#untilmynextstory

[untilmynextstory]

we're falling like stars

05. i'm such a fool to pay this price | Elia Martell x Brandon Stark

Summary: The past always nips at the heels of Rhaegar Targaryen

 Rhaegar Targaryen, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, was used to waking up to an empty bed and an even emptier chamber. He could count on one hand how many times he had woken up with his wife next to him in bed in the last 20 years. Despite being a dragon, Rhaegar had to grow accustomed to cold chambers, not from the lack of firewood and furs, but between him and his wife. 

Yet Rhaegar knew he had no right to voice discontent about the state of his marriage. After what he had done and the damage he had caused, he supposed he was lucky Elia managed to stand in his presence. 

Even after all these years, he didn’t know how Elia felt about his actions. He could make guesses and was sure he would be accurate enough in his predictions. Though his Queen would never confirm or deny, she remained dutiful. She never complained or showed any displeasure at the role bestowed upon her. 

Rhaegar wasn’t blind to the fact that his reign had started on the worst of foundations. He was acutely aware that the blame lay solely at his feet. 

The Lords who sat at his tables wouldn't tell him about his choices. Even those most loyal wouldn't dare speak anything untoward about him throwing the realm into chaos over a woman. No matter his intentions—noble or not—he had caused blood to water his realm. The people he had vowed to protect from his father's increasing madness and the Long Night, he had made them orphans and widows. Rhaegar was painfully aware of the consequences of his actions.

No one would speak these truths to him outside of his good brother Oberyn, but despite her status, there was no protection for his Queen of such words. Although he was sure, such insults paled to what his actions brought her. 

There were only so many tongues he could threaten to take. He didn’t want to turn into his father because of his actions. 

Yet his wife handled it with dignity. She never showed that she was bothered by their words or angry. His wife never raised her voice or hand at him when she had all cause to. Yet, the person whose anger surprised him the most was his mother. 

To this day, like Elia, she never requested an explanation. However, she made her anger—displeasure—known as soon as she returned from Dragonstone. His cheek still tingled from the force of her slap. It was the first time he truly saw the dragon in his mother, and unfortunately, their relationship had never recovered. 

His mother left the court shortly to find permanent residence on Dragonstone, raising his siblings, Viserys and Daenerys. He knew his mother had only stayed in King’s Landing during that first year of his reign for Elia and his children’s sake. 

He was surprised that his mother had accepted a temporary role on his small council during the first year. During those times, he felt his mother said more to him than one-word answers to things. 

Elia wasn’t like that. She still engaged like a proper lady wife in public. Behind closed doors, he had been waiting for the inevitable blow-up, but it never came. She did her duties as always with no air dissatisfaction. 

Then, he thought his marriage would implode once Elia had become pregnant with Mariah. It brought even more of a harsh reminder that all that he did was for naught. He had bled the realm for nothing. 

He remembered even his mother saying that if Elia had time to recover from her first labor with Rhaenys, things mightn’t have been so dire. Though he knew what his mother was saying beneath her words, the men in their family bled the woman for heirs. 

Though he could say Mariah’s birth was never intended, he truly never expected to have another child with Elia. Sure, most of the reasoning came from the Maesters' predictions, but because of what happened with Lyanna, he would ignore the Maesters' disclosing that they made another batch of moon tea for his wife. 

And Rhaegar wasn’t a fool by any means; in the first year, he never sought his marriage bed with Elia. He wasn’t under any illusion that he would be welcome in her bed even if she would do her duty without complaint. 

Rhaegar may be many things - foolish being the highest - but he wouldn’t force his wife, especially knowing what his father did to his mother. 

Physical intimacy was never an issue in his marriage. He knew the realm considered him bookish, and he wasn’t one for brothels. Rhaeger wasn’t pious by all means, but he was a man. He was - is -  attracted to his wife. 

However, after the year of abstinence, he had sought her bed. She didn’t reject him. And he wasn’t blind to the fact that the enthusiasm wasn’t the same, but she seemed to accept his advances. However, he was painfully aware that she never went out of her way to initiate. So their coupling wasn’t a lot, but enough for Mariah to be born. 

Rhaegar didn’t know how to feel when Elia had told him and watched as her stomach became more pronounced. He didn’t know how to handle that this pregnancy could bring his wife’s death or the fact in his darkest thoughts that Elia was always meant to be the mother of his three heads. 

Then, he felt he was in a pool of regrets as he thought about what he had put Lyanna through. He could admit he was fond of the Stark girl. She was wild and spirited. And he had convinced himself he needed Ice for his fire. She wanted out of her betrothal with Robert, and he needed a third head. He didn’t love her despite what the songs proclaimed. In fact, after the birth of the third child, he never planned on seeing the Stark girl. 

Maybe it was cruel of him, but Lyanna was a means to an end. He was sure that Lyanna would state the same. He had only heard from the Stark girl once since he had married her to his friend Jon Connington. He knew there was no love in that marriage, but considering the North’s reactions to Lyanna’s actions and most of the realm, she deserved a peaceful life. 

He knew his friend wasn’t happy with the arrangement, yet he thought there was some contentment in the relationship. The few times Jon spoke of his wife, he would detail that she mainly spent time outside the castle hunting and riding. Jon wasn’t a man to bestow praise often, but he would highlight that Lyanna did her duty well as the Lady of Griffin’s Roost. 

Though he imagined ripples in his friend’s marriage despite his residence being in King’s Landing when it was time to announce Elia's pregnancy to the realm, he saw it in how Jon would look at him. Yet, Rhaegar felt it was more betrayal to Elia to think or consider Lyanna’s actions or feelings, especially when he hadn’t seen Elia so happy since she had told him that she was pregnant with Rhaenys. 

And with this pregnancy, she did have a healthy glow he hadn’t seen from his wife outside of the glimpses she would show him when they were in Dorne or her brothers. He had thought that maybe this pregnancy would be the thing to bridge them together. He thought, in some ways, it did. He felt more present with the pregnancy than with his oldest two children. 

He accompanied Elia to all her appointments, and even his mother returned from Dragonstone to be with his wife. 

At birth, Rhaegar had never been so terrified for the fate of his wife. He knew the birthing bed wasn’t easy for any woman. However, with Elia’s health, it was even more precarious. He remembered all the blood and Elia’s pale skin after Rhaenys' birth. Elia’s frail grip in his hand as she struggled to open her eyes. She had assured him the birth wasn’t too much for her despite the battlefield her birthing bed looked like. 

However, the severity of the birth wouldn’t be evident until afterward. Elia had been too weak to walk and was bedridden for almost half the year. However, a part of him felt that her recovery was affected by the fact their firstborn wasn’t a son. 

At Aegon’s birth, Elia was placed in confinement once the swelling of her stomach became pronounced. Their marriage was shaky after the Tourney, and Elia never mentioned how she felt as she focused on the pregnancy. He didn’t want to upset her, and he found himself in the ancient scrolls that belonged to his family or writing his Uncle Aemon. 

He had expected the long labors and the looks of pity at Mariah's birth, though her birth had been the quickest and easiest. It was sudden. Elia had an intense craving for dragon peppers and had been snacking on them when her labors came. She wasn’t able to make it to her chambers as she gave birth in the middle of the godswood in front of the oak imitation of a weirwood tree. 

He remembered rushing down to the woods and seeing Ser Jamie try to preserve her modesty as a woman giving birth could have. But Mariah, in all her screaming glory, was there in her arms. Elia had the biggest smile as she held their daughter tightly. 

And Mariah was her mother’s image from the midnight hair and skin tone. She was practically Rhaenys’ twin, except while his oldest daughter inherited his purple eyes, Mariah was born as the embodiment of her mother’s homeland. 

And Mariah was the child he was closest to, and he feared the day the illusion of him would shatter in her eyes as it did for Rhaenys and Aegon. 

He could clearly remember when Rhaenys discovered what he had done to Elia. No longer was she the firstborn who always wanted to receive hugs or any of his affection. She no longer tried to be a presence in his small councils. 

He could see the betrayal his daughter felt, or maybe it was always there. She had done her best to bury it as her nightmares did return. Her screams echoed through the Red Keep. Rhaegar didn’t remember Rhaenys ever having trouble sleeping. His little girl was known to fall asleep in his lap. Aegon had always been the more fussy babe. His son had always preferred the comfort of his mother versus him. 

Yet, with the return of Rhaenys's nightmares, Elia had told him the truth. That night, when the keep was attacked, Rhaenys had screamed for him. Considering the damage to his family quarters, he knew she had hidden under his bed. He didn’t know about her terrors because Elia had her daughter in her bed. She would stay up all night trying to console their little girl. 

If he were honest with himself, even as he returned to the Keep, Rhaenys would fight for his attention. When she truly needed something, she never asked for him. Only Elia could wipe her tears. 

He watched as his daughter put the pieces of his betrayal together. He thought she was a dragon shedding her skin as she replaced the prominent sigils and reminders of his house with her mother’s. 

She had donned Dorne's traditional garments, which reminded him of Elia when he first met her all those years ago, before their betrothal, when he visited Dorne. 

His son was harder to read. Aegon had always been a boy who could laugh easily, especially compared to him. Sometimes, he felt his son had inherited his Uncle Oberyn’s temperament. His son knew how to read people—he could charm them like a viper, though he was dutiful. He knew what his role was in their family. He took his studies seriously and soaked every lesson he tried to give along with the small council. Rhaegar wanted to prepare his son for his role as King - something his father never did for him. 

It filled him with pride as he watched his son, as a cupbearer, learn how decisions for the realm were made. And when Rhaenys had figured out the truth, Aegon didn’t shout or show disdain as visible as his sister. 

Even when he tried to pull his son aside, Aegon gave him a dismissive smirk and shrugged him off. 

And how could Rhaegar defend himself when he swore he would never bring up the prophecies to his children? How could he defend himself from the songs sung of forbidden love between him and Lyanna when there wasn’t love? It was all a transaction. 

He remembered wanting Elia or his mother to help him figure out these murky waters of parenthood he was sailing in, but it was his burden alone. 

When the door is opened without an announcement, his thoughts are broken. At first, he thought it was one of his wife’s maids, but he knew they would knock. Instead, he found himself looking into the eyes of his youngest daughter, looking mischievous. 

If his daughter is thrown off by his presence in her mother’s chambers, she doesn’t show as her feet patter further into the room. 

“Morning, Kepa.”

A smile graced his lips. Mariah was only up early in the morning if she was in the middle of one of her plots. She walked further into the room, and her eyes scanned for her mother before she climbed onto the bed. Rhaegar thanked the gods he had the foresight to place his trousers back on before he fell asleep. 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. He inhaled the smell of oranges that clung to her skin. She wanted to smell like her mother; she had declared loudly in the keep when anyone asked her about the perfume she was wearing. 

“You’re up early.”

“It’s time to eat!” She announced. “Where’s Muna?”

As if the Seven summoned her, his wife appeared from her chamber, already dressed for the day. Rhaegar can’t help but feel disappointed about not sharing a bath. 

“I’m right here, love,” Elia replied softly. 

 She had chosen to wear more traditional Dorne clothing, which was more appropriate to the heatwave they were experiencing. Her long hair was in a very loose bun, and her gold hair clips were interwoven strategically. 

However, despite knowing the castle is filled with guests, she is dressed more elaborately to break fast with those he assumes are only him and their children. 

“Plans this early in the morning?” He knew he didn’t hide his slight bitterness from his voice and the look Elia gave him. 

“I want to ensure the kitchens are good and all the guests are okay.”

“And which guests will you be dining with?”

“I was planning on breaking fast with the Royces from the Vale. I also heard that Lord Stannis Baratheon and his wife are in attendance.”

Rhaegar can’t hide his wince. He felt as if his past was always nipping at his heels. He knew there was no point in dwelling on things out of his control. Instead, he pressed a kiss to his daughter's head. “You behave for your mother now, okay.”

Rhaegar sighed as he felt a headache forming behind his eyes. He truly didn’t enjoy tourneys, but he did appreciate that they could bring the realm together peacefully—for the most part. It was nice seeing the Houses he usually didn’t interact with, and he loved seeing how the smallfolk could enjoy the festivities, especially since it had been so long since he ventured into Flea Bottom to perform songs and drink with them. 

He knew now, as the King, Ser Barristan would not allow such a thing to happen, nor would any of his Kingsguard. 

But he would prefer to be in the Flea Bottom than have to listen to a poor attempt of some lord trying to plead their case for a betrothal to one of his children. 

However, he could appreciate some of these minor houses being so bold with their proposals. However, it seemed it would be all for naught as he watched his oldest daughter—using her younger sister—mingle with the men from the North, in particular Brandon Stark’s only son, Robb Stark. 

Rhaegar could admit he didn’t know how he felt about that. His council—notably Jon—always voiced that he needed to intervene or address the North’s treatment of the Crown. As much as Rhaegar always valued Jon’s advice and appreciated that even his wife, a woman of the North, did not impact his views, his friend didn’t have the delicacy of handling this. 

Rhaegar was more than aware that the force of the North that Ned had brought carried the weight of their victories during the Rebellion. Despite the Riverlands having the numbers, the North was a brute, strong force simply because they lived in harsh conditions. The North was his largest kingdom. He knew that even the Warden had trouble keeping them contained. He also knew they didn’t have a full revolt because of Brandon. 

As much as Brandon did not like him, he kept the Northmen in line, keeping the fires cool on another rebellion. Rhaegar also knew that if anyone wanted a Rebellion, people would seek the North as allies. It didn’t help that Dorne, another independent kingdom, had ties to the North through the marriage between Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne. 

Rhaegar knew that, unlike last time, Dorne would not let Elia be used to keep them complacent. However, he would never allow that to happen again. 

But Rhaegar wasn’t blind to the hostility that Brandon felt towards him. He knew that the Warden of the North didn’t even talk to his sister once he had been released from the Black Cells and was given the truth. 

Rhaegar had thought that fighting Robert had been a terrifying moment. His cousin was radiating with fury as he swung his favored war hammer. Rhaegar still had nightmares that his blood and rubies stained the Trident. 

He knew Brandon would have called for combat if he hadn’t been weak and malnourished from the black cells. He believed the only thing that kept the man from fanning more flames was Ned telling him about the newborn son who was heir to their house, motherless and needing a father. 

Rhaegar knew he had to thank Ned a lot for being the envoy for Northern matters. Yet, he knew Ned was a son who didn’t crave war. He just wanted his family whole. With Ned being married to Ashara, Elia was part of that family now—his children were dear to Ned and his family, so Ned cared more that their children didn’t have to go through a war like they did. 

It was clear that the North held no love or allegiance to him. 

