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soyforramen · 4 years

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Old Times

Gladys hadn’t been back in town for a month before Alice showed up on her front porch at four in the morning, tears streaking down her cheeks (makeup looking just as good as when she’d applied it that morning; gotta love a woman who can afford Avon). A wide-eyed teenager, the spiting image of a younger, more precocious Alice, tagged along behind her. Without hesitation Gladys ground her cigarette out on the arm of the rocker (saved from Mr. O’Neil’s Tuesday trash pile) and pulled them both inside.

Without a word spoken, Gladys went to change the sheets in her bedroom. Alice and the girl spoke softly in the kitchen, and try as she might, Gladys couldn’t make out a single word. Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to bring Alice here and not one of her fancy, high-society friends’ houses (probably put out jello molds and finger sandwiches and food that tasted like creamed dirt). Something big enough to ruin the entire Cooper household.

The pillowcase hung from the bottom of the pillow, wrapped around its middle in a suffocating grip, as she realized Hal hadn’t been with them. In fact, she hadn’t seen Hal and Alice in the same place since she’d moved back to town (long-since overstayed, parents basement too crowded with two bickering teens and three shifts at the grocery store, g.e.d. just out of reach). She’d exchanged enough nods with Hal in the frozen dinner aisle, both pretending the space between them wasn’t mired in ancient history and still raw rivalry. Her path with Alice was limited to the high school drop-off lane, the one public gesture of maternal affection Jughead still allowed

Now, though. She sighed. It wasn’t uncommon for the women around here to lean on one another for comfort and safety. Sad, really, how often that came on the heels of the men not living up to even the lowest standards.

After a second thought, she fluffed up pillows and headed back towards the kitchen. Coming towards her in the claustrophobic hallway came Alice and her child (Betty, she realized with a flash of deja vu, a reminder of when she and Jughead were the ones on the other end of this), and Gladys flattened herself against the wall.

“Thanks, Ms. Jones,” Betty murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gladys hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t been a Jones for almost fifteen years.

“Not a problem at all, darlin’. What do you think about strawberry pancakes in the morning?”

Betty gave her a watery smile and Alice shooed her into the bedroom. The door closed behind them, and Gladys let out a heavy breath. There was always something going wrong around here. You expected it, but it still hurt to see it happen.

Filled with a nervous energy (live wired and on fire, as her daddy used to say before the tar and the coal got to him; put a cork in that and you could power the whole nothern half of the states), Gladys flitted around the house, straightening and tucking and dusting, nothing seeming to be enough anymore. She had another two hours before she had to be at her first shift at the factory down the road. Then again, maybe she’d return that long ago favor and call in sick. After all, she was entitled to a few days here and there (nothing like the dump in toledo where they squeezed every drop of your soul, pennies on the dollar, and still demanded more).

Just as she was running a cloth over the television set (only three channels, black and white; older than either of her children who preferred leeching ole’ henry’s wifi instead of -), the bedroom door shut quietly. Gladys straightened and waited for Alice to appear. When their eyes met, Alice’s stoic, no-nonsense rock solid mask crumbled into a mess of tears and grief.

“He’s -“

Poor gal couldn’t even speak properly anymore. Whatever Hal’d done, it was enough to knock the sense out of Alice, and that was a scary enough prospect on its own. She hadn’t been that thrown for a loop since they’d raided (stole) Mantle’s stash of E (curled up like kittens, high in the dusty sunlight on the trailer floor, alice laying out her future with hal and not her…).

Gladys quieted her and lead Alice to the love seat (third-hand from earl and katie, bless their hearts even though it did smell like that damn cat). Alice tried to apologize for the interruption, but Gladys refused to let her. Jughead she didn’t have to worry about - boy slept like a brick in a tornado - and J.B. was at a sleepover with some of her friends (best friends on the first day of school, always did get her daddy’s better traits, while jug soured down into his old records and writing, lost in his own world, too much like his mama to make anything of it).

Once Alice was settled, Gladys poured out a shot of rum and set it on the coffee table along with a box of tissues. A few steps back, and Gladys was in the kitchen to give Alice a modicum of peace in the tiny trailer. She poured a glass of water and set it next to the empty shot glass.

“Another one? I have whiskey, too.”

Alice shook her head, a crumbled tissue in her hand halfway shredded to hell and back already. On the table lay three more (three bucks a pop here, can you believe) and Gladys couldn’t help but want that to be the remnants of Hal’s body.

“Hal, he -“ Alice’s words were cut off with a gut wrenching sob, and Gladys rushed to her.

Like she did when the kids woke up from their nightmares, she murmured platitudes and soft words, her arms wrapped around Alice in a cocoon of safety. After a good long cry (glad she still wore waterproof, cheap, drugstore mascara would have ruined the fabric, though the concealer would do hell on the blouse), Alice steadied herself.

Despite her hair falling out of its unnatural wave, despite the botchy cheeks, red eyes, and snotty nose, Gladys was still struck by how well Alice carried herself. Likely an armor built up having to suppress anger and frustration in this ticky-tacky town (hoa’s, pta’s, cya’s). A rose of anger bloomed on her cheeks sent Gladys rocking back on her heels, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our town’s little problem,” Alice said, still speaking in polite euphemisms and innuendos. She reached for the glass of water and primly cleared her throat (cats and spots, zebras and strips, snakes and scales; once, always).

“Depends on which one you mean,” Gladys said.

She was being sarcastic, she knew, but it was the truth. Riverdale hadn’t changed much from when they were growing up, damn whatever bullshit Hiram and his developers were trying to sell. It still had the same pristine front, picture perfect suburban life style, full of well respected men trying to save the village green from its own preservation society, but now the fetid foundation it had been built upon was bubbling out from the seams. The drugs, gangs, and murders were more visible now, no longer brushed under the railroad tracks into the Southside of town.

Hell, the only new thing about it seemed to be the mafia trying to gain a foothold. And Gladys had her own plans on how to deal with that.

Mostly, though, she’d missed being able to push Alice’s buttons (eyes narrowed, tongue beneath her teeth, a flash of heat in a pan), to get a rise from her so she was the center of her focus. If nothing else, it drew Alice’s attention away from her grief at hand.

