I've said all of this aloud recently, but I feel like it needs to be written out so I can see it and go back to it every time I lose sight of the truth. I could put this in a journal, but something about putting it out here like this makes it hold more weight. And maybe someone will stumble across this and it'll help them see the truth too. I've been divorced before. I married young and knew from the beginning it wasn't going to last. We made it 3 years. I wasn't exactly heartbroken, but it took an emotional toll because he wasn't a bad guy and there was no real reason it wasn't working out. I just felt like I had failed. Anyway, we didn't have kids together or anything, so it was fairly quick. I haven't seen or heard from him since the day we signed the papers in 2008. I'm getting divorced again. This time after 7 years of marriage. He's abusive. It literally took me 7 years to figure that out because he never hit me. Never laid a hand on me. He tore me down verbally, mentally, and emotionally. It started early on in the relationship. It was simple stuff, like texts. Like that commercial, now that I think about it. https://youtu.be/h_r72v3LA44 Anyway, he would point out all of the ways my friends and family didn't truly love me or care about me. Seems silly now, but you know what? I believed him after a while. The way he explained it made sense. He was charismatic and charming. Sweet. Loving. Gave me everything I asked for. Even if he was a little "intense" about the texts and phone calls. That's how I explained it to everyone. He was "intense" and they just didn't "get" him. After he had me alienated from everyone, he would go on and on about how everyone had deserted us and we only had each other. Us against the world. And I bought into it like some starry-eyed moron. We moved to a new state together to get a fresh start. That's when things took a turn. I made a friend at my new job that thought our relationship was strange. She asked a lot of questions that I didn't have good answers for, like why I never went out with them. And why he would call my cellphone and work phone repeatedly if I didn't answer right away. So I went home and asked him about it. That was the first time he called me a "stupid fucking soft-brained bitch." Every instinct in me said "run" but I had nowhere to go. Hundreds of miles from everyone I knew, most of whom would probably ignore my call/texts at that point anyway. And he said he was sorry. He was always sorry. He was sorry for 7 years. Told me it would never happen again. Every. Fucking. Time. After three years, I stopped crying those three to five nights a week that he would blow up about something. I was immune to it. I knew I was a worthless piece of shit. That's why everyone left me, after all. Because I had nothing of value to offer them. And then, I got pregnant. I nearly left him about seven months into the pregnancy because he was telling me how fucking stupid I was for wanting to learn cupcake decorating with a girl from work. Apparently all those hormones had given me a backbone. I stayed, though. Because I was pregnant. And he was sorry. So, so sorry. After our son was born, things evened out for a few months. I was laid off on the day I was supposed to return from maternity leave. So instead of working, I was at home and easily accessible at all hours of the day. I answered every text. Every call. But eventually, I went back to work. And he went back to reminding me how fucking awful I was. I recorded one of his tirades once. It lasted for about 90 minutes. I played it for him the next day, hoping to open his eyes to what he was doing to me. Instead, he smashed my phone and accused me of gathering "evidence" against him in case I ever left. I got pregnant again and had our daughter. And oh my god, the postpartum depression was fucking horrible. Crippling. All those years of not crying finally caught up with me and I spent several months sobbing over anything he said to me. And then apologizing to him for being "too sensitive." Our daughter is 15 months now. Our son will be 5 in July. So why now? Why am I just now "woke" to the fact that I've been abused on a nearly daily basis for seven years? It's because he did it in public at a Christmas party and strangers were quietly asking me if I needed help. It's because he does it in front of our son, and I'll be damned if my boy grows up thinking that that's how you speak to women. It's because my daughter isn't quite old enough to fully comprehend everything, and I don't want her to EVER believe that she should be spoken to like he speaks to me. It's because he has a "friend" and I realized that I wasn't mad that he may or may not be cheating; I was worried for her. I wanted warn her. You see, when we met, he told me all about his then wife and how she didn't do shit around the house. They never had sex. She barely spoke to him. Ignored his calls and texts... And I felt so bad for him. We became friends. And once he left her, we started our relationship and I vowed that I would never treat him the way she did. Now, here it is, seven years later and I realized today: I'm his ex-wife. I'm the woman who is too beaten down and destroyed to want to do anything besides dishes and laundry. I'm the woman who shudders at the thought of having sex with him. I'm the woman who doesn't answer his calls or texts. And his "friend" is me. She's the next victim. If anyone reads this and says "hey... this is like my relationship," run. Run far. Run fast. It's not "all in your head" as your abuser makes you believe. You're not worthless. You're being lied to. You're being controlled. You deserve SO MUCH BETTER than what they're giving you. Even if it only happened once, it's still abuse and if they did it once, they'll do it again. They always do. I'm here for anyone that needs to talk. This shit is HARD! It's a lot like being in a cult and trying to break free from the brainwashing. It is brainwashing, actually. You're not alone, even if it feels that way.