It made him think of the whispers of an alliance Rickard Stark had been forming with the marriages to the South. It had been part of why he had secretly sponsored the Tourney at Harrenhal. As much as the North did not care for the flowery words of the South, it didn’t put them above politicking. So Rhaegar was curious about why the Warden would encourage interactions between their children outside to vex him. 

He had thought of betrothing his daughter to Ned’s oldest son, Jon, yet he had seen how the boy was utterly transfixed by his younger sister, Daenerys. In the few words spoken to him by his mother, she had even brought up that they planned to visit the Starks of Moat Cailin, especially as it had been some time since his mother had been able to see Ashara. Every visit was missed due to Ashara’s pregnancies. 

Rhaegar sighed. He was tired of thinking about marriages and didn’t want to think about becoming a grandparent so soon. 

He brightened at the sight of his wife returning to her seat. He thought his wife looked even more radiant as she aged. He stood to move her chair and took her by surprise as he briefly kissed her lips. 

It was improper, especially for their station, but he didn’t mind as he heard a few sighs and awes from the crowd. 

Yet, he felt cold grey eyes in their direction that he elected to ignore. 

He couldn’t hide his surprise when Doran approached him, stating that Brandon Stark wanted a meeting between them before the dinner feast. Rhaegar wanted to remove the crown from his head and spend time with his youngest. He was eager to hear what she had done with her day, especially since there was no report of a prank she had set off or of the guards panicking about her sudden disappearance. 

Yet, if Brandon was requesting an audience, it had to be important. 

Only requesting Arthur’s presence, he followed his brother-in-law to the Small Council room where Brandon Stark was already waiting with Prince Lewyn, keeping the man company. 

Brandon did stand but didn’t bother with a bow, “Your Grace, Prince Doran.”

“Is everything okay, Lord Stark?” Rhaegar asked, choosing to ignore his fellow Warden's lack of courtesy. 

“Us Northmen endure,” the man responded as they sat. 

Rhaegar kept his face blank as he eyed the man. Like their winters, the Northerns were always considered harsh, brash, and barbarous. He could see where those descriptions would come from, considering the man wasn’t slim and slender like in the South. Even without their fur cloaks, men such as Brandon made imposing figures. He remembers seeing Brandon back in full health when he came down to the Tourney for Mariah’s birth. Unlike Ned, Brandon was the same height as him, and Rhaegar knew that Brandon would be a challenge from strength alone. He recalled Prince Lewyn mentioning that Brandon was fierce with a sword after a trip Elia had come from in the North. 

However, he watched as a friendly smile graced the man’s lips. He remembered that smile at the Tourney in Harrenhal as the man greeted other noblemen. 

“I requested this meeting to put forth an opportunity to join our houses,” Brandon started. 

Rhaegar felt his heart hammering in his chest. Brandon only had one child - a son. He couldn’t imagine his child - his firstborn so far away. 

“You never cared for anything below the Neck, and now you are offering marriage between my oldest niece and your son?” Doran replied as words failed him. 

“I know with all your plotting, you fear another rebellion, particularly in the North,” Brandon stated harshly. ‘Besides it to assuage doubts of loyalty to the crown. My son and Princess Rhaenys seem to get along fine. I don’t see any harm in the match.”

“You mean outside that you have no respect for the Crown,” Doran answered. 

Brandon looked affronted. “I have respect for the Queen and all of her children. Prince Lewyn can attest to the hospitality all Northerners gladly give to our Queen.”

“Except for me,” Rhaegar said, finding his voice. “What is to say about your detest for me won’t bleed over to my daughter. Or what of your bannerman.”

He watched as Brandon’s eyes turned cold, as he had imagined the Wall was. “If you forget, my wife was of Southern blood. Sure, some will be unhappy, but they also know that without our Southern neighbors, our winters would be even more harsh.”

“It sounds like you should be courting someone from the Reach rather than the capital,” Rhaegar retorted. He didn’t miss the look Doran threw him or Lewyn. 

A cruel smirk crossed Brandon’s face. “Prince Doran, I would like to formally apologize for the role the North played in the disrespect they showed towards your homeland. In all these years, I realized the North hadn’t fixed that error, and I hope to provide some remedies.”

Rhaegar could tell even the stoic Doran was taken aback by Brandon’s words. Rhaegar didn’t think that Doran or Oberyn had forgiven him for his role in the rebellion. Doran may sit on his council and provide great words of wisdom, but he knew underneath Doran’s amenability, he would never forget his slight towards his sister. He knew Oberyn was only cordial due to Elia’s interference. 

In fact, the wound of the rebellion was never really dealt with between him and Doran, and now, sitting with Brandon and Doran, maybe he made a mistake by not laying things bare for him to face his judgment. 

“From my understanding, Lord Stark, you had no role or done any ill-will to my kingdom.”

“But my blood did,” Brandon countered. “And as much as the North suffered, the actions of my blood left a mother and her children defenseless and innocent Dornish blood to be spilled.”

Doran looked taken aback by his words. “Lord Stark -”

“Enough!” Rhaegar shouted. Of course, Brandon looked thrilled at receiving such reactions. “Don’t forget, I am your King.”

“So was your father.”

Rhaegar rose, but Doran, being of reason, took control of the room. Rhaegar didn’t miss Prince Lewyn's hand on the man’s shoulder. It wasn’t one of warning but of comfort - commodory. “Please, let’s compose ourselves as the men of our stations should reflect. We are not children squabbling in the sand.”

Rhaegar huffed. “If this is your way of starting a marriage negotiation, you are doing a rather poor job.”

Brandon ignored him. “I would have Robb fostered in Sunspear until the wedding. Sunspear is closer to the capital, and it would give the two time to get to know each other. In addition, Dorne and the North are similar in holding their culture and customs sacred; I believe we could find more common ground. That said, I would like to send men to learn to fight in the sands, and in return, I could host men as well to learn to combat the cold. The only thing I truly ask for is lots of sand to make more glass gardens and for the marriage to occur under the Old Gods in Winterfell.”

Doran was quiet as he took in Brandon’s words. Never had a marriage between the North and Dorne for a major house.  They were two of the most independent Kingdoms the realm had, and both were known to resist dragons. 

“Seems like you are negotiating with Dorne rather than the bride’s father,” Rhaegar countered pointedly. 

“To be blunt, your Grace, what do the Crownlands have to offer the North? All your goods come from the kingdoms supporting you. Besides, my son marrying your daughter binds us to your house - your dynasty.”

“And if I say no?”

“Pity, the Queen seemed agreeable to the match as your Princess.”

“You spoke to the Queen about this?” 

Rhaegar watched as the man closed his mouth. “We did.”

He tried to recall if Elia ever mentioned such a conversation with the Lord, but she didn’t. In fact, outside of saying that Ned had shown up with his two sons, it only meant her lamenting that Ashara couldn’t attend with their two daughters. He briefly recalled her mentioning that Ned was delayed as Ned and Ashara’s youngest daughter, Arya, had tried to hide in the wagons being brought down. 

There was no conversation about her talking with Brandon Stark about marriage of all things. 

Rhaegar stood, causing Doran and Brandon to stand as well. “I will think about your offer, Lord Stark; you shall have my answer before the end of the Tourney.”

Rhaegar wouldn’t classify himself as a jealous man, or he tried not to. He was aware of the privilege of being the Crown Prince provided him, even with a fanatic father, as he had. People always seemed to forget that his father’s decline mentally didn’t exasperate until his capture at Duskensdale. He wondered if Ser Barristan Selmy regretted saving his father. 

Yet, he didn’t indulge in jealousy. He also never experienced jealousy, especially regarding his wife. 

He never questioned Elia’s loyalty to him, especially at the beginning of their marriage. Despite how dismissive the Lords and nobles were of Dorne or his wife’s features, he knew beneath their words they would not hesitate to offer themselves to his wife for pleasure and the opportunity to ruin her reputation. 

He knew eyes coveted what he had when his wife would wear her more traditional garments to court. After all, despite three pregnancies, his wife had retained her slim figure, and with this last pregnancy, Mariah had caused her legs, butt, and breasts to fill out even more. This pregnancy had caused Elia to look healthier than she did at 24. 

He knew Dorne was more open with their sexuality and sexual freedom. He knew his wife didn’t feel distaste for things that the Seven frowned upon, given her brother’s broad of bastards. 

Yet, with everything he had done, would his wife seek comfort from another man or woman?

He had to admit his wife had very loyal handmaidens. He believed even someone like Varys had trouble keeping an eye on his wife. Even then, his Queen had a court, and he knew they were carefully selected. He knew each woman would never betray their Queen’s trust. He knew that they would keep any of his wife’s affections she held for another close to their chest.

Yet, he wondered if she did. 

He knew she noticed his behavior at the table as she tried to engage in conversation with well-wishers. Again, she did not mention correspondence between her and Stark. 

It made him think about all her trips North. He knew she would mention his presence a few times, but not enough for him to believe that Brandon would go out of his way to speak with her. He felt any interactions Brandon would have with his wife would just be vexing to his King. 

After all, he was aware of Brandon’s reputation when he was younger—heard about many of the maidenheads he had taken from Lyanna’s lips. 

He could imagine the Wild Wolf of the North attempting to flirt and show affection to his wife. After all, how else could the man pay him back without starting a war? 

The Targaryen king didn’t leave his seat even as Mariah begged to speak with the Starks again. He observed silently as his wife was dragged by their daughter's hand to the table containing the Northmen. Rhaenys followed shortly afterward and sat next to Robb Stark. He watched with bated breath as the two stood after receiving a nod from Elia, with Ser Jaime following. 

He took a long sip of his wine as he focused on Elia speaking with Brandon, their daughter between the two of them. Gone was the confrontational man he had spoken with hours ago, and instead of a man entertaining his young daughter. 

Gone was the propriety of a princess as the girl stood up from her bench and howled like an infamous dire wolf. Brandon was laughing before he joined her and was scolded by their Queen. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him as Brandon and Mariah held a similar smirk of accomplishment. It was the impish look he had seen so many times he had debated if his daughter would become the incarnate Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen. Maybe it wasn’t a dragon within his daughter, but a wolf. 

His belly filled with dread. 

Elia would never. It was wrong of him even to entertain such a notion. Even with all he had done to her, Elia would never be so cruel. Because of his sins, he knew better than to entertain such vicious thoughts. His mother had told him he was a fool for following fickle prophecies—a fool whose price almost cost him his family. 

While Elia had their daughter in her lap, Brandon’s cool gaze met his, the bastard had the nerve to smile. 

AO3 | Wattpad | FF.NET | MASTERLIST

[realityparty]

fell on black days | in the beginning

part i. in the beginning

summary - Dean tried not to think about the past, but it had a funny way on sneaking up on it. The End AU

pairing: dean x jo

warnings: typical canon violence

notes: I know if I don’t post this now, I never will. so I hope you guys enjoy it. 

[part ii] [part iii]

[masterlist]

The end happened rather quickly. 

Quicker than Jo Harvelle even anticipated as a Hunter. She knew the world was fragile, but people and their laws and logic were no match for the supernatural, who abided by no laws. Or rather, the all-powerful angels who wanted to throw a temper tantrum with the whole world as their sandbox. 

She knew this could have been the outcome. She had been well aware of the pending apocalypse. The war that was anticipated between Heaven and Hell - Michael and Lucifer.  She knew she was one of the few that knew anything was brewing back in 2006 when grieving brothers stepped through her mother’s door. 

She had been there for the first phase of it with War in River Pass, Colorado. She still didn’t know if she was upset or just frustrated with how easily she was compromised during that hunt. It was just another thing her mother had used to show that she shouldn’t - couldn’t - hunt alone. It was just apparent evidence that she was still some naïve schoolgirl. 

Yet, she was still here. She was still fighting and surviving. She was at least prepared. It was more than most had. She knew how to live off the grid. How to pack efficiently and effectively for all weather types. How to ration her food. She knew how to steal cars and move in the shadows. She knew what lived in the shadows. 

Having all those technical skills still didn’t prepare her for everything. Most of the time, she traveled alone, especially after what happened in the beginning. She didn’t think she had it in her to be with other people. One, it had been proven time and time again that people were worst than monsters. Jo knew that good people don’t survive. They are the ones that seem to run out of luck. Good people are the ones to make the sacrifices for others to survive - to live. 

It was why Jo didn’t think she was a good person - not anymore. It wasn’t just zombies or Croats that she needed to worry about. Monsters were fighting to survive in the depleting food chain. She didn’t think she could worry about herself and try to keep others safe. She was tired of being the last person standing when a camp falls. 

The screams, the terror, and the children were just gone, Jo didn’t think she could handle that anymore. She knew in ways there was a strength in numbers. She knew it deep in her bones, but with this new world, it seemed she was always bathing in the blood of good people. 

Jo wiped a hand across her forehand. The weather was in a state of flux. It was that cold heat where the sun was burning brightly, but the wind bit through the clothes. She was covered in blood, dirt, and sweat as her legs burned to put distance between her and the utter destruction of a small camp she happened to come across. 

She had been alone for days. Her voice was hoarse from the lack of use when she had stumbled upon Lee and Krissy Chambers, a father and daughter duo with Victor Rogers. Both men were hunters. She remembered Lee had been a somewhat frequent patron of the Roadhouse. It was the only reason she stopped to relieve the numbness in her feet. The body also had a breaking point. It could have been no longer than an hour or two after the sun had set when the nest attacked. 

It was a nest of 6 vampires. Jo had taken out two. One had immediately attacked her and she barely managed to sever the head with her hunting knife. Victor had no chance of surviving immediately. His two attackers had gone for the throat. Lee was doubled-teamed as well. Jo was ashamed to admit she thought of running, but she grabbed her machete and immediately hacked into the vampire attacking Krissy. 

Jo knew that it was no use trying to save Lee. As they ran, she grabbed their packs and tugged Krissy along. She ignored the fact that vampires had their scents for life. She knew that they would probably follow their trail. 

They ran and ran. They stopped briefly when a storm cloud passed and they hid in the trunk of a car. Krissy’s loud sobs had turned into hard shakes. The trunk smelled of mold, sweat, and blood. For a moment, with the sliver of moonlight peeking through the trunk of the car. She was reminded of her first hunt in HJ Holmes's tomb he kept his victims. Those times were much simpler. She wished someday she could go back. She wished to relieve the stupid arguments with her mother. Teasing Ash for his inability to lie. Beating hunters at poker. She even missed her horrid days in college. 

Jo knew it was lethal to have these thoughts. Nostalgia was a powerful and dangerous drug. 

She didn’t even realize Krissy was no longer shaking. From the small puffs of air and the even breaths, the girl was asleep. 

Jo didn’t know where to go from here. The girl had to live with seeing her father torn apart by vampires. She had to grow up in this world. 

But through this, Jo had managed to save one person for another hour, minute, and day. That meant something and maybe she was still somewhat of a good person. 

. . . 