“But, if you’re talking about that black hood idiot,” Gladys drawled, wincing at the pins and needles attacking her as she stood, “then I’ve heard a bit.”

“Yes, well.” Alice cleared her throat and looked away. “It turns out you were right. About Hal.”

“Oh?”

Gladys let it hang in the air. It wasn’t often that Alice Cooper, nee Smith, admitted to being wrong about anything, especially when it came to her life choices. And yet the juxtaposition of the two - the Black Hood and Hal - had caught her attention like a hook in a trout’s belly.

“About -?”

“About Hal,” Alice snapped.

She stood to pace the thin carpet of the trailer, her hands wrapped tight around her arms, the pastel green cardigan wrinkling under her fingers.

“He’s been going around these past few months like a god damned fool, playing at being an avenging angel, murdering people who he thought deserved it. I can’t believe I bought his lie about going bowling. The man can’t even lift a lawnmower, let alone a bowling ball.”

Gladys sat down on the love seat, one leg thrown onto the coffee table and watched Alice stew in front of her. It was a mirror image of fifteen years ago, almost to the day. She gently touched the corner of her eye, still bearing a white scar, and cursed the day she’d ever met that man.

“And then the bastard has the audacity to say that our children need to be purified. That I need to be purified. It was bad enough that he sent that letter to Polly, what he did to Betty -“

Alice stopped and tugged at her hair (bottle blonde to cover up the slow, steady march of time; at least a week’s worth of gladys’ pay for vanity every month). Gladys stood and guided Alice back to the love seat.

“How about you start from the beginning?”

Another stream of tears, this time borne of frustration and anger, slipped down Alice’s cheeks as she dove head first into the long tale. Hal always had thought himself above the rest of the town (secret son, hidden away from the world) even though his own sins bore bitter fruit of their own (alice angry and self-destructive in senior year; drunk on the floor; od’ed in the bathroom; blood running down wrists). Somehow he’d managed to fuel that into something more productive - a picture perfect nuclear family and modest but plentiful business - until he finally didn’t.

The first murder attempt, then the second, third, and fourth followed, no longer attempts. Quit murders in the surrounding counties that went with only a few murmurs of disapproval. Even his own family hadn’t been immune; daughters, tortured and deceived by the man meant to protect them from such things (kids of all things; for crissakes was nothing sacred?.

And Alice…

When she was done with her macabre tale, ending in Hal’s entrapment of his family and their violent escape, Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Well. Shit.”

Alice let out a wet, wry laugh. She curled her legs up under her and hugged a throw pillow tight (bought on a whim at a yard sale - two’fer deal she’d haggled; matched the lace curtains jb couldn’t help but make fun of). Gladys stood and walked towards where her father’s urn sat on the mantle, a place of honor in a family who had little to do with ghosts of the past.

“What do you want to do about it?” Gladys asked.

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached in an pulled out a rusted Altoids tin and a lighter. When Alice caught sight of it she let out a real laugh this time, one that drew memories of simpler, happier times when it had just been the two of them against the world. Wonder Woman and Sarah Conner, united together. Until they grew up and out of middle school dreams and into the real world where bills piled up and mouths had to be fed.

“You know we’re not in high school, right?”

Gladys grinned and fell onto the love seat next to her. She popped open the tin and held it out to Alice.

“Do you want to do the honors? You always were better at it than I ever was.”

Alice chewed her lip, the implications and scandal of what Gladys was proposing flashed across her eyes. It was easy enough to guess the arguments against it, the same old ones she’d heard before (what if your mom/daughter/sister finds out you keep that in there? she’ll be more pissed that she didn’t find it sooner), but her hand was steady when she took the tin. Gladys watched her fingers work, long thin fingers still trapped by a band of gold. The ring of a promise that fell flat and brought with it a hell of a right-hook in the end.

As she watched, Gladys let her mind wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t allowed themselves to be torn apart in high school. If she’d only beaten the truth out of Hal in junior year when Alice vanished. If only, if only, if only.

“What I want,” Alice said with a finality, the lid snapping shut a punctuation to her decision, “is to rip his guts out and feed them to him while that harpy mother of his watches.”

Gladys flicked the lighter, the flame dancing around the end of the joint. Her eyes didn’t move from Alice’s lips as she took a hit. Lines ebbed and faded, reminders of their time spent apart, waves of years and youth wasted. In the poor ventilation of the trailer, the smoke wrapped them in a thin cocoon of safety, a gauzy curtain to shield them against the reality of their choices.

“Might have to lay a tarp down, but I know a few guys.”

The phrase sent Alice into a fit of giggles (ask freddie and fp, they know some guys) and Gladys shushed her with a crooked smile, reminding her that Betty lay sleeping not forty feet away. Alice took another took and blew the smoke into Gladys’ face, a ribbon that caressed and teased her skin

“Or we could take care of it ourselves.”

“Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

(A few months later found Jughead and Betty at Pop’s working on a school project under Gladys’ critical eye. Jughead, used to his mother’s hovering nature, enjoyed the free fries she dropped off between customers; Betty, it seemed, was far more perturbed by the woman’s sudden closeness with her mother. It wasn’t until they were writing about Lady McBeth (‘out damn spot’ seemed to Jughead less of a guilt ridden complex after this Black Hood business and more of an attempt at an evidentiary coverup) that he spoke on a subject that had been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Doesn’t it seem odd?”

Betty hummed and continued to write. “What seems odd?”

“My father disappears three months before my mother leaves town, never to be seen again. We come back, and three months later your dad disappears. And each time, our mothers renewed their friendship just weeks before.”

Any goodwill Betty might have held towards Jughead froze quickly at the implications in his words. Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil hard enough her knuckles went white and the plastic cracked.

“My father was a serial killer,” she snapped. Blooms of anger rose on her checks and Jughead shifted under her glare. “It’s not surprising that he’d run away after trying to kill his wife and his daughter in their own home.”

Cowed, Jughead picked at the lukewarm fries. Her words didn’t change his mind, didn’t move his suspicions a single degree, but it did quiet his need to pry further into her opinion.

The matter was dropped as Macbeth and his realm descended further into madness.)

#parentdale #alice cooper/gladys jones #this is what commenting gets you folks; part deux of a one part fic

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ophelialoveshandsomemen · 4 years

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S.I.M.P.L.E.

A story about Dean having the apple-pie life he’s always wanted. As told by Sam’s perspective. Sometimes. Just roll with it, I wrote this for my own fun. Figured maybe all you lovely people could get a shot at enjoying it too!

Disclaimer. All mistakes are mine. The French-Canadian OFC is mine. The WInchester kids are mine. Dean, Sam and the rest of the SPN cast of characters, unfortunately, are not mine.

I believe @justjensenanddean owns one of the pics in the collage. Maybe... It was a while ago. Nicely let me know if I should take it down. Or if this is illegal or something, tumblr is still mildly confusing to me.

Summary.

The boys are on the way to meet Donna to help out with a werewolf pack. Least, that's what Dean told Sam as they left the bunker. He didn't expect to be knee-deep in nieces and nephews by nightfall.

Chapter 1. Dean’s been occupied.

Sam didn't know why Dean needed to take a back road to get to Stillwater, but his normally talkative brother was on radio silence, and no amount of ' Dean, for Crissake, tell me where the hell you're going! This isn't the way to Donna's office! ' would get Dean to break it. It got even more confusing for poor Sam when Dean drives Baby down an old, dirt driveway lined with yellow-clad poplars. Definitely not the way to the sheriff's office. Pulling up to a pretty looking house that may have lost a fight or two to a storm, Sam started to wonder if Dean had gotten hit by another Godforsaken memory-loss spell. He hopes not, the last one was enough of a bitch to cure. But turning towards Dean did nothing to answer Sam's questions. Dean was full on crying. He also violently threw Baby into park before he practically ripped open the door and lunged out of her. As he looked up to the opening porch door, realization slowly dawned on Sam.

Four barefooted kids, a light-brown haired girl of about seven carrying a dark haired baby, and what looked to be freckle faced twin boys of around four years old, dashed out of the house at lighting speed and simultaneously crashed into Dean amidst screams and happy screeches.

"Mom! Come quick! Dad's home, Daddy's here! He's safe, Mom! Mom!"

Sam exited the car, as if in a trance, watching his brother, the guy who swore off having a family nearly a decade ago, hug and kiss what seemed to be his own children, I mean they look enough like him for that to be possible. Sam snapped out of it when the little girl squealed as she caught sight of him.

"Dad, you finally brought Uncle Sammy! Yeah!"

She proceeds to run over to him, sticks out her hand and introduces herself, "Hiya Uncle Sammy! I'm Marie. And that over there are my brothers, Robert and John-Henry! Oh, and my baby sister, Anastasie. Come on, you gotta come meet them!" Marie fiercely tugs at the hand Sam had offered her to shake and almost sends Sam stumbling face first in the grass. 'Man, she's strong.'

"What's wrong, Sammy? My little girl treating you too rough! "

Sam could barely believe it. Dean had a family! And he never told Sam about it before now...

Suddenly, the porch-door swung open once again and revealed quite a sight; a gorgeous woman, with a warm complexion and extremely long hair, wearing jeans shorts, black socks, a Zeppelin t-shirt, a thick, blue plaid, flannel shirt and a Les Mis zip up hoodie. She stood there unmoving for all of three nanoseconds before she kicked off running bare socked towards Dean, her thick, curly, chestnut hair flying behind her. And she didn't stop until she was secure in his arms, her legs wrapped tight around his waist and her face buried in his neck.

" Easy there, sweetheart, you don't want to jostle the baby too much, okay?"

Sam is wracked with confusion once again, since he's the one holding the rugrat. And one of the twins. Then it dawns on him, she must be pregnant...again. Apparently, Dean's been busy of late. Sam approached them cautiously, once Dean had set her back on the ground.

"Sam, I want you to meet my wife, Louisa Winchester. Darling, this is Sammy."

She didn't even shake his hand, just went straight in for a hug. It felt nice and she smelt pretty good, too. Like cloves and cinnamon. Like, Mom. She let go and seemed to be studying him for a few seconds, before she exclaims, "Sam Winchester, I'm so happy to finally meet you! Dean and Donna have both told me so much about you. Now, I know that you must know less then nothing about me or the kids, but I promise, Dean and I will remedy that over dinner tonight. Now! Come on in, you gotta be exhausted from your trip. There's an extra mattress that Dean'll set up in the upstairs living room for you and you can wash up in the adults' bathroom while I finish up with the meal."

Sam looked over at Dean, as he lowered the twin off his back. Dean shrugged at him and said, "I know it's a lot to take in, but with everything that's happened with God and Jack lately. It got me thinking; you deserve to get to know the rest of your family. Screw the secrecy! It's probably what Chuck wanted all along."

He paused for a minute. Then, with a tiny crack in his voice as he grabbed Anastasie from Sam's arms, Dean finished, " She is the love of my life, Sammy. She's everything I could possibly want and more. I'm never scared that something bad is gonna happen, mainly because she can be a kickass hunter herself when she wants to be, but also, because, I don't know...She inspires me to have a little bit of faith, even now, after all the shit with the apocalypses and Chuck the Dickwad. I love her, so much."

Sam realizes that they'd both begun to cry.

Dean sniffled once, than loudly pronounced that they better get in the house before Louisa sends out Marie to herd them in. Sam smiled. This is good.

Simple, but good

If you’d like to be tagged in this story, just gimme a shout-out in my ask box! And comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Thanks for reading!

#dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x oc #spoilers for season 15 #spnfanfiction

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years

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Poison Apple Pie

The brass knob of the motel room door jiggles, twisting frantically as someone from the other side tries to open it. Finally the lock clicks and Sam bursts through, Dean lolling from his side like a rag doll. He drags his brother further into the room and dumps him on the nearest bed. Then, without closing the door, Sam pulls his phone out and dials. Powering through dial tone Sam tries to gain some sense of calmness. He sits on the edge of the bed only to rise moments later. Sam paces across the room twice with his large strides before getting bored of it. He moves over to his brother and rearranges him with his free hand. Laying him flatter on his back, face forward and not buried in the covers so he couldn’t breathe.