This was written for @iwantthedean ’s YouAU Challenge. I’m planning multiple parts.
Summary: Azazel never came for Sam. Mary wasn’t killed that night. And the Winchesters are just an average, non-hunting Midwestern family. That is, until a new girl blows into town and befriends Katie, Sam and Dean’s sister.
This is kind of a high school AU since they’re all kids. It’ll change in future parts.
Tags at the end.
Warnings: language, drug references and use. Future parts will have additional warnings.
Characters: Stoner!Dean x Me, Teen!Sam, Katie Winchester (OFC), Mary, John
For whatever reason, my tags for @iwantthedean and @preyforplagues016 @meganlynn4244 @the-megacoven & @ohwritever didn't work the first time. So I'm reblogging my post to make sure y'all see it!
This was written for @iwantthedean 's YouAU Challenge. I’m planning multiple parts.
Summary: Azazel never came for Sam. Mary wasn’t killed that night. And the Winchesters are just an average, non-hunting Midwestern family. That is, until a new girl blows into town and befriends Katie, Sam and Dean’s sister.
This is kind of a high school AU since they’re all kids. It’ll change in future parts.
Tags at the end.
Warnings: language, drug references and use. Future parts will have additional warnings.
Characters: Stoner!Dean x Me, Teen!Sam, Katie Winchester (OFC), Mary, John
Word count: 3299 (kinda long. Sorry)
The first time Katie Winchester invites me over, I think she’s joking. I’m new and literally no one in the entire school has given two shits about learning my name though I’ve been in classes with them for nearly two weeks. Not that I care. Friends are a liability, anyway.
It’s the sticker on my American History notebook that gets her attention.
“I love that show,” she whispers while Mr. Dillon rambles about the Revolutionary War. Katie runs her fingers over the symbol on the cover of my note book that announces to the world that I am a hardcore fangirl for the Thursday night show about the hot guy and his angel sidekick slash lover.
She reaches down into her backpack and pulls out her own piece of memorabilia: a tin box with the same symbol on it.
“Wanna come over and watch it together on Thursday?” Her blue-green eyes widen and she grins at me expectantly while she twists a strand of long chestnut hair around her finger.
I open my mouth to answer, but Mr. Dillon beats me to it, shushing us both.
Katie invites me to sit with her and her friends at lunch, which beats sitting in the hallway in front of my locker by myself. But her friends suck. They’re bitchy and clearly threatened by my very existence. When they’re not blatantly ignoring me, they’re marking territory. Katie is their friend. They bring up every inside joke known to man and giggle with each other while Katie tries desperately to explain things so I don’t feel left out.
I have classes with Katie’s friends. They still ignore me.
I’m nervous when I ride home with Katie on Thursday night, but I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the last time I bothered to make a friend, her parents deemed me “a bad influence” solely because my mom is single and I’ve never met my father. “The Apple never falls far from the tree,” they’d said. Or maybe because I’m used to pretending I don’t want friends and now my people skills are rusty.
Regardless, I definitely don’t want to give Katie a reason to change her mind about me.
Her mom, who insists I call her Mary, is nice enough.
“So, where are you from?” Mary asks, glancing at me through the rear view mirror.
The urge to lie claws it’s way out of my throats and I blurt, “Montgomery.”
It’s not a total lie. I lived there once. In a hotel. For two weeks.
“Oh, my cousin lives in Alabama.” Mary smiles at me and turns her eyes to the road.
The Winchester’s house is nice, but not over the top. Inside, it’s clean and inviting. Nothing like the small apartment I share with my mom. Sure, our house is clean, but only because neither of us has bothered to unpack. It’s still a cramped maze of boxes and mismatched furniture while we figure out if this town is going to stick or if we’d rather keep moving.
“Do you have homework?” Mary asks from the kitchen as Katie flops onto the big beige sectional in the living room.
Katie grumbles and gets off the couch. “Come on,” she says to me.
“No TV before homework is done. It’s a house rule,” Katie explains as she leads me up the carpeted steps near the front door.
My eyes never stop moving in this place. There’s so much to look at. Family photos on the wall tell me Katie has siblings. Brothers. And a dad. The crystal vase on the table in the foyer is overflowing with fresh roses. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Winchester just celebrated an anniversary. Or a birthday. Or he fucked up and tried to buy her off. It’s the bookshelf in the living room that really got my interest, though. Particularly the expensive knickknacks lining it. Two or three of those and I’d be set for a little while.
Later. When mom decides it’s time to move on.
Upstairs, Katie passes an unoccupied room with the door wide open. I peek inside. It’s clearly a boy’s room and in stark contrast with the rest of the house. There’s clothing spilling out of the dresser and across the floor, the bed is an unmade tangle of navy blue sheets and a gray comforter, and there are car posters all over the walls.
“That’s Dean’s room,” Katie says.
I move past it. “Dean?”
“My big brother. He goes to our school. You’ve probably seen him around.”
Probably not.
Together we pass another room. Katie pushes the door open and knocks lightly on the frame. “Sammy,” she says.
The dark-haired boy lying across a neatly made bed looks up from his homework and shakes his hair out of his eyes. He looks just like Katie, but his eyes are darker.
“Nikki, this is my little brother Sam. Sammy, this is Nikki. She goes to our school,” Katie says.
I wave. Little brother doesn’t seem accurate. More like he and Katie are twins and she was born first. There’s no way this guy is any younger than me and Katie.
“She’s into The Show, too.” Katie leans against his doorframe.
“Cool,” he says, giving me a half-smile.
I smile back, but let the silence drag on until Katie pushes off the doorframe.
“Okay,” Katie says. “This way.” She leads me away from Sam’s room to her room, a virtual palace compared to the closet-sized room I have.
We pretend to work on homework (but really, we’re swapping weird head canons and imagines about our favorite moments from the show and laughing about Mr. Dillon’s awful coffee breath, and if I’m honest, I’m enjoying myself.) until Mary shouts that dinner is ready.
I close my history book and follow Katie into the hallway.
“Smells like lasagna,” Sam says, joining us.
Standing, Sam is taller than me, but up close, he’s still baby-faced. So maybe he is younger than 16. But probably not by much.
“And garlic bread,” I add, just so he won’t think I’m mute. Please let there be garlic bread.
Downstairs, the dining table is set the way they do it in movies and for a moment I worry I’m intruding on some sort of special family dinner. It would explain the roses.
Mary smiles at me as she sets a basket of garlic bread on the table. “Hope you’re hungry, Nikki.”
I grin and take a seat beside Katie. Sam sits across from her.
“Hi Daddy,” Katie says, straightening in her chair.
I turn to find a dark haired man with a beard standing behind the chair at the head of the table. Something about him scares me a little. But males in general sort of throw me for a loop, particularly father types. So I squash the feeling way down deep.
“This is Nikki,” she says.
I smile nervously and he nods. “Nice to meet you.” With the formality out of the way, he frowns at Mary. “Where’s Dean?”
Mary opens her mouth to answer as she pulls the chair out at the opposite end of the table for herself.
“Right here,” a deep voice says from behind me.
I know without looking. I can feel trouble rolling off him in waves before I even lay eyes on him. And when he steps around his father and slouches into the chair across from me… Holy. Shit.
His vibrant green eyes meet mine and for a moment, I stop breathing. I can’t even manage an awkward smile.
This guy is… no words. There are no words for how incredibly fucking hot this guy is. None of the outdated family photos could have prepared me for this. With his short light brown hair and his black hoodie with the pushed up sleeves.
His mouth quirks up at the corner.
Christ. His mouth.
“This is Nikki,” Katie says. “She goes to our school.”
“Hey,” he says. It’s a simple thing, but the way his eyes are locked with mine, like they’re burning into me, reading my very soul… I squeak my “hey” and hope it sound like a legitimate response.
Sam snorts and Dean looks away, finally.
Dinner is amazing. I haven’t ever had food like this. Any lasagnas I’ve ever eaten have come from the freezer, individually portioned. And the Winchester’s really are the nicest people I’ve ever met. Even Katie’s dad, John. I almost feel bad about wanting to steal their expensive collectibles in the other room. Almost.
Sam makes a passing reference to The Show and I giggle along with Katie while the rest of the table smiles in confusion.
When everyone is finished, Mary announces that there is dessert. Pie.
“Yes,” Dean exhales, leaning back in his chair. Under the table, his legs stretch out and knock against mine. No, not just knock against. Mine are crossed at the ankle and tucked safely on my side of the table. Dean invades, wedging his foot into the space between my legs until I uncross and allow his ankle to lean against mine.
My eyes dart around. Does he know? Does he realize that he’s touching me and not violating a table leg?
I swallow hard and glance across the table at him. He’s talking. Something about some guy that offered to buy his car. He and John laugh. That’s when he makes eye contact with me. He winks.
I groan inwardly.
So much trouble.
Mary sets the pie on the table and Dean’s legs retreat to his side as he straightens.
The moment is over. But not easily forgotten.
I’m sandwiched between Sam and Katie on Katie’s bed to watch The Show. At first, it’s too strange and I can’t get comfortable. I’m never this close to people. Ever. Unless I want something from them.
The Winchester’s, it seems, have no concept of personal space. Sam even leans over me, planting a hand just above my knee to steady himself as he steals a handful of m&m’s from Katie’s bag. If it were Dean, I’d be hyperventilating. But, as cute as Sam is, once I learned that he really is only 14, he became a minor concern. Dean, however, remains at Defcon 2 and he’s not even in the room.
After 15 minutes and some commentary from Sam and Katie, I relax into the mountain of pillows behind me.
When I find out Dean is driving me home, the relaxed comfort I’d finally achieved evaporates.
Dean notices. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” He grins like a predator.
I hear myself responding, but I barely register the words. “What if I ask nicely?”
Holy hell! Did I really just…?
I manage to mask it with plenty of sarcasm and feigned annoyance. Sam snorts from his spot on the stairs while Katie giggles into her hand.
“There and back, Dean,” Mary warns, coming out of the kitchen with two containers and a baggie of leftovers. Luckily she didn’t hear our exchange. “No joyriding or pit stops.” She hands me the leftovers. Pie and lasagna with a baggie of garlic bread.
Katie throws her arms around me and I stiffen, allowing her to hug me. “This was so much fun! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Sam nods at me from the stairs.
John isn’t around.
Dean’s car is one of those old muscle cars. An Impala, I think. It’s dark, though so I can’t be sure.
I get into the passenger seat, and sit on my hands to keep from fidgeting as he backs out of the driveway and heads down the street.
“Normally when I drive Katie’s friends home, they talk my ear off or fuck with my radio.” He glances at me as he comes to a stop at an intersection.
I shrug.
“So, Nikki… from… where?”
“Sarasota.” The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease.
He nods. “Beach town, right?”
“Kinda,” I mutter.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the beach type.”
I smirk. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you live in fucking Kansas. What the fuck would you know about a beach type?”
He lifts a shoulder and mutters, “I’ve been to the beach.”
It’s silent.
I roll my eyes in the dark and sigh. “Not everyone who lives in a beach town is a beach type.”
I let the uncomfortable silence hang between us all the way back to my scuzzy apartment.
At school Katie is waiting for me outside our history class.
“Are you busy this weekend?”
I blink at her. “Uh, no?”
Her eyes light up. “Want to come over again? Spend the night? We can binge watch all the old episodes.”
I hesitate. Spend the night? I’ve never been invited to spend the night anywhere. Ever.
She senses my reluctance. “Or, you know, we could do other stuff.”
I smile. “Binge watching is good. I just have to ask my mom.” Behind her, her two friends eye us. “What about them?”
Katie turns and glances at them before turning back to me. “What about them? They’re not invited.”
“Thought y'all were friends.”
She shrugs. “We were. Are. We aren’t as close as we used to be. They don’t like the show and only come over so they can try to hook up with Dean.”
I wrinkle my nose as though the thought had never crossed my mind and Dean is the most repulsive human being in existence. Then I wonder if he plays footsie with all of Katie’s friends.
Probably.
“Sam said she,” Katie points out the girl with red hair, “tried to kiss him in the hallway last year. That’s when I decided I didn’t want them at my house. He’s my little brother, you know?”
I nod. “Right. It’s kinda gross. He was what? 13?”
Katie nods.
Protective, I realize. The Winchester’s are super close and super protective of each other. It explains Dean’s questions in the car last night, trying to call me on my bullshit about being from Sarasota. Trying to figure me out to make sure Katie was safe. It doesn’t explain the dinner table incident though.
Asking your parents if you can sleep over at someone’s house is what normal kids do. I, however, am not normal.
I leave a voicemail for my mom that I’ll be home sometime before Monday and to call me if she needs any help.
Dean, it seems, is the Winchester family chauffeur. He’s waiting outside my apartment building, leaning against his black Impala.
For a moment, I allow myself to pretend he’s here to take me away forever. He’s here because he can’t stop thinking about me and wants me to run away to Sarasota with him.
I totally would.
I should.
New life goal: run away with Dean to a beach town.
Katie appears in front of me and startles me. I didn’t even see her standing there. “Hey! Ready? This is gonna be so awesome!”
I smile and let my Dean Winchester fantasy disintegrate.
I like Katie, I really do. But Sam is fucking hilarious and super smart and we have more in common than I want to admit. Who knew that deep down inside this 17 year old girl’s body, I’m a 14 year old boy.
The three of us are playing a very vindictive game of Uno after dinner and I can’t stop laughing. None of us can, really.
I start to wonder if Mary slipped us something. Maybe the mushrooms on the pizza weren’t the kind you buy at the store.
No one else is fazed by laughing this much, though. So maybe this is normal. Maybe it is possible to be this amused without narcotics.
Everyone went to bed hours ago. It’s just me and Katie now, watching old episodes of The Show on her TV in her room.
It’s strange being in a house with no wards or protection. No salt at the doors and windows. Nothing. Just wide open to whatever is out there.
Katie finally passes out and I ease out of the bed because I can’t let my guard down. I have to at least salt the doors.
I tiptoe past Sam’s room. His door is open a crack. He’s sprawled out on his bed, not even under the covers, sound asleep.
Dean’s door is closed. I pause, waiting to hear something. A snore. Movement. Anything.
Nothing.
Creeping down the stairs, I slip into the kitchen and quietly rummage through the cabinets to find Mary’s salt. As I start to pull it out, something makes a loud clicking sound. It echoes through the foyer and I freeze, leaving the salt where it is.
Shit.
My blade is all the way up in Katie’s room in the bottom of my bag. And I didn’t bring my gun, figuring it would be harder to explain if it was found.
I grab a butcher knife. Its better than nothing.
Someone, or something tiptoes across the floor toward the kitchen and I back into a shadowy corner.
A dark figure appears in the doorway and I hold my breath. Seconds later, the light flickers on and I blink rapidly.
“Nikki?” Dean stares at me through glassy, bloodshot eyes.
I exhale. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He smirks. “What’re you doing?”
Stepping forward, I conceal the knife behind my back. “Nothing. Needed a drink… what are you doing?”
He grins. “Sleep walking?”
“Bullshit.” He’s wearing jeans and a zip-up hoodie. And shoes.
His smile widens. “You gonna tell on me?”
I shake my head and he turns for the fridge. That’s when I quickly slip the knife back into its place in the wooden block.
“What’re you drinking?” He glances back at me.
“Water.”
“Weak.” His eyes slide over my body.
I was careful when I chose pajamas for this sleepover. A long-sleeve thermal tee and flannel pants with purple batman symbols on them. Sensible. Except now that I’m standing in the kitchen, braless, a thermal probably wasn’t the best choice. I’m sure my high beams are on.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not really much of a drinker.”
“Smoker?” He raises an eyebrow and that’s when I realize how baked he is.
“On occasion,” I say, hoping that now is just such an occasion.
“Does my sister know?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Keep it that way.” He leans into the fridge and grabs the leftover pizza and a couple of cans of soda before nudging the door shut with his elbow and turning to me. “This can be our little secret.”
The way he says it makes my stomach swoop and my heart beat harder than necessary. “Okay.”
He sets the pizza on the counter and hands me a soda. “Where’d you say you’re from?” He hops up on the counter and helps himself to two slices of pizza at once.
I wrack my brain for a moment. “Pitts-uh-Montgomery?”
He laughs and says, with a full mouth, “wha happ'n t'Sarasoda?”
Oh yeah… Sarasota. “I’ve lived there. I’m not from there. And if you remembered that I said Sarasota, why ask?” I ease up onto the counter next to him and open my soda.
He shrugs. “Where’re you from, really?”
I watch him for a moment, chewing, watching me, looking ridiculously hot, even with glassy bloodshot eyes. I could tell him the truth. It wouldn’t make a difference.
“Born in San Diego.”
He glances at me and swallows before saying, “another beach town for the non-beach girl.”
For a moment, we stare at each other. It’s one of those tv moments where you’re waiting for someone to lean in for a kiss. Instead, Dean shovels more pizza into his mouth and I give up on the salt.
Summary: Reader is an actress on SPN and is friends with benefits with Jensen and Danneel. This is pure porn.
Word Count: 2000
Warnings: Smut, threesome
A/N: My second RPF! Not tagging anyone because I don’t have an RPF tag list yet. Hope you all enjoy! XOXO
Your guest star spot on Supernatural was always going to change your life. You had known that from the second you got the offer. The role was for seven episodes, and you knew exactly what that meant. Exposure. Possibly becoming friends with the cast outside of work, which had been a dream of yours for a long time. Maybe being invited to conventions.
What you had never expected (because who would expect this?) was to be here right now, in Jensen Ackles’ trailer, with his wife’s head between your legs.
This is my entry for the January 2016 Gabriel Monthly Challenge by @gabriel-monthly-challenge!
The statement prompt for January is:
When you least expect it sometimes you get saved.
and the dialogue for January is:
“One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you.”
Words: 1,149
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Pre-Debriel
Premise: How S4 should have ended.
Beta: @preyforplagues016
I would love to take part in your challenge. Congrats hun. I'll take Crowley. Hell and Devil's trap. If Devil's trap is taken than FBI badges. If Hell is taken um the Bunker's library than.
Crowley, Hell, and Devil's trap are yours! Thank you for joining!!
stormborns
ellievsbear
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