He couldn’t afford to remember the beginning. The smaller threads that got him - the world - to this point. Thinking about the past was a luxury he couldn’t afford and it only distracted him from the present. It was all just wasted energy. It only distracted from the present. 

Dean Winchester knew there was only pain and misery thinking about the way things used to be. Even now, fighting to survive if things somehow miraculously changed, things would still not be the same. They would never be. 

When he did lapse into the toxic drug of nostalgia, he wished to go back to the days when the monster to kill was just a ghost, heck even a vampire or a werewolf. Not a Coatoan zombie trying to tear his throat out. He missed the Impala and the open road. Now everything is overgrown and rusted. No classic rock or sweating leather to tide his days. 

Now it was checking inventory for food and weapons. Keeping a whole camp of twitchy survivors in check. 

And he wondered why he did it all. The start of the camp was haphazard at most. It had been more so Bobby’s idea with a few other hunters. Dean just nodded along, but somehow he ended up becoming the leader. Everyone ended up listening to him and his words. But he didn’t want that responsibility. 

But this was his burden. He played a part in this. All of this was because of him. He couldn’t shirk off that onto someone else. This was his mess to clean up. 

The mess kept getting bigger and bigger and the world was just a walking corpse. And the losses were piling up. The only thing he could cling to was warm beer, which his supply was rapidly depleting, and the fact Cas was still alive, broke, but still here. 

He winced as he thought about how Cas acted when he managed to break his foot and was laid up for two months. The plight of humanity - of being human - had crashed down pretty hard on Cas and before Dean could really blink he had himself a hippie with a commune. 

Dean eyed his wooden ceiling with its ceiling fan. He had the luxury of a ceiling fan. He thought about the run they had to do. They were going to venture further out and so far it’s been 30 days without an accident. He wasn’t going to pray and he didn’t have much hope, but he wanted all of his crew to make it back. They were aiming to be gone a week, but he knew it would quickly be extended to two weeks. 

Dean moved up from the bed and rolled his shoulders and neck sighing as the cracks eased the stiffness. He heard a familiar trek up his steps as he made his way to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. They had been lucky to find a nice stash and Dean was savoring every bit of it. He made a mental note to figure out how to grow coffee beans. 

“Oh fearless leader,” Cas announced before he was fully in the home. 

Dean didn’t bother greeting him and it is not like Cas expected it. 

“Everyone ready?”

“Yes, I got the supply list from Chuck. The cars are being checked out and loaded up.”

Dean nodded. And he tried to not be annoyed by Cas’ humming as he seemed to be in a chipper mood.

“You know, Dean, I feel it is going to be a good day.”

Dean ignored the coffee scalding his tongue. 

. . . 

Jo’s not sure how she exactly ended up in Montana. When the end happened, she and her mom were in Minnesota. It had taken about two months for them to even get to South Dakota to reach Bobby’s and by then the house had been overturned. She and her mom stayed for a couple of days and the plan was to go back to Nebraska. Her mom still had property, but her mom never made it. 

Jo just traveled. Alone. She had the hope deep down that maybe someone she knew was alive. Yet, she looked for safety for where ever. It just sucked that out of all the skills Jo had being a decent mechanic wasn’t one of them. 

“My feet are killing me,” Krissy groaned as Jo failed to start another car. 

Jo moved out the white beat-up Ford Taurus. She wiped her hands against her jeans. “Maybe we’ll come across some bikes. At least we wouldn’t run the chance of running out of gas.”

“Wishful thinking,” Krissy replied as she eyed their surroundings. 

Jo was surprised almost by the silence the end of the world brought. Even nature seemed quieter than she remembered. No humming from any type of motor. The birds seemed scared to chirp. It was a still silence that always made her on edge. 

“Come on, we are losing daylight.”

Krissy followed without complaint. The only sound between them is the jostling of their backpacks. Jo wanted to bring up what happened with her dad and Victor. She didn’t know how and even then Jo wanted the comfort of four walls before bringing up something like that. Jo knew how it felt to lose a parent and to witness it. 

The blonde hunter squinted as the sun began to get low and she made out an outline for a sign to a church. Jo noticed a beaten path and followed the trail that took them from the open road to the uneven terrain of the woods. 

They were about half a mile out when Jo finally saw the high church bell peak over into the horizon. Jo grabbed her sawed-off shotgun while Krissy grabbed her revolver. The church was small and picturesque. The white siding seemed to shine amongst the filth of the world. It seemed untouched - pure. She could’ve snorted thinking how a church of all places seemed to be a goddamn sanctuary. 

Jo nodded at Krissy to keep watch in the front as she checked the sides and back of the church. She couldn’t see any movement from the stained glass windows. There was no blood or brain matter smeared against the siding. The only thing that stained the church was the outside elements. Jo frowned as it seemed the only way in or out of the church was through the front. 

Jo met Krissy out front, her body on edge for any type of attack. She noticed Krissy was trying to act tough, but even in her stance of holding the gun didn’t hold confidence. It’s weird now that Jo could slightly see where her mom’s concern about the life stemmed from. This world of monsters shouldn’t be bestowed on any child. Jo could see that now through an adult lens of a jaded hunter. 

“Follow my lead,” Jo told her before they entered the church. They check every crook and cranny. There was a bathroom, an office space, and a storage room. They found the usual Christianity paraphilia. They even found a small stash of canned food with an inventory full of communion wine and dust. 

Jo didn’t like the feel of the place. However, the dust did show evidence that no one had been here for a while. 

“We can fortify this place. It’s also close to a small town. It could be something,” Krissy said as she stood on the altar. 

“Could be,” Jo muttered. Jo didn’t like it. There was no type of fencing. To take watch would be clearly shit. There was no advantage point. If they were attacked, they would be screwed. The place only offered to be a temporary option. A nice reprieve until they found something better. Yet, Jo knew that there might not be something better out there. 

Jo rubbed her forehead. “Let’s fortify this place.”

“So we’re staying?”

“For now,” Jo told her. 

They covered all the windows with boards and carved the inside with as many protection symbols that were ingrained in her memory. Krissy fell asleep quickly after that and it left Jo on watch out front. She just had the front steps to set up with her gun. 

The night was cooler. She could hear some birds - or most likely - bats flying in the distance. She knew Krissy wanted to stay here. She could understand the desire as being on the road with the elements could wear anyone down. Yet, it would require serious planning to make this a home. Jo thought that was what she needed most. Even as a hunter Jo always had a place to stay considering her mom’s connection. Jo shook her head she wasn’t going to go down that route. It wouldn’t lead to anywhere but misery. 

Instead, despite it all, she prayed. She prayed to Castiel and hoped that everything was okay. That Rufus was still out there fighting strong. Ash, her mom, and Bobby were in heaven. She prayed that Sam and Dean were okay. 

She prayed if anything that they had each other. 

. . .

Dean didn’t mind going on runs. The risks were high and it required trusting others to a degree to watch his back, but it was a break away from the camp. It was one of the few ways to keep sharp on his skills and to properly make note of the world and its decay. 

Besides, he never knew what could lead to a clue to the Colt. 

The Colt was the only thing he had that gave him some hope that this all could end. For now, his chief concern was finding toilet paper before Chuck had a stroke. He would think with the man being a prophet and all he could have foreseen the shortage of the ass wipe. Chuck also brought up the concern of condoms and babies. 

The one thing Dean didn’t want to deal with was telling people how to be responsible between the sheets. He knew he couldn’t outright say no babies, but Dean wanted to. They were already struggling, caring for the few families at the camp. 

Yet, he knew it was better to be safe and proactive. The end of the world wouldn’t stop hedonism, hence Cas. 

Dean looked up at the stars and wondered if “God” was listening. Yet, Dean knew that familiar pain of absent fathers. It was the oldest child stuck with the task of watching and protecting. It was them making sure there was enough food for the week if that meant him skipping out on meals. They made sure scrapped knees were mended and homework was done. 

God’s reward was punishment. Punishment because he loved his family too much. 

. . . 

Sleep did not come easy for Jo. In this new world, she could only afford 4 hours every night. If she was lucky she was able to get 5 hours. 

Even when she was a hunter, she was lucky when she could get a decent amount of rest. Sure, she had the occasional night of nightmares that interrupted a normal sleep schedule. In the beginning, she had that false impression that it was good she would hound over a case for hours. Neglecting sleep was a must in her naive brain. 

However, sleep was probably the most important thing the body needed. Being groggy and sleep-deprived would only put herself in danger, but the people she was trying to save. Sleep, food, and water were the things she kept on her priority list. 

In the dark walls of the church, she wanted to drift to sleep. She wanted to escape the circumstances of what life was like now. Yet, every creak and breath Krissy took kept her alert. As much as Krissy claimed to be able to handle herself and was adamant she could take care of herself, it was tainted by the fact Krissy didn’t know how to mute her steps on a wooden floor. 

Instead, Jo found herself in one of those sleeps with her eyes open. Where her mind was blank, but her body was lethargic and just creeping on that precipice of a few moments of bliss. 

Jo didn’t want to admit it, but her constant fight and survival mode wore out on her. She was trying to figure out really want the end goal was for the angels and demons at this point. If they shred the world apart what was there to gain from that? 

Although Jo learned nothing would come from trying to figure out the motive of things. Sometimes things couldn’t be explained. 

Jo rubbed her eyes and the next thing she knew the sun was staining the glass windows. She leaned up from the church pew with her body protesting every move. 

She sighed, knowing she needed to figure out their next steps. This place could be something if they tried. Or a nice pit stop to let their bodies recharge before trying to find something more permanent. 

“You think we should try to loot the town?”

Jo licked her lips. They were tight from the lack of balm. Her breath was sour. Toothpaste or some type of mints were high on her want list. Jo rubbed her forehead before she looked at Krissy. 

“Yeah. Should do that early to figure out our prospects in staying here.”

The walk to town was about 40 minutes. Clouds cover the sun, and the chill still causes Jo's skin to become damp through the trek.

Jo thought she would sell her soul for a shower. 

They reached an abandoned Salvation Army. The store looked like a time capsule. Racks were still full of clothes and the appliances that lined the shelves were coated with a blanket of dust. 

Yet, the most treasured find was located in the basement, apparently. In the middle of the store, the ground had caved in and flooded. From their viewpoint, it seemed the basement was the storage room and there were shelves lined with canned goods. Jo even spotted toilet paper. 

“Just think we can grab you an extra pair of socks,” Krissy commented as Jo went over the dilemma. There seemingly was no con outside of the water damage that could be done to her clothes. 

Jo rubbed her face, as it seemed she was going swimming. Jo began to remove her top layers and stuffed them into her bag. She was going into the water while Krissy waited at the top to grab each item. 

She placed her hair in a high bun before placing her foot on the creaky wooden step. 

“God, this water smells like ass.”

“I can smell it,” Jo countered as the cool water reached her ankle. As she waded in deeper with the water coming up underneath her chest, she wasn’t going to ponder the filth that could be in the water. She assumed it was just as bad as the guts, brains, and blood of the various monsters she hunted. 

She waded in the water with her bowie knife tight in her grip. The water had a slimy consistency. She could see spiders jumping around. She winced at the uncomfortable squish of her feet against her boots as she reached the first shelf. There was a landmine of good finds, especially  the toilet paper that wasn’t submerged in the water. She knew people would kill for these items. 

She grabbed the first clear tote that was filled with boxed goods. From her quick glance, it seemed to be filled with rice, potatoes, and pancake mix. She easily cleared the first shelf. 

When she moved to cross the room to the stash of paper goods a ripple in the water made her stop.

"Everything okay?" Krissy called from the top of the stairs. 

Jo tightened the hold on her knife. She watched the water and waited for a ripple. Maybe it was just her movement. 

"I'm going to grab a pack of toilet paper," Jo announced as she looked up at Krissy. She watched as Krissy's intense look of concentration changed to horror. 

Jo felt herself being grabbed by her shoulders and submerged under the water. The contaminated water filled her lungs choking her. 

She could hear Krissy screaming as she fought against the grip pulling her down. Jo used her knife and cut at the wrist that was pulling her. 

She could hear a startled scream and the grip on her shoulder was gone. 

Jo kicked her legs and her eyes burned in the murky water. She kicked her legs and her lungs were fighting for air as she swam her way to the top. 

The swim was longer than anticipated. Her fingers glided over the sharp edges of torn concrete. 

Jo realized the leak in the basement wasn't just an ordinary leak.

She breached the surface coughing while trying to get in air. Her eyes widen as Krissy moved down the steps. 

"No, don't come down here!" Jo screamed. She tried to move quickly but the water slowed her down. 

"Is it a Croat!"

Jo coughed. Her lungs burned as she tried to reach the steps. She could feel her warm blood pouring down her shoulder from the talons. She grabbed the wooden stairwell. 

"No, I think it's a water nymph."

"I thought they were peaceful?"

Jo nodded her head as they usually were. She imagined the end of the world fucked up the food chain. Monsters that were docile and friendly were desperate and turned ravenous. 

Jo placed a foot on the bottom step when she felt the wood break away from underneath her. She stumbled and scraped her arm against the stairs as she tried to catch her balance. She grunted as the feeling of wood became embedded in her skin. 

"Shit!" 

"Jo!"

It was the only warning she had before she felt a grip on her ankle trying to pull her down. Jo latched on the wooden step as she kicked her leg out. She knew the step wasn't going to hold long. 

She screamed as the nymph's talons pierced into her calf. 

"Fuck!" 

A loud bang echoed and the grip on Jo's ankle loosen. Jo looked up to find Krissy holding her gun. Jo looked behind her and found a floating nymph surrounded by a halo of blood in the murky water. The packet of toilet paper bumped into the still body.

Jo hissed as she moved to stand straighter. She steadied herself as she grabbed the toilet paper and handed it off to Krissy. 

. . . 

Jo didn't want to admit that her body was hurting. They were able to patch her up in the store where she was her own stained glass of bruises and scrapes. Of course, it was the splinter that hurt the most. It wasn't the talons that sliced her that had her cursing everything. It was the piece of rotting wood that had her hissing and on the verge of tears. 

She wasn't sure if the toilet paper was worth it. 

Though the fire in the church had her nice and warm, then maybe the wine she was drinking contributed to the warm feeling in her cheeks. Jo knew it was probably stupid to be drinking in the first place. 

Wine wasn't even a favored drink of hers. Growing up in a roadhouse it wasn't as if they kept red or white wine on tap. Although wine could be an acquired taste. Who knew the apocalypse would have her drinking wine over beer and tequila? She could admit at least the wine did have a decent taste. It's sweet, not dry. And she couldn't feel the stinging of her cuts anymore. 

"So are we staying?"

Jo's head felt heavy as she looked up at Krissy. Krissy was full of hope and optimism. “Yeah, we’re staying.”

. . . 

Jo didn’t remember closing her eyes or even laying her head down on a pillow. Her body felt heavy. Her mouth was dry. Her lips felt as if they were glued together. Opening her mouth, the fresh air stung her lips. 

She wasn’t sure what woke her now, though. Her eyes fought against the crust to open. She flexed her fingers as she tried to hear any movement from Krissy from her soft snoring, the scratching of a pencil, or the sound of fabric running together from walking. 

Instead, there was an eerie silence within the black church. Her fingers searched for the knife that was strapped to her thigh. She gripped the handle as she moved from the cocoon of blankets. Moving slowly from the couch, she winced as the wooden plank creaked under her weight. Her body was on high alert as she moved closer to the door. It’s filled with the tension and simmering adrenaline that only came from a hunt. Something was not right, and she regretted the wine she drank earlier. Creeping quietly to the door, she waited for some sign of life. Her hands are about to grasp the doorknob when a scream of her name ripped through the still of the night. 

. . . 

Dean was restless. Since they crossed over into Montana something had been off. He can’t put his finger on it, but years of hunting have told him to trust his gut instinct. It was the reason he had made it alive this long. Since they made camp in the abandoned schoolyard he felt queasy. The building was half burnt down with charred bricks and busted windows. 

His group had easily made themselves at home. Made a feast out of baked beans and got cozy for the night. He couldn’t settle and he found his way walking the perimeter before he caught sight of a trail that had directions to a church. 

His feet began following the path before his mind caught up to him. He thought the last place he would ever think to seek out would be a church. Yet, he found that most of the survivors they come across have been in churches. They think there was a God out there to protect or worse save them. 

The path was filled with fallen leaves and plenty of twigs. It made it hard to have quiet footsteps, which was why he could make the heavy tread of Cas' steps. The fallen angel hadn't quite recovered since he broke his foot. 

"I know you're following me, Cas," Dean called out. 

"Our fearless leader shouldn't be walking alone in the woods."

Dean didn't bother giving Cas a response. Not like his response would matter. The Cas from before was slowly drifting away. It's being replaced by this human version of Cas being beaten and broken by free will. This once angelic being has been stripped down to a simple human being filled with weaknesses. 

Dean didn't know at this point if death would be a mercy to Cas. He wondered if other angels mocked the once-respected General. 

But that was what happened when you touched Dean Winchester. He corrupted if he didn't get them killed. 

"There is something different here."

Cas' words made Dean stop. He turned to look at his friend. "Are your angel senses tingly?"

The expression on Cas' face gave Dean pause. He wasn't looking at a high Cas or post-coitus one. The serious expression on his face reminded Dean of the early days. Those brief meetings with Cas when he was raised from hell. The face of a soldier preparing for battle. 

Even the walk turned from languid to swift and stiff. Dean thought he could see the silhouette of the abandoned trench coat. 

Dean didn't have a chance to open his mouth for further probing when a scream pierced through the night. 

It’s the innate instinct of a hunter. His feet glided over the twigs, rocks, and all the other debris found in the woods. As he moved closer, he could see the silhouette of the church. It wasn’t a grand display of opulence. It seemed to be a tiny house that, at the last minute, was converted into a place of worship. Cas signaled he was going to check the church from the back. 

The sound of a crash broke his musings on the exterior design. His grip was tight on his gun as he approached the door slowly. He could make the distinct sounds of a struggle. There were things crashing. Grunts and cries of pain. 

It startled him when the door burst open and a body flew down the short stairs. The body landed hard, which even made him wince. The person groaned as their fingers scraped the earth to get their bearings. 

The echo of footsteps approached. “You see, we were going to be merciful. Drain you slowly…”

Dean froze as the person walked past him. The person was too concerned with its prey in front of them. 

He watched as the person turned on their back. The person saw him and fell back laughing. In the dark of the night, he couldn’t make out much, but he knew that voice. He knew that laugh. 

“What’s so funny, hunter?”

A voice that haunted him on the loneliness of nights caused goosebumps to erupt across his skin. 

“Dean Winchester is behind you.”

[mariestark]

Hello, my dear friends!

I wish you all a happy new year!

A year filled with love, health, and wealth. I love you all so much. You guys have made my life better with your stories, gifs and love.

Wish you all the best of life, love you all!

I'm so sorry if I left anyone out.

@icanfeelastormbrewing @what-is-your-plan-today @foodieforthoughts @mary-ann84 @stargazingfangirl18 @rmtndew @syntheticavenger @littlefreya @viking-raider @mindramblingsfics @originalhybridloverfics @jtargaryen18 @nerdzzone @likepotato @rebel-stardust @ysmmsy @cruzrogue @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @dollslayer @ohthankevans @ozarkthedog @smutsonian @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @nitannichionne @saiyanprincessswanie @nuggsmum @k-evans-writes @celestialbard @worksby-d @the-iceni-bitch @pagesoflauren @time-for-a-lullaby @lovebittenbyevans @tedllasso @toomanystoriessolittletime @the-soot-sprite @vanderlustwords @oddduckthatgirl @bohemian-barbie @demivampirew @untilmynextstory @helenaeisenhower @chuckbass-love @speechlessxx @universitypenguin @bostongirl13 @boston-babies @onedayallwillbewell @buckyownsmylife @ranveer--singh

[midnight-serendipity]

Thank you for the tag @seresinhangmanjake

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

I feel like I cheated with a lot. Lol.

No pressure tags: @ladyxskywalker @lovebarefootblonde @rayslittlekitten @untilmynextstory

This or That Tag Game

Thank you so much to @gemmahale and @cosmicpro for the tag!!

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

NPTs: @vampirekilmerfic // @kit-williams // @madstronaut // @sageyxbabey // @pricesugarwife -- and anyone who sees this, please @ me so I can check your list out ✌️🩷

[charnelhouse]

Fandom Recs

Master list for recs throughout the different fandoms. Art. Fic. Whateva! Heed the warnings before you read a fic, yo. These were collected from all over and we can continue to update! FYI if you only see your username once it's because I can only add fifty mentions.

Star Wars

Naboo Royalty by @grinningnexu (Darth Maul x Reader)

syrup & honey (cassian andor x reader)

fragile precious things (cassian andor x reader)

not a dream (cassian andor x reader)

Hard to Like (jyn erso x reader)

closer to blue (cassian andor/jyn erso/reader)

Hierarchy of Needs (Rex x Reader)

i know what you like (Boba x Reader x Din)

come home to me (Gregor x Reader)

Something New (Fennec x Reader

Joint Effort (Hardcase x Reader)

Tales From Bespin (Lando x Reader)

[PLAY] (Rex x Reader)

Utterly Wrecked by @saradika

The Helmeted Hunter (Boba x Reader)

Some Other Beginning's End (Boba x Reader x Din)

A Mutual Arrangement (Boba x Reader)

Din Djarin

miscommunication by @ezrasbirdie

nighthawks by @pedros-mustache

Bred

Revelation

Yield

Wreckage | Refuge by @the-scandalorian

Silver Linings by @oohnomando

Starlight by @lovelessdagger

Frustration - @lordabovehelpme

Wrest Pin by @balletorchid

Each Morning Sun a New Adventure by @ellearem

Triple Frontier

Love is a Substance by @novemberrain221 (gen)

Pool Party by @kesskirata (gen)

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten (Will Miller x Reader)

Empty Space (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Excess Baggage (Will Miller x Reader)

you can't hurry love by @lorecraft (Will Miller x Reader)

four times you accidentally say "i love you" and the one time benny means it Benny Miller x Reader)

yellow by (Benny Miller x Reader)

issues by (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

silence by @thebenevolentsnakepit (Benny Miller)

smooth like sea glass by @spanishmossmagnolia (Frankie Morales x Reader)

what more could i ever need by @green-socks (Benny Miller x Reader)

The Best of Us (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Others

Rick Flag

Brat Catcher 2 by @clints-lucky-arrow

I'm Not Sentimental, But by @babblydrabbly

Jax Teller

I'm the Baby Whisperer by @band--psycho

Make It Rain by @little-diable

Wandering Romance by @untilmynextstory

Promising Young Woman

You Got This

Bad

Rising from the Ashes by @rebelwrites

Beaches and Brawls by @chibsytelford

Raymond Smith

The Chase

Peanut Butter by @flaireandsynch

Ezra Prospect

Supposition by @velocibeewords

Pedro Pascal

what are we talkin’ about? by @aestheticallywinchester

Homelander

Jealous by madhatter2727

Red Roses by @theboysfanfic

Smucation Challenge

Bucky Barnes

Ashens by @allandoflimbo

Thor

Fate Entwined in The Stars

Oberyn Martell

Drabble

Master lists:

Master list by @beskarberry

Master list by @lovebarefootblonde

Master List by @insomniamamma

Master List by @starwarslove16

Master List by @she-devil-jones

Master List by @anaaaispunk

Master List by @danniburgh

Master List by @ezrasbirdie

Master List by @wordsnwhiskey

Master List by @starlightmornings

Master List by @mothandpidgeon

Master List by @pascalslittlebrat

Master List by @wyn-n-tonic

Master List by @absurdthirst

Master List by @krissology

Master List by @frannyzooey

Master List by @djarinsbeskar

Master List by @astroboots

Master List by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Master List by @silksaddle

Master List by @danidrabbles

Master List by @highsviolets

Master List by @javier-pena

Master List by @221bshrlocked

Master List by @steeeeeeeviebb

Art

Art by @sequere-mei-callipygian

Art by @thepoisonofgod

[fanfic-n-tabulous]

I need your help. Last night I was reading a story revolving around Chibs and I can't find it anywhere. I accidentally closed It while reading and now I'm searching everywhere to try to find it. It was named whiskey and fire or gasoline and whiskey or whiskey and gasoline... something like that. I'm tagging some of my favorites and hope that you guys can help me out. Please feel free to reblog to see if anyone you know knows what I'm talking about. Thanks loves!!! @withmyteeth @drabbles-mc @chibstelfordimagines @charmingoutlaws @chibs-fuckin-telford @chibsytelford @theidiootti1 @thegirlwhowritesfics @darklydeliciousdesires @crimsonheart01 @untilmynextstory @jamalflanagan @obsessedasusual @frattsparty @crushed-pink-petals-writes @menofchaos @breanime @ladyreapermc @noladyme @wilhelmjfink @band--psycho @broiderie @mrswhozeewhatsis

[midnight-serendipity]

Thanks for the tag @ladyxskywalker

PS. I knew we make a good team! 🥰

Honey:

friendship bracelets, beehives, school busses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. your essence is honey: you are devoted and endlessly enthusiastic. your friendships are your security; you shroud yourself with people who make you smile and feel lost at sea without them. often you are quick to dedicate yourself to whatever hand feeds you. you are the companion. you are the confidant. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of peach, marigold, yellow, and orange, who share your love of teamwork. you are also drawn to the streamlined souls terracotta and chiffon, who will help you grow and discover your own confidence. however, you may struggle to get along with the heedless personalities of orchid and chartreuse who seem like fair weather friends.

Tagging: @fullwattpadmusictree @lovebarefootblonde @untilmynextstory @rayslittlekitten @charnelhouse

i wasn't tagged for this, but i really wanted to do it so i did. it's the what color is your aura quiz.

forest:

fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, snake scales. your essence is forest: you are insightful and intense, possessed by your thoughts. you seek the impossible; you are pulled between pragmatism and romanticism, never sure which is right. often you rest in the spaces between black and white, lost in theory. you are the observer. you are the hypothesizer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of green, sage, moss, and teal, who share your deep contemplation. you are also drawn to the imaginative souls navy and amber, who will help you grow and help you let go of the rational. however, you may struggle to get along with the theatrical personalities of magenta and gold who are too loud in their pride.

for fun tagging the darlings: @pennyserenade, @softanon, @agirllovespancakes, @goldgilzean, @soulores, @sunflowersteves, @fluffyprettykitty, @saradika

[itsme-autumn]

My Favorite Jax Teller FanFics

This is a cumulative list of my fave Jax fics. There is so much good stuff out there, I wanted to organize a list for myself and thought I’d share!

A few things to note:

This is a variety: cannon/AU, long/short, completed/current/abandoned, Jax x Tara/Jax x OC, Jax & OC Daughter. Some of these have sequels that I didn’t include.

Mostly from fanfiction.net but I’ve also included some from Archive of Our Own and Wattpad.

I personally don’t feel like any of these are Out Of Character. Some fics make Jax and the rest of the MC almost too...nice? These aren’t Judy Blume novels, ya know? SOA is gritty and that’s why we love it!

Happy Reading!

In no particular order:

Jax x OC

2 Sons: Call of Duty by Harlee_Quinn

Jaxene Series by Harlee_Quinn

Hey Little Sister by Prettie Parker 

Undisclosed Desires by Carrot Top  

Fix Me by alievans007  

Devil’s Haven by crypticlyric   

The Pull by untilmynextstory 

Tribulation by untilmynextstory  

Black Water by untilmynextstory   

Crimson Lace by Charlie Belle  

The Other Trager Girl by GazDibMama 

Ghost Stories by SabinaJunco98   

Home by ree_louise   

Under Her Wing by fcklifeex   

You Are My Sunshine by PBBWriter   

As The Crow Flies by lesqui  

Blurry by JayoftheSea 

Break by arry73 

Call and Answer by EverMineEverThine 

Crossing Boundary Lines by marie-moxley-ambrose 

Heat Rising by aloriboreialis   

Chasing Ghosts by bucky_b4rnes   

House of Cards by taperjeangurl   

If I got down on my knees and told you I was yours forever by Jeffyzfavoriteskittle27 

It Ain’t Easy Being King by it’sahobby 

Life in Charming by anneryn7   

Temporary Distraction by Danica77   

New Adventures by Renegade2018   

Raise some Hell by j0ey91 

Broken by ashlynnb14  

In bed with my enemy by poppiam 

Sweetwater by XTarantismX 

Taking Flight by Danica77 

Unfinished by kristinmw afspouse  

Little Toy Guns by girl-at-home13   

Second Chances by PeachHart 

Fan Fic Jax I by OnceQwerty 

Fan Fic Jax II by OnceQwerty 

Fan Fic Jax III by OnceQwerty 

 Jax x Tara

First by norrific 

This Life That I’ve Had by norrific

Beginnings by pitstruckin 

Consequences by pitstruckin 

Do No Harm by OyHumbug  

The Path Not Taken by writergirljenn 

Uncharming & The Prince by Veritable Old Lady Crow

You and me and our boys by SkaterSince2004    

The Night Everything Changed! by SkaterSince2004   

 Jax & OC Daughter 

Hard Time by ashlynnb14 

The Other Teller by Sidney Lou Who 

[untilmynextstory]

The House We Never Built - complete

Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction | Jax Teller x OC

Summary: Friends or lovers, which will it be?

Chapter List:

Keep You Right Here - Wattpad | Ao3 | FF.Net

Sudden Desire - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Why We Ever - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

How You Doing? - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Trigger - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Pool - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Good Grief - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Asystole - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Dead Horse - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Hate to See Your Heartbreak -ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

No Use I Just Do - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Crystal Clear - ao3 | wattpad | ff.net

Wattpad | Ao3 | FF.Net | SOUNDTRACK

[realityparty]

fell on black days | no exit

part ii. no exit summary - Dean and Jo get used to being around each other again. The End AU pairing: dean x jo

warnings: typical canon violence, kissing

[prt i.] [prt. iii] [masterlist]

Dean didn't know what to expect. He didn't know how to necessarily feel. As the world slowly decayed, he learned to let go of the desires he had in life. Those small pleasures he afforded, while he fought the supernatural underbelly, had turned into ash. He learned to really compartmentalize. There was no use in getting distracted by the past and, more importantly, the people of his past.

It was hard enough trying not to think of Sam and his parents. He missed Bobby, but he knew he couldn't venture further. He couldn't get lost in what he believed to be the obituaries of the friends he had made along the way. Dean couldn't think of them as being alive. He didn't want to think about how anyone he cared about was stuck in this world. When it all came down to it, all of this was his fault.

It was his fault that Jo was out there alone. He let the world go bad and it took her mother. His choices had led her to be in that church and attacked by vampires. Dean had played a role in her first hunt. If he dug further back, his family was the reason her dad died on a hunt. The Winchesters played a very big part in the life of Jo Harvelle.

It didn't help that his thoughts for Jo weren't entirely brotherly, as much as he tried to convince himself. He saw what happened to the women that became involved with the Winchester men. He didn't want to subject Jo to the same fate as his mom and Jessica.

It was clear the girl he was looking at with the seeping neck wound and the stained collar was not the one that moved so effortlessly around the Roadhouse.

This wasn't Jo that wore the pale pink shirts and styled her hair in curls to attract tips from patrons. As much as she hated to be reminded, she was no longer the naive Jo that yearned to be a hunter and follow in her father's footsteps.

As much as Dean had admired Jo and her drive, he sometimes resented it for her. He remembered hunting the ghost of Holmes and being haunted by the thought a girl like Jo could have a different life. It was clear that was what Ellen wanted. She had a parent that wanted more for her. A mother that wasn't pushing a need for revenge.

He knew his mind was clouded from his dad's death back then. A huge part of that played in how he acted back then had created that wedge between him and Jo. Because despite her naivety, she was a good hunter despite Ellen's insistence she wasn't.

Dean knew that had he met Jo even a couple of months earlier, he would have most definitely tried to get into her pants. But after his dad's death, Dean stopped imagining a life outside of hunting. Those fleeting dreams he had of Lisa when he found out she had Ben, the possibility of him leaving a legacy, were just a fantasy.

He knew he had been in the life for too long to simply just walk away. Between seeing Bobby and Ellen, unlike his Dad's life on the road, he knew it was possible to have a base. As much as he loved Baby, even she needed rest for a while. But even the thought of having four walls as a home seemed impossible. He became resigned to hotel rooms being his stowaway home.

It was after Hell, when he didn't know know what was going on with Sam and the pressure of the angels when he truly did entertain what life could be. He had resigned to the fact hunting would always be in his Life. Dean turned to dreams to escape his realities. So he dreamed of owning a house near Bobby, of course. He could work in the junkyard and help expand the car side of Bobby's business. Dean thought he would like to work in restoration.

As business boomed, it would only make sense for Jo to be their secretary. She would do a good job of manning the phones for the legitimate business and the hunting one. He could imagine her sitting in the office with her feet up chewing someone out. As much as she would be terse and blunt it wouldn't affect business. Heck, Dean would believe it would drive up business. He would flirtily suggest that they should use her for a billboard advertisement.

He didn't know if Jo could cook, but he could imagine her cutting a piece of pie for him on his birthday with a candle burning brightly in the middle.

It was the quieter moments that provided an intimacy he could only imagine, or chased in fleeting moments with strangers, in motel rooms that had him wading in dangerous territory.

Territory that would only get her hurt in the end. He told himself it was out of respect for Ellen he had buried those feelings deep for Jo and the possibility. Besides, there was a curse attached to the Winchesters.

But in the end, it seemed none of his well wishes mattered. His choices had led her to be in that church and nearly a vampire chew toy.

Her teeth were stained with blood as she hissed. The vampire had got her good.

"It's good to see you, Dean." The tension in his body faded a bit. He hadn't heard her voice in so long and the memories didn't do her justice.

"You too, Jo." His voice was rough, but his throat was thick as he worked to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over.

He held her bloody hand the whole ride home.

Dean didn't know what to expect with Jo back in his life and vicinity.

He knew they wouldn't go back to their old camaraderie despite wanting to. He wouldn't admit that despite Cas' gentle prodding. At times, Dean wished Cas could still read minds and be blunt. He didn't care for the hippie Cas that was mindful of feelings. He knew Jo had questions. He could tell by the occasional glances they would share. If she was asking questions they were not being answered through him.

It seemed Jo was doing everything in her power not to be in close quarters with him anyways. At first, he thought she was keeping her distance to prove herself. He recalled what Ellen has said about Jo not being made for the life when they crossed paths back in River Pass, Colorado. He wondered if those small comments Jo knew Ellen made were fueling Jo to always volunteer for patrol, weapons training, and runs. Since she was cleared by Med Bay for duty, it seemed Jo didn't know how to sit still. So when they did happen to cross paths all those talks were superficial about logistics and security. They were all impersonal.

In ways, she did know him better than Cas so just the head nods and brief talks on who was taking shifts on watch were a blessing.

But even if he didn't want to think about Jo, it was damn near impossible with how much everyone gushed about her.

He heard a million times a day about how she was amazing and sweet. Easy to talk to too. The younger girls in camp loved her while the boys leered. The apocalypse did not change how she filled out her jeans. Dean shook his head. The last thing he needed was to be having those thoughts in the middle of the day distracting him.

He squinted as he looked at the camp. The camp was rapidly expanding and soon new cabins would be needed. They needed to expand their crops. Invest in more greenhouses. With the winter, they needed to get material to combat the cold. The last thing they needed was a sickness to run through their camp.

He moved along the parameter making sure everything was reinforced. All the sigils were still in tack when he came across Krissy Chambers. He never met her father, Lee. He didn't think he ever heard of a Chambers family. From the rundown he got, it did seem they were friends with Bobby. It wasn't surprising he and Sam weren't the only kids to darken Bobby's footsteps.

Just based on the backstory, it made sense that Jo and she would have some sort of hybrid mother-and-sister relationship. It was clear that Krissy admired Jo. Just from the way the teenage girl dressed and moved, he could see Jo's mannerisms in her. He knew that had to be some sort of ego boost for Jo, but he also knew the crushing weight of having someone wanting to emulate them.

"Hey, Dean," Krissy greeted.

Unlike Jo, Krissy had no problem talking to him. It took him a while to get used to her deadpan tone and to decipher when she was fucking with him and being serious. But no matter what, she was a pain in his ass with her constant challenging of him. He didn't know if he was speaking with Krissy or Jo half the time.

"Krissy," he replied gruffly.

"I need you to talk to Jo. She is acting like an overprotective mother."

Dean snorted. Oh, how have the tables turned he thought. "Why would anything I have to say matter?"

He had no weight in how Jo decided to raise Krissy. Krissy was her ward. He knew Jo was feeling the responsibility of keeping another person alive. He wasn't going to interfere with that. It wasn't his place or business.

Krissy didn't reply, but she leveled him with a look. A look he would see in Jo's eyes that she clearly inherited from Ellen. It was a look that made him squirm in his pants even as a grown-ass adult.

Dean huffed. "Fucking fine, but I'm not making any promises."

A smile came across the girl's features. The smile showcased that she was a teenager. It softened her as she trailed off to the two other new teens that arrived at camp before Jo and Krissy did. Aiden and Josephine were orphans they found living in a storage unit. They were like Krissy eager to learn and overzealous with proving their worth.

He didn't seek Jo out immediately. One, he knew she was busy working in the Med Bay. He noticed Jo was always working in different areas. She didn't have a specialty per see. She had no problem learning different skill sets to make the camp run. So the first night he didn't bother in seeking her out to have a conversation she would probably chew him out for.

On the second day he was scheduled for a run and by the time they came back two days later, he slept for 12 hours after that.

He decided before Krissy was banging on his door that he should hold up the end of his deal. He ignored Cas and Chuck's cheeky gazes as he inquired where Jo was. He noticed that Jo had become very close with these two, especially Chuck.

He wondered what the prophet was telling her, but he decided he didn't want to know. He never really inquired why Chuck didn't publish books with Ellen and Jo, or if he even wrote about them.

He made the journey to Jo's cabin which was more secluded than the rest. She had a semblance of privacy. Unlike his cabin, he was more in the center. If something were to happen he needed to be on the scene quickly.

As he made the trek through some overgrown grass, he thought maybe they should try to do some landscaping. He didn't care for the appearance of things, but with the increasing flow of kids, he knew they deserved to have some semblance of normalcy. For all intent and purposes, this was their home. No matter what he felt about it, it was about everyone else. The kids needed a home.

He wasn't going to this meeting empty-handed though. He managed to find some M&Ms and grabbed two bottles of beer. He wasn't above bribing to soften her up.

He knocked on the red door of her cabin, which was opened almost immediately. If she was shocked to see him, she didn't show it. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun. She had a grey long-sleeve shirt on with a pair of black tight-fitting jeans. She looked relaxed and comfortable. She didn't say anything as she opened the door wider to let him in.

Her cabin was vastly different from his. His cabin was used just for rest and to store weapons. He didn't have much. He prioritized just keeping the necessities.

So it was slightly surprising to see Jo's cabin. They had a loveseat with an afghan draped over it. There were books on the coffin table. He noticed a small bookshelf that had even more books and board games. He even spotted candles lining surfaces. Not just the plain unscented white, red, and black ones, but those fancy candles he would see in department stores. It smelled like cinnamon and honey.

It was homey. It was her home. It made him think of what she said when she first arrived about her traveling from place to place since the start of this. It made him wonder if she finally felt safe.

"What's up?" She asked as she spotted the M&Ms and beer.

"Housewarming gift."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "You are going to have to do better than that."

Dean passed over a beer. "Just wanted to make sure you are okay."

Jo opened her beer bottle with practice ease against her countertop. "I mean all things considered I can't complain. Are you okay?"

"Right as rain," Dean replied as he popped open his bottle of beer and took a swing.

Jo eyed him but didn't say anything. She took a sip of the warm beer and sat on her couch.

Dean tried his best to not think about the last time he shared a beer with Jo. Instead of pushing Sam away, he would've asked him to stay. Maybe even suggested, instead of just hunting between the two of them, to tag along with Ellen and Jo. Go back and help Bobby get settled in more after losing his ability to walk.

Instead, he had let Sam leave. He sulked in his motel room and licked his wounds. He had already been prepared for Jo to knock on his door. He thought he got lucky that it was her rather than Ellen. The smack he received from the Harvelle matriarch had been enough for him. He thought maybe Jo would ask where Sam was, but knowing his brother, he probably downloaded the two Harvelle women about what was going on.

It immediately had him irritated as he looked at the blonde. He remembered grabbing the offered beer from her, but his mood was already set. He was still reeling from hell and knowing he broke the first seal had him spiraling even more. Now Sam was dealing with a demon blood addiction and his dad's words were echoing in his head about how if he couldn't save his brother he would have to kill him.

So the last thing he wanted was Jo worrying about him. He didn't need her getting sucked into the Winchester family drama. So it left him more irritable especially as she smiled as she opened both of their beers and made herself comfortable on the empty bed. Because everything he touched got ruined and he didn't need Jo on the list of things he would bring ruin to.

He didn't know exactly what he said, but it was enough for Jo to look at him with angry brown eyes. She didn't slam the door on the way out, but unlike Ellen, who wished him goodbye, her daughter was nowhere to be seen the following morning as they parted ways.

"You're not ones for personal visits, Dean."

He took a swing of his beer to hide his wince. "Krissy asked me to stop by."

Jo only nodded her head. She didn't seem surprised or mad. She took a long sip of her beer. "In a weird twist of fate, I think I understand where my mom was coming from with wanting to hunt."

"You think she isn't ready?"

"Depends on what it is. She's good. She needs to learn. But with everything going on, one mistake wouldn't get her killed, but someone else."

"She wouldn't be on any serious runs. She's been doing real good on perimeter watch."

Jo smirked. "Dean, she acts like me. I'm sure I was embarrassingly cringy know it all on that first hunt."

A ghost of a smile came over Dean's lip. Sure, at the time, he had been pissed Jo had conned her way into the hunt. There were mistakes not from the tactical aspect. Clearly, she knew how to handle a weapon and was very pragmatic. She knew how to make a case file as well. He thought she could have done that for a living. He wouldn't have minded getting cases from her with how many details she put into it and catching patterns.

As with most first-time hunters, it was that tinge of cockiness. Jo had that in spades because of what she thought the job was. That urge to follow in her father's footsteps sometimes blinded them to the reality that not everyone should follow in their parent's footsteps.

"You handled yourself well. Impressed me."

Jo snorted. "I'm sure I did."

Dean played with the bottle cap. "You know I would look out for her, Jo."

"I know," Jo agreed. "But I don't want that on your shoulders."

Dean didn't know what to say about that. Maybe this was why he was avoiding Jo. She never bullshitted him. Even Cas went along with his plans and avoidance of things, but Jo wouldn't. If she had been here from the start then maybe he wouldn't be the way he was now.

He didn't have a response for her. The beer for once made his stomach feel heavy. He could feel it sloshing around. He left her cabin.

She didn't stop him.

Jo thought the camp was set up nicely. She didn't have much to compare it to as every camp she had come across got wiped out despite having walls. So the fact Dean has been able to keep a group of survivors alive and well with minimal attacks was a miracle.

On top of that, everyone seemed to be happy. There were kids laughing and playing. She would see groups of elderly knitting and gardening. There was a small school set up for education in Math, English, and even hunting.

This was a camp that would be written in the History books when hopefully this would end. Although there was the fear that maybe this wouldn't end. This was the new normal for the world. She didn't know what was worse knowing how things were before or growing up thinking things were normal.

But she was proud of Dean even if she knew that he didn't really have the option of not putting all of this on his shoulders.

This exterior Dean had built was not of the Dean she last encountered. In fact, Jo felt the only time she ever really got a glimpse of the real Dean was their first couple encounters when he admitted he was too far in his grief to flirt with her and they both admitted it was the wrong time and wrong place. But after that, in other encounters with Dean, she could see the performances he gave everyone.

And with time away, her crush for Dean had dulled. She grew up and became embarrassed by how forward she was. After all, the words that the demon possessing Sam taunted to her rang in her ears of her being a little schoolgirl that Dean only saw as a sister. The fact that Dean never called her after that incident was proof enough that she needed to grow up.

And she did. Despite what others had to say, she proved herself more than capable.

She paused in her walk around the perimeter to pull up the collar of her jacket to fight the chill. She needed to invest in a hat as her ears were getting cold.

The night was turning an inky black. Sometimes it was eerie with how dark the night could be not that there were no streetlights illuminating corners. She squinted as her eyes spotted an outline of a shape in the dying foliage surrounding the camp. She made the detour to what she deduced was an outline of a car.

More accurately the ruins of a car.

Her hand reached out and touched the frame of what she recognized as Baby. She had assumed Dean had put the car somewhere in storage. Most likely in the graveyard of metal at Bobby's place. She never expected to see the car gutted and empty.

The metal was cold and rusted. A dilapidated shadow of its former glory. Jo stuffed her hands into her pockets and resumed her walk around the perimeter.

And as much as things have changed, it seemed something hadn't as Jo watched two girls fight over some men including Dean.

Jo had already got sized up by Risa regarding Dean. She wasn't sure where that came from as Jo didn't deny that she knew Dean before through hunting, but that was all she gave away regarding any type of relationship with Dean. Nothing for Risa to feel threatened over. She had ignored Chuck's knowing eyes after that interaction. It was weird to know that he knew her before she even met him. He had written about her and Dean's first meeting and knew about most if not all of their interactions.

Although apparently what he wrote wasn't deemed good or important enough to be published.

The drama was a nice distraction. It provided a sense of normalcy from the world before.

And it was not always doom and gloom.

It was a particularly sunny day despite it leaking furthermore into winter. Jo wasn't listed for anything. She had a day off so to speak. She had found a small clearing with a picnic bench to relax on. She placed a blanket on the tabletop and relaxed.

She sighed feeling the warmth the sun was providing. She was going to miss the summer and being able to sunbathe in a bikini.

She couldn't have been laying out for more than 10 minutes when she heard the sound of boots walking towards her. She knew the person was being loud on purpose.

She knew it was Dean.

Things were different between them. She could admit with her arrival at camp she was avoiding him. She didn't really understand the reasons why. Just everything was so different and the history between them was so loaded. It was clear the Dean she knew wasn't the Dean that people knew. This Dean was colder. This Dean was a soldier.

It was easier to assimilate into the camp without being in Dean's shadow because she knew how Dean could be.

She knew he was avoiding her too so it seemed to be a mutual feeling. That was until Krissy. Jo knew she was being slightly overprotective when it came to Krissy. She knew what Krissy was capable of. Yet, as much as the girl insisted she was ready, Jo knew that Krissy was not ready for the long runs when it came to clearing out big department stores. There was more risk in coming across herds of many creatures. She didn't feel Krissy was there yet. The girl felt she had too much to prove and it could lead to mistakes. Jo knew that from experience.

She wasn't surprised Krissy had turned to Dean. Yet, somehow that had been the bridge to thaw whatever they thought was needed in not speaking to one another.

"Better be careful," Dean warned. "We don't have a stockpile of sunscreen."

Jo snorted.

The bench creaked beneath Dean's weight. She assumed he was keeping watch over her. She was sure that wasn't going to help with Risa's attitude. But Jo allowed herself to relax completely.

She liked how Dean was okay with the silence.

It was an impromptu run. As they found more people and the camp became more optimistic about the lack of accidents, they were longing for the old days. The celebrations of holidays and all the decorations that came with it. The camp needed arts and crafts essentially. Something that Dean didn't consider too much of a priority.

However, he was itching to get out of the camp. Besides, he never knew when they could come across a gold mine of goods.

With the rush of the run, it meant that he and Jo would be on the same run team. This one could only be for the most skilled people. They were going to be in and out. A quick run with no room for mistakes.

He wasn't surprised that it was all business with Jo. There was a nervous energy when they first got in his truck. Yet, Jo had slid in an REO Speedwagon CD, and the smile she had thrown him had unthawed that last piece of barrier between them.

He listened while Jo sang along with Kevin Cronin. He may have joined in on a song or two. During the run itself, he got to witness firsthand how much Jo has grown. He was telling the truth that she wasn't a bad hunter. It was clear she had the skills to be a hunter. She moved effortlessly through the store. She was able to quickly find what they needed.

He didn't have to direct or worry. He didn't have that same feeling he had on that first hunt with her in wanting to keep a strict eye on her. For some reason, he didn't know if he felt relieved or disappointed. What he did know for sure was that Ellen would be proud. He knew Ellen didn't support Jo wanting to hunt, but she was a natural. He couldn't imagine how Jo felt not having that true support for what she wanted.

But Jo was good out in the field. Better than anyone probably gave her credit for. It made him wonder if he had called Jo after Sam got possessed by Meg if things would have gone differently. He knew deep down probably not considering what the angels - God - had in store for his family. Yet, maybe the world wouldn't be in the state it was because of his circle not just being his brother. Maybe he could've shouldered the weight of the world better if he had the warmth of Jo at his side.

Dean laughed as Jo bounced over to his truck with a canvas bag under her arm. They had looted a Wal-Mart. She was proudly displaying a CD that had the Greatest Hits of Journey.

Dean didn't bother knocking as he pushed the door open to Jo's cabin. Since that run, Jo had seemed to become his number two. Even with Cas being his most trusted confidant, Dean never formally delegated he had a second in command. He didn't see the need to or maybe no one really fit the role in how he needed them to until Jo came back into his life.

That meant he needed unlimited access to his second in command. It meant more time for them together with their heads pressed together on how to really fortify the camp. How to expand and live again. Maybe Jo was thawing him a bit.

So he didn't see the point in knocking on Jo's door. They were going to have a quick meeting and she should have been there. What he didn't expect was to find Krissy and Aiden on the couch making out and hands underneath clothing.

Krissy didn't look apologetic, which almost made him snort. Aiden, on the other hand, looked as if he was going to shit a brick. It was nice knowing Dean could have some people cowering in his presence.

"Where's Jo?" He asked gruffly.

"Chuck grabbed her regarding a leaky cabin," Krissy informed him succinctly.

Dean nodded his head. He eyed the two teenagers and calculated his next move. Dean had a fondness for Krissy. She was eager to learn and be a part of the team. She had Jo's determination. He was slightly shocked that she would be making out with Aiden as she gave off an air of disinterest when it came to things outside of hunting and runs.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked looking back and forth between the two.

Krissy huffed. "Are we really doing this?"

Dean ignored Krissy's words as he turned and stared at Aiden. The kid looked back and forth from him to Krissy. "Do you want to deal with me or Jo?" Dean probed.

Aiden scratched the back of his head. "A month or so."

"Hmmm and Jo knows?"

Aiden's cheeks turn pink and he looked at Krissy for answers. Dean gathered Jo didn't know about the romantic aspect of this relationship.

"You guys having sex?"

"Dean!" Krissy yelled, her cheeks now an apple red.

"Hey, the last thing we need is an unplanned pregnancy. I can't tell you guys what to do, but you need to be safe." Dean informed them. He wasn't their parent and he was not going to try to be. He knew at the end of the day, they were going to do what they wanted in regard to this. The very least was they could be safe about it.

Krissy pursed her lips in a tight line. Aiden's leg was bouncing.

Neither seemed to want to answer. Before Dean could threaten sentry duty and maybe put them on shifts at the daycare, Jo walked through the door.

He watched as she assessed the room. "What's going on?" Her voice was cool, calm, and collected.

He looked at the two teens to give them a chance to speak, but neither seemed interested in volunteering.

Dean sighed. "Caught these two making out on the couch."

Jo raised an eyebrow. She threw a look that asked was that all. Dean wiggled his fingers indicating that their hands were definitely exploring.

Jo sighed. "Are you two having sex, Aiden?"

Dean watched as Aiden shook his head and Krissy's face turned sour.

"Aiden, I think it's best you go home," Jo said gently. "No more visits unsupervised for now."

Aiden didn't need to be told twice as he scrambled off the couch and out of the cabin. Dean was sort of confused that Krissy would be attracted to a guy like Aiden. But maybe Aiden was the soft edge she was missing in her life.

Jo kissed her teeth as she watched the boy scramble out of the cabin. "Do you have anything to say, Krissy?"

Krissy sighed deeply. "It was just kissing."

"I'm sure it was," Jo agreed. "But I don't appreciate you sneaking him into the cabin for the past two weeks."

Dean watched as Krissy turned crimson all the way down to her neck.

"We also know about the parties you teens throw in the woods," Jo added.

"That -...nothing happens there," Krissy said lamely.

"Yeah, I'm sure considering the bathroom brew Ollie makes really doesn't dull the senses." Jo countered back. Damn, Dean thought, Jo really was Ellen's daughter.

"So what's my punishment?"

"I don't know yet," Jo looked at him. "We'll have to figure something out. But for now, you can go in your room and work on the sigil assignment from class."

Dean hid his surprise at being included in this. Krissy didn't object as marched into her room.

Jo eyed the couch and scrunched her nose. "Do I even want to sit on that couch?"

Dean chuckled as he stood behind the couch. "They didn't get that far." Jo fixed the afghan on the couch and began tidying up the place. It seemed all very domestic. "You know you handled that well."

Jo paused what she was doing and looked up at him with a look of disbelief. "They weren't being as slick as they thought. Besides, I've done worst."

Dean had no doubt that Jo had done worse. He imagined how that went under Ellen's nose. "So you going to put her on sentry duty?"

"Nah, I was thinking about maybe two weeks at the daycare," Jo smirked. She stood next to him and leaned against the couch. "I mean as long as they are being careful, I'm not going too crazy about it. Considering how everything is…it's nice to know teenage hormones are still rampant in the apocalypse."

"I don't think hedonism is ever going out of style."

Jo nudged him with her elbow. "And you would know all about that, right?"

Dean snorted. Yes, the apocalypse didn't stop him from having a cold bed. He didn't think he would ever abandon his vices of alcohol and sex. At least with sex, it wasn't a selfish act with him. At least someone else was benefiting too.

He wrapped his around her shoulders bringing her to his side. "Well, at least I have you to keep me on the straight and narrow." Jo shook her head. "No one here is tempting you down the path of hedonism."

Jo rolled her eyes and he wouldn't be surprised if she saw her brain. "Be serious, Dean."

"I am. What?"

Jo shook her head. "Nothing."

Dean decided not to press her or the fact that she hadn't removed herself from his hold. He didn't want to ponder too much how she felt nice in his hold. He cleared his throat. It was time to get back to business. "So Krissy said you were dealing with a leaky cabin."

Even if they didn't keep track of the dates, Dean's body was just conditioned to know certain dates. He knew today was just November 2nd.

He knew he was in a foul mood. He had snapped at people for no reason. He was stomping around camp and people were giving him a wide berth. Worse, he could see people were hurt he had turned back into their cold, heartless leader.

But he didn't think time would ever dull the ache this day created in him.

Instead of souring the atmosphere, he marched back into his cabin. He grabbed his cache of weapons from his guns to knives. He decided to sharpen the knives and clean the guns not like he didn't do that at least every other day to kill time.

The sun was setting when he heard familiar footsteps coming up his stairs. The person didn't bother knocking as they let themselves in.

Jo walked in bringing in the cool air. She had a plate of food for him that she set in front of him. She pointedly ignored his huff of annoyance as she placed it in front of the gun parts he had laid out.

Jo took the seat opposite him. She didn't bother helping him clean his weapons. She only put her feet up on the table and leaned back in her chair. He was sure she got comments about his mood. The blonde probably got a full rundown of every misdemeanor he did today.

"I know I am an asshole, Jo."

Jo didn't disagree with his statement.

Dean clenched his jaw as he placed his gun down and looked at the dinner before him. The meals were simple. It was rice with some jerky. He took a couple of bites of the rice before he returned his focus back to Jo. She was cleaning her nails with her knife.

"Is it Sam and your Mom?"

Dean gave a broken sigh. He didn't even know at this point with his family. Everything was so complicated when it came to them. He didn't want to be a 34-year-old man crying about how he missed his mom. But he did. He didn't know what was worst the fact he still had some memories of what life was like before she died or the fact he got to meet his mother and learned she wanted out of this Life. She didn't want this for her family. Then her death propelled his dad on a path his mother fought hard to leave.

At this point, he couldn't really hold his anger at his dad for that. He could be angry about how his dad treated him and Sam. His dad took monopoly on the grief over their mom. His father acted like he was the only that lost her.

And some days he didn't know if he was jealous that Sam didn't have memories of his mom. He couldn't miss something he never had. Sure, Dean could talk about her and repeat that she loved him. But Sam only had an idea of who she was. He wasn't denying that Sam missed their mom. He knew Sam did in a way Dean wouldn't be able to understand.

"My whole family," he finally answered. Maybe that was the anger and guilt that came because he blamed his family. He tried to be the good son, the protector of Sam, and the perfect soldier for none of it to matter in the end. "You ever feel mad at your dad about being in the Life."

"Of course," Jo admitted. "Anger is a part of grieving. I still get angry. At both him and my mom."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm mad at my dad for just hunting. Mad at my mom for still operating a hunter bar, but then trying to stop me from hunting."

"But you wouldn't know the truth."

Jo clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Yeah, Catch 22, right?"

Dean hummed in agreement. "I think…I'm just mad at Sam," Dean admitted. He had been mad at his brother since he figured out he had gone to Ruby and allowed her to manipulate him to drink demon blood. He knew that Ruby took advantage of his brother. And at this point, the world was working against Sam to make the right choice. Dean knew that. He knew that Sam had been pushed to a decision that had already been set for him.

Yet, he didn't know why Sam would say yes. He didn't know why his brother would allow the devil to jump into him after everything.

"River Pass was the last time you saw him?"

Dean nodded his head. Now he felt shame and guilt because he didn't follow his dad's orders. For once, Dean wanted to be selfish with his pain. He couldn't sweep the pain of Sam's action under the rug.

"It's okay to be angry, Dean. Angry and sad. The two are like mutually exclusive."

"I'm sorry. I didn't tell you about it," he told her. He knew Cas had been the one. No one really knew about Sam. Most knew he had a brother, but most of the camp survivors didn't know the full context of how the Winchesters played a role in this new world.

Jo gave him a small smile. "Just don't be afraid to talk to me, Dean."

"I'm sorry about your mom."

Since Jo came to camp, she hadn't mentioned anything about her mom. He only got that she was gone. She never divulged the details and he wasn't going to press.

Jo went quiet as her fingertips tapped the tabletop. "I'm sorry about Bobby."

Jo moved up from her chair to give him back his privacy.

"Stay." He said before his brain realized what he had done.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded his head as he finished his dinner.

Jo stayed the rest of the night.

Dean didn't really have off days. There was something that always needed to be done. Having idle hands shouldn't be a concept. However, somehow, Cas had somehow managed to give him a couple of free hours at least once a week, on what they concluded was Sunday. He decided to ignore Cas' reasoning behind that.

He preferred not being in Cas's sex cabin so the fallen angel would come over to his cabin. They usually just played cards. The currency was candy, toilet paper, and beer. However, Dean had been weary of placing beer as a wager considering Cas' not-so-hidden pill addiction. Still, Dean did happen to enjoy those couple hours of playing cards especially as Cas did get gradually better. His poker face still sucked ass though.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Joanna Harvelle," Cas stated bluntly. They had switched to playing Go Fish of all things.

Dean picked up a card. He wasn't going to answer a question Cas already knew the answer to.

"Risa's been pissy lately too," Cas added.

Dean rolled his eyes. It wasn't even as if they were exclusive. Dean didn't want to be an asshole about things, but he never made Risa any promises. Besides, it wasn't as if he slept with every newcomer that came into the camp. He wasn't that much of a leech. "Are we gossiping now?"

Cas didn't respond as he picked up a card.

Dean scowled as a thought popped into his head. "And don't try to recruit Jo for your orgies."

Cas' lips twitched. "I'm all about consent, Dean."

Dean raised an eyebrow. He didn't want to think too deep how angels thrived off consent despite it leaning on the dubious side, but demons didn't.

"You know Dean, sometimes good things do happen."

Cas had told him those words before and Dean tried to cling to that.

But look where it got him.

Christmas came quickly and they were rewarded with a White Christmas. The kids were out laughing and having snowball fights. They were able to pick up various toys and gifts for parents to pick through for small gift exchanges. The adults were keeping watch and making sure that they kept up traditions with the decorated trees, Yule log, and Egg Nog.

Dean thought about the last time he celebrated Christmas with Sam. He knew Sam did it more for his benefit than anything. And when he came back from Hell, they didn't do anything.

Dean did partake in some of the festivities. He knew that there was a party happening for the teens and young adults. Jo had been the force behind that one as it was happening in the bar they had set up. It was basically another version of the Roadhouse. At first, he didn't see the benefit to have a bar built. Yet, it helped with morale and was a hot spot for people to wind down at.

Dean was trudging along the perimeter as he didn't have much to do. His Christmas gift was to actually have a day off as if that could ever happen. So he was making sure everyone on watch was doing their job. He was going to probably head to his cabin and drink the bottle of Jim Bean Cas had gotten him.

"I thought we told you no work today?"

Dean turned to find Jo in a new pink knitted beanie with a matching scarf courtesy of Krissy, who had also knitted him a black hat and scarf.

"Just enjoying a nice walk."

"Sure," Jo said not believing him.

"Shouldn't you be at the party?"

"Not my age group, Dean," she replied. "Besides, I need to give you your gift."

Dean frowned. "I thought we agreed to no gifts."

"And what made you think that I would listen?"

"You're a pain in my ass, Jo," he grumbled as he followed her to her cabin.

Dean tapped his snow-covered boots and quickly unlaced them. He placed them on the rug next to Jo's. She had disappeared into her room for his gift. He wandered into her kitchen hoping she had some beer. He was surprised to find a six-pack.

"Merry Christmas."

Dean turned to find Jo holding out a wrapped square present. He raised an eyebrow as he accepted the lite gift. He knew from weight and shape alone that it was a vinyl record.

Dean tore off the piece of wrapping paper and he immediately recognized the crumpling wall of the album art.

A six-pack. Zeppelin IV.

Dean smirked. All that was missing was the pizza.

"Is it still the wrong time, wrong place?" Jo asked.

Dean licked his lips as he placed the album on her countertop. He was quick as he swept Jo in his arms. He pressed a bruising kiss onto her lips, which she eagerly returned.

He repeated Cas words to himself on a loop.

Good things do happen, Dean.

[midnight-serendipity]

Thanks for the tag @lovebarefootblonde

My ten songs:

1. Hush - The Marias

2. The Great War - Taylor Swift

3. Slow Hands - Niall Horan

4. Samurai Cop - Dave Matthews Band

5. Closing Time - Semisonic

6. Slide - Goo Goo Dolls

7. Like a Stone - Audioslave

8. Do I wanna know - Arctic Monkeys

9. Mr. Brightside - The Killers

10. Wild Child - Juliet Simms

Tagging w/o obligation: @untilmynextstory @princessxkenobi @fullwattpadmusictree @rayslittlekitten

was tagged by @vamqira to shuffle my library, list 10 songs, and tag 10 people, let’s goooo

in the car outside - the killers

the wrestler - bruce springsteen

anseo - denise chaila

maskhara - bashir murad

wild thing - X

the look of love - say lou lou

policy of truth - depeche mode

det är ett idogt jobb att driva ungdomen ut ur sin kropp - markus krunegård

plug in baby - muse

rain in the south - art fact

i’m honestly surprised by how decent this list is. like it’s fairly representative of what i’d listen to any given day

tagging: @indecisive-behaviors @pohjanneito @yolandekleinn @exhausted-beef-stew @maderilien-deactivated20220901 @iwonderifthatisart @salt-is-a-terrible-currency @marauderofworlds @bothvinforfaen @queerlittleidiot

[mariestark]

Happy New Year!! I love you all. You all have been so wonderful and amazing friends. I wish you all the happiness, health and love in the world. See you next year, my lovely friends!

I'm sorry if I missed anyone 💜

@icanfeelastormbrewing @what-is-your-plan-today @christhickevans @foodieforthoughts @mary-ann84 @rmtndew @syntheticavenger @littlefreya @viking-raider @mindramblingsfics @originalhybridloverfics @jtargaryen18 @nerdzzone @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @dollslayer @ohthankevans @ozarkthedog @smutsonian @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @nitannichionne @saiyanprincessswanie @nuggsmum @k-evans-writes @celestialbarnes @worksby-d @the-iceni-bitch @pagesoflauren @toomanystoriessolittletime @the-soot-sprite @vanderlustwords @autumnrose-40 @angrybirds @oddduckthatgirl @demivampire @untilmynextstory @consequences-of-sleep @helenaeisenhower @chuckbass-love @speechlessxx @universitypenguin @bostongirl13 @boston-babies @buckyownsmylife @rebel-stardust @wayward-blonde @ysmmsy @keepsitonehunned @likepotato

[charnelhouse]

Hi there 👋💖

Congrats on 5k followers!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Thank you so much for using your platform to help spread the word about other writers' fics, and in the spirit of that, I'm going to self-promote and recommend.

Here a couple of my fics that I think you'd enjoy (I'm including the graphic cards for them too because why not):

Promising Young Women (14 chapters, in progress) - Jax Teller/OC, murder mystery/thriller/romance - Masterlist

Summary: Two girls gone, one more found dead in her apartment… girls are dropping like flies in Charming. Samcro has a problem on its hands, and it’s not just because all signs point to one of their own as the perpetrator. Because the new girl in town is onto them - she’s not who she says she is and she’s not about to let them off the hook.

12 Rounds (20 chapters, completed) - Jax Teller/OC, fighter romance - Fic links: ff.net | AO3 | Wattpad

Summary: Fresh out of prison and with nothing left to lose, Jax joins the underground fight scene in Reno to make some fast cash while the club is there helping the IRA smooth over a deal with the Russian bratva. As he spends more time in Reno, and debates his future with the club, he gravitates to a pretty casino lounge performer, who's more entangled with the bratva than he knows.

Fly By Night (36 chapters, completed) - Jax Teller/OC, frenemies to lovers, angst, some trauma - Fic links: ff.net | AO3 | Wattpad

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple business deal, but thanks to a stupid move on Luann's part, Jax finds himself on the wrong side of the negotiation table, with Opie's former step-sister on the other end. Now, the club has to strike a new deal with a new ally to survive, and Jax is just going to have to grin and bear it because he wants her almost as badly as he needs her.

Here are a few fics I've read and loved recently:

The Chase by @rayslittlekitten (Raymond Smith x GN!reader)

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten (Will Miller x F!reader)

Wandering Romance by @untilmynextstory (Jax Teller x OC)

Peanut Butter by @flaireandsynch (Raymond Smith X OC)

I'm the Baby Whisperer by @band--psycho (Jax Teller x F!reader)

Make It Rain by @little-diable (Jax Teller x F!reader)

Thank you again for using your platform this way - and congrats on this milestone! You deserve it! 💕

This is like literally the coolest shit ever and I demand to know how you did those BANNERS. I've added these all to the list and you are the queen of writing JAX.

[midnight-serendipity]

Thanks for the tag @lovebarefootblonde.

Here are my top 9 favorite movies. In no particular order.

1. Lord of the Rings Trilogy (yes I’m lumping them into one because I have way more than 9)

2. Me Before You

3. The Bone Collector

4. The Godfather Trilogy

5. Megamind

6. A Walk to Remember

7. Mannequin

8. How to Train your Dragon Trilogy

9. The Terminal

Tagging w/out obligation. (Sorry for re-tags 😁) @untilmynextstory @rayslittlekitten @passionatewrites

[mariestark]

Oh yes, I did!!!

@what-is-your-plan-today @icanfeelastormbrewing @christhickevans @foodieforthoughts @keepsitonehunned @mary-ann84 @stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @rmtndew @hlkwrites @syntheticavenger @littlefreya @viking-raider @mindramblingsfics @originalhybridloverfics @fuckandfluff @jtargaryen18 @nerdzzone @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @dollslayer @ohthankevans13 @ozarkthedog @smutsonian @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @nitannichionne @saiyanprincessswanie @nuggsmum @k-evans-writes @celestialbarnes @worksby-d @the-iceni-bitch @toomanystoriessolittletime @the-soot-sprite @vanderlus @autumnrose40 @angrybirdcr @oddduckthatgirl @evansgurl-love @bohemian-barbie @demivampirew @untilmynextstory @consequences-of-sleep @helenaeisenhower @chuckbass-love @ysmmsy @queenoftheworldisdead @speechlessxx @a-little-counter-esperanto

[untilmynextstory]

we're falling like stars

Elia Martell x Brandon Stark

04. in the freefall

SUMMARY: Elia and Brandon are reunited at the tourney to celebrate Princess Rhaenys 18th names day.

Elia couldn't help but smile sadly as she looked at her youngest child. It seemed only yesterday that her sweet girl was in her arms, rooting at her breasts. Now, Mariah Targaryen was an exuberant 7-year-old. If she thought Rhaenys had been an active toddler, Mariah put her oldest to shame with her abundant energy.

Once Mariah learned how to walk, she never stopped. Due to her daughter's curiosity, they had to keep two guards on her little girl some days. 

Yet, despite the multiple scares her daughter provided from her scaling the walls, setting pranks during small council meetings, and terrorizing her older siblings, aunt, and uncle, she was a much-welcome light in the Red Keep. Her daughter was her bright, shining sun. 

Her daughter was being wrapped in traditional Dorne garments, and surprisingly, she was still while the handmaidens wrapped her in the silk and worked on her hair. They knew her daughter's hair would be wild and free in a few hours. 

Her daughter's golden eyes found hers in the mirror, “Muna!”

She wasn’t surprised when her daughter ignored the maids’ exasperated sighs as she moved from the mirror and jumped into her arms. She offered the maids a look of apology. 

“I’ll finish up,” she told them gently. The girls bowed and left the room with no fuss. 

“How’s my little sun?” She asked as she pressed a kiss to her nose. 

Mariah giggled. “I’m excited to see the wolves, Muna! They never come this far south.”

Elia gave her a tight smile at the mention of the wolves. Her young daughter was obsessed with all things North. She wanted to see the Wall, direwolves, and the Children of the Forest. 

She wondered which father she obtained this interest from, whether it was from the seed that created her or the father raising her with his scrolls. Elia had accepted that Brandon Stark had given her her third daughter. She had her doubts, but she had known after Ned had come to King’s Landing when Mariah was a small babe. She had seen that look in his eyes as he observed her daughter. 

She had felt guilty for causing that small rift between her friends' marriage. 

Although it comforted her to know she always had a small piece of Brandon with her, her only saving grace was that Mariah was her image, and if there were pieces of Brandon in her, they were easily hidden or could be passed off as a shade of a Targaryen trait. 

It made her feel slightly guilty, and feared the truth would come out. She was terrified of Rhaegar’s reaction. 

She could see that he loved Mariah. He doted on her so much. And she knew in the beginning it was because of his guilt. For so long, his guilt and affection were so intertwined. For a while, it made her angry that his love couldn’t be free alone. It couldn’t be pure. It had to be intermingled with something else. 

Yet, as Mariah grew and developed her fascinating personality, Rhaegar emerged as the father she wished her two oldest had the privilege of experiencing. But she wasn’t his by blood; she knew it would crush and crumble him. 

And now Brandon was coming South for the first time in 7 years. It had been three years since she had seen him. 

“That’s not true. Don’t forget your Uncle Ned is from the North,” Elia reminded her gently. 

Mariah frowned. “I mean Winterfell!”

Mariah chuckled as she placed her daughter in front of her vanity to begin braiding her hair. “You’re Uncle Ned was born in Winterfell, sweetling.”

“Then how come he never takes me there,” her little girl pouted. 

“Well, have you ever asked?”

“Noooo,” Mariah answered with a giggle. 

“Well, maybe if you are on your best behavior, we can ask Lord Stark if he wouldn’t mind a progress coming to Winterfell.”

“Really, Muna!”

“Yes, but no silly games, especially with your siblings.”

. . . 

Elia stood next to her husband as they watched the procession of the North bannerman enter the Keep. It wouldn’t be a lot of bannerman, but she knew the prominent houses such as Manderly, Karstark, Dustin, and Cerwyn were joining their liege lord. Ned would also be joining his brother and House Reed. Elia was excited to see Ashara with her children. 

However, Elia couldn’t stop the fast beating of her heart as she thought of seeing Brandon Stark approaching. 

She stood tall and regal beside Rhaegar while their two oldest children stood beside her. She had wanted Mariah to stand next to Rhaenys as proper etiquette required. Yet, Rhaegar had their little girl stand before him while he held a light grip on her shoulder. 

The guards announced Brandon's arrival along with his heir, Robb. Age had been kind to Brandon, too kind, she thought. He looked as she remembered: tall and stocky. His hair was tied up, and his beard covered his face. He looked very much like the rugged man she remembered from their youth. She tried to see if she could find traces of Mariah in him, but it was hard to tell from his appearance alone. Her eyes go next to his heir. Robb had the Tully coloring, but she could see Brandon in the shape of his face, and his serious expression was that of Brandon’s. 

Her eyes went down to her daughter, who was simmering in excitement at the sight of the direwolf banner. 

Elia held her breath as Brandon dismounted from his horse and approached them. It was no secret that Brandon despised Rhaegar. She thought the last time they were in the same room was during the Greyjoy Rebellion when Rhaegar had to call the banners. 

“Your Grace,” Brandon greeted gruffly, and they were surprised when Brandon greeted him with a proper bow. However, Elia knew it was more for the girl between the two. 

She saw a smile overtake Brandon’s features as he looked at Mariah. “And is this Princess Mariah I’ve heard much about?”

Elia thought Mariah had been told she could have all the sweets she wanted for dinner. “You heard about me?”

“I have,” Brandon assured her, and he nodded to Robb, who grabbed something from his saddle. The heir of Winterfell walked over with a book and presented it to her youngest after greeting their King.

“It holds stories about the North. We have a nurse Old Nan, who worked with our Maester to transcribe them for you,” Robb told the young girl. 

Her daughter couldn’t contain her glee as she hugged Brandon tightly and then Robb.

“Thank you, my lords!” Mariah practically shouted. 

Elia had to look away from the sight, but soon, Brandon was in front of her, greeting her with a kiss on her fingers. 

He and Mariah shared the same smile.

. . . 

With the visitors taking up residence in King’s Landing, Elia was distracted by playing hostess to other Ladies to worry about Brandon Stark in the halls of the keep. She played her part as Queen while accepting most false compliments, but it gave her time to watch as Rhaenys interacted with the court ladies. Her daughter was 18 and would soon be someone’s wife and mother. If Elia had her way, it wouldn’t have been for a few more years, but at least her daughter wouldn’t have been jaded by tales of wholesome knights and a happy marriage. Rhaenys had unfortunately learned the truth about the War, and any stars in her eyes about her father and noblemen had fallen. 

She hoped she could find her daughter an honorable and decent man to care for her and future grandchildren. Rhaegar had mentioned that there had been talks in the small council regarding Rhaenys's hand in marriage. After all, Aegon’s hand had already been promised to Margaery Tyrell. 

She hoped she could find suitable husbands for both of her daughters.

“Your Grace.”

Elia turned to find her Uncle Lewyn. She had been thankful he had survived the Battle of the Trident as amongst her husband’s Kingsguard. She only had him and Jaime for the safety of her children. 

“Yes?”

“Lord Stark would like to have an audience with you.”

Elia looked at her uncle curiously but followed him. At first, she thought it would be to the Godswood, but she was surprised to find Brandon Stark waiting for her in the royal gardens. 

Elia kept her face neutral as she approached Brandon, stripped of his layers. She knew how much he hated the heat of the South. 

Her uncle gave them the illusion of privacy. 

“Lord Stark,” she greeted with a smile. 

Brandon stood tall, towering over her. She worked to remember the smile on his face. However, her eyes furrowed as she noticed a scar on his eyebrow that she hadn’t seen before. 

“Your Grace,” he greeted with a bow. 

“You requested an audience?”

Brandon offered her his arm, “Walk with me?”

Elia eyed him curiously but accepted his arm. She wondered what game he was playing. “How was your journey, Lord Stark?”

“Long and rather dull until I met up with Ned,” Brandon told her bluntly. “I’m sorry, Ashara could not join.”

Elia frowned at the mention of her friend. She had been so excited to see her, but her friend was going through another pregnancy, which seemed to be giving her trouble. “It’s hard being away from her. I thought I shall visit once her pregnancy nears its end.”

“Your presence is always welcomed in the North.”

“And your presence is always welcomed in the South, my Lord. However, I am curious about your attendance now; from what I recalled, the Northmen’s attitude regarding tourneys was that it was just a fancy of ours to play at war.” 

She watched as Brandon’s lips twitched at her words but didn’t deny them. “I’ve come with a proposal.”

“Oh.”

Brandon led her to the garden alcove, away from prying eyes. He looked out into Blackwater Rush. “Have you settled on a betrothal for Princess Rhaenys?”

Elia’s eyebrows skyrocketed to her hairline. “Bran - Lord Stark, Rhae - I believe the King should be present for these discussions.”

“So no, then?” Brandon pressed. 

Elia licked her lips and shook her head. It didn’t take long to gather what he was edging to.  “You want to marry Robb to Rhaenys?”

Brandon nodded his head. 

“You sure you don’t want to have your son marry a daughter of one of your Northern Lords. No one is blind to how the North feels about the South, and you want the future lord of Winterfell to marry the daughter of a man you despised, but your bannerman lost sons and fathers for.” Elia stated bluntly, not worrying about using the sweet words the Southerners preferred. 

“I’m not making the betrothal between us and the King. It would be between the North and Dorne.”

Elia eyed Brandon, trying to figure out where he was going with this or why he was doing it. 

“Lord Stark -”

“Brandon.” He corrected with one of his cocky smiles. 

Elia’s eyes flashed. “Lord Stark -”

“We both know the King and his council have been disgruntled by the North’s isolation. Marrying my heir to your daughter should assuage any doubt of our allegiance. Furthermore, I’ve realized the North has yet to pay any reparations for the insult your country faced due to the actions of those in my house.”

Elia had nothing to say or to provide any disagreement. After all, she knew her daughter could do worse for a husband. She knew she could trust Brandon with her daughter. She trusted his son was raised as an honorable man. Yet, the North was so far, and so were the implications of visiting her daughter and what it could entail.  “Your son is only 15. Rhaenys is 18.”

“I’m willing to have Robb fostered in Dorne until 18. Dorne is closer to King’s Landing for them to build a relationship. My only request is for the marriage to occur under my faith.”

Elia worked to keep the shock out of her face. She knew that Brandon was reluctant to venture South and offer his only son - his heir - to Dorne; she knew he was serious. “You already had this all thought and planned, it seems.”

“Are you agreeable?”

“Did you think I would not be?”

Brandon smiled. She watched his hands twitch, knowing he was fighting the urge not to cup her cheek publicly. “Whatever feelings lie between us pales compared to those we possess for our children.”

Elia moved to stand next to him as they looked at the open waters. Her thoughts returned to his arrival and her children’s reception of him. 

“The gifts were thoughtful,” Elia murmured. Not only did the North bring a gift for Mariah, but Rhaenys was gifted with a beautiful fur cloak, and Aegon was given a beautifully made horn to drink ale out of like a true Northerner. 

“I have one for you,” he whispered cheekily. 

Elia looked at him with a warning, but warmth spread through her being Brandon’s center of attention. “I would like to talk with Rhaenys about her thoughts on a proposal before bringing this to Rhaegar's attention.”

Brandon nodded his head. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

He kissed her fingers and left her with his thoughts. 

. . . 

Elia placed the small tiara on her daughter's head as they prepared for dinner. Ever since Rhaenys had turned 13, she preferred more traditional Dorne garments, and it warmed her to see her homeland live through her daughter. 

“You want to tell me something,” Rhaenys announced as she eyed her through her looking glass. 

Her daughter was too wise for her good. Elia sighed. “You’re a woman grown now.”

“So no longer am I a princess, but on a timeline to be a broodmare.”

“Sweetling, don’t say that.”

Rhaenys snorted. “We both know it’s true. Our king will find me a match to be some sort of penance for what he did.” Rhaenys sighed. “But it matters not; I know why the Crown wanted this extravagant Tourney.”

“A Lord did approach me about a betrothal,” she told her daughter. 

“And what Lord would that be?”

Elia took a seat next to her daughter and grabbed her hands. “Lord Brandon Stark.”

Rhaenys eyebrows skyrocketed to her hairline. Despite her children being close to Ashara and Ned’s children, it was no secret that the Warden had feelings for Rhaegar and his sister.  “What?”

Elia gave her a soft smile. “Since Robb is a few years younger, he proposed to foster him in Dorne so you can become acquainted.”

Rhaenys looked away from her. Her brows furrowed in deep thought. As much as Rhaenys had favored her Dornish looks, her daughter's expressions were very much Rhaegars.  “The North is so far…and cold.”

“But you enjoyed visiting when you were younger.”

“Visting, Muna. Besides, we all know how much the North despises the Crown.” However, a smile came across Rhaenys face. A smile that reminded her of Oberyn when he was scheming some sort of plot. “Even better.”

“Even better, what?”

“You can tell Lord Stark that I am…agreeable, but I would prefer to get to know the young Lord first.”

“Rhaenys…please go into this with pure intentions. Robb’s feelings are involved.”

“I’m not cruel, mother.”

. . . 

Elia was already ready for the Tourney to be over. Her face ached from keeping a cordial smile throughout the night. However, it seemed her kids were enjoying the festivities. She knew Mariah was, but she practically refused to sit at their table. She had been glued to the North’s table, but she knew Rhaenys had used it to her advantage as she saw her mingling with Robb Stark and his cousins. 

Her son was doing his rounds, mingling with the Lords, and making acquaintances. Her only son seemed to have inherited Rhaegar’s gift with words. 

It left her at the table as she watched everyone mingle. She did her dance with her husband and son. Her uncle Lewyn even twirled her around for a bit, but despite her health improving, she still suffered from aches and the occasional pain. 

Usually, Mariah would entertain her, but she seemed happy being with the Northmen - her father - she thought heartbreakingly. Some of her worried that someone would see something or that she or Brandon would give it away. She felt that if Rhaenys truly wished to marry Robb, maybe she would allow Mariah to stay with them for a few years. Brandon deserved to know Mariah in some ways despite the risks. 

“I don’t think I ever seen Mariah so happy.”

Elia turned to her husband. He had a fond smile as he took in the scene. 

Sometimes, she felt something for Rhaegar. She tried her hardest to let go of what he did, as it felt like trying to punish him only meant punishing herself. It wasn’t always unbearable with him. Some days, especially in the beginning, she consoled herself that her husband cared for her somewhat and that knowing a third pregnancy would kill her.

Yet, whatever his reasons, it didn’t erase what he had done to her, their family, and the Realm. How does one reconcile with that?

How could she move past it?

And now, Lyanna, her role in it, didn’t burn her as it once did. Dorne was burning enough for her still.  She wasn’t sure what feelings were held between the two.

As much as the court's gossip placed it on her of Lyanna’s predicament, it wasn’t. Rhaegar set up Lyanna’s marriage to his friend, Jon Connington. For that, Elia felt some pity for the poor girl as her husband was blind to who Jon held affection for. Yet, at least Lyanna wouldn’t be bothered by being stuck in pushing out heirs. However, if whispers were to be believed, the girl was left barren because of the birth of the deformed dragon she and Rhaegar created. 

However, with time and willful ignorance, the Queen imagined some shade of love would have grown between her and her husband if she hadn’t known it through Brandon Stark. 

“She is going to be an adventurer when she grows older. It will be hard keeping her in one place,” Elia told her husband. She stood up from her chair; her husband went to do the same, yet she placed a hand on his shoulders. “No need. It’s time to go to bed. Enjoy the festivities. Keep an eye on the other two.”

. . . 

It wasn’t always impossible to sneak through the Red Keep. With all the years she lived in the red-tinted castle, she knew how to maneuver around the guards when they were changing their posts.  

She knew it was reckless to do this with so many visitors, and she suspected Rhaegar would comment on where she was when he woke up. Yet, she knew that they would probably not have another opportunity. 

It was the hour of the wolf as she made her way to the godswood. 

She wasn’t surprised to find Brandon Stark waiting behind the tree's bark. 

She didn’t hesitate as she approached him swiftly. He didn’t have the chance to greet her as she met his lips properly.

She felt his smile as he eagerly returned her greeting, and his arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer. 

“Someone missed me,” Brandon muttered against her lips. 

Elia rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Brandon captured her lips, and his tongue demanded entrance, which she readily gave. Brandon moved her, and she felt her back against the bark. “Can we?” He whispered in her ear after he left her lips.

She knew they shouldn’t, especially with her womb still warm from Rhaegar. Anyone could walk into the godswood and potentially hear them. Yet, all thought and reason always disappeared when she was near Brandon’s vicinity, and she could just be Elia, Princess of Dorne, with him. She wasn’t the Queen of Seven Kingdoms. 

“It has to be quick.”

“What every man wishes to hear,” Brandon quipped as his hands began bunching up her skirts to where she needed him the most. 

. . . 

She wished she could feel guilty. She knew the consequences would be fatal for them all. Elia buried her face in Brandon’s chest and kissed over to where his heart rested before she left his hold. 

“Mariah, she seems happy,” Brandon said hoarsely. 

Elia took her shaky breath. “She is. We spoil her immensely.”

A smile tugged at Brandon’s lips. “And he treats her well.”

“He does. He loves her,” she told him not to break his heart but to provide comfort. “I’m sorry.”

Brandon grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “There is nothing to apologize for. She’s happy - loved. It’s more than I can ask for.”

Elia sighed before she looked up at the bloated moon. “Rhaenys seemed agreeable to the betrothal with your son.”

“I figured with how she lingered at our table. I shall have a meeting with your brother and Rhaegar.”

Elia nodded. She knew now that things would indeed be out of her hands. She gripped his hands, which were free of any jewels, unlike hers, which still held a ring gifted to her by Rhaegar to signify their marriage. The ring held three gems for their children—three heads, she thought somewhat bitterly. 

 “You never thought of marrying again?” She asked softly. 

Brandon looked at her in surprise and laughed. “I never wanted marriage, but I did my duty. Fulfilled it.”

“Still, House Stark is a rather small house.”

“Was,” Brandon corrected. “Ned and Ashara seem content to populate the North with little pups.”

Elia smiled, but she dug further. “However, you are telling me that none of your lords weren’t throwing their daughters and sisters at you?”

A contemplative look came across Brandon’s face. “Why are you asking Elia?”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Is there any indication that I’m not? I have a living, healthy heir. The North isn’t in disarray. My brothers are alive and healthy, along with their wives and children. Even my sister is alive. I had my adventures of excitement in my youth. I don’t need anymore.” He told her simply. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to another woman if I took a wife.”

“Why?”

“How could I say vows that I couldn’t keep true? Can I lay with a woman knowing I would be thinking of another, whom I would constantly compare to?”

The Dornish Queen shook her head. It wasn’t as if lords did have mistresses or even loved their wives. She didn’t care if they were Northern or not. “Brandon -”

“You ruined other women for me, Elia,” he stated in a voice she imagined he used with his lords. One that garnered no further opposition. And what could she say? 

She was only left to wonder how they both fell so hard. It would be easier if she didn’t love him if she hadn’t given birth to his child. But in the freefall with him, it was the only time she felt free. 

“When does it end?” She asked him. 

“Hopefully, we never have an answer to that.”

[MASTERLIST]