Although with how little Dean’s chest rises and falls Sam can’t tell if he breathes at all. Fingers twitching with the need to check his pulse again, a lilting voice croons her greeting.

“Rowena,” Sam sighs, turning away from Dean, “we need your help-”

“I’m doing fine myself, really,” Rowena says, “Been a lovely day... thought about switching up the colors on my nails so I went for a brilliant shade of emerald. Not sure if I’m loving it though...”

Sam’s face scrunches like a paper ball in confusion. “What? Nails - Rowena, this is serious. I’m calling -”

“For help,” she cuts him off, “I know, I know. You boys never ring me unless the world’s ending or one of you find yourselves in a little situation... usually Dean. Boy attracts hex bags like flies to honey.”

“But there aren’t any hex bags,” Sam growls, tugging at his hair, “I checked him for any and nothing came up in my search. Same with the booth.”

“The booth? Samuel I think you should maybe start from the beginning... what happened?”

Sam sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “We’d just finished a case and were on our way back to the Bunker when I wanted to stop for lunch...”

They pulled over to a roadside diner that was decently packed. Rightfully so since they claimed to make the freshest apple pie in the state of Tennessee. Dean scoffed when he saw the sign. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, adding it to his order. Sam rolled his eyes and ordered a chicken wrap.

Lunch was uneventful. The waitress flirted with Dean, and when he wouldn’t look away from his phone, paid Sam more attention. He’d be more offended if he hadn’t already checked her out on the way in. So Sam left Dean to his phone while chatting up the waitress - Linda.

For all the crap Dean put Sam through about being obsessed with technology, his brother would spend hours typing away for no reason he wanted to share with him. So he checked one day when Dean left his phone unattended. Why Dean wanted to keep his texts with Cas private Sam would never know. But he’ll let him have it if it means Sam can pick up girls like Linda along the way.

And then Dean was served the slice of apple pie.

“Looks pretty good,” he said, prodding it with his fork.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Just eat it, man.”

“I’m getting into the right mindset Sammy,” Dean smirked, “when you’re someone as experienced as me you can’t just eat pie...”

“Didn’t know you were a pie connoisseur...”

“Exactly. I’m a pie-noisseur!”

He didn’t respond, leaving his brother with his pie. Instead he searched out Linda to see where she was, his number written sloppily on an unused napkin. Interrupting his search, however, was the sound of a head slamming onto the table.

Sam whirled to see Dean slumped over, face smushed onto his plate with bits of pie and whipped cream splattered about. Instinct taking over, he reached over to check his pulse. When the faintest flutter tapped his fingertips Sam sighed in relief.

Unfortunately everyone in the diner was now staring at them.

“Oh my God!” Linda cried, hovering near their table, “Is he - is he okay?”

His mind revved into overdrive to come up with a good enough excuse. “Yeah,” Sam lied, standing, “my brother he’s - he’s a little bit... narcoleptic?”

“Narcoleptic?”

“Yeah, he just falls asleep randomly sometimes, nothing to worry about.”

“I’ve head but,” she glanced behind him, “so suddenly like that? He was fine moments ago.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s so hard to predict. He’d been doing really well today, too.”

It looked shaky, but he could see the lie taking root in her eyes. “Still,” Linda continued, biting her lip, “do you want us to do anything? Call an ambulance, or...?”

He waved her off. “He’ll be fine, but... but we’re already late enough as it is.” Sam leaned down and wrapped an arm around his body, hefting him up. Carrying enough corpses has given Sam decent core strength and jacked arms, as well as the ability to measure weight in dead bodies. Comparing Dean to them now only drags Sam into memories he wouldn’t want to relive. Especially since he needs all his attention on getting them out of here. “Thank you so much,” Sam said, dragging Dean away, “I can come back and pay -”

“Please, no need,” Linda told him, “Consider it on the house. I hope your brother wakes up soon.”

“You and me both.”

Rowena hums from the other end. “Sounds like our little Disney Princess got hit with a sleeping curse.”

He groans, “You mean those exist?”

“Everything exists at one time or another Samuel,” she lectures, “a bunch of aggrandizing men writing stories couldn’t have come up with the idea on their own. They had to get it from somewhere...”

“But like I said,” Sam says before she dives into the past, “I didn’t find any hex bags!”

“You don’t need a hex bag for a sleeping curse, Samuel.”

“You don’t? Is it, like... something spoken, then? Did a witch cast it?”

She sighed, the breath ghosting as if it puffed against his neck. “No. Most sleeping curses are meant to be ingested. That way the spell works from the inside out freezing the body. First the person falls into a deep sleep and then, over the course of twenty-four hours, the body begins to shut down.”

“Shut down!” Sam yells, facing Dean again. “You mean he can die from this?”

“Well it is a curse, isn’t it? Back in the old days when you didn’t have a bunch of painkillers to crush up and put into your husband’s food this is what you’d do!” Rowena said, “That’s why I’m surprised it’s being used. Most witches prefer to leave that spell in the world of fairy tales...”

Sam brushes all that aside and tells her to focus. “I need a cure, Rowena. How do we end this?”

“It’s a sleeping curse,” she scoffs, “how do they usually get solved?”

He hates to admit how long it takes him to fill in the blank Rowena left for him. When Sam does his face flushes bright red, and he’s lucky Dean isn’t awake to hear him stammer. “A... a kiss?”

“True love’s kiss, more specifically,” Rowena says in a way he can hear the smile in her voice, “you don’t happen to have that lying around for Dean, do you?”

Immediately he curses the hunter’s lifestyle. The nomadic culture that prevented him and Dean from making long-lasting connections. Whether losing them by death or the crushing weight of knowing what exists beyond the veil of ignorance, the Winchester brothers have run the gambit when it comes to love. Never have they landed on the part of the wheel that doesn’t leave them emotionally bankrupt. Unable to scrounge up the luck that people like Jesse and Cesar have in spades.

But there might be some hope. Sam has to try, for Dean. “Do you think if I were to -”

“My, my Samuel,” Rowena coos, “I thought it was all a bunch of hooey on the Internet but if you’re -”

“No!” Sam shouts, blushing harder than earlier. “Not like that. I mean I love Dean, I do. So would the kiss work if it comes from, like, familial feelings and not romantic ones?”

“A cheeky workaround... clever Sam.” A strange sense of pride washes over him, only for it to recede quickly with Rowena’s next words. “Unfortunately, no.”

“What?”

“The kiss can only be from whoever is in the heart of the one was cursed,” Rowena explains, “so while I’m sure Dean loves you... it’s not like that.”

“At least that’s good news,” Sam sighs, “So there’s nothing else I can do?”

Rowena hums a merry tune. “I mean, you could find the witch who cursed him and have her reverse the spell. But you don’t even know how it was cursed in the first place right?”

Sam racks his brain. He tries to think of when Dean was vulnerable to the witch but nothing comes to mind. Linda appears several times in his memory and he only now regrets devoting more of his attention to her than Dean. In fact the only part that sticks out is when his brother acted ridiculously before digging into his pie. “The pie!” Sam gasps.

“Come again?”

“This pie Dean ordered,” Sam continues, pacing once more, “I can’t believe I didn’t think... and it was apple pie, too, for crissakes...” He pauses, connecting even more dots together. “It must have been Linda!”

“Linda?” she asks, “Who’s Linda?”

“Our waitress from the diner. She tried flirting with Dean but he was too distracted.” Sam pulls the car keys from his pocket, ready to leave. He spares one final glance at his brother, silently promising to save him. Locking the door behind him Sam races over to the Impala and readies to leave. “Thanks for the help, Rowena. I’ll call you when Dean’s awake.”

“I look forward to seeing you, Samuel...”

He tosses his phone to the side and peels out of the parking lot and over to the diner. It isn’t far away since Sam chose the first motel he could find after leaving with an unconscious Dean. However, he doesn’t remember there being so much traffic between the motel and the diner.

When he does finally arrive it’s to a mostly deserted diner. Sam searches first for Linda, except his eyes land on a familiar shade of red.

Hackles raised, Sam steps over to the booth. He frowns when he sees Rowena cutting into a slice of her own apple pie. “Rowena!”

“Hello Samuel,” she says, chewing on a bite, “I don’t know why Dean was so skeptical. Their claims are completely founded!”

Sam settles in across from her, a heavy set to his features. From the second he spotted her his mind whirled around trying to find its footing. Seeing past the doubt Sam erases all other possibilities as to what’s going on. “You cursed Dean, didn’t you?”

She frowns, mirroring him. “Just like that you figured it out? Didn’t want to ask me what I was doing here, why I wouldn’t come fix your brother?” Rowena crosses her arms. “I had a delightful script planned out. Of course now you decide to get your head out of your ass and use it.”

“Was anything you said even the truth?” Sam asks, “Can Dean really die from this?”

“Of course, dearie. I never fool around when it comes to spells.”

“Then fix it!” he slams his fist on the table, “Whatever game you’re playing at, it’s over! Why you’d want to do this I don’t know but -”

“Will you untwist your knickers, Samuel,” she waves him off, “your brother’s already fixed and probably having himself a good time.”

He falters, Rowena leveling the playing field once more to her advantage. “What?” he says, “What?”

Pointing at him with her fork she tells him to give Dean a call. And he does, only to make sure she isn’t lying to him. While waiting for his brother to pick up he stares at her. Not letting her out of his sight in case she dips away.

Luckily for her Dean answers on the third ring. “Sammy,” he huffs, rustling in the background, “this better be good...”

“Dean!” Sam relaxes in his seat, tension oozing out of him like the filling of the apple pie, “I was so worried... so it wasn’t permanent.”

“What wasn’t...” There’s a muttered something on the other end of the line and Dean gasps. “Right, the curse... yeah, it’s all hunky dory over here. So if you don’t mind...”

“How’d you wake up?” he asks him, “Was it after I left? Why didn’t you call me when you woke up? Are there any side effects you need my help with.”

“Sammy the only help I need from you is you shutting up.”

“Dean, I deserve to know. I was - I was scared -”

Dean’s voice fades and another replaces his, much deeper, rougher, and more in control of itself. “Allow me to explain, Sam,” Castiel says, “it all started when I received a call from Rowena...”

Castiel parked in the lot, watching the Impala roar out and into the street. He drove at least double the speed limit and through many stop signs and lights only to be ditched at the last second. It didn’t sit right with him, as well as the many text messages from Dean left unanswered. As did Sam. Calling them proved fruitless as it went to voicemail. So changing tactics he tried for the person who sent him running towards the Winchesters.

“Rowena told me you needed my help in a case,” he said, “that Dean had been cursed and you were on your way to meet her.”

“Not that I knew I was...” he mumbled glaring at Rowena.

“I also told him to go look over your brother,” she tutted, “I made sure he wasn’t alone during such a scary predicament!”

“That you put him in!”

“Semantics mean nothing to me.”

“She also gave me the strangest set of instructions,” Castiel continued, “that whatever I do I shouldn’t kiss Dean.”

Sam nearly dropped his phone. “What?” he asked, “Why would you tell him that?”

Rowena smirked around her fork, slowly pulling it from between her lips. “Reverse psychology, Samuel.”

“What?”

“I must admit I didn’t understand it myself, at the time,” Castiel said, “But when I found Dean he... it was all I could think about, I guess. He looked so peaceful...”

His brother’s familiar chuckle filled his ears. “I’m irresistible.”

Sam scrunched his brows together. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“Yeah, so Cas can keep his hands free.”

He almost asks why he would need them free only for a mental image to answer for him. Sam chokes on his tongue and splutters. “Are you two fooling around while I’m talking to you?”

“Cas is making sure I’m curse free,” Dean scoffs, “he’s very thorough.”

“Yes, Sam,” the other man agrees, “Who knows how much of this curse is still in your brother. I doubt only one kiss was enough...”

Sam drags a hand down his face, shuddering. His eyes rise to meet the amused twinkle shining in Rowena’s gaze. He squints at her. “Did you know this would happen?”

She sighs, pushing her finished plate away. “Of course I did, Samuel. I wouldn’t curse your brother if there wasn’t a way to break it... anymore. Consider this a favor for all the times you helped me get out of messes that I made for myself.”

He nearly chews her out again, only stopped by the soft sighing from his phone. Dean and Castiel must have forgotten they were on the phone and were mumbling to each other. Simple declarations of their love and how long they’ve wanted this to happen. It douses all the fire within Sam and cools any lingering annoyance with Rowena’s actions. He hits the end button and lays his phone on the table.

“So how good is that apple pie?”

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn fanfic #Supernatural fanfiction #Sam Winchester #Clueless Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Rowena MacLeod #Destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fanfic #sleeping curse

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bobbiejelly · 4 years

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Prom

You see your panties tacked to a bulletin board the following morning and all you can think about is the fact that Addison Montgomery-Shepherd once had her hands all over your underwear. - Meredith Grey

MerAdd. meddison. F/F. Meredith Grey/Addison Montgomery. Beginning at GA-S2-E27, "Losing My Religion". Rated M for Chapter 1, Rated E for Future Chapters. Femslash.

Chapter 1: Prom?

You're a junior surgical intern at Seattle Grace Hospital named Meredith Grey and you have a massive problem eating away at you after the hospital prom.

And not the one that most people would imagine after having let your ex-boyfriend Derek Shepherd sleep with you while he's still married to Addison Montgomery-Shepherd, the tall leggy and fabulous McHot redhead goddess who is painfully smart, and annoyingly kind, and whom you have a massive inappropriate crush on, and have since she showed up here in Seattle.

You're really in some boiling hot water, now, you think to yourself…

You tell yourself you're not in love with her, already, because that would be totally insane, right?

You tell her that it's normal you quiver whenever you're with her on a consult.

Addison is your sort-of-mistake-of-a-not-boyfriend-Derek's WIFE for Crissakes!

(Years later, you'll realize you've already loved her; much more than you've ever loved him.)

You see your panties tacked to a bulletin board the following morning and all you can think about is the fact that Addison Montgomery-Shepherd once had her hands all over your underwear.

The thought nearly brings you to your knees with desire and you can't look her in the eye and not for the reason everyone thinks that you can't.

She's eyeing you because she knows you're a slut and she has proof now but she's not shouting it from the rooftops because she's classier than that.

And at the same time, she's all the pettier for 39.

The thought of her revenge really turns you on, and you're slightly shy about how hot-and-bothered you are at her angry and jealous reaction, as you pretend to yourself that it was for you and not him.

(Years later, Addison will drunkenly confess to you that it was jealousy for you, all along, and not for him as well...)

You know it was to send a message that only you could fully understand and maybe him. She knows and you know it was you even while Callie Torres claimed the blank undergarment as her own just to make George O'Malley blind jealous with rage.

When Derek found out about you losing your underwear and finding them tacked under the "Lost And Found '' sign he made a comment about how if there was a land called "Passive Agressiva" then she would be their queen.

Even Addison agrees with this assessment- because she's Addison- and she takes all the insults in stride; including being called "Satan" and "Slut" and "Whore" amongst other things like "Mrs. McDreamy" and "Ruler of All That Is Evil" and "McHot" which are more ambiguous as to whether or not they are good or bad.

You know that thinking more about how Derek calls her "the devil" will make you only fantasize harder about how kinky she must be.

Did Derek ever do stuff with her that would make him refer to her as such a thing?

Or was it just a figure of speech for him?

(Years later you would be extremely tempted to ask Mark Sloan about all of this. Though you're not sure you could compete with McSteamy for her affections.)

(And you're not sure you could punch him to the ground just like Derek did that one time if it didn't go well when you asked your co-dirty-mistress what it was like to screw around with the wife.)

(Besides, he might ask you what it was like to screw around with the husband and you're not sure if you want to know that side about Mark Sloan yet or maybe ever.)

You think that he never truly discovered Addison's true sexual prowess in the way that he could have because you hear secondhand or third hand from someone who heard it from Callie that he never slept with her starting from five years into their marriage.

You wonder how the hell he didn't when she was right there beside him in bed.

You realize you pointedly didn't think about why she didn't want to sleep with your mutual Derek the back half of her marriage, or maybe she did, and he just didn't and that was the answer.

You're sort of forgiving her for sleeping with Mark because you screw a hundred people when things aren't going well for you and it's not like you weren't getting laid in the first place.

Idly, you wonder if she feeds her libido with her own hands when she's not getting lucky with her McMen.

(Years later, you would find out she didn't even know how to do that to herself for years and she still doesn't without a showerhead).

(You would wonder at that point how she didn't combust internally from the pent up sexual frustration.)

(You wonder if she just had a lot of wet dreams, and when you find out that that's the case it sends you into a tailspin or imagination of what that must have felt like for her, and what those dreams were like and who they could have been about...)

(You wonder if she ever had even one of those dirty dreams about YOU.)

(Even once. Just out of some bizarre curiosity? A morbid fascination with the ex-husband's ex-mistress?)

(You try not to do THAT to yourself as you think of this thought. Fantasizing about someone's hypothetical fantasies is beyond fucked up, right? Even for you, about Addison no longer Shepherd?)

You can feel Addison staring at you all day and it's driving you crazy and not for the reason everyone thinks that it does.

Derek just thinks you're reacting to her post-divorce and staying in Seattle and trauma from being called "the other woman" again.

You'll never, ever, tell him that you're blushing because the predatory gaze is really working for you and you can't match it because you're scared she'll hate you even more for the truth if she finds out by reading your mind through your expression.

You stare at Addison only when you know she can't look at you back, or when it's socially appropriate to do so-

Such as in an O.R, or while she's the one currently talking in a conversation...

Or when she's teaching you over a patient and you have to quell your potential sexuality crisis to avoid earning a malpractice lawsuit from doing or saying something completely inappropriate regarding her in front of someone's dear friends and also family.

At some point, she asks you rhetorically "what the hell does he see in you anyway? What do you do for him that I can't or at least can't anymore? What about you makes him want you and not me?"

You bite your lip not to answer back in your lowest seductive tone "I can show you if you really do want to know..."

(Years later you'll wish you had been that much more foreword with her so maybe you two could have skipped some or all of this angst period and just hooked up then sooner, rather than eons later).

(But when you admit this to Addison, she'll tell you then, otherwise).

(You're not 100% sure if you believe her when she says this, but you decide to go along with it anyway because you really do love her.)

The turning point can't be for you two when you left Derek via a nonsexual double-entendre at Cristina's nonsuccessful wedding with Burke.

You cut your best friend out of her wedding dress and you hear her cry and you watch her, to make sure she's okay.

You're offered her ticket to go to Hawaii and on her honeymoon with her and when she makes a comment about you being seen as her "lesbian lover" by clueless passerby's you try not to stiffen at her accidental implication that you might not be straight after all.

The last time you joked about becoming lesbians was when you Derek were over or so you thought at the time and she and Burke were having issues too and you ran into the elevator muttering something about switching sides.

You would never want to do this WITH Cristina, though if she chose to start swinging that way with someone else you knew you would support her wholeheartedly.

You wonder if Cristina would support you the same way if she knew you were fantasizing about naked ladies.

The boys would love you even more for it. You're not sure what Izzie would say or what Callie would say but you decide that Izzie has probably kissed a girl at some point and that Callie probably wants to.

You don't ask either way?

You're in the stairwell one day and you see Addison catching her breath and you ask her what's wrong and she bursts into tears. She yells at you when you find her crying again in a supply closet and tells you to stay the fuck away.

But she didn't yell at you in the stairwell. She let you lay a hand out to her hip and say that you're sorry.

She let you apologize before she said thank you and walked away. You're not sure if she just needed to hear that from you, or if she knew you really needed to say it for yourself to her and she has enough of an inexplicable soft spot for you that she let you say it just to see the guilt wash off your face for a split second.

You realize you didn't feel ashamed when you were with her at that moment. You wonder if that's because you know and she knows that she's guilty of a similar act.

You ask Derek once he starts leading you on again what she was like in bed.

He thinks you're trying to win out competition over her for him, so he tells you.

(Years later, he realizes he could not have ever been more wrong about who you were always fighting for, really, between the two of them...)

He wants you to win over his wife, you think, even though he didn't come to the bar that night you said your 'pick me, choose me, love me' bullshit.

In retrospect, you realize begging someone to love you, is not a good way not to seem desperate.

You're desperate for Addison's attention even though you're not good at showing it.

You consider saying to her "I slept with Derek to get you to look at me, the same way you might have slept with Mark Sloan to get Derek to look at you".

But then you would never say that because you don't want to bring up her past failures even if she does herself, even to you, and that she did so to stand up for you on your first day of work, and you don't think it was because of Derek at all.

Addison said 'good girl' on her first or second day, and she really meant it, you think when you don't go back to him after she walked in to introduce herself in the hospital lobby.

(Years later, she'll tell you she really did want the best for you, then and that it was not about any sort of strengthening her claim on her then-husband.)

You wish you could tell her "good girl" as you're screwing her through her second or third orgasm of a heated evening.

(Years later, you'll realize that this is as good as you dreamed it to be...)

You realize she started seeing you as "as a person" when your friends tell you her voice broke when she said to them "you should prepare yourselves" when you drowned off the sound and she was there in your room watching with terrified eyes that you might not come back.

(Years later you'll ask her what you looked like in that hospital bed and she'll break down and cry and tell you that's when she knew you meant something to her).

When Addison left Seattle Grace Hospital and she left Seattle for good (or so you both thought at the time…), you never thought you would ever be able to explain to Derek why you cried as she walked away from you after giving you a look at the wedding when you left her ex-husband and your ex-boyfriend at the same time you called off Cristina's wedding to Burke.

—

It's approximately one year later when you finally crack and hit on Addison for real, at a bar, at Emerald City Bar, of course, and no less...

It's after she cares back to Seattle for a consult and she defended you to Derek and also defended Derek to you.

You asked if she was leaving already and she gave you some speech about a beach and Zen and Ghandi but all you could hear was the smoothness of her voice, husky after a drink or two.

You catch her arm again.

Addison turns around.

You tell her that now that Derek is with rose and that she doesn't want Mark now that you want her to know from you, only if she wants to, of course maybe just why Derek might have taken you home his first night in Seattle.

She stares wide-eyed at you before she drops your gaze for a second to ask you if this was the bar where he said he was just a guy and you said you were just a girl.

When you say it is, sadly, and a bit embarrassed about it...

That's when she surprises you beyond all expectations and says she cares too much about you to take advantage of your guilt to have sex with you just for her personal discovery.

You tell her that you put it that way to her because you didn't think she would sleep with you otherwise.

She looks at you sadly and gives you another hug and pulls you into her chest again because she doesn't want you to feel that your body is to be used for other people in that sort of way.

This time hugging Addison without Derek around is making you melt beyond all repair.

You cling to the back of her coat and she holds onto you and she nuzzles your head and she says she's sorry that her ex-husband never made good on his promise to her not ever to hurt you again.

You ask her when he promised her that.

Addison tells you that you were high at the time.

You realize that's when you thought you were pregnant with her husband's adulterous love-child baby and she was there to break the news that you weren't.

You just had a ruptured appendix and all your ex-boyfriends showed up to fix you in the same room at the same time and it made Bailey chuckle, albeit maybe not fondly, or maybe so, after all, you were high so you're not really sure.

You tell her you don't remember anything she said or what you said but you vaguely remember her talking with you in the same compassionate voice that she's using now with you while you were on morphine.

Addison smiles a sigh of relief when you tell her this news and you realize she must have said something to you she wasn't ready for you to hear her say yet, because she doesn't repeat to you now what she said to you when she was sober and you weren't.

(Years later when she does finally confess her speech about wishing she had a lot of things' and confessed that she wishes... ‘A lot of things' were things about doing right by you, and also about doing things with you, both platonically and also sexually...)

(Well, you'll hold her in your arms the way she was doing to you then at the bar when she came to Seattle one time.)

(Only you'll be lying down next to her to pull her head under your chin because you're too short and she is too tall for you to do that while you are both standing up.)

You ask Addison if she wants to talk more with you now and she says that she does.

She takes you home to your house because she says that taking you to her hotel room would be really trashy of her.

You think it doesn't matter if you end up taking your clothes off anyway but she seems to think that it really does.

You don't remember the cab ride to your place from Joe's, you didn't talk much, you just remember running your hand up her thigh and her not pulling away when you rubbed circles up to her hip.

You do remember arriving at your house and letting her in.

You realize that she's actually never seen this house before and you laugh at the thought because she's the only surgeon at Seattle Grace so far that hasn't set foot in this place, much less lived here at some point, like most of your intern friends and also Derek.

You don't talk about your mutual ex at all. You make it a point not to. You know tonight is for her and you, and you and her, only.

He's taken enough out of you both that you can recognize the scars that he scratched into your souls.

You can see through to them even before you start to take off her coat and she offers to hang yours alongside hers on the coat rack.

You make her some coffee in your kitchen to sober you both up a little.

And over coffee, you realize that you really do enjoy each other's company.

You realize you've never hung out with her, not high, one on one before, and you enjoy it at least as much as she does.

Addison is finished her coffee by the time you start making cocoa because you know she really likes it and she tells you she drinks it for good juju even when nobody has already died.

You start to be more touchy-feely with her while you start drinking your cocoa because she has her hands around your shoulder and she's kissing your temple.

You pull away just enough to ask her if she's drunk or if you are drunk. She says you're both probably not given the early time you left the bar together and the amount of non-alcoholic liquids and/or caffeine you both have consumed.

You say that's good because you don't want to take advantage of her. You won't make her a cheap lay just because she's good looking and vulnerable.

She's appalled by the thought because she was once your attending. You tell her she's not anymore because she moved to California, and she giggles when she tells you about things in LA.

You don't tell her that Derek once accused you of taking advantage of him at a bar.

You know that bringing him up will upset her and you- and that it's actually a really arrogant thing for him to have said to you on your first day of work.

You realize that Addison is better than him because she didn't let herself think of you in 'that way' while she was your boss because she didn't want you to become twice over a hospital whore from the other half of the same fucked-up marriage.

Addison wanted you too, but she never said, because she didn't want you to want her back while she was your superior.

You ask why you're different to her from Alex Karev. She says that she regrets Alex anyway, but with him at least she knew somehow even before he turned her down that despite what she heard second hand from Rebecca the patient that he would never actually fall for her for real.

You realize from this that she's insinuating that she thinks you would if you slept with her, then. You're appalled that she had such good a read on you while she was pretending to hate you for screwing her husband.

She tells you she has a much better poker face from years of being a Doctor. She tells you that you'll develop the same skill but she hopes that just because you'll learn to lie that you won't in a bad way.

You realize how much she has hurt for you and that you have hurt for her.

She says it's okay because she's glad she's met you.

You cry when you hear her speak those words because you've never heard those even from your own mother and father or even your uncle Richard.

It makes her cry for you, and you kiss her on the cheek just to make her stop sobbing so hard.

She starts laughing uncontrollably and you ask why and she says that she kissed Alex Karev at Joe's bar a year ago when he said that he never really had a real dad.

You ask why this is funny and she says that she must have an MO because she was about to ask you if you wanted for her to kiss her on the lips before you started to give her a kiss on the cheek.

You ask Addison if she still wants to ask you that anyway. And she says that she does.

You tell her that you wanted to kiss her for a really long time but that you didn't even know if she could swing that way.

She says she hasn't since before Derek, but that she used to be openly bisexual back in her college days.

You realized you'd moaned at her sentence when you see her eyes darkening and you feel her shiver and she asks if you're even gay at all.

You say that you always were (gay; a lot more than just a little bit, though not entirely, either...) and that you haven't been since Derek, either, but that you haven't stopped thinking about women and you haven't forgotten how to give them pleasure, either.

This time you notice that she's the one to moan out at your sentence.

You ask her what you never asked her all of those years ago.

You ask her if she finally wants to find out what you're made of.

She says she wants to have you naked only if you're sure you want to but not because of anything to do with other men.

You say that that's even better and you tell her you've wanted to have your way with her for a very long time.

She asks you since when?

You tell her since the hospital prom.

She asks you why, then?

You tell Addison you were watching her over Finn's shoulder and that you saw her watching you, too, along with Derek.

That she's the reason you got overheated when Finn Dandridge started talking about plans, and that when you ran off into the hallway, you'd wished it was her and not him to confront you in an exam room.

You wished it was her and not him who talked to you and gave you a speech about how they wished they weren't distracted by you.

How you wished with everything that you had that it was her and not him taking off your panties and making you come undone on that table next to the other bulletin board where your panties had once been.

How you wished it was her pocket that your panties had ended up in and not his, except a part of you was really glad and still is that you didn't turn her into the whore that you were that night.

How you were glad she didn't have to withstand the shame and the whispering and the chatter.

You tell her how you'd seen your panties tacked to a bulletin board the morning after that prom, and all you could think about since then is the fact that Addison Montgomery-No-Longer-Shepherd once had her hands all over your underwear.

She asks you if you want her to touch your panties again. You tell that you do always wanted to! And that you still do! And that you want her you want to take hers off as well!

You lead her upstairs to your bedroom and you close the door securely behind you.

You press her up against your bedroom door and you lean in to cup her face with your hands.

You tell her how beautiful she is and that she's a good person and that you hate how she doesn't love herself to let people tell her that without starting to protest.

You tell her you've seen the pain in her eyes and all you've ever wanted to do for her is to kiss it all better.

She says that the moment your lips touch hