in the fire.

“They’re gathering in the Council Room now.” Samuel spoke, finishing his report to John. “The families are planning to overthrow you.” He continued. Samuel had, for a long time, reported everything to John. The Campbells were always in John’s corner, even more so as he grew cruel and dominating. They would sit in on Council meetings, talk with other Elites and Hunters, and play the part of the dutiful Elite. But no one knew that Samuel played both sides of the fence, reporting everything to John. He knew reporting this information would remove their element of surprise, and he hoped John would have a plan of action for retaliation.

“So they’re all in accord then?” John added, nodding his head as he processed.

“Some took a little more convincing than others, but yes.” Samuel offered once more. John nodded again, waving his hand to dismiss Samuel. He bowed his head in response and left, pulling out his phone as he marched through the halls of the Bunker.

“It’s me,” Samuel began, checking his surroundings as he ducked into an empty room. “The Elites are planning to move against John. John has been informed and will most likely retaliate.” Samuel whispered into the phone.

“Good. You’ve done well. I look forward to working with you more in the future, Samuel.” Crowley crooned, ending the phone call. Samuel smiled to himself. Finally, The Campbells would stake claim on Leadership of The Way. They were already the largest of the Elite families. With Crowley on their side, they were sure to garner a power unmatched by any other. They just had to get rid of the others, and Dean had rallied them to do just that.

The Council Room buzzed with activity as all attendees talked at once, trying to be heard over the others and make their points known. The center table was surrounded by the head of each family, taking their usual seats. The room itself had chairs lining the walls, the extended family of each Elite clan seated to provide their input and support for their own family. Council meetings usually consisted of just the heads of household. But, due to Mary’s recent demise and the increasing threat of John’s leadership, each family as a whole was present, where available.

“We can’t just ‘lock him up’ as Sam so succinctly put.” Linda Tran spat out. Her son, Kevin, sat with arms crossed behind her position, eyeing the room cautiously as everyone seemed in a heated uproar. “Assuming we could even manage to do that, what then?” She scoffed, clearly irritated at the lack of a solution or fruitful thinking.

“We could just kill him when he walks in the room.” Y/N muttered, more to herself. Though it was loud enough to cause the room to fall silent.

“That’s not how The Way works.” Bobby chastised.

“Nothing around here seems to work.” Y/N added, leaning forward on the table. “No one follows the tenets of The Way. Everyone seems to just do as they please, including John!”

“We’re trying to rebuild The Way how it’s supposed to be.” Dean added from his position at the wall next to Sam, looking first at Y/N and then the rest of the group. “We need to follow the rules and guidelines and do this right. Two wrongs don’t make a right!” He pleaded with the group.

“Dean’s right,” Bobby added reluctantly. “The Tenets tell us that we have the responsibility to uphold righteousness and the moral disposition to do good. To see what is right and fair in the behavior exhibited by others. While we are well within our rights and means to challenge his leadership, we are not murderers.” He emphasized.

“So we incarcerate him until a Gauntlet can be planned for him to pay for his sins.” Gadreel added. He was rarely, if ever present at Council meetings. Though he was Bobby’s son, he was the youngest. His elder brother, Mark, tended to be at the meetings when he wasn’t busy running the Singer region. Several nodded in agreement at his plan.

“And then what?” Garth added. He was head of The Fitzgerald clan, and also ran the regional lands in Alaska and the surrounding areas. As his son, his only child, was not even a teenager yet, Garth had the responsibility of running his family. It was manageable seeing as how their family and lands were the smallest of the group. Garth never complained. It allowed him to uphold The Way while maintaining a safe distance from the politics of the Bunker.

“The Trials.” Jo chimed in, all eyes turning to her. “We initiate The Trials to elect a new leader of The Way.” Ellen turned back to the group, brows raised, as she contemplated.

“I’m ready!” Dean offered as he stepped up to the table.

“Are you now?” John’s voice boomed through the room as he entered, the Campbells in tow. All new members took their appropriate seats within the room. John stood at the head of the table, his fists leaning against it’s edge. John dropped his head with a smirk before raising it to look over the group.

“Let me start,” John began, extending his hands out as he spoke, “by thanking you all for coming and attending my wife’s memorial.” His voice was surprisingly upbeat. The fact that he went straight to formalities had everyone on edge. Each person held their own look of being caught red-handed. “Now that’s were all here,” he sat in his chair, propping his feet up on the table, “let’s continue this discussion of leadership.”

Everyone glanced between them with unease, no one willing to speak up first. Y/N took a swallow before motioning to stand up. Before she could fully stand, John interrupted her.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, pointing a finger at Y/N.

“I-,” She stuttered, then cleared her throat as she stood tall, staring at John who sat directly to her left. “I am the only Y/L/N Elite, therefore, I am taking my place on the Council as a rightful head of my clan.” She stood tall and proud, grateful she was able to speak with an even tone. Being so close to John made her fingers twitch, wanting to grab her blade and lay a blow. She struggled to contain herself.

“Any opposed?” John asked with a smile, looking to all in the room. When head’s shook no, he looked to Y/N. “Welcome, Y/L/N.” He sneered. Y/N fought to maintain control. As he made to speak again, Y/N interrupted him.

“I am also demanding the return of my family’s regional hunting lands into my authority.” She added, again looking only at John. He laughed, dropping his feet and sitting forward.

“Demand?” He asked, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Are you demanding your lands back, little Y/L/N?” Her eyes wandered the room then, uncertain and suddenly very insecure as she noticed everyone watching her. She swallowed hard, trying to gain her courage. “Your family left The Way,” John said, standing, “And as such, forfeited their right to anything.” He sneered. “You’re lucky everyone saw fit to even include you at this table!” He shouted. Y/N visibly jumped from the sound. John leaned in very close to whisper in her ear, “If I were you I would sit and learn my place.” He added, just for her. He stared her down cold as she slowly lowered herself into her seat, gripping the armrests for support.

“Now, about leadership,” John continued, his false grin spread wide across his face as he addressed the room, “You all seem to think this is some sort of Democracy.” He began slowly walking around the table, behind the chairs of every Elite. Several chairs creaked as everyone was on guard, moving to keep John in their sights. “This,” he gestured to all around him, “is The Winchester Way.” he emphasized each word.

The doors burst open as several members of the extended Campbell family entered the room, rifles and blades in hand. As they entered, everyone was on their feet. Before they could react, the Campbell clan attacked. Ellen and Linda were knocked out by blows to the chin, Jo and Kevin being snatch up and held as they screamed their protests. John laughed maniacally as the Campbells subdued the other families quickly and easily.

The laughter and confusion stopped as several long, dark clouds of smoke swam about the room. John’s face grew grim in realization as he saw Crowley emerge from the doorway.

“Crowley!” John scowled, rushing towards the demon, pushing others out of his way. Just as he reached him, Crowley flicked his wrist. John fell to knees before Crowley, his arms extended out as he screamed in pain from the twisting of his insides.

“Did you miss me?” Crowley whispered to John. “You’re no match for the King of Hell!” Crowley spat.

“You’re not my King!” John ground out through clenched teeth.

“And yet, you’re on your knees.” Crowley crooned as he stepped around John and walked to Samuel. “Excellent work, Campbell.” Samuel bowed his head, a fist across his chest.

“My King.” He stated with reverence.

“Yes, you’ll be a fine leader.” Crowley smirked, Samuel mimicking his actions as he stood and dropped his arm.

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#sofreddie #the winchester way #tww #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #reader insert #spn #spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #fan fiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #angst #dark!fic #heed the warnings

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hannahindie · 7 years ago

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At the End of All Things : Chapter 5

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Sam Winchester, Cas, Bobby (brief), Ellen (mentioned), Ash (brief), Garth (brief), Amelia (mentioned), Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Aaron, Sasha Williams (brief), Tara Chambler (brief), Michonne (brief) Word Count: 3,802 Warnings: Zombie violence, some language, all the tension, and almost more characters than there is word count. Also Amelia. Because who really likes her? No one. A/N: This is part 5 to my SPN/TWD AU. It’s been awhile since the last update, so if you’d like to catch up, can do so from my Master List HERE.

Beta’d by the ever wonderful @wheresthekillswitch: “I fully support Dean's hesitation.” Thank you for helping me keep The Walking Dead characters as true as the Supernatural ones.

And my beautiful waterbear, @trexrambling: “I'm a bit tense right now. I blame you.” Sorry about that, pretty lady. ;) Thanks for helping me grammar and stuff.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

The end of the world comes with its complications. Normal, everyday problems become impossible to navigate, common injuries become life threatening, and trusting people is even less commonplace than before the world went to shit. Unfortunately, Dean will have to make decisions based upon the world’s new rules. Decisions that will determine the fate of everyone in his group.

Dean held his hand up, silently stopping the group that had been following him through the woods. Up until this point they had been sticking to the road, but when Garth and Ash had gone ahead to scout the area they had returned with expressions that Dean didn't need an explanation for. A large herd of walkers were blocking their path, and the only way they'd be able to keep going in the direction they wanted was if they went off road. Ash had mentioned that not even that would guarantee safe passage. He and Garth were unable to see the far edges of the herd, but at this point it was the only option they had.

But then Dean heard the snapping of twigs, followed by a larger crash, and his heart stopped. He glanced at Cas, who frowned and shook his head, and Dean motioned for everyone to get down. Jo fell into his side as they knelt, and she covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her cry of pain. Dean helped her sit down and, as quietly as he could, pulled back the makeshift bandage he had wrapped around her calf. The wound had become an angry red and was warm to the touch.

“We need to stop,” Dean whispered to Sam, who had passed the rest of the line to see what the hold up was.

“Dean, we can’t stop. We’re too close to that herd, we’ve got to find a place to hide,” Jo hissed, her eyes narrowed in pain as Sam gently ran his fingers over her swollen skin.

Dean shook his head, “Jo-”

“No,” she interrupted, “I can keep going. We have to keep going.”

Dean looked at Sam pleadingly, as if he thought his brother intervening would help change Jo’s mind. Sam glanced at Jo, who frowned at him, then back to his brother. “I have some pain medicine in my bag… We’re out of penicillin, but maybe that will help until we find somewhere to go.” He slipped his backpack off and shuffled through the contents before finally pulling out a worn pill container and a bottle of water. He handed them to Jo, then settled back on his haunches while he waited for her to take them. Dean opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Cas.

“Dean, we have a problem.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have quite a few problems.”

Cas narrowed his eyes, “We’ve got a slightly more pressing problem. The herd has broken up, but there is a significant portion heading this way. I can't tell how far they are. If we were at home and at full power, it would be fine, but this…” he looked over at Jo, “...we don’t have the strength or numbers.”

Jo sighed, “You guys go on, I don’t want to hold you back-”

“No,” Dean growled, his eyes flicking toward Amelia, “I am not leaving you behind. None of us are. We can take care of it, we’ve handled worse.”

“Dean, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Cas said quietly, his eyes down as he tried to avoid looking at his best friend.

Dean jerked around to look at Cas, rage etched into his face, “Are you suggesting we leave Jo behind? Because that’s absolute bullshit, and I am not leaving my wife and unborn child.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Dean. We can’t stay here, Jo can’t run. My grace is nearly nonexistent, but perhaps I can carry her. I may not be able to heal her, but I can do that. Please, Dean. We have to move.”

Dean looked at Jo, silently asking her approval, and she nodded. “Okay, fine. Just...be careful. I'll watch your back.” Just as Cas picked Jo up, Ash hurried back from scouting, his chest heaving as he gulped in as much oxygen as he could get. Dean put a hand out to steady him, “What’s wrong?”

“There's...aw hell...there's a big group of those sonsabitches headin’ this way. Whatever plan ya’ll cooked up ain't gonna amount to shit. Garth might have better news, but...I think we’re gonna have to fight our way out of this one.”

Dean sighed. Despite his earlier claim of being able to win, the look on Ash’s face had given him some doubt. The sound of a twig snapping made him jerk around, his pistol aimed at the source of the sound. Garth was holding his hands up, a sheepish smiled plastered on his face.

“Dammit, Garth, I could have shot you. What's it look like in that direction?” Dean asked as he lowered his gun.

“Not great. It looks like they're circling back this way. If they don't have us surrounded, I'd be surprised. It's a smaller group than before, but...I don't know, Dean. If we were home…” Garth trailed off as Dean’s glare seemed to pierce through him.

“Well, we aren't home, so we have to work with what we've got. Thinking about home isn't going to help a damn thing.” He dropped his head and closed his eyes as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was soft but urgent.

“What?” Dean snapped, immediately regretting it when he saw Sam’s face.

“They're coming.” Sam motioned to the rest of the group and, without speaking, they shifted to form a circle around Cas and Jo. “Stay in the circle, use your machetes, knives, anything but guns. Stay as quiet as you can for as long as you can.”

Dean stood close to Cas and Jo, his eyes shifting around the woods as the low groans and loud shuffling of the undead came closer and closer. Dean had holstered his gun in favor of the machete he kept at his side, and he gripped it tightly as the first of the walkers came into view.

“C’mon, you nasty son of a bitch…”

As soon as the closest walker approached him, he struck it in the skull, pulling the blade out with a sickening pop as it fell to the ground. The group moved like clockwork; as walkers approached they struck out, immediately moving back to the shifting circle before they could get separated. It seemed to be a never ending stream of death, and the stream was getting bigger and more difficult to attack.

“Dean, there are too many, we can’t keep doing this!” Sam shouted over the sounds of grunting and weapons clashing against bone. “We’ve gotta run!”

Dean swiftly cut off the head of one walker, then immediately had to pull his arm out of the grasp of another just as Ash nailed it in the head with his hammer. “Sam, we can’t run, there’s nowhere to go! We can do this, we just have to keep going.”

A scream erupted from the far side of the group, and Dean turned to see Amelia fighting with a walker, her weapon forgotten on the ground. She turned and locked eyes with him, and they stared at each other for what seemed like eternity as Dean wrestled with the thought of just letting it happen, his anger and frustration from the incident at the river overtaking his need to save everyone. Before he could even make a decision, Bobby swooped in, the matching machete to Dean’s splitting the walker’s head easily. Amelia shook her arm free as the creature fell to the ground, then glared at Dean as she bent to retrieve her knife. Bobby caught Dean’s gaze, and Dean shook his head, turning back to the task at hand.

Just as Dean turned, he felt something wrap around his throat, something strong and rancid. He gasped as his air was cut off, and he managed to turn his head enough to come face to face with the corpse that was trying to bite into his cheek. He dropped his machete and pushed as hard as he could, but his vision was beginning to go black around the edges. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion; he heard Jo yell his name, and out of the corner of his eye, could see Sam grappling with his own monster. He saw Cas struggling to keep his hold on Jo, his cerulean eyes full of fear and panic as she fought against his grip. His heart ached at the thought of never getting to hold his child, and he regretted letting Jo tag along after all. His mind went back to the morning before, the moment that he woke to see Jo in the warm morning light, her soft blonde hair draped over her bare shoulders in waves, the swell of her stomach as she pressed against him. The perfect morning.

The shouts, groans, and the sounds of metal separating flesh and bone were deafening, and Dean had the sudden realization that this was truly the end. It didn’t matter what he did, it didn’t matter that they had saved the world from one apocalypse only to be thrown into another one… In the end, this was how their lives were meant to end. Bloody. Painful. Messy.

Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. Dean vaguely heard the light twang of a bow releasing, and the hand that had been at this throat slid away. Swiftly, Sam was at his side, breathing heavily as he attempted to keep Dean on his feet. As his vision returned, he looked around and saw that alongside Bobby and Ellen, Garth and Ash...two men had appeared. The small pocket of walkers that remained were quickly destroyed, and a heavy silence descended upon the group.

“Dean, are you okay? Did it bite you?” Sam started looking at Dean’s throat, trying to find what kind of damage had been done.

“I’m fine,” Dean mumbled as he pulled away and moved to grab his machete from where it lay at his feet.

“Don’t pick that up. As a matter of fact, all of ya can drop your weapons.” Dean looked up to see the two men facing them, the dark haired one that had saved him now training his crossbow on Dean.

“What? Are you serious?” Dean was confused; why would this man save him just to hold them all hostage? “We’ve got you outnumbered, why should I listen to you? Why should any of us do what you say?”

“We ain’t outnumbered. So don’t fuckin’ pick it up,” the man growled.The archer’s companion put a hand on his arm.

“Daryl, that’s enough.” The curly haired man slid his knife into the sheath hanging at his hip and held his hands up, “We aren’t here to hurt you. Daryl’s just a little...umm...cautious.”

“Sounds like the boy ain’t cautious, he’s just an ass,” Bobby mumbled, his arm tight around Ellen. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, especially when the grumpier one of the two strangers turned his glare on Bobby.

“Listen, my name is Aaron. Despite my friend's outward demeanor, he is actually quite nice. We’re from a camp in Alexandria called the Alexandria Safe Zone. You may have heard of it?” Dean shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. “We are looking for survivors, people that would fit in well in our town...our home. We saw that one of your women is hurt…” his eyes wandered to Jo, still cradled in Cas’ arms, and Dean practically growled. “We would like to help. In exchange for medicine, food and board, you could help us.”

“Why would we help you?” Dean scoffed. “We aren't looking for a place to stay, we have somewhere to be. So just...let us go, and we’ll let you off the hook.”

“Dean, we need their medicine,” Sam whispered as he leaned in close, his eyes on Daryl’s crossbow. “Jo needs their medicine.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Jo, at the thin sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead, and sighed. “Fine. What do you want from us?”

Daryl took a step forward, “How many walkers have you killed?”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“I said, how many walkers have you killed?” Daryl’s eyes shifted around the group before resting back on Dean.

“Including today? Over a hundred, and that's a low estimate.”

“How many people have you killed?” This time, Daryl’s eyes stayed trained on Dean.

Dean glanced at Sam, then back to Daryl, “Ten.” His answer was low, so quiet that Daryl almost didn't hear him.

“Why?”

Why? ...That was a good question. Back in the day, he and Sam killed monsters, not people. They'd come across some pretty terrible humans in their time hunting, and a few times Dean had wanted to kill them, but they never did. Then the world ended and the monsters became less obvious. Dean had always been protective of his family, but it had hit a totally different level after they were attacked and Jo was threatened. It was then that Dean realized just how far he would go. He had thought he'd known, but the realization that he'd go further had scared him.

“To protect my family from monsters.”

Aaron smiled, “Great, those are the kind of answers we’re looking for. Right, Daryl?” Daryl grunted and lowered his crossbow. “Follow us.”

Cas handed Jo over to Dean, and the group followed Aaron and Daryl in silence. Jo’s head dropped against his shoulder, and Dean worried that they would still be too late. He looked to his left to see Sam walking next to Amelia, though they appeared to mostly be ignoring each other. Amelia caught him looking and glared, then looked forward again. Dean realized it was because he had very clearly chosen to let her die, and he knew he'd have to deal with it later, but at that moment it didn't matter.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the group emerged from the woods and began walking down a debris strewn street to a huge fence, one that put theirs to shame. Several burned out buildings surrounded the entrance, and Dean could see people standing along the top of the fence as if on watch.

Aaron turned to look at them and smiled, “Welcome to Alexandria.”

The gate swung open, and Daryl motioned them through with his crossbow. Dean’s eyes roved over the sharpened stakes that formed a tunnel outside of the gate and finally landed on the small group standing just inside the wall. Aaron walked ahead of them and stopped in front the man that seemed to be in charge, his face void of any initial emotion as he carefully watched the new arrivals trudge to a halt while Aaron quietly explained the situation. Dean’s heart sped up as he heard the gate groan, its hinges complaining loudly as they swung shut. It was too late to turn back now.

“Dean, you can put me down. I can stand,” Jo whispered, her voice strained. Dean looked down at her and doubted the honesty in her statement, but did as she asked. Though she clung tightly to him, she remained upright, her free arm wrapped protectively around her waist. The silence was thick as the two groups stared at each other, and Dean’s eyes widened as even more people began to appear on porches and sat on curbs. He thought their little community was big considering the circumstances; he had been wrong. The man Aaron had been talking to moved towards Dean, his hand resting gently on the pistol strapped to his side.

“Aaron here tells me ya’ll were in a bit of a tight spot back there. Everyone okay?” The man tilted his head slightly as he looked around the group, and Dean wondered if he truly cared or just wanted to make sure no one had been bitten.

“We’re fine.” He watched the man’s eyes drift to Jo’s leg, then back to Dean’s face.

“Sure about that?” The man’s piercing blue eyes locked with Dean’s, narrowing as he tried to read Dean’s expression.

“It’s not a bite, if that’s what you’re wondering. She fell as we tried to cross a collapsed bridge, cut it on a piece of exposed rebar. It’s….it’s infected. We ran out of penicillin.”

Rick gives a short nod, “Michonne, Tara,” he called over his shoulder, “can you take…” -he pointed towards Jo with his chin- “...to Denise?”

Two women walked forward, and the younger one grasped Jo’s arm. Dean tightened his grip, and Jo looked at him, a mixture of fear and exhaustion on her face.

The one holding Jo’s arm offered a smile, “I’m Tara,” she spoke softly. “It’s okay, we have an infirmary.” She shifted her gaze to Dean, “I promise, we’re going to take care of her, okay?”

She began to lead Jo away, and Dean tried to follow, only stopping when the tired looking leader put his hand out and gently pushed against Dean’s chest. Dean released Jo’s arm, but turned his attention back to the older man, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his side. Before he could react, the man removed his hand from Dean’s chest and rested it back on the butt of his pistol. In the distance, Tara and Michonne slowly led Jo down the street, each of them holding an arm to help support her weight.

“She’ll be fine, Dean. I believe these people mean well,” Cas whispered, suddenly by his side. “Listen to what he has to say.”

Dean took a step back, “Fine.”

“My name’s Rick. I understand why you’re upset, but we need to come to an...an understanding. This is our home, and I need to make sure that my family is safe. I hope you can relate to that.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Dean to respond. When Dean remained silent, the corner of Rick’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “Yea, I figured as much.” He took a couple of steps closer to Dean, “I’ve got a couple of questions for ya, and then we can move on.”

“I already answered his questions,” Dean growled as he nodded in Daryl’s direction.

“Yea, well,” Rick smiled and looked around at his group of people, “these are my questions. You answer them, I can let you go get cleaned up, get some food in you. We’ve got a house we can set you up in, but you gotta cooperate some. What’s your name?”

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Good. Alright now, Dean, how many walkers have you killed?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I already told Hawkeye over there. I don’t see why this matters-”

“I said...how many walkers have you killed?” Rick interrupted, the friendly smirk on his face dissolving.

Dean heard Cas clear his throat, Dean’s sign to quit being a smartass. “At least a hundred, give or take. We’ve been lucky, our own community doesn’t get overrun very often,” he offered, hoping that the sharp edge in his tone had smoothed some.

“How many people?”

Dean could feel Rick’s gaze boring into him as he waited for the answer. Dean dropped his head, his eyes on his feet. This was a number Dean wished he didn’t remember, but every single one was burned into his memory. “Ten,” he whispered, only loud enough for Rick, who was standing the closest, to hear.

“Why?”

Dean looked back up and locked eyes with Rick, “To protect my family.”

Rick’s small smile returned and he held his hand out, “That’s something that we can both agree on. Welcome to Alexandria, Winchester.” Dean glanced over Rick’s shoulder in time to see a teenage boy wearing a sheriff's hat step out onto the porch closest to them, a toddler in his arms. He looked back at Rick, and Rick raised an eyebrow, “You can see why I was tryin’ to be careful.”

Dean looked at Rick’s outstretched hand, then finally grasped it tightly, “Yea, I guess so.”

“Alright, well, let’s see about getting you settled in. I figure we’ll need to talk, but that can wait. Sasha’s going to show you the house you can stay in tonight. Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me.” They started walking down the street, and Rick stopped at his porch. “Let me know if you need anything.” He took the toddler from the boy and they both walked into the house.

“See, Dean, I told you. They mean well.” Cas was looking around, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle when Cas winked at a woman passing by, who blushed and hurried away.

“Dude, keep it in your pants. This isn’t the time.”

Cas grinned, “It’s always the time, Dean. It’s the end of the world, we might not get a tomorrow.” His voice lowered, “We almost didn’t.”

Dean’s laughter dissolved, “Yea. That was too close.” It had been too close; the incident on the bridge, getting surrounded. Dean was beginning to wonder if their mission was a foolish one, doomed from the start. His eyes darted back and forth as he looked for where they may have taken Jo. “I wonder where the infirmary is.”

Sasha looked over her shoulder at Dean, “It’s just over there, to your left. You can go on, they won’t mind. The house you’re staying in is just down the street.” She pointed towards a two story, red brick building with a wrap around porch, “It should be enough room for all of you.”

“Keep an eye out, would ya, Cas? I’m going to check on Jo.” Cas nodded, and Dean bounded up the steps into the house Sasha had pointed out as the infirmary.

“Where’s he going?” Cas looked over to find Sam had caught up to him.

“That’s the infirmary, he wanted to check on Jo.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Sam, his brow furrowed, “What’s wrong with you?”

Sam shook his head, “Nothing, why?”

Cas frowned, “Something seems off. I feel like something is about to happen-”

“Sam?”

Cas was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice, but judging by the look on Sam’s face, it wasn’t a stranger. Sam’s eyes widened, and Cas could sense the change in his demeanor. Whoever it was clearly had been a significant part of Sam’s life, as well as Dean’s.

“Who is that?” Cas asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Instead of answering Cas, Sam turned towards the source of the voice, “Y/N?”

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#supernatural fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #SPN au #walking dead AU #spn/twd au #dean winchester #sam winchester #jo harvelle #bobby singer #ellen harvelle #amelia #garth #ash #rick grimes #daryl dixon #sasha williams #tara chambler #michonne

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years ago

Text

No Exit- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,006

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual,

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The faster you figure out and deal with this demon shit, the fast you will be happy. You had no idea when you were going to kill him or even how, since the Colt is gone and you have no way of tracking it down.

You were running out of options and you didn’t know what to do anymore. Your mom was gone and John was gone. You haven’t spoken to your dad in weeks and you were beginning to think that there wasn’t going to be an end to any of this.

There were nights where you caught yourself thinking that you shouldn’t even be alive since that is what the demon wanted. You weren’t supposed to have this power. You didn’t even know how you got it in the first place. You didn’t have any kind of answer and you wished that you knew someone who did.

Working with the Harvelle’s was a huge help since Ash seemed to know a lot more than you do and have been very helpful these last couple of days. They offered you a place to stay and you’ve been more than grateful. You helped around the bar, always doing little chores to make this easier on Ellen and Jo.

Sam, of course, helped too but Dean would just use their alcohol. There wasn’t a major problem with this but he was reluctant to have them on board with this whole demon thing. It wasn’t their family that he was targeting. But you could use all the help you could get.

“We should go to Los Angeles.” Dean said as he pulled up to the Roadhouse.

“Why? What’s there?” You asked, getting out of the car. It was the beginning of November which meant cold days and even colder nights. Growing up in Kansas made you used to the cold weather so 50 degrees was nothing to you. It even got to 28 degrees in the night.

“I may or may not have found a case.” Dean said, getting out with his brother.

“Yeah? You got a name?” Sam asked, wondering when Dean found the time to search for case.

“Katie Holmes.” Dean smirked. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. You weren’t jealous at all but of course Dean would think she was hot. Katie Holmes was no Ruby Rose, that’s for sure.

“So, in other words, he found nothing.” You teased, smirking at Dean.

“Hey, not my fault she exists.” Dean shrugged.

“Sure, say things like that in front of your girlfriend. That will get you laid.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Eh, you’ll do for now.” Dean shrugged, teasing you. You narrowed your eyes playfully and was about to come up with a witty comeback when you heard yelling and screaming come from inside the roadhouse. You looked at the boys before walking inside and looking up to see Jo and her mother on the second floor of the bar, yelling at each other.

“I am your mother! I don't have to be reasonable!”

“You can’t keep me here!” Jo yelled back.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, sweetie.” Ellen said in a cold voice. You had no idea what they were yelling about but you knew it wasn’t good. For the time, you were staying here, Jo and her mother have been short with each other lately and you could only guess what this was about.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to chain me up in the basement?” Jo challenged her mother.

“You know what? You’ve had worse ideas. If you want to leave so badly, then you’re more than welcome to go back to school!”

“I didn’t belong there. I was the freak that had a knife collection, mom.” Jo complained.

“And getting killed on a back road is where you belong?” Ellen scoffed. She turned and spotted you before you had a chance to hide. “Bad time, guys.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Sam said immediately, nodding.

“No, Ellen, what were you fighting about?” You asked, walking further into the bar.

“Y/N, I don’t think you should be butting into this.” Sam said, ready to get the hell out of there.

“Y/N, sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to help but no thanks.” Ellen said, walking down the stairs with Jo fresh on her tail.

“No, mom, I want her opinion. She seems to understand how I’m feeling since no one else does.” Jo said, walking over to you.

“What’s going on?” You asked, looking at Jo.

“Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment. She wasn’t the first one either. Apparently, 6 women disappeared over the course of 80 years. Now, the cops didn’t put two and two together because they happen only every few decades. Now, I concluded that we’re either dealing with a very old serial killer or a spirt.” Jo explained, handing you a manila envelope with all the information about the case.

“Who put this together? Ash?” Dean asked, looking at Jo before at Ellen.

“No, I did it myself.” Jo said, crossing her arms.

“Really? Good for you, Jo. That’s awesome.” You smiled at her, impressed. She was younger than you but that didn’t matter. Age didn’t matter when you were a hunter. It was about how skilled you were and from what you’ve seen, she was skilled.

“Thanks, Y/N.” She smiled, relaxing a bit.

“Don’t encourage her, Y/N. Dean, Sam, if you’re interested in this case then it’s yours.” Ellen said, crossing her arms.

“Mom!” Jo yelled, glaring at her mother.

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you too. I just won't.” Ellen said, ending the conversation. Jo looked like she was ready to cry or attack. You handed Dean the manila folder and looked at Sam.

“Get the car ready. We’ll check it out.” Dean nodded and took the folder, walking out of the bar.

“Y/N…” Jo said, a bit hurt you would do this.

“Hey. You’re a hunter okay? I don’t care how old you are. Hell, I was a hunter at 8 years old. We’ll leave and meet us there. I’m sure you can do that, okay?” You whispered to her so that her mother wouldn’t hear you. It wasn’t fair to Jo that she was being treated like this. She smiled and nodded, happy for the time being.

You smiled back at her and left her alone to figure out how she was going to get out the Roadhouse.

It took nearly a day to make the drive from Nebraska all the way to Philadelphia. That should have given Jo more than enough time to figure out a plan to get to where you were going.

We’re here. We’re inside. I didn’t see the landlord so if you do, think of something quick.

That was your last text to Jo and you haven’t heard from her since. That was about a couple of hours ago but you weren’t too worried. She was a smart girl.

“I feel kind of bad for staling Jo’s case.” Sam said when he entered the apartment. You looked around and nothing didn’t particularly stand out to you. But looks can be deceiving.

“Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so.” Dean said, pulling out his EMF meter.

“Wait, Dean, you don’t think she’s capable?” You asked, walking in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something else. Dean sighed and looked at his brother for help but Sam left Dean to fend for himself.

“That’s not what I meant.” Dean said, looking back at you.

“Just because you don’t know her doesn’t mean you don’t know what she’s capable of.” You defended your first real friend.

“Oh, and you do?” Dean asked, stepping closer to you.

“Guys, stop it and check this out.” You stared at Dean for a moment longer before walking past him and to his brother.

“What is that?” You asked, seeing him touch some black goo that was oozing from the light switch.

“Holy crap.” Sam muttered. You reached out and touched the substance, examining it yourself.

“Wait, this is ectoplasm.” You said, looking at Sam before looking at Dean.

“Oh, I think I know what we’re dealing with,” Dean said, catching Sam’s and your attention. “It's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man.”

“Dean, can you stop acting like a child for once?” You said, scoffing and rolling your eyes. You didn’t miss the look he gave you but decided to ignore it for the time being.

“Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit.” Sam informed.

“Alright, let’s find this badass before he takes anyone else.” Dean said, putting his EMF away.

“He goes for dirty blondes, right?” You asked, following behind the boys.

“What? If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, it’s out of the question.” Dean said, not even looking back.

“Oh and what, you’re my dad who can tell me what to do?” You said, fed up with how Dean was behaving.

“Guys, seriously, stop.” Sam said, turning a corner.

“I’m just saying. I may have dyed hair but a blonde is a blonde.” You said, stopping when you heard voices. Sam and Dean immediately hid but you knew who that was.

“Y/N, sweetheart, hide.” Dean tried grabbing for you but you moved away from him. You smiled when you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair.

“It is so spacious. You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.” Jo said, locking eyes with you.

“Jo! It’s so good to see you!” You smiled widely and walked over to her and the landlord.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean said, stepping into view with Sam.

“This is my best friend, Y/N and her boyfriend Dean with his brother Sam. Y/N was that friend I was telling you about. I just think it’s time to move out with your best friend, right?” Jo said to the landlord and he nodded.

“Of course.” He said with a nod.

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent?” Jo asked you with a smile.

“Yeah, we loved it.” You smiled right back at her. You were glad she was here with you.

“How did you guys get in?” The landlord asked and that is when Sam and Dean decided to step up.

“It was open.” Dean said, narrowing his eyes at you. You looked at him straight in the eyes and raised one of your eyebrows, daring him to say something to you. Ever since you let in Ellen and Jo into your lives and decided to let them help with this demon thing, Dean’s been acting like an ass. Like he owned all of you, controlling your every move.

You knew he didn’t like Jo hunting but fuck him if you were going to keep her from this. She was only 21 years old but you knew she knew what she was doing.

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?” Jo asked the landlord.

“Oh, about a month ago. It was unexpectedly, honestly. She left me with the rent.” Ed complained a bit.

“Well, her loss, our gain,” She put an arm around your shoulders and smiled at you. “If she loves it, it’s good enough for me.”

“Great.” Dean nodded, scoffing. Sam was being smart, keeping quiet.

“We’ll take it.” Jo pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to Ed who took it happily, tucking it into his pocket.

“I’ll get the paperwork. Just make yourself at home.” Ed smiled, walking away from the group. You turned to Dean who was seething. Oh, this was going to be interesting.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog@inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing@supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967 @essie1876@wishedworld @justanotherdeangirl @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja@deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi@tahbehonest @stay-in–place @dreaminofdean @posiemax@donnaintx

Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-applepie-imagines @tahbehonest @carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @spn-applepie-imagines @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin

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imagineteamfreewill · 7 years ago

Text

Exposed

Title: Exposed

Pairing: Reader x Model!Sam

Word Count: 3,763

Warnings: Fluff, public apologies, fist-fight

Beta: @jpadjackles

Summary: You’re an art student who accidentally meets the world-renowned model, Sam Winchester. When he wants to meet up with you, you accept, not knowing that your decision would throw you into the spotlight. And fame can be a cruel thing, especially when it comes to love.

A/N: This is part seven of the Fame series! Please, please, please know what you think! It’ll make my day, I promise.

Fame Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

_______________

It was only a day before the news of Sam leaving Harvelle Agency was everywhere. Because of that, however, he was no longer working the same shoots that Becky was. It clearly threw a wrench in her plans to get with him, and you had no doubt that the model would be pissed.

Since he’d left the agency, Sam had taken up the habit of picking you up after your classes and bringing you back to his apartment to work on your plan to expose Becky’s nefarious actions. Most of the time Steph came to monitor the work since you and Sam got distracted easily—especially since he tended to go shirtless in his home. More than once she'd walked in on the two of you doing more kissing than working.

“So you think she'll take the bait? She's really going to go to this event just because I'm there?” Sam asked. His thumb was rubbing circles on your hip bone, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you stood looking over the papers scattered on his dining room table. You nodded, glancing up at him.

“She will. If I know anything about her—which I had better, considering I did all that research on her—she'll be there. She would do anything to get with you again, Sam,” you replied. You wrinkled your nose in distaste, just the thought of your boyfriend spending time with that dirty rat again making your stomach flip. Sam leaned down and pecked your lips once, then nodded.

“Okay. I trust you. And you’re sure this will work? She won’t be able to cover it up with another lie?” Sam questioned, doubt filling his eyes.

“I’m positive. She won’t be able to get out of this one. Now come on, Mister Supermodel. Time to go make yourself look pretty,” you teased. Sam grinned wide.

“You mean you don’t think I’m pretty already?” He pouted, pink lips pursed in mock sadness. You laughed and smacked his shoulder, pulling out of his grasp.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Of course I think you’re pretty!” you laughed. Sam kissed your cheek, the scruff from his still-forming beard scratching the delicate skin on your face before you could push him away. “Go shave!” you shouted after him as he walked to his room. Sam only laughed, leaving you to go over the details of your plan one last time before going to put on your dress.

Becky’s face stared up at you from the picture on the table and you flipped it over with a scowl. You’d see enough of her tonight. After another moment to calm yourself, you left the kitchen to get ready for the awards show, a small smile tugging up the corner of your lips when you thought of the look on her face after Sam’s speech.

_______________

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N! You look amazing!” Garth cried, pulling you into a tight hug. You smiled wide and hugged the driver back just as tightly. Sam cleared his throat and his chauffeur immediately stepped away from you. “Of course, tonight I’m the driver. Not a friend,” he added with a wink. You suppressed a giggle and slid into the backseat of the black SUV, Sam following your lead. Garth shut the door and for a brief moment, you sat in the silence with Sam. Reaching over the seat, he took your hand in his and squeezed gently. You glanced over to see him looking at you, pure adoration on his face.

“What?” you asked, blushing.

“Nothing, I… I’m just so glad you forgave me, even if it was a setup,” he replied. You brought Sam’s hand up to your lips, kissing it gently so you wouldn’t smear your lipstick.

“I’m glad I forgave you too, Sam. I’d have to be pretty dumb not to.”

Garth got into the driver’s seat just as Sam leaned over to kiss you, causing him to pull away clumsily before his lips had even brushed against yours. Garth had set a rule after only a few drives with the two of you, and now no kissing was allowed in the backseat. You’d complied with his wishes… for the most part.

“Everyone ready?” he asked from the front. Both you and Sam nodded, Sam adding another small squeezed to your hand. The car lurched into action and Garth pulled out of Sam’s apartment driveway onto the street.

The awards show wasn’t very far away, and it only took a half hour to get there. In that time you and Sam reviewed the plan. He was scheduled to announce an award winner during the ceremony, which had been publicized ahead of time. There was no doubt Becky hadn’t heard about it, and Sam had told you that getting a ticket was well within the reach of his former agency. It would be a piece of cake for her to attend.

Sam had gotten permission ahead of time to make a small, apologetic speech regarding the recent news about him, you, and Becky. The two of you had drafted the speech together, carefully crafting it along with a handy photo presentation that you’d managed to get to the people in charge of the screens at the ceremony. One of your friends from high school was the new director of technology at the theatre. It had only taken you a small bribe and a few nostalgia-filled dinners to get him to agree to show the photos. He didn’t know the full extent of the damage they would cause, but you knew that after Sam’s speech nobody would be focused on the supposed slip up the director had made. They’d all be enraptured on the tangled mess that Becky had gotten herself into because of her lies.

Garth parked alongside the carpet, and even from inside the car you could hear the reporters clamoring for the many stars to answer their questions or smile for a photo. Sam kept your hand gripped tightly in his.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded and flashed him a confident smile. It had been awhile since your first carpet walk with Sam, but you told yourself that this time you were going in prepared, and you had something to focus on during the long walk. Nevertheless, the moment Garth opened the door you felt nervousness clench in your stomach and you froze. Sam was holding out his hand to help you down and you looked at him, terrified.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I got you. We’re okay,” Sam said, his voice somehow reaching you over the commotion of the press. Slowly, you slipped your hand into his once again and let him help you out onto the ground.

He kept your hand in his, fingers laced together, as the various press agents scattered along the carpet led you from position to position. At each spot, you smiled shakily for the cameras. Their flashes blinded you, but you focused on the feel of Sam’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you when your senses dimmed from the noise and the lights. You could feel his fingers brush the skin revealed by the cutouts on your dress, and you looked up at him. Your smile turned genuine when you caught him looking at you as well.

“You okay?” Sam asked. You nodded and giggled a little.

“I think this would be more fun if I could see your face better. Right now you’ve got white flashes all over your face,” you laughed. Sam shook his head, lips pulled wide in an amused smile. He leaned down so he was closer; the tip of his nose touched yours, his breath brushing over your tinted lips.

“Can you see me now?” he asked. You shook your head coyly.

“Not yet. You’ll have to get a bit closer, Winchester. Those flashes are bright,” you replied. Sam grinned wider and finally pressed his lips to yours, his smile only diminishing so he could give you a proper kiss. If you hadn’t been holding onto him you would’ve fallen down when your knees buckled. Your legs felt like jelly and you weren’t sure if was from the kiss itself, or if you’d lost feeling because of the heels you’d been forced to wear. You hadn’t known that awards ceremonies could have a dress code, but apparently, they did. Either way, your stability was shot.

The two of you were pulled from the bubble of your moment together by the appreciative cheering and hollering of the press, and you blushed. You held onto Sam, hiding shyly in his embrace. He laughed softly and kissed the top of your head.

“You gonna be alright for a few more pictures? Don’t your feet hurt?” he asked, his voice low in your ear.

“My feet hurt like hell, Sam, but I’d walk in these things for hours for you,” you replied. Sam’s face broke wide with another grin and you smiled back, pleased with his reaction. A moment later he let you go, turning his back on you. Confused, you watched as he bent slightly, then looked over his shoulder.

“Come on. I’ll give you a piggyback ride,” he grinned. You laughed and shook your head.

“No way! There’s no way that’s allowed!” You glanced over at the photographers, who were eating this up, and then at the press agents. The agents weren’t paying you any attention as you looked back at Sam, who smiled and nodded in encouragement. After a second you gave up and climbed onto Sam’s back. He held onto you tightly and straightened, then smiled wide at the photographers. You grinned and kissed his cheek.

“They’re gonna think you’re crazy, Sam Winchester!”

“I am crazy, crazy about you!” he crooned. You laughed and smacked one of his shoulders, rolling your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

________________

All around you were celebrities, and you were struggling to restrain yourself from asking each and every one of them to take a picture with you. They all chatted with each other during the ceremony breaks like old friends. Every once and awhile one would catch your eye and smile politely, but for the most part, they left you alone.

Sighing, you sat back in your seat. When the awards were televised, you didn’t realize that commercial breaks were only a thing so that the celebrities at the ceremony could get up and stretch their legs. If the breaks had seemed long at home, they were even longer now. You glanced at your phone to see if Sam had texted you from backstage. There was no service in the auditorium, however, and you groaned quietly.

You almost cheered when the lights dimmed for the next award, and you watched as the cameras got into position. The announcer’s booming voice came once again over the elaborate sound system in the theatre, causing you to jump.

“And now, announcing the winner of Photographer of the Year, Samuel Winchester!” Applause came from all around the auditorium and you couldn’t help but smile wide when Sam stepped out onto the stage. He looked absolutely stunning in his gray jacket and navy shirt—you’d practically swooned when he stepped out of the bedroom earlier that evening.

You knew that Sam wasn’t the best in front of crowds, considering he did most of his work posing in photo shoots and not making speeches, so you hoped that despite the bright lights and cameras shining in his face he would still be able to see you. You’d made sure to point out where you were sitting in relation to the stage before Sam had gone backstage to prepare, and you noticed that his eyes kept flicking over to your section as he made his way to the microphone. There was a smile pasted on his face the whole walk to the microphone, but he soon grew serious.

“Before I announce the winner of this fantastic award, I’d like to publicly apologize for the inappropriate things that have been circling in the media both about myself and my girlfriend Y/N lately,” Sam began. “Those things are trivial compared to what a lot of people around the world face on a daily basis and our relationship disputes should be kept to ourselves. However, I would like to point out that there was another party involved with this.” The first picture of you and Sam making out flashed up on the large display screens behind him, and you immediately flushed, sinking down in your seat. Murmurs and whispers erupted throughout the auditorium, and suddenly thousands of eyes were watching you. A few of the cameras focused on you as well and you silently willed Sam to continue.

“Y/N and I had no knowledge of this photograph being taken of us, and I can promise you that the effect it had both on my career and my girlfriend’s life was intentional. The person who took this picture knew exactly what they were doing. But they did a lot more than just publish this photo. They also stepped into my personal life,” Sam said. The next picture showed up on the screens and you heard several gasps from the road behind you. Becky’s face was clear in the photo. The model-slash-paparazzi was hiding behind a car, her camera angled at you and Sam as you jogged down the opposite side of the street as her. Anyone who knew anything about modeling could tell that this wasn’t just a model doing a shoot with her friends; it was clear that you and Sam didn’t know Becky was there.

The image changed again and this time it was a picture of Becky at a coffee shop, sitting across from a man whose distinguishable face would not go unnoticed. The curly haired man was well-known for his incredible influence via his magazines and tabloids. He was reaching across the table for Becky’s camera, and in the next picture he was looking through it with a smile. Becky wore a smug smile of her own.

“Becky Rosen has been a model at Harvelle Agencies for a little less than two months, and in that time she’s not only managed to temporarily ruin my relationship, but my career as well. As you can see by these pictures, she has been showing and selling her photographs of myself and most definitely of others to Metatron Enterprises.

“It’s easy to see that Miss Rosen isn’t looking out for the other people in the modeling industry. As a whole, we should be working together. There will always be competition among us, but purposeful attempts to hurt someone’s career and personal life shouldn’t happen. I never intended to become involved with her. This entire scandal is due to Miss Rosen’s involvement with Metatron Enterprises, not because I’m willing to give up the person I love so easily,” he finished. The theatre was silent, the entire audience held enraptured my Sam’s words. In that brief moment, you sat up taller, a small smile curling up the corners of your lips. Sam’s years in law school had come in handy, that’s for sure. After a second Sam shrugged his shoulders, shifting from his more serious side to his goofier one. With a single smile from him, the whole atmosphere changed. People began to smile and relax all around you, and you could tell that Sam was more at ease as well.

“Now that all that’s been cleared up, I’d like to read off the nominees for Photographer of the Year,” Sam laughed. He read from the prompter in front of him now, and the image of Becky with Metatron faded from the screens to proudly display the nominees.

_______________

“That was quite an impressive… speech your boyfriend made today.” You looked up from your drink to find a pair of captivating eyes focused on you. You blinked, surprised.

“Excuse me?” you asked. The woman laughed, her flaming red curls bouncing as she tossed her head back.

“I said that Samuel’s speech was impressive,” she repeated. “I’m Rowena, you must be Y/N.” You nodded dumbly, shaking the woman’s lithe hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Sam’s?” you questioned, setting your drink down and gesturing for her to sit in the seat beside you at the bar. She accepted, sitting and gesturing for the shirtless bartender to bring her a drink. Whoever had planned the ceremony’s after party was certainly fond of shirtless men, as all the waiters and bartenders seemed to be lacking that particular item of clothing. All of them paled in comparison to Sam, however, and the thought made you smile to yourself.

“Not exactly. We haven’t spoken much, but I avidly follow his work. He’s quite an attractive lad,” Rowena smiled. You blushed and nodded in agreement. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I was surprised to hear Sam’s account of what happened between the two of you and that awful woman! She seemed so nice when I met her.”

“There’s more than meets the eye when it comes to a lot of people,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“So it seems,” she crooned, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. You shifted in your seat, somewhat unnerved by the woman’s mysterious attitude, but you soon pushed it aside when she began to talk about how her expectations for the award winners had panned out.

Rowena’s accent was pronounced, and the whole time she talked you tried to place it. Having no luck, you finally came right out and asked her, hoping you wouldn’t be considered impolite for having done so. Fortunately, the woman laughed it off and smiled warmly.

“I’m from Scotland, dear. I never quite lost the accent, but I like to think it’s come in handy. Most of my work has been television commercials, and that’s all because of it,” she told you.

“You do commercials?”

“Right now they have me promoting a new perfume,” Rowena said. “You might have heard the slogan before, it’s very popular. ‘I put a spell on you.’” Almost immediately you recognized the saying and you nodded eagerly. You were just about to relay as much when you felt a hand on your shoulder. The person pulled you off the stool you were seated on, using your lack of stability in your shoes to knock you to the ground. You looked up to see a furious Becky standing above you. One of her eyes twitched in anger and her fists were balled up at her sides.

“How dare you?” she shouted. The shock from your fall still rolled over you in waves and you blinked dumbly up at her. Becky’s shouting was beginning to draw attention, and celebrities watched avidly in a circle around the two of you.

“I—” you began to stammer.

“Don’t you dare say anything to me! Sam was mine and then you had to interfere! I worked too hard to have you ruin this for me! I’ve loved him since I was a kid!” she spat. “Stay out of my way, he’s mine! I loved him first!” Becky dropped to her knees, straddling your thighs. You squirmed to get away from her, terrified of the prospect of what she could do to you in her position. Fury burned in her eyes and her lips pressed together tightly as her jaw clenched in anger.

“Now, dearie, that isn’t any way to act,” Rowena interjected before you could say another word. Becky ignored her entirely and focused on you. Just as you opened your mouth to say something to the model who was practically in your lap, she was pulled off of you by two burly security guards in black shirts. They held her by the straps of her dress, easily keeping her away from you even though she thrashed wildly. Rowena helped you to your feet, then kindly brushed off the back of your dress for you while you watched the two men drag Becky away. She hurled insults at you the whole way out the door.

Taking a shaky breath, you downed the rest of your drink and gestured for the bartender to bring you another one. He nodded, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you alright?” Sam pushed through the crowd that was just beginning to disperse. He pulled you into his arms, crushing you against him. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to keep her away from you,” he apologized. You coughed and Sam let you go, his hazel eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“I’m fine, Sam, I’m okay,” you told him.

“She’s just a bit shaken up, Samuel. Come sit with us,” Rowena said, smiling. Sam exhaled in relief and nodded, taking the seat on the other side of yours. He glanced curiously at Rowena but didn’t say anything. You took your seat again, taking his hand under the bar and squeezing it reassuringly. The bartender brought your drink and you thanked him. The three of you drank in silence, listening to the dance music play over the speakers.

Rowena eventually left after a few more brief conversations about the awards, leaving you with her number and a promise of getting together within the week. Soon after, people began to filter out of the club to head off towards their next party. You and Sam opted to skip the rest of the parties and head home, telling yourselves that you’d deserved a long night of rest.

Garth dropped the two of you off at Sam’s apartment just after midnight and you dragged yourself up the stairs to his bedroom. You flopped down on the bed with a long groan.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Sam’s voice had an edge of panic to it and you reached an arm out towards him, your face still pressed against his pillow.

“M’tired,” your mumbled. Chuckling, Sam climbed into the bed beside you.

“C’mere, come lay with me,” he murmured. Wearily, you pushed yourself up on the mattress so you could rest your head on Sam’s chest. He began to run his fingers through your hair, humming soothingly. His chest rumbled as he did and soon you were fast asleep. Sam watched as your chest rose and fell evenly, your face innocent and smooth as you slept soundly in his arms. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. Both of you were still dressed to the nines when he fell asleep, and both of your heads were filled with dreams of a quiet life together—without Becky.

_______________

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whispersandwhiskerburn · 8 years ago

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Maybe, Someday

Summary: Dean gets a call in a crappy motel room from a drunk Jo. Slightly angsty with flirty drunk confessions ensue. Word Count: 1,135 (tiny for me, I know) Pairing: Dean x Jo Warnings: Bit of language, bit of angsty thoughts dealing with the job of hunting. It starts off angstyish, but it ends flirty, fluffy, slightly hopeful—kinda like any drunk dial, am I right? SFW Author’s Note: This was written for my bestie @waywardjoy’s 500 follower celebration “Love the Ships”. She’s literally the best, and if you aren’t following her, go do so. My prompts were to pick a pairing and use the dialogue lines, “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’.” “There’s also no ‘I’ in ‘masturbate’. Your point?” I picked Dean x Jo because I LOVE Jo Harvelle, and I thought their relationship had promise…stupid hell hounds….Anyway, this is canon style so nothing really happens (because nothing got a chance to happen on the show *grumble grumble*). In fact, my bitterness that nothing ever got to develop definitely shows up in this little fic. I don’t usually write pairings, so feedback would be great!

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnn.”

Dean jolted awake quickly at the odd sound in the room. Years of being a hunter, a whole life of it, had made him a light sleeper.

“NnnnnnnnnNNNNNNNN.”

This time his eyes pinpointed on his vibrating cell phone charging on the bedside table in the crappy hotel room. Sam was still passed out in the neighboring bed—he’d had nightmares the last couple of nights. Prior cases, monsters, Hell—in their line of work, nightmares were even more common than adrenaline rushes.

Dean snagged the phone and opened it, stopping the buzzing as he rolled out on the opposite side of the bed, away from Sam. Hopefully the guy could get some rest tonight.

He walked out of the room on soft bare feet, snagging the hotel card key before walking outside in the cool night air.

“Hello? Dean, you there?” The woman’s voice was muffled against his chest, but he made sure he was outside and the door was shut before he looked at the caller ID on the screen.

“Jo? Are you okay?” The last he’d heard, she was hunting while Ellen was still at the Roadhouse.

“You’re as bad as mom.” Jo’s voice was slightly slurred and Dean smiled, recognizing a drunk dial when he heard one. “’Are you okay?’ Like I can’t perfectly take care of myself well….”

“Fair enough. You working a case?” Dean walked the last ten feet between the motel room door and Baby, scooting up onto the hood. The cold metal against his mostly bare legs was enough of a shock to wake him the rest of the way up. It was a little after 2 am, and he was sitting on his car in shorts and a t-shirt, talking on the phone with a beautiful woman—the side of hunting he didn’t get to see much.

“Always, Dean. That’s the job, isn’t it? Kill one monster, save a few people, then go find something else to hunt. Doin’ what we can to make the world a better place.” Jo’s tone was hard, mocking—her usual go-get-‘em attitude worn down and bitter.

Dean let the silence sit there for a minute, thinking over what he could say that wouldn’t get him a dial tone response.

“Talk to me, Jo. What happened?” He kept his voice gentle, hoping she would confide in him.

He always wanted to help her out, protect her. Ever since they first met—well, after she’d lowered the gun from his face, that is. Then he’d worked the H.H. Holmes case with her, and she was good. A damn fine hunter: brave, resourceful, and in it for the right reasons, unlike some of his fellow hunters. In it because she wanted to help people, and because it made her feel closer to her father.

But when that father was dead at the fault of a Winchester…it made being close to either Bill Harvelle or Dean Winchester difficult.

“Wraith case. Damn thing had a taste for kid brains—operating out of a family psychiatry clinic. Bastard.” Dean heard Jo take a drink of something before continuing. God, he wished he could be there to hold her; cases with kids were always tough. “One silver bullet to the heart killed that fucker dead.”

“But, surprise, surprise, it didn’t bring back those kids.” Apparently she was a chatty drunk. Dean let her get it out. Partly because he didn’t know what to say, but mostly because she needed to. Sometimes ranting at the world and the evil in it was all that kept a person sane.

“And Mom—she’s pissed at me still. Ever since I walked out to hunt. Every time I try to call, she can only talk for a few minutes before she starts dropping hints about wanting me to come home, how I shouldn’t be hunting alone.” She was more coherent now—maybe anger had a sobering affect for her.

“Maybe she’s not wrong, Jo. You’re still pretty new at this, and having backup isn’t a bad thing. Why don’t you team up with Sam and me?” Dean regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth, worried they would set her off, or bring up painful memories of their dads again.

“Please, so you could treat me like a child?” Dean definitely didn’t think of her as a child. “Or so I can be the female sidekick to your little brother team? Pass. I work better alone.”

He wished she wasn’t so dismissive. Yeah, he worried about her, and if she was here he probably would be protective of her, but he’d also get to see her smile, and maybe see if they could ever actually go anywhere. “C’mon, Jo. There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’.”

“There’s also no ‘I’ in ‘masturbate’, and I do that better alone too. Your point?”

Dean burst out laughing at that, unable to control himself. God, he wished he could have this recorded to play back for her when she was sober. Knowing Jo though, she would either laugh it off then or punch him. Again.

“Any time you want an audience for that particular show, sweetheart, you just sign me up, okay?”

“Keep dreaming, Winchester.” And he would, too.

She was laughing now too, and Dean was glad he made her lighten up some. This job was dark, and finding a little fun was necessary to stay sharp.

“Seriously, Jo. If you ever need anything—help in a hunt, or just someone to talk to, even when you’re sober,” he heard her scoff and kept going before she could interrupt, “I need you to know you can call me, okay?”

Jo sighed, and he heard her put the bottle or glass down on a surface on the other end of the phone. “Sure thing, Dean. And that goes both ways, you know? I don’t want you to think that just because of what I said last time… I just mean, that I don’t blame you for….” She was definitely more clear-headed now if she could stop herself from saying what she clearly wanted to.

“Yeah, I know.” He knew. He always did. The connection between them had always been a bittersweet thing; like she’d told him once—wrong place, wrong time. Dean always felt like he and Jo were just one or two steps away from getting something great, before it all got screwed up again.

Another part of this wonderful life they both led.

But maybe, someday….

“Yeah, maybe someday…” Jo repeated, and Dean realized he’d said that last bit out loud.

The silence was thick over the line as neither one of them wanted to go too far. She’d been drinking, and they were states away from each other, and miles of distance more in baggage.

But maybe, someday….

I went down with this ship, so this fic is being sent to you from the bottom of an ocean of my tears....

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jarpadandjensenaremyheroes · 8 years ago

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The Little Princess: Chapter 11

A/n- First of all, Dean and Jo is pretty much the only ship I have for SPN (and I went down with that one HARD). But for this story, it worked well to have her bitter and angsty. Secondly, a huge thanks to @petrovadixon for getting my creative juices flowing! Because of her, I was able to get this chapter out and down on paper, and have two more planned and started! It would have taken me FOREVER to get anything out if it wasn’t for her creative ideas. Thanks hun!!!

*EDIT: I realize that the way I worded the talk about adoption and abortion made it sound like that’s something I am against. I don’t believe adoption or abortion is selfish or wrong by any means. I am a pro choice activist. It is a decision to be made by the woman carrying the child and no one else. So please, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Your decisions are your decisions and there will never be any judgement from me. <3

Word count: 2,294

Warnings: Tiny little bit of angst, fluff, Jo being a bitch, TW: some self-doubt/self-bashing. Minor amounts of cussing.

Chapter summary: Ellen meets Mary, and you have an interesting encounter with Jo.

Characters: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester, OFC Mary Winchester, Reader

Need to catch up? HERE is the masterlist!

Chapter 11

As you pulled into the parking lot of the roadhouse, Jo came outside. She had heard the heavy rumble of the Impala. She seemed completely oblivious to you and your daughter in the backseat. Dean climbed out of the car after giving your hand a squeeze and was thrown off balance when Jo jumped into his arms. You watched from the car with jealousy and anger as she shamelessly flirted with your boyfriend. She wasn’t taking his hints to get off him and finally he pushed her away as she let out a whine and stood there clinging to him. Jealousy overcame you as you climbed out of the car, clearing your throat when you were in view of them. Jo scowled at you.

“I thought you left him. What are you doing here? Trying to mend his shattered heart?” She almost spat the words at you.

You put on your best fake smile for her. “Actually little girl, I’m here with him to introduce our daughter to friends.” Jo’s face paled. “Wanna meet her? Or are you gonna continue throwing yourself all over my man?”

She disentangled herself from Dean, who seemed almost pleased you had come to his rescue. He shot you a look that screamed I’m sorry but you just waved it off. Before Jo could stomp off and ruin the surprise you had planned for her mother, you grabbed her arm and looked her right in the eyes.

“You may not like me and I understand that, but your momma helped me when I needed it most and she deserves a happy thing every once in a while. So you don’t say a word about me and Dean and the baby. You let her have this. Not for me, but for her. Got it?”

She scowled at you once more, but made it clear she understood with a tiny nod of her head.

You turned around to get Mary out of the car, but Dean was already holding her, swinging around in the gravel lot. This is so perfect you thought to yourself. You knew your thought was reflected in your smile though. Dean walked up, returning your smile and took your hand in his to walk you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold of the door, you saw Ellen back behind the bar. A few other hunters you knew were straggling around the bar, but you and Dean only wanted the attention of Ellen. You approached the bar and Dean spoke softly but gruffly.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink ‘round here?”

Ellen whipped around clearly intent on giving Dean a sassy retort, but as soon as she laid eyes on you and Mary, her whole face went slack with shock.

“My word…I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again Y/N.” She turned her eyes to Mary who was still in Dean’s arms. “Is…is that who I think it is?”

You were beaming with pride, as was Dean. With tears in your eyes you spoke for the first time.

“It is. Ellen, meet Mary Grace Winchester.” Moving closer to Mary, you pointed at Ellen. “Mary, this is your Aunt Ellen.”

Mary cooed and giggled as she shyly reached for Ellen across the bar.

Ellen had tears in her eyes as well. “Let me come around and hold you baby.”

She came around the other side of the bar and Mary’s eyes followed her the whole way. She practically launched herself out of Dean’s arms once Ellen was close. Apparently the shyness was short lived. She giggled and screeched as Ellen began tickling her and playing with her. Having an idea, you took Mary from Ellen’s arms. Seeing the sad look on Ellen’s face, you quickly said, “just watch. You’ll have her back in just a second. You took a few steps back and set Mary on the floor. She quickly stood up using the leg of your pants as leverage and began toddling towards the older woman.

Ellen dropped to her knees with an exclamation of, “OH! She’s walking already!” She couldn’t contain her laughter as Mary fell into her chest, giggling and cooing at the woman.

Dean came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist as he softly whispered in your ear, “I love you, Y/N. I love our perfect little family. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

You grinned as you turned your face towards his, giving his stubbled cheek a soft, lingering kiss. “I love you too Dean Winchester. I just wish our folks could be here to see our perfect little family… But Ellen and Bobby are more than enough.”

The three of you sat and talked for hours, watching Mary toddle around between you. Things were going great, up until Jo came stumbling over to the table you were sitting at; she reeked of tequila and you didn’t have time to prepare for the onslaught that came with it.

“You, Y/N, are the most selfish bitch I have ever met. You had a relationship with one of the most amazing, brave, and selfless men we know, and you threw it all away. You took his child away from him without even giving him a chance and kept him in the dark. Who does that? All he’s ever wanted was a shot at normal, a family, and you kept it from him. Some of us would happily give him that and more!”

Ellen was glaring at her daughter. “Jo that’s enough.” But Jo just waved her mother off and continued.

“I don’t know what he ever saw in you, or what he sees in you now. 20 bucks says you take off on him again. You’re too selfish to ever give him the chance he deserves. He’d be better off if he had never saved you back in Milwaukee. At least if you were dead he’d have some closure. He wouldn’t have to deal with this shit show of a sham. So fuck you. I doubt that’s even Dean’s kid with the whore that you are!”

“JOANNA BETH I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” Ellen’s voice was booming. Jo seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. Still fuming, she stormed back upstairs where she had come from.

You pried your hand away from Dean’s and ran outside, praying no one would follow you. But your prayers went unnoticed when your heard Dean calling after you and the heavy thumping of his boots on the gravel.

“Dean please don’t. Not right now. I knew she would be upset about this if she was here, but I didn’t think she would do this. I don’t know how to handle this and quite honestly, I don’t want to right now. I just want a few minutes alone.”

“Princess please…Jo is just drunk. It doesn’t excuse the behavior at all; but you gotta understand I was a mess after you left. I missed you so bad. I came here looking for you and Jo got sour when I turned down her advances. She talked about you and tried to get me to see reason, but the more she talked, the more I wanted to find you, and that pissed her off. I don’t think she means any of it. I’m the one she’s pissed at, she’s just taking it out on you. I’m so sorry Y/N. Please just come back inside and we’ll sort this out.”

The tears spilled over your eyes and you lost it. “She’s right though Dean! I am a selfish bitch. I didn’t once think of how you and Sam would feel or how this would affect Mary’s life. I just left and spent almost two years lying to you. But for what it’s worth, Mary is your daughter. There was no one else besides yo-”

“Y/N stop. I never once doubted you. I knew there was no one else. Even after, I know there was no one after me. There was never anyone for me either. Jo is not right. She young and doesn’t understand that you made a hard decision. An impossible decision made in the best interests of our little girl. Y/N, you are not selfish. Selfish would have been staying and trying to hunt while pregnant. Or leaving a newborn with someone like Jo to go hunt. You were anything but selfish. You gave up your whole life, everything you knew, to take care of a whole new human. You could have easily given her up for adoption, or had an abortion, but you didn’t. You gave her a shot at a normal life. None of that is selfish. Do you understand? Jo doesn’t need to like or understand what decisions were made and why. It’s none of her damn business. What happened is between you and me, and no one else. I don’t hold those decisions against you and I never will, so I need you to stop doing it to yourself. I love you. Only you. Nothing anyone else says is going to change that. Especially not some jealous brat! She can tell me anything in the world, and it wouldn’t change my mind about you and how I feel for you. Please don’t let this come between us…”

You burst into tears again and Dean just held you. It felt like this was all you could do with this man. You felt weak and undeserving. He deserves so much better than this. As if he could read your thoughts, he sat you down on the hood of Baby and tipped your head back to look at him.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. Mary is an absolute blessing, and if I’m being totally honest…I had never even thought about having that with anyone until you. You, Y/N, with your strong will and stubborn as hell personality, are the first woman in…well, ever, to make me want to settle down and have a family. I haven’t, don’t, and won’t ever want that with anyone other than you. You’re my princess. I know everything has happened so fast the last few days, but I need you. I need you in so many ways. Please, just…please believe me when I say you are more than I deserve.” He punctuated his last sentence with a soft kiss to your lips that conveyed all the emotion his words couldn’t.

This man actually loves me.

You let him hold you there until you had stopped crying. You took his outstretched hand and walked back inside with him, hoping that Jo would continue to make herself scarce for the evening. You weren’t sure you would be able to control yourself next time she said something or threw herself at Dean; and you really didn’t want to hit the poor girl. You were relieved when you saw only Ellen holding Mary; no Jo in sight. As you approached her, she called out to you.

“Does Bobby know y’all are back together yet? Lord knows he got tired of hearing Dean’s whining,” she said with a chuckle.

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. “No, we were going to surprise him next, so don’t ruin it for us, okay?”

She just laughed as she nodded her head.

“Speaking of Bobby, we should probably start heading that way. Whatdya say princess?”

You didn’t really think spending the night at the roadhouse with Jo was a good plan. “Yeah we probably should. It’s about nap time for the little one anyways. And she’s never slept as well as she has in the Impala these last couple days. She’s just like her daddy.” You giggled at that a little.

“Excuse me? If I remember correctly, it’s always been you who passed out in the back seat before we had made it 5 miles from anywhere.” He shot you a pointed glare.

“That’s only because you refuse to let anyone else drive your precious Baby,” you retorted, making him redden in embarrassment. “That’s what I thought,” you added when he was silent.

Ellen could only laugh at the quick exchange. “You two haven’t changed one bit! Let me at least get y’all some food for the road if you insist on heading out. I can’t say I blame ya after Joanna’s little outburst earlier. Y/N, please know that you and Mary are always welcome here. No matter what my brat of a teenager says. My place, my rules, and y’all are family. You can come on over whenever you’d like. So don’t you keep that beautiful little girl from me for too long, ya hear?”

“I promise I won’t Ellen. She already loves you so much, how could I keep her away?”

She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some burgers and fries for you and Dean, and some apple slices, grapes, and fries for Mary.

“If you need the apples or grapes cut up smaller I can do that for you. Don’t want the little thing choking in the car. Daddy would have a fit! Wouldn’t he baby?” she was asking Mary.

Ellen gave all three of you hugs and walked you out to the car, apologizing once again for her daughter’s behavior. The goodbye quickly became a little misty-eyed and you got Mary in her car seat and situated with her snacks, which she was squealing about. She really loves her food. You turned around and gave Ellen one last hug, thanking her for everything she had done for you and your little family. Then you slid into the front seat, giggling as Dean gave you a playful swat on your ass. As you rolled out of the lot you waved goodbye to Ellen, and noticed Jo glaring down at you all from her window upstairs. Some things never change.

@petrovadixon

@quackerstheduck663057

#spn fandom #spn fanfic #Dean Winchester x reader #daddy!dean #uncle!sammy #uncle!cas #The Little Princess

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secretlyswedish · 8 years ago

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Phantom of the Opera Sneak Peak

Hello! This is kind of a sneak peak because I got way to excited to post this before it was done ^^ So this is only a small part of the first chapter of a Supernatural Fanfic based on the musical and movie The Phantom of the Opera. Now if you’ve seen the movie/musical you know this is not your typical happily ever after ^^ I hope you enjoy this

Words: 1074

Warning: Nothing yet ^^

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection to how I feel about certain characters, if you find it insulting how I wrote the character keep in mind

1. you don’t have to read this if you find it bad or offensive

2. this is also a crossover and I am trying to base it more to the phantoms characters for a few of the bi characters such as Carlotta and a few other characters not being mentioned in this particular piece so no need to go chop my head off.

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It was a snowy day in the 1800’s France and the opera l'Opéra Populaire was in full action for the opening night of the opera Hannibal. The owner Rufus Turner wandering the halls with two men both in their late twenties following close behind. One of them, Ed Zeddmore, is walking with his back to Rufus as the other one, Harry Spengler, is following close behind Rufus listening intensely to what the elder is saying, taking notes to every little detail about the opera.

‘’And also always keep box five empty.’’ The dark skinned man finished before turning around nearly having the short dark haired man run into his chest. ‘’Do I make myself clear?’’ ‘’Indeed sir! Always keep box five empty!’’ Harry nodded as he hurriedly wrote the sentence down at the end of his half full notebook of notes. Rufus rolled his eyes at him before holding up the little key ring to the opera. Harry quickly stuck his pencil in between his teeth before reaching up for the keys, only to have his partner, Ed to snatch the key ring from the elder mans hand. ‘’Everything is gonna go great Mr Turner! Harry and I have it all under control!’’ he exclaimed twirling the key ring around his index finger, leaning against a paper mache elephant stumbling back a bit when the wheels that the elephant stood on rolled back from his weight. Rufus frowned at him before turning his back to the two new owners of his opera and opened the door that revealed the back of the stage where a few of the ballet dancers had gathered blocking the way, In front of them stood an elder lady with long blonde hair tied into a knot, dressed completely in black while the dancers wore rather… Revealing clothing. The skirt being made of fabric strings in colors such as gold, red and green. ‘’Excuse me ladies!’’ Rufus called to no avail as his voice was tuned out by their lead soprano. Stumbling slightly she cursed at her dress before going back into her role and started the song. Quickly the ballet dancer made their way towards the edge of the stage, into positions. ‘’That’s a fiesty one it seems’’ Harry called nodding towards one of the blonde ballet dancers. Walking slowly on purpose to piss of the woman in the dark dress. Only to be pulled into place by the Y/H/C dancer. ‘’Joanna Harvelle, an extraordinary dancer, when she pleases.’’ Rufus explained as the dancers strutted out to perform their dance. The dancer that had pulled Joanna back into her place accidentally stumbled over the lead sopranos dress and fell out of step along with earning a curse from her. ‘’Sorry’’ She apologised before continuing to dance only being one step behind the others. ‘’Who’s the Y/H/C one?’’ Ed raised an eyebrow at her as she was tugged around by the chains connecting her to the other dancers. ‘’Y/N Singer, she would be an extraordinary dancer if she were to stop wandering around with her head in the cloud.’’ Rufus explained as the little Y/H/C was pulled back by the other dancers. ‘’Y/N! Pull yourself together!’’ Jo whispered to her before they were ushered off stage by the elder dark clothed woman who crossed her arms over her chest a wooden cane hanging from her elbow. The lead soprano raised her arms to the music turning her back to the audience as the extra actors off stage to start pushing the paper mache elephant, the very one Ed had leaned against earlier before they had entered the stage, onto the stage where a large man dressed in a red faux armour were strutting backwards towards the elephant. The song was nearing it’s end as he tried to step up onto the elephant only to slip and break the step he were to be standing on. Quickly the dancers scurried out bumping into the soprano who were now once again turned towards the audience, Swearing at them for ruining her singing she stomped her foot and her face grew redder and redder as the dancers moved around them attempting to continue their choreography while the extras were pushing, or at least attempting to push, the larger built man up upon the elephants back to no avail.

Just as the final note played the woman in the front screamed ‘’STOP! Stop stop stop stop what in gods name do you think you’re doing running out right where I am standing and backing into me as I am singing you little brats!’’ She yelled as she gestured wildly her arms to left and right. Her face and neck red as she took a breath to continue yelling. Quickly moving into action Rufus stepped out from where he had stood. ‘’Excuse me!’’ He called tapping his foot into the floor, catching the casts attention. ‘’Oh thank goodness you are here, did you see what they did they ran out in front of me, stepped on my dress which still is not fixed and then bumping into me while I am to finish of the entire song!’’ The dark haired lead yelled into Mr Turners face as she pointed towards the dancers and then to the extras. ‘’Is this not me who opens the entire show!’’ She yelled stomping her foot and pouting at him like a child. ‘’Mrs Braeden I can assure you I saw but that is not why I a--’’ ‘’No! Of course not! Why should you even listen to me while I am speaking of the future for your opera!’’ ‘’Well actually that is why I--’’ ‘’No! You listen to me either fix this or YOU! Will need to find a new lead SINGER!’’ She screamed her voice squeaking a bit at the word singer. Rufus stared down at the petite mrs Braeden before glancing over towards the dark dressed woman. ‘’Are you finished Mrs Braeden?’’ he asked before stepping around her and moving towards the middle of the stage. ‘’May I please have your attention ladies and gentlemen!’’ He called looking around for Ed and Harry who still seemed glued to the wall after Mrs Braeden outburst. Rolling his eyes Rufus turned back towards the cast his back turned to Mrs Braeden. ‘’There has been rumours of my retirement and I am here today to confirm that these rumours are infact true.’’

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Not completely as exciting as it may have sounded but I hope you enjoyed ^^

#phantom of the opera #spn fic #supernatural au #sneak peak #lisa braeden #harry spangler #ed zeddmore #rufus turner #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader x sam #bobby singer #reader inser

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unfamiliarties-a · 5 years ago

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differences from canon, own headcanons & other notes: a master list. *below is a list of characters with either big or small deviations from canon, as well as some general guidelines for interacting and some headcanons. if anyone isn’t included on this list then they hold no canon divergence whatsoever or special notes whatsoever. i may add to this as i go along / rewatch things.

SUPERNATURAL.

john winchester. *pre-seasons, season one, season fourteen ft. john winchester’s journal.

john will recognise the following original character as his daughter, @spitfcre. any questions about that then just let me know / ask me about it.

whatever brings back john in season fourteen brings him back permanently, i’ll be referring to this as ‘resurrection verse’ or ‘season fourteen verse’.

in this verse john will be adjusting to his new life, living in the bunker with mary and the boys, reconnecting with his wife and his children.

when john comes back the boys explain about his daughter so john has all the information he needs before actually meeting her. when they do meet, john and sawyer stay up all night talking and getting to know one another, making up for lost time.

as detailed in john winchester’s journal (tie-in supernatural book written by alexander c. irvine) john slept with ms. lyle, one of sam’s teachers who turned out to be a kind of demon. as he explains in the entry he was lonely but still grieving mary, the thought makes him feel sick. when he found out they were a monster who meant to target his children, john killed her and skipped town with the boys.

john still feels guilty over the circumstances of bill harvelle’s death. bill was possessed by a spirit and john was forced to kill him. it was john who broke the news to ellen and was subsequently barred from the roadhouse for life. he never went back there or saw ellen, jo or ash again.

john was a member of a small hunting group made up of himself, bill harvelle, keith odell, jack sutton & jim cassidy. john was closest with bill, keith and jack. john clashed with jimmy which eventually led to the group splitting up when jimmy blamed bill’s death on john and the two fought. jimmy later becomes a demon who targets john’s children and john kills jimmy himself protecting his daughter.

additional note: i will not engage with any hate towards john. if your muse doesn’t like him that’s fine and dandy, but i won’t tale critique of his character outside of threads. john isn’t a perfect guy but he’s not the bad guy by any stretch. he never once hit his kids or abused them. john was grieving his wife and trying to raise his two boys in a world where they were marked for death so he taught them how to protect themselves and he wanted revenge on the monster that murdered his wife and the mother of his children. he made mistakes, he put too much on dean and he was hard on sam because he was terrified he wouldn’t be safe - and he knows this.

sam winchester. *pre-seasons, seasons one to fourteen.

sam didn’t kill emma, he changed his mind at the last minute when dean begged emma to run and sam to let her go. sam stepped aside and let emma pass him. neither sam nor dean have seen emma since and sam feels guilty that he almost killed her in the first place, even if he thought he was saving his brother. if he ever met emma again he’d try his upmost to make it up to her about it.

sam still has his psychic abilities he just doesn’t use them. sam holds a lot of guilt over the whole thing, so it’s not something he talks about very often and never with someone he doesn’t trust. he’d have to drink demon blood to get himself as strong with it as he was before with ruby, but because of what happened he won’t even touch the stuff and has no desire to go near any of that ever again. he’s very uncomfortable about the whole thing, but it’s something that plays on his mind often.

dean winchester. * pre-seasons, seasons one to fourteen.

dean is closeted bisexual. i know it’s never been confirmed so this is just kind of my observation / headcanon from watching the show for years. dean has an attraction towards men but he’s in denial about it so he leans on hyper-masculine behaviour to try and push the focus away from any questioning about his sexuality, but that doesn’t make him any less bi. he’s just scared to come out.

dean was a demon for a lot longer than was portrayed on the show and as a general note / heads up, i would love to explore this period in his life more. dean didn’t go off with crowley straight away, he declined the ‘howl at the moon’ offer and instead stayed with sam in the bunker while they tried to find a way to fix it. crowley kept dropping in on dean and slowly wore him down as dean was struggling to cope and eventually leant in to his ‘darkside’. the rest follows as normal of dean ‘liking the disease’ and sam eventually tracking him down and curing him.

as above, sam didn’t kill emma and dean gave her the chance to run. he hasn’t seen emma since but he thinks about her all the time. what she’s doing, if she’s okay and though he won’t admit it or say it out loud, he wonders if he’s missed out on having another shot at having a family, the same that he missed out on with lisa and ben.

additional note: dean is not abusive towards sam. i know this is a thing among fanon but i don’t agree with it. dean is not perfect, he has his issues but he lives for his brother and that’s the tea.

mary winchester. *pre-seasons, season one, seasons twelve to fourteen.

mary will recognise the following original character as his daughter, @spitfcre. any questions about that then just let me know / ask me about it.

mary did not sleep with ketch. don’t even @ me about that. when she’s resurrected in season twelve she’s dealing with her new life, grieving for john and the children she knew back in her old life. she’s not hopping into bed with sociopaths.

mary does she leaves the boys to work with the men of letters while she’s working out where she fits in the world. it’s not something she does lightly and afterwards is something she deeply regrets and works towards fixing, re-connecting with her sons and getting to know her daughter.

mary has a bit of a shakey start with her daughter, sawyer as referenced above. she meets sawyer when she’s been back in the world for a few months and has already started working for the men of letters. as she’s still grieving for the sons she knew back then, taking sawyer into the mix is a bit much for her, but she’s polite and welcoming. the pair start to butt heads when mary tries to involve sam and dean in the british men of letters (bmols) and sawyer refuses to the point of it being dangerous. when the bmols try to kill sawyer, she cuts ties from mary, sam and dean for letting it happen. when mary comes back from apocalypse world and sawyer reconnects with her brothers, she and mary make efforts to reconnect with one another.

additional note: similarly with john i don’t accept mary hate here. she did bad folks and that’s not something she denies but i won’t play down her adjustment from dying a traumatic death, lingering as a spirit and then being ripped back to life to find her baby boys grown and her husband gone. but i’m not justifying anything either.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES.

elena gilbert. *seasons one, two & thee. canon divergent after season three.

generally speaking i just don’t like the direction the show went after season five and season four is a fairly weak season so i just disregard it all together for all of my vampire diaries based muses and verses.

elena becomes a vampire at the end of season three. personally i would have written elena’s whole journey as a vampire and her transition differently, so that’s what i’ll be doing here. i haven’t figured out what yet and may take smol pieces of canon but won’t follow canon after season three as a whole.

elena has an anxiety disorder that hasn’t been diagnosed. i’ll expand on this more another time but for now keep this in mind.

damon salvatore. * seasons one, two & three. canon divergent after season three.

this might be a touchy subject, but here goes .. please note that the following refers to my interpretation of damon and not the show itself or the choices made. cool ? cool. damon did sleep with caroline and compelled her. he didn’t compel her into sleeping with him in the first instance but he did compel her into helping him with various things and keep his vampire-hood a secret to further his own agenda with bringing katherine back, opening the tomb, etc. as damon becomes less of an antagonist and works to be a better person, he goes out of his way to help, assist and generally support caroline not because he expects any kind of forgiveness for her but he knows he owes her for what he did.

damon was physically abused by his father as a child and was generally detested by the man. damon never once fought back against his father even when he knew what his father was dong was wrong, damon grew up in a completely different time and so took whatever kind of abuse his father threw at him, including his father’s constant disappointment in him.

THE MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE.

tony stark / iron man. *pe-iron man, iron man, iron man 2, avengers: assemble, iron man three, age of ultron, captain america: civil war, post-captain america: civil war, avengers: infinity war, avengers: endgame & post-avengers: endgame au.

the zuccini line from age of ultron didn’t happen. that is all.

i’m pretty much down with everything else from tony’s mcu arc but i’m due a rewatch soon so if anything comes up then i will update things here.

i have a verse for tony if he survived endgame. tony still does the snap but they manage to get him to a someone who can heal him, with his armour and arc reactor helping to keep him alive until they can help. it takes several months for him to wake up and just as long to heal after that where he’s basically bed ridden. eventually tony gets back on his feet again but his side that used the gauntlet is fucked. this includes him arm, his leg and his mobility is extremely damaged on that side. when he gets better tony works to make something for himself to be able to walk and use his arm without assistance. he gets his second chance with pepper and morgan but hangs up the iron man suit for good.

natasha romanoff / black widow. *pre-iron man 2, iron man 2, avengers: assemble, captain america: the winter soldier, post-captain america: the winter soldier, avengers: age of ultron, avengers: infinity war, avengers: endgame.

i want the black widow movie to work but i’m nervous for it so we’ll just see where that falls when it comes around in 2020. cross your fingers guys.

i don’t include hulkwidow or bruce/natasha as a thing. it just never happened.

about the scarjo thing .. i’m gonna keep using her face. i know not everyone will like that and i completely get it, (i’m LBGT+ myself so i get her comments are very damaging, not just for the LGBT+ community but others and honestly i’m just holding my face in my hands every time she opens her mouth) but i can’t see anyone else as nat for me. so if anyone doesn’t wanna write with me or my nat because of her comments then i totally get it. you’re totally in your rights to keep our distance and lbr you don’t need me to tell you that either. stay safe folks.

i’m slowly working through some black widow comics so i’ll be integrating some things from there and my own additional headcanon. i have a complete bio for nat here which is a mix of mcu, comics and my own headcanon. any questions about it just ask.

i’m okay with endgame. i think it was a fitting ending for her character, she got the red out of her ledger etc. my only really irk about it is not seeing her funeral. i do have a verse for endgame where she doesn’t die if folks want to roll with that.

clint barton / hawkeye / ronin. *pre-avengers: assemble, avengers: assemble, post: avengers: assemble, avengers: age of ultron, captain america: civil war, post-captain america: civil war, avengers: endgame / ronin era & post-avengers: endgame.

i’ll be holding off a bit with some things with clint until the hakweye tv series happens. until then i’ll be drawing from the mcu, comics and my own general headcanons.

i don’t know if clint having a family is still a thing people discuss but i’m down with it bc i love a grounded family man, m’kay?

clint feels a lot of guilt for what he did as ronin which is why he was so willing to sacrifice himself to get the stone instead of natasha. i will have a verse for ronin!clint and am very excited for it.

after endgame clint obviously goes back to his family but is wracked with guilt about letting natasha go and wishes it had been him, even though he’s glad to get his family back. he has nightmares about being on vormir.

peter parker / spiderman. *pre-captain america: civil war, spiderman: homecoming, post-spiderman: homecoming & spiderman: far from home.

i liked far from home but i preferred homecoming. that’s all i’m gonna say about that.

i’m fine with peter having his identity revealed and being framed for mysterio’s death and am happy to explore it in threads.

i know there’s a good argument for peter being trans and guys i’m all for it. i’m unsure if i will write it that way but only bc i’m not trans myself and i’d want to educate myself, do it right and do it justice. so leave that one with me for now.

pepper potts / rescue. *pre-iron man, iron man, iron man 2, avengers: assemble, iron man three, post-iron man three, avengers: infinity war, avengers: endgame, post-avengers endgame.

first off seeing pepper as rescue in endgame ?? i nearly leapt out of my fucking seat. second i will definitely be having verses where pepper uses the suit both before and after endgame where it makes sense for her to do that.

her post-endgame verse will also deal with pepper grieving tony and trying to raise morgan and help her through it with the help of happy, rhodey and peter. though this can obviously extend to any of the avengers or similar characters.

loki laufeyson / god of mischief. *pre-thor, thor, avengers: assemble, thor: the dark world, post-thor: the dark world, thor: ragnarok, avengers: infinity war, avengers: endgame, loki: the tv series.

i’ll be holding off a little on the loki tv verse until it happens but i’m open to experimenting with it as well.

i go with the headcanon that the sceptre had some effect on loki. that isn’t me giving him an out or saying he didn’t know what he was doing, bc he did. but the sceptre did effect his health and his mood from exposure to it. just like it did when the avengers were having that big ol’ argument. plus thanos hanging over his head was a factor too. i’ll write more about this when i rewatch things.

loki was taught magic by his mother, despite this loki was still taught how to fight, use knives etc. he’s not as physically strong as thor but he knows how to handle himself in a fight. he just prefers to use his intellect and his magic before getting into a punch up.

yes, loki has issues with odin up until his death and why that is should be obvious. that being said frigga was complicit in loki’s being raised which is why loki is a little hostile with her in the dark world bc he’d been lied to all his life and his mother had helped.

loki doesn’t show his frost giant form nor use his abilities from that. it’s something he’s uncomfortable with so he acts like it isn’t there.

additional note: i’m really not a fan of doctor strange. this includes the film and the casting for the film. i know this is a weird one to put out there but i just wanted to put it out there that i am anti-doctor strange and generally like to disregard his involvement bc the movie was boring and the casting for stephen as abysmal. i’m very happy to write with comic versions of the character or anyone who writes him without benedict flustercluck’s face.

MARVEL TELEVISION UNIVERSE.

matt murdock / daredevil. *season one, season two, the defenders, season three & post-season three.

i see stick as being very emotionally abusive towards matt. generally just in his behaviour, treating him like a child one minute but then using him as a warrior the next. matt murdock is not a damn object you ass-wipe of a person. just a thing to take into account as matt is very sensitive to stick’s presence and no i do not accept stick as a father figure. matt loved his dad jack and no one is replacing him.

more a generally thing about the defenders .. it wasn’t perfect. i liked it but they dropped the ball with the ending. i don’t write elektra but my general headcanon is that when she kills alexandra it sets the rest of the hand after them and they have to hide out before bringing them down. matt and elektra then get separated in the building collapse.

additional note: in defense of matt murdock .. the guy has been through some shit and he just gets more thrown at him every damn day and that shit is exhausting. i’m not saying his behaviour is right or not detremental to his friends, i’m just saying i get it but matt knows he should have been better and will work to make things better after season three.

karen page. *season one, season two & season three of daredevil, the defenders and season one, season two & post-season two of the punisher.

i love karen page with all my heart and wouldn’t change a thing !! <33

franklin ‘foggy’ nelson. *season one, season two, the defenders, season three & post-season three of daredevil.

i need to re-watch season bc i never actually finished it bc i was so pissed off about the cancellation. but when i get there i’ll add things here !!

frank castle / the punisher. *season one, season two & post-season two.

i’m just about as bitter about the punisher ending as with daredevil and jessica jones. so jot that down. if i ever meet anyone who works @ netflix or if i meet kevin fiege, we’re gonna have a conversation.

i’m pretty much cool with everything that happened in season one and two, i just fucking wish we were getting a season three. so i guess my verse for that will be frank being full tilt punisher as a general thing but i’m happy to explore things from there.

oh and for any kastle fans out there i’ll have a verse for if they ran away together bc cute.

i get billy’s arc in season two but i’m not “poor misunderstood baby” about it either. i can recognise and appreciate the trauma and frank has some hand in that, but billy killed frank’s entire family and that’s not something he or i will be forgetting here.

david lieberman / micro. *season one & post-season one.

i can agree with not having mirco in season two - even though i missed him - bc david got his normal life back and that’s all he wanted, his arc was completed, etc, etc, etc, but i’m also the devil and want to see what would happen if he got dragged back into things with frank. so that’ll be a verse bc david trying to have a normal life but help his friend is a thing i need / wanna see.

OTHER / ADDITIONAL.

tracy mcconnell.

i completely disregard the finale as canon and not even because of tracy dying but just because the whole thing was a shit show. so i’ll write tracy before she meets the gang, when she meets the gang and everything after, marrying ted, etc.

i’ll also have a verse for tracy if she never met ted and another for if max never died.

bliss cavendar.

bliss is gay / lesbian. i’m happy with sticking with the events of the film where she dates and sleeps with oliver. but guys, bliss is gay. that’s just it. post-events of the film she meets a nice girl and comes out to her friends, family and roller derby team mates.

luke skywalker.

unpopular opinion time, but i’m fine with a disenchanted luke and the fact that he dies at the end of the last jedi. i also have a verse for if he lived and when the rise of skywalker comes out i’m sure i’ll have a verse for that too.

general headcanon that before luke settled down and made the jedi school on the island that he had some time just travelling and helping people bc that just seems like luke to me.

i see luke as asexual / aromantic.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･　out of character.#｡･ﾟﾟ･　public service announcement.#long post for ts #( this is kind of a rough thing i might expand more .. )#trigger warnings for ts

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suddenlyallatonce · 8 years ago

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Family Dinner | Ellen, Jo & Dean

Thread with joannahunts and the-ramblin-man -- moving thread history over here! Please tag this blog on the next post that’s my turn :)

Jo wasn’t exactly looking forward to the night. She’d sort of sprung the night on both Dean and her mother, and she was sure there would be screaming before the night ended. That was exactly the reason she’d decided to leave Billie at home with a babysitter, where she’d be safely away from any fighting.

This would be Ellen’s first time seeing Dean since the two women had nearly died helping him. She had a very strong feeling Ellen wouldn’t be as willing to forgive the man as Jo herself had been. Jo only hoped that Ellen would understand that Dean was good for her, good for Billie. And that was all that mattered to Jo right now. She hadn’t exactly meant for Ellen to find out about Dean yet, they’d only been dating a few weeks so far, but Billie, excited about his visit, had spilled the beans about ‘Unca Dean’ spending the night and that she’d seen the two adults kissing and the next then Jo knew, Ellen was insisting on a dinner with the two of them.

As she walked towards the door to her mom’s front door, she desperately wished she’d brought a flash with her. She could really use a drink right now, a nice dose of liquid courage seemed pretty necessary. She was putting on a brave face, trying to convince Dean things would be alright, but she was sure he didn’t believe her. “You ready?” she asked, glancing to Dean for a moment before bringing a hand up to knock on the front door.

Facing Jo for the first time since the battle that almost claimed her life had been one thing. Somehow, despite the guilt he had over getting her involved, he had managed to earn her forgiveness and even her love. The relationship had been new, he wasn’t even quite used to calling her his girlfriend yet. It was also long distance in ways, but he still talked to her on the phone frequently and had even facetimed with Billie.

Yet now Dean Winchester found himself facing an entirely new challenge, one that nearly scared the sense out of him. He was confront Ellen for the first time in seven years. Not only that, but now he was dating her daughter. He knew they should have told Jo’d mother earlier, but it was too late for that now.

Heart racing, he stood beside his girlfriend as she nocked on the door. “No,” he answered automatically before trying to muster up a smile for her. He started to wish the three year old was there as a distraction….or at least a shield. Surely Ellen wouldn’t go for her shot gun if her granddaughter were there. Either way, Dean knew he was screwed.

Dinner. That was the best course of action, right? Ellen tried to remind herself that it’s what Bill would have done, or would have wanted to do, if she’d let him. But hell if there wasn’t a damn precedent for this situation. Her daughter was dating the man who nearly got them both killed, the son of the man who had gotten her husband killed. Who could say they were inviting that history to dinner?

If it hadn’t been Billie who had “broken the news” so sweetly to her, she probably would have been even more livid. Even if you set aside the Harvelles’ history with the Winchesters, dating a hunter was a whole lot more difficult and dangerous when there was a child involved. It was one thing for Jo to get herself mixed up with “ramblin’ men,” but for her to drag Billie into this? Alright, she was still pretty pissed.

She couldn’t blame them for keeping it from her, though; there was no way she could react well to the news. She had long since stopped trying to tell Jo that she had shitty taste in men; the girl seemed to crave heartbreak, as far as her mother could tell. But Dean Winchester was still a step too far, even if it wasn’t unexpected.

But Billie also made it pretty damn impossible for her and Jo to deal with shit like this the way they used to: just stop talking until they needed each other again. Her grandbaby would have none of that. The little girl didn’t get tension, she didn’t get grudges, all she could understand was not being able to see her Nana, and she would throw a fit. Which made Ellen smile a little.

So the only thing for it was to try to deal with the damn problem head-on. As difficult as it was for Ellen to think of it as “three adults discussing the elephant in the room,” helping Jo raise a child had shown her a growth in her daughter that she might’ve struggled to see for a long time. And Dean… Well, hopefully seven years had made a damn bit of difference with that boy.

Recent years had given her some practice cooking again, though Billie hardly ate anything other than junk food anyway. But she hadn’t timed the ham quite right, and there were still twenty minutes on the timer when she heard the knock at the front door. She swore under her breath and shifted the green beans off the stove before she strode over to the door, still wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Hey, Jo,” she said automatically when she opened the door, and she raised eyebrows with surprise at just the physical change in Dean Winchester. It hadn’t really occurred to her that he would have aged, as silly as that would sound out loud. “Dean,” she said, and she couldn’t help the grim drop in her voice when she said his name. She cleared her throat to try to bring it up again and stepped aside. “Come on then, you’re lettin’ the bugs in.”

“Hey, Mom,” Jo said with a smile, resisting the urge to panic and run. She hadn’t been this afraid to talk to her mother since… well since she’d shown up at the Roadhouse six months pregnant. Reaching out, she grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him inside after her. She knew he had to be panicking just as much as her, if not more. She was used to fighting with her Mother, Dean… not so much.

“It smells amazing in here,” she said, trying to stick to safe non-confrontational topics for as long as possible. “Oh, before I forget.” She paused for a moment, reaching into her purse to pull out a bottle of rather expensive whiskey, one of her mom’s favorite brands. “Saw this at the store and knew I had to get it for you.”

She offered the bottle to her mother, a gift, a peace offering, a bribe to hopefully keep the night running smooth. “I’m not sure Dean’s tried this brand,” she said, a slow smirk spreading across her lips as she glanced up at Dean. “His taste in whiskey is terrible sometimes,” she teased, knowing it wasn’t exactly true. Hunters tended to stick to what was cheapest.

While Dean’s heart was beating rapidly as he waited for the door to open, as soon as he saw Ellen, it stopped altogether. Or so it felt like. The disappointment was clear in her features and he swore he could even hear it in the way she said his name. It was the kind of the thing that he figured he should be used to at this point: disappointing parents.

Jo’s hand woke up him from his thoughts and he followed her in. As she presented the whiskey, he suddenly felt inadequate, as though he should have brought something as well. Would flowers be too cliche, he wondered. Mercifully, Jo tried to break the tension with a little joke. “Hey, my wallet would have to disagree,” he told her with a smirk. Their bickering over whiskey brands was almost a ritual at this point. Not that he minded. It reminded him of the days when they first met and would bicker over everything.

When he looked up to see Ellen again, the smirk disappeared. “It’s uh, been a while.” I missed you, sounded lame to him, even in his head. “You look good. It’s a nice house.” He was floundering, hoping she’d say anything to put him out of his misery.

Seven years had changed so much, yet as he looked at the woman he once called family, he could recall their last day together as though it were yesterday. She and her daughter had nearly died, all because of his plan. Shame made it difficult to even look her in the eye, but he held his ground as best as he could.

Ellen closed the door behind him and hadn’t really finished taking in the change in Dean Winchester when Jo called her attention to the bottle she was revealing from her purse. A small smile spread on her lips, and she gave Jo a knowing look. She knew what her daughter was trying to pull here, and she might even know where she’d learned that trick. All the same, she appreciated it. Just the fact that Jo wanted her to be here, to be happy for her, was a surprisingly good feeling.

Taking the bottle from Jo’s fingers, she leaned in to hug her with one arm. “Thanks, baby girl.” Straightening, she held up the bottle to see the actual label and gave Jo an impressed flex of her eyebrows. “Buffalo Trace? That’s a hell of a find!” She was already walking over to the liquor cabinet, but the comment on the smell reminded her to check on the ham, so she set it down instead. “Get a few glasses out, would ya?” she said over her shoulder as she dipped down to see into the oven.

Satisfied that it still needed a few minutes, she pulled the mitt off her hand and smacked it into the other absently. Turning back around to face them, her eyes fell back on her nervous guest. And realizing that he was nervous made guilt twist in her stomach. With the physical growth digested, she couldn’t ignore that it was still Dean. Not Jo’s boyfriend, not John’s son, not the idiot boy who almost got her and her daughter killed – just Dean. The boy she’d babysat, the one she’d called for help, the one she knew, the one she had trusted. And she’d missed him, too.

Dropping the mitt on the counter, she stepped up closer. “You’re taller than I remember,” she told him with a tease in her voice. Instead of raising herself up, she reached up to squeeze his shoulder and bring him closer so she could hug him proper. “Or maybe you just look short next to your brother,” she continued when she withdrew. “How is he?”

Jo couldn’t hide the proud smile as Ellen was impressed with her choice of whiskey. Sure, the gift was maybe a bit on the nose, her Mom was smart enough to know it was meant as a bribe, but… the woman seemed to accept it easily, so that was a good sign.

“Sure, I can do that,” she said with a nod. She was completely familiar with her mom’s home. They had dinners together basically every other week, and often they worked together to finish cooking the meal. She knew exactly how to find everything she might need.

Moving to find glasses, she looked to Dean and flashed him a reassuring smile. She could see nervousness written all over his face, and it was… more than a little adorable. She understood that feeling entirely, her stomach had been in knots all day, and despite the delicious smell wafting through the house, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day, she found she wasn’t actually hungry. She was too worried about the fight that would inevitably happen. Jo tried to hide that worry, though, and watched her mother carefully as the woman approached her boyfriend.

“Well… In Dean’s defense, everybody looks short next to Sam,” Jo piped in, smiling softly as she watched the two hug, hoping that was a sign of her mother’s forgiveness. She knew that wasn’t something that was given easily, but Dean deserved it.

As the women moved about, getting things ready for dinner, Dean felt entirely out of place. He shifted his weight, wondering what he was supposed to be doing. In any other situation, he’d feel perfectly at home and would be already working in the kitchen, even with no idea of where everything was. He mentally chided himself for acting so foolish. It was only Ellen.

Ellen. The woman he nearly got killed.

He took a steadying breath, but before he could say anything, he saw the older woman walking over to him. He wondered if this was when the fight would break out, but instead she smiled and hugged him. It was like the first time he had ever met her: awkward, yet oddly comforting. He patted her on the back in a half hug, feeling the nervousness start to subside. When she moved back, he looked to Jo with an amused smirk. “Yeah and you look like some elf thing next to him.” Their own height difference had amused him for some time, but seeing her stand next to his brother could be downright comical at times.

“He’s good,” Dean finally answered as he turned back to Ellen. “We’re livin’ in that old bunker now, dunno if Jo told you. With Cass. They’re good. All things considered.” There was always a new big bad to fight which tended to put a strain on things, but for the time being, there weren’t too many complaints aside from the British Men of Letters. Things had certainly been worse. “What about you? It’s good to see you again. What are you doin’ these days?”

“A Bunker?” Ellen asked, eyebrows raised high as she looked between them. “Sounds like something Bobby would’ve loved.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized they’d hurt, and she tried to force a smile as she stepped back and took one of the glasses Jo had finished pouring bourbon into.

“Good to hear Sam’s still in the game. Kinda surprising though. And Cas is still around, too?” she asked idly as she sipped the drink and pulled serving dishes from the cabinet. It was intended to be small talk, but such things were dangerous and full of landmines for hunters. Nearly anything could be a trigger for an unpleasant conversation. But they were adults here, as they were so insistent on making clear.

Turning to Jo as she shifted green beans into a dish, she asked, “Who did you leave Billie with?”

#☁ |¦ you mind your tongue with me ¦| ~ Ellen Harvelle #p: family dinner #joannahunts #theramblinman

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Trust – Part 5

Summary: You trust Dean with your life, he doesn’t even trust you with his car. All choices in life have consequences - Dean’s have much worse...

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, mentioned: Bobby Singer, Ash

Warnings: angst, mentions of torture (physically and mentally), violence, mentions of drugging someone, mentions of rape (nothing graphic), a hint of fluff

Set in Season 9 and 12. Jo and Ellen never died in Season 5. Bobby is still alive and kicking

Trust Masterlist

“Y/N, calm down. We don’t know she is behind all this for sure.” Dean tries but you keep on cackling. “Seriously, Dean? She distracted you from picking me up that day. Then I get kidnapped and she calls my phone and answers the call of the demons. You fucked her after she drugged you and Sammy. Ash saw her with your phone, but you keep on protecting that whore? I bet she made a deal with these monsters or rather she is a monster.”

“Please, let us talk to her first, Y/N. Castiel and Crowley are on their way back to tell us about your deal and the demon holding your contract. Let’s calm down and plan our next steps wisely…please. I know you do not trust Dean, but please trust me.” Sam tries and for a moment you just stand there, looking at your friend.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I know you want to do the right thing, save everyone but…you can’t save me Sam and you know it. Look at me. I’m broken. Only my demonic half keeps me upright. The pain, the memories are back, and I can’t…I just can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see my friends hurting, violating me in the cruelest way possible. I’m scared to the bone only looking at you…Dean is even worse…I will kill her and then…you can end me.” You say before you run toward the garage. “We need to stop her,” Dean yells running after you but the moment he reaches his car he sees you smiling at him. A smile he has not seen for years. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope you and Sam have a long and fulfilled life. I forgive you as this is the end once for all.” You whisper before vanishing. “Son of a bitch, Sammy!” ---- “Jo…Jo…Jo…it’s been a while. How have you been?” You chuckle as the blonde woman is staring at you with wide eyes. Sliding your knife over the bar counter you smirk at her. “Did the cat got your tongue? I asked you a question.” “Fine…I’m fine, Y/N…and you?” Jo asks nervously biting her lip. “I was not ‘fine’. Getting kidnapped, tortured and mentally raped by demons is no fun I can tell. The best thing was…they used my friend's faces.”

“I’m sorry…” Jo lies, and you chuckle. “Why are you here?” “Hmm…why…am…I…here?” You cackle wielding the knife in front of Jo’s face. “I’m here as Ash over there. Ash are you with us?” You ask looking at the unconscious and to a chair bond man. “Damn he’s such a party crasher…” “Please…don’t hurt me.” Jo gasps. “Oh…you know what? I begged these demons too. Every…single…day. They never stopped hurting me for months, Jojo…for months. I always asked myself why they did not let me go or just killed me after they got to know Dean won’t come to save me.” “Dean …” “Yeah…Good, old Dean Winchester. Hero. Asshole. Son of a bitch but still sexy as hell, Dean Winchester. Do you know why they did not let me go, Jojo?” You ask now sliding the dull side off your knife over Ellen’s arm. “I don’t know, Y/N.” Jo stammers. “Odd. You made a deal with these guys and do not know? Don’t play stupid blonde chick with me, Jo. We both know better. Ash over there heard you called the demons and he saw you answering the phone. After that, you fucked Dean while he was drugged. Poor little Jo. Didn’t he got hard without drugging him?” You tease.

Knife only inches from Ellen’s face you smirk at the older woman. Her eyes are wide, and she stares at her beloved daughter in disbelief. “Jo…is what she says true?” Ellen gasps. “Fine, you’ve got me, bitch! Even after I managed to drive a wedge between you and Dean he never stopped talking about you. He was yearning for you, your friendship and more. I hated it…I had to get rid of you but also I wanted to have some fun…” Jo chuckles and you smile at her. “Fun…interesting. So you made a deal with a bunch of demons and drugged Dean to rape him?” “I did not rape him! I just gave him something to get more…” “Get hard and horny? To make him want you? Pitiful little Jo. Not able to get a man hard the natural way so you make deals and rape him?” “I did not!” “Shut up, blonde bitch. Here’s the deal. Dean and Sammy are on their way, but I have plenty of time. I want the name of the demon you made your deal with and I want to know why they wanted to break me.” “I suggested hurting you to break you. I wanted you to become a demon, so Dean got no other choice than killing you. I did not expect him to become one himself and before I knew years passed…” Jo says, and you start cackling. “You thought Dean would kill me? God, you are too stupid. Even now he tries to save me, tries to make it up to me. Dean is ripping himself into pieces before he kills me, stupid child. The guilt is eating him alive and this is your fault. Did you believe he would marry you, give you hot sweaty sex every night? We are talking about Dean Winchester.” “I thought…” “No, you didn’t think, bitch. I was in your way and you wanted me to suffer. Now I will make you suffer.” Your hand wraps around Ellen’s throat and you can see no emotion in Jo’s eyes. “Ellen…does your daughter love you?” You whisper and Ellen looks at you. Tears are streaming down her face, but she nods. “When was the last time she was warm and friendly?” “Before that night…before she and Dean…” Ellen whispers as you lean closer to her. “We’ve got a problem, Ellen. I think Jo made a hell of a deal and she’s like Sam back then, soulless…only worse. I will open your bindings now and you will take the knife, help Ash and get out of here.” You whisper and Ellen’s eyes widen. “Now…” ---- “Ellen, where is Y/N?” Sam pants running after Dean who is storming into Ellen’s bar. “She said Jo is soulless like you years ago. Y/N believes Jo made a deal or something, drugged Dean to…” “I got it. Stay outside with Ash. Castiel will help you. Crowley, come with me.” Sam orders and the King of hell rolls his eyes. “Find out who has her contract. Help us getting faster to Ellen’s Bar…come with me. We need to talk about your abilities in making conversation, Moose.” Crowley snickers and Sam glares at the much smaller man. “We’ve got no time for this shit. If Y/N kills Jo, there’s no turning back…” “Blah…blah…let her kill the crazy chick. She deserves catching hell for sure…” ---- “Y/N, Y/N…do you believe you can kill me? If you do so…Dean will end you once for all.” Jo snickers. Her whole posture changed, and she smirks at you. “That’s the goal, bitch. I’ll kill you and Dean will end me.” You chuckle and her smile fades. “You don’t have to kill me. Be smart and let me help you. It feels so good being free of your soul. I know you remember the feeling, don’t you?” Jo says slowly walking toward you. Her hips sway and she smiles at you but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was never soulless, only a sexy demon. I was still in control…just without all the painful memories.” You whisper. “Perfect! Wasn’t it, prefect? The stillness of heart, mind, and soul. Only pure unadulterated power. Doing what you want to do. No more, sad little girl! No more he only sees me as a sister! No more he only loves Y/N! Free, powerful…and thoughtfully fucked in his backseat.” Jo snickers and you slam your fist into her face. The next punch hits her stomach, followed by a kick to her shin. Huntress or not, soulless or not she can’t stand against a trained huntress with demonic powers. Your eyes flash black and you punch her face again, and again. Memories come back, memories of the pain and desperation so you get your gun out of your waistband and motion her to get up. “Any last wishes?” You ask. “Dean…” Jo chuckles. “I don’t think he wants you if he gets to know you drugged and raped him…” “I did not! I just made him more complying…” Jo gasp as you unlock your gun and press your finger to the trigger. “Y/N, don’t do this,” Dean calls for you. Distracted you look at him. His eyes widen and you watch him aiming his gun, you barely register the gunshot before the bullet hits Jo’s body. Looking at her falling to the ground you see the weapon in her hand. She would’ve killed you… “It was her…it was all her to get you…” You whisper before darkness consumes you. ---- “What does that mean for her, Castiel?” Sam asks. “We got her contract and the demon is dead. Crowley released her and she should be back to normal soon. At least her demonic half should fade away…the rest…” Castiel sighs looking at your unconscious form in the backseat of the Impala. “Only time can tell. She will need help. Without her powers and demonic half of her suppressing the memories and the pain…” “I got it, Castiel. Y/N will need her friends.” “How’s Ellen?” Dean asks. “She can’t believe her daughter did all these awful things. Drugging you and letting Y/N getting kidnapped…she did this before she sold her soul, Dean. It was all Jo, not her soulless self.” Sam explains. “I never thought…” “According to Ellen, her daughter was jealous. She heard you talking about Y/N and how much you miss her. That you want to try to find and make it up to her. This was the moment Jo decided Y/N has to go…” “Dammit!” Dean curses. “Will Jo survive?” “Likely…I don’t know what to do with her if she survives. Her soul was in hell for a long time and I got no clue if getting it back would make things worse or not. It was her hurting Y/N and…abusing you…” “Don’t remind me, Sammy. I felt guilty for all this time. I always saw Jo as a younger sister, nothing more. I never thought she’s into me, Sam. How could I not see she’s crazy?” “Let’s drive back home. Good thing Bobby got here in time with your car or Crowley would mutter even more.” “We owe him one.” Dean sighs glancing at the demon looking at you in the backseat. He’s tapping your forehead and a smile crosses his face. “Hands off, Crowley!” Dean barks and the demon shrugs. “Just gave her a pleasant dream. I’m suppressing the bad memories at least in her dreams so she can sleep peacefully. I like her. Hell of a woman, Winchester. You better watch over her or I’ll do so.” Vanishing Crowley leaves a stunned Dean behind. “Every man seems to fall for Y/N.” Sam chuckles and his brother glares at him. ---- “How do you feel?” Dean asks sitting next to you on his bed. “Like a freight train rammed me and a car hit me next. My head hurts and I hate seeing your face, otherwise, everything is fine.” You mutter. “Is she dead?” “In a hospital. Ellen is with her, along with Cas and Crowley. It was her…I’m so sorry you became a victim as she wanted me.” Dean whispers taking your hand in his. “At least you had some fun…I got the shitty part of the deal, I guess.” You tease. “She drugged me and Sammy. I would’ve never…I swear. I felt guilty after I had sex with Jo. She was like a sister to me and I thought I ‘used’ her that night.” “It was the other way around. Damn, Dean. Did no one taught you to not accept drinks from strangers?” You cough as you try to sit up. “Lie down, Y/N. You need to rest. I remember how I felt after I turned back into human. I made you a bowl of soup and a hot chocolate if you want to eat and drink something.” “I should hit the road soon. I’ve got unfinished business …” “I know, Y/N. We still need to find the demon offering Jo her deal and giving her the drugs. We will find him and rip him apart. For now,…rest.” “Yes, mommy!” You grunt. “Sleep, Y/N. Please for once in your life, listen to me. Trust me…” “Dean…” “Please…trust me…” “I can try…”

Trust Tags

@greenarrowhead, @justanotherwinchester, @marvelouslysherlockedhunter, @lazygrizzlybee2

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby , @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @idioticsky, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers,@guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @destieladdict-221b, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr @sadwaywardkid, @akshi8278, @hhiggs, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester, @jadesupernatural

#spn #spn fanfiction #angst #trust issues #trust masterlist #demon reader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #castiel #crowley #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader

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hannahindie · 7 years ago

Text

At the End of All Things: Chapter 1

Characters so far: Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle, Sam Winchester x Amelia, Bobby Singer x Ellen Harvelle, Castiel, Garth Fitzgerald, Ash Word Count: 2,662 Warnings: Nothing but a little bit of language, but there will be eventual gore, violence, more language, angst, major character deaths, adult situations, the whole nine. Author’s Note: This is an AU/Crossover between Supernatural and Walking Dead. I’ve brought some characters back from the dead since it is an AU, and it’s going to be chock full of ships. This is the first time I’ve written an AU or a crossover, so bare with me while I work out all the kinks. lol I’ve always wondered how the Winchesters would make it in a world full of walkers, so this is my take on it. Thanks goes to @trexrambling and @pinknerdpanda for jumping on this crazy train and beast of an idea, and helping me me maker it better. You guys are the best and I love you. I hope you enjoy! As always, tags are at the bottom, and if you’d like to be added or don’t see yourself, please let me know! If you do not like The Walking Dead, AUs, or crossovers, please let me know and I can remove you from future tags. Any feedback is welcome. :)

The end. That's how this story begins. Because truthfully, the end of the world was the start of something else. A whole new world where the living met the dead with a clash of teeth against skin, metal against bone. The world that was supposed to be saved, the one where Sam said no and the battle between Lucifer and Michael never happened, the one that should have been saved from the Croatoan virus, had found itself being destroyed by something else entirely.

At the end of all things, when the dead outnumbered the living and everything seemed lost, the Winchesters once again took it upon themselves to save the world. Although it seemed like a doomed mission from the start, powered by false hope in less than reliable information, the rest of the ragged group they called their family refused to be left behind. What they didn't realize was that they would meet an equally tenacious group along the way.

Sam and Dean Winchester were about to find out that the world had changed far more than they could have ever imagined.

Dean woke slowly, the sun coming through the partially open blinds warm on his face, and groaned as he stretched out. The soft figure next to him stirred gently as he moved, her long hair cascading over one bare shoulder as she shifted closer to him and slipped a slender arm across his waist. He blinked away sleep and looked down on the still sleeping woman, and a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. He ran his thumb down her jawline, then carefully tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled in her sleep and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“For the end of the world, this ain't a bad way to start the day,” he thought to himself as he watched her slowly begin to wake up; her eyes squeezed shut tightly, her legs stretched out first and her toes curled, and then it seemed like the rest of her unrolled as the stretching moved up her body. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead and her eyebrows drew together as her nose scrunched up and she finally opened her eyes. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said quietly, and she smiled as she closed her eyes again.

“Good morning to you too, handsome. What time is it?”

Dean glanced over at the beat up clock that they'd somehow managed to keep ticking, although whether it was actually accurate remained to be seen, “7:30.”

She sighed, “I'm supposed to work on laundry today. I need to get up.”

Dean moved his hand from her neck slowly down to her breast. “Aww, come on, we can lay here a little bit longer, can't we?” he asked as he lazily swirled his finger around the pebbled flesh before tweaking her nipple playfully.

“Dean Winchester, that's how we got in this trouble to start with.”

Dean grinned as his hand wandered further to land on the small bump at her waist, “I don't think it was any trouble.” He kissed her gently on the neck and smiled against her as her laugh echoed in the quiet room.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle! Quit foolin’ around with that Winchester and get out here and help your mother!”

Jo sighed and sat up as she grabbed her shirt from where it hung on the bedpost, “Duty calls.”

Dean grabbed Jo by the waist before she could stand and kissed her stomach, “Tell that woman the mother of my child should get to sleep in longer.”

Jo shoved him playfully and stood to pull her jeans up, “You tell her that and see what happens.” She bent down and kissed Dean on the forehead. “Everyone's gotta pull their weight, even baby Winchester.”

There was a faint knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice, “Dean, it’s Sam. We need you outside.” Dean groaned and fell back against his pillow. Jo opened the door and Sam smiled at her. “How're you doing, Jo?”

She smiled back, “Good, good. What’s going on that you need Dean?”

Sam shrugged, “Could be nothing. Chuck said he had something he needed to talk about. You know how Chuck is.”

Jo laughed, “Yea.” They were interrupted by Ellen yelling for Jo again and she rolled her eyes, “I better go before she has a coronary. See you later.”

Dean sat up and watched as Jo wandered down the hall and turned the corner, then looked back to Sam, “What's going on?”

Sam was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath before answering, “Garth and Ash are back.”

“Explain it to me again. Like I'm five.” Dean leaned against the counter, his arms crossed.

Garth smoothed out the map, then pointed to where they were currently located, “This is us. Alexandria is about a six day walk from here, D.C. maybe a half an hour north of that. We made it to about here before we had to stop.” Garth pointed at an area close to Alexandria.

“If it's only a six day walk, why in the hell were you gone for so long?” Dean asked gruffly.

“It's a six day walk if you go straight at it. That ain't what we did. We meandered a bit, stayed as close to cover as we could. I don't know if you've met us, we ain't exactly you and Sam. Not to say I couldn't kick some ass, know what I'm sayin’?” Ash flipped his long mullet from his shoulder. Dean narrowed his eyes but remained silent. He had a lot of respect for Ash, but there were moments he could throttle him.

Ash must have noticed and cleared his throat, “Anyway, just in case you missed it the first time, this what we think the compound in Alexandria looks like.” He motioned at Garth to hand him a marker, then slid over a piece of wax paper he'd had Jo bring to him earlier. He carefully laid the wax paper over the map and began tracing over what he and Garth had found. He stopped, leaving one side of the box open.

Sam pointed at the open side, “What about that?”

Garth shrugged, “We don't know for sure. There was an...incident. Not sure what exactly happened, sounded like they lost a couple of their people, and so we followed them home after. We had to be careful, so we stayed on the outskirts and tried to map out how big of an area it is. It rivals ours. They seem like good people, but we were afraid if we let them see us, they wouldn't let us leave. They kept that side heavily guarded, so my guess is that's where the actual entrance is. We got as close to D.C. as we could after that, but between the weather and it just being us...we couldn't risk it.”

Ash tossed the marker on the table, “I ain't gonna lie to you, it's rough out there. I honest to God don't know if ol’ Dick is up there working on a cure or not. My guess would be no with all those biters everywhere, but if we are gonna try to find him, we’re gonna need more than the two of us. That lab is right in the middle of biter central.”

Sam sighed and looked at Dean, “What do you think?”

Dean stood quietly as he stared at the map, his arms still crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Sam knew that look. It was the look Dean got when faced with an impossible situation that would likely get them both killed, but in the end would be for the greater good. So when Dean looked up at him, still silent but saying so much with just his eyes, Sam squared his shoulders and said the one thing he always said to Dean in this kind of situation.

“When are we leaving?”

“Absolutely not! You don't always have to be the one that fixes things, Dean!”

Dean ran a hand over his face, “Jo, if this cure exists we have to make sure it gets distributed. Dick Roman is...well, he's a dick. He'll take advantage of this as much as he can. Me and Sam can stop it-”

“Why? No one expects that! What they expect is for the two people who hold this damn group together to stay here. We don't know that that cure is real, we don't even know if that lab is up and running. And you heard Ash and Garth, something bad happened to those people in Alexandria. You're wanting to go right towards it!” She absent mindedly rubbed her bump, and Dean sighed. He slowly walked towards her and pulled her into him.

“Jo…”

She shook her head, “No, Dean. This world is dangerous enough as it is. You are going to be a father, you can't be as reckless as you were before.” She pulled away from him and stopped in the doorway, “I love you, but you're an idiot. Find someone else to go.” She went outside and slammed the door behind her.

“I take it that didn't go well.”

Dean turned to see Sam standing in the doorway to the kitchen, “You could say that,” Dean scoffed, “How'd it go with Amelia?”

Sam shrugged, “About the same. Didn't have the baby card to play against me, though. Although I'm not sure I would put it past her.” Sam sighed and sat down at the table, his eyes on the map that Ash and Garth had left behind.

“Why are you even with her, Sammy? Because where I'm standing, it seems like you're just putting up with her because you don't want to be alone.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, “Do you think the lab is even a real thing?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Alright, ignoring our feelings, check. Don't say I never tried.” Dean sat across from Sam and leaned his head into his hands, “I don't know, man. I know it's been years...that rumor could have been from the beginning of the turn. But I don't see how we can just ignore it. And if we can stop this, if we can save the world for my kid and everyone after us...isn't it worth it?”

Sam nodded, “Yea...it is.” He ran his hand over the outline that Ash had drawn, “What if we can get these people to help? That could double our force if we were able to make it work.”

Dean sat up and stared at the black outline of Alexandria. It was iffy, getting that group to help them. Especially if they had trouble of their own. But if they were willing…

“I don't know, Sammy. Who knows if we can trust them, and even if we can, whether they'd be willing to do it is a totally different story. It could be worth a shot though.” Dean stood and shoved his chair in, “We need to talk to Ash and Garth. Maybe we can get a couple others to go with us.”

“What about Jo?”

Dean sighed, “She's just gonna have to understand. I'm doing this for her. I'm doing it for our kid. I'd do anything for them, even if that means risking my life for an uncertainty if there's even a fraction of a chance I could keep them safe.” He paused, then looked over his shoulder at Sam, “What about Amelia?”

Sam shrugged, “She’ll come around.” They both moved toward the door to leave, and Sam paused with his hand on the door knob, “It's not because I'm scared of being alone. She needed someone, and there wasn't anyone else. I'm just...I love her. It's just different than you and Jo.” He threw the door open before Dean could answer, but immediately stopped and Dean ran into him.

“What the hell…” Dean trailed off as he saw the group of people standing outside his house.

Ellen and Bobby were at the front of the group, and Bobby took a step forward, “We've got some words for you idjits and you're gonna damn well stand there and listen. You ain't goin’ on some wild goose chase all by yourselves. If you go, we all go. Family don't end with blood, boys. And if that ain't gonna work for ya, you ain't goin’.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue and immediately shut it. Jo walked over to Dean and grabbed his hands, “Where you go, I go. If it's important enough to risk your life, it's important enough for us all to try. You need the manpower, you've got it.”

Dean shook his head, “I can't risk you, Jo. I can't let you go…”

“Let me? Since when have you ever ‘let’ me do anything? I can take care of myself, but you know I'd be safer with you anyway. You know I'm right.” Dean looked at Jo, then to Bobby and Ellen, and his gaze finally rested on Cas, who was surrounded by an entourage of women as he leaned against a tree with his arms crossed. Cas nodded at him, a grim smile on his face, and Dean looked back at Sam who nodded once and raised his eyebrows.

Dean kissed Jo on the forehead and pulled her close, then surveyed the rest of the group who were looking at him expectantly.

“Well, I guess we'd better get ready. All of us.” He felt Jo tighten her arms around his waist and he hoped that the decision he'd just made didn't get them all killed.

Read Chapter 2 HERE.

Dean Only: @lavieenlex @akshi8278 @valkyrieslament @highonpastries

#Supernatural #The Walking Dead #fanfiction #crossover #au #Walking Dead x Supernatural #hannah writes stuff

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imagineteamfreewill · 8 years ago

Text

Choice to Make

Title: Choice to Make

Pairing: Reader x Model!Sam

Word Count: 1,312

Beta: @waywardlullabies

A/N: This is part six of the Fame series! It’s pretty short, but I hope everyone is enjoying it. The next part will be longer for sure. Please let me know what you think!

Fame Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

_______________

Sam was waiting for you inside your apartment when you got home from school that day. Surprised to see him, you dropped the bottle of soda you’d been carrying. It hit the tile with a loud thud, causing the tall man to jump from his seat. The frightened expression on his face made you laugh and soon the shaken-up soda was long forgotten. He crossed the room eagerly, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard.

“What was that for?” you asked once he’d finally pulled away. Your voice was breathy, filled with both relief and hoarse need from the kiss.

“God, I missed you,” Sam replied, pecking your lips one more time and smiling. You grinned, wrapping your arms around his middle and hugging you tightly. Sam’s arms wrapped around you fully and held you to him, the buttons from his jacket pressing into your stomach until it became uncomfortable and you had to pull out of the hug.

“I missed you too, Sam,” you told him, reaching up to cup his cheek in your hand. A day’s worth of scruff scratched against your palm when he smiled wide at you, hazel eyes sparkling happily. “I’m sorry I threw the remote at you.” Your thumb brushed over the bruise on his cheek, now a dark black and blue that was striking against the bronze of his tanned skin. Sam sighed softly and took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

“It’s alright. Bruises heal. Time heals all wounds, right?” You laughed softly, remembering when Steph had said those same words to you a few days before.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” you asked. “I don’t have any food, so we’d have to go out, but I’m starving. I forgot how hungry art makes me!” Sam chuckled at your remark and nodded. He began to lead you to the door when his phone rang. Glancing at it, he sighed and accepted the call, giving you an apologetic look. He barely said anything into the phone; the person on the other end did all the talking before abruptly hanging up. Sam opened his mouth to speak when there was a knock at your door. Confused, you went over and opened it. Ellen Harvelle stood on the other side. She slipped her phone into her back pocket and gave you a stern look.

“I take it you were the one that called Sam,” you said slowly, glancing back at your boyfriend, who stood behind you.

“Kids, we need to talk,” she said. You stepped aside after a second and she walked in without another word. Closing the door behind her, you glanced at Sam. He shrugged and followed the agent into your living room. She directed both of you to sit on the couch, leaving her to stand in front of you with her arms crossed and lips pursed.

“You two are in so much trouble,” she started. Sam hung his head immediately and you shrunk back against the couch cushions. Her voice reminded you of all the times your mother scolded you as a child. “Because the two of you can’t seem to fix your own relationship problems without blowing things out of proportion, I now have to deal with this whole media circus, along with dozens of people calling from all around the world backing out of jobs we’d already set up! You can’t afford to be losing these gigs, Sam. In case you’ve forgotten, modeling is how you make the money you need to live. So either you need to figure out how to stop all these rumors and articles about you, or I’m ending this here and now.” You swallowed nervously, staring up at the imposing woman.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you croaked, nervousness creeping into your voice. Sam’s hand found yours and squeezed tightly.

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart, but you did. And now it’s my job to fix it. Do you understand me, Samuel?” Ellen’s tone was sharp and her meaning was clear as day to you. Sam had to make a choice. Would he stay with you, or would he choose his career? In order to “fix it,” Ellen wanted him to give up the only steady, mostly happy relationship he’d had since Jess had passed away. Anger simmered inside of you.

“You can’t ask him to choose!” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you were on your feet, staring her down. Ellen raised an eyebrow at you, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I can, and I did. This isn’t your choice, Y/N. It’s Sam’s,” she replied, her voice cool and calm. Determination sparked inside of you and you huffed, storming to your room to get the evidence of Becky’s treachery.

From the bedroom, you could hear Sam's voice, tight with indignation, and Ellen's, ever the collected agent. Their words were unclear but the meaning was all the same, and when you came back out with your laptop and the memory chip, Ellen was gone. Sam was sitting on your couch, head in his hands. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through the brown locks. You sank to your knees at his feet, setting aside the evidence for now. Sam lifted his head to look at you.

“You didn't have to do that, Sam. You shouldn't have done that. Your career is important…” Sam shook his head, stopping your train of thought.

“I can find another agent, I've had plenty of offers over the years. I finally have another chance to love someone, Y/N, to live a life I've only been able to dream of ever since Jess, and I'm not letting you go that easy. I really love you. I'm not about to let a few lost jobs get in the way of that,” he replied, his voice soft. You blinked away the tears that were welling up in your eyes and pushed yourself up on your knees so you could hug him. He held you tightly, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, too, Sam. And I'm willing to fight for this, too.” You pulled away and picked up your laptop again. Sam watched you, his eyebrows furrowed in an altogether baffled expression. Quickly, you pulled up the emails Steph had forwarded to you, then the pictures you had gotten from the memory card. You handed off the computer to Sam. He looked over everything without saying a word.

“Well?” you asked after he'd given it back to you. He let out a slow but steady breath, meeting your eyes.

“I can't- I can’t believe this! I guess it all makes sense now, though. I had found a collage of pictures of me in her trailer one day… She said it was part of a practical joke she was going to play on me one day, but clearly, that's not what it was,” Sam told you. His lip curled up in disgust and you squeezed his knee gently. You decided to ignore the fact that he had been in her trailer, despite the hatred for her it dredged up inside of you.

“We have a plan to expose her, but Stephanie and I are gonna need your help. Are you in?” you asked. Sam took one look at you and nodded firmly.

“I refuse to let her get away with this, Y/N. She shouldn't have tried to mess with me, especially not with you,” he replied. You gave him a small smile and let Sam pull you up for a searing kiss. “I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you, Y/N. Never again. I promise.” You nodded, smiling and cupping his cheek, pulling him back in for another kiss.

“She’s going down,” you murmured against his lips.

_______________

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Forever Tag List: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @deathtonormalcy56, @loveitsallineed, @feelmyroarrrr, @shadowgirl077, @mogaruke, @buckysmetallicstump, @d-s-winchester, @kickasscas67, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @therebel1967, @supernatural-harrypotter7, @allinhishands, @ultimatecin73, @crystallstaircase, @a-screaming-ghost, @huffleypuffelycas, @procrastinating-fallen-angel, @kittycat-cas, @dracsgirl, @deansleather, @queenindecisive. @wildfirekhaleesi, @fuckyeahfeysand, @sandlee44, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @spontaneousam, @writingbeautifulmen, @kristaparadowski, @adaliamalfoy, @winchesterforever12, @fangirl1802

Sam Tag List: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @lipstickandwhiskey , @thinkwritexpress, @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @beriala, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @gryffindorable713, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls, @ackleslaugh, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @for-the-love-of-dean, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @shipping-people-writing-things, @tia58, @sunriserose1023, @jotink78, @babypieandwhiskey, @waywardjoy, @fiveleaf, @spn-fan-girl-173, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @samsgoddess, @notnaturalanahi, @thegreatficmaster, @megansescape, @blushingsamgirl, @impossible-box, @castiels-forbidden-angel, @everyday-supernatural-af, @nichelle-my-belle, @jared-padaloveme, @supernatural-jackles, @idreamofhazel, @wevegotworktodo, @moonriverbabe, @snowystarguardian, @phoenixia67, @iamreadinginsecret, @growningupgeek, @20secspnfam4, @jpadjackles, @deerlululucy, @supermoonpanda, @sleep-silent-angel, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @not-so-natural-spn, @shelovesallthethings, @memariana91, @chelsea-winchester, @revwinchester, @drarina1737, @castieltrash1, @supernaturalyobessed, @deals-with-demons, @matteson-crazed,

Fame Tag List: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @deathtonormalcy56, @feelmyroarrrr, @blushingsamgirl, @iamnotsaneatall, @gallifreyansass, @nobodylastname, @annad123456, @moonriverbabe, @white-magician, @studypine, @exploratiionist, @deantheotherkingofkinks, @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian, @uruburok13, @amaranthinecastiel, @iamflanneltrash, @whiteangelheart, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @windeango67, @fayemenelmir, @freaksforthewin, @superwhomerlockinuum, @thetardishasaquidditchpitch

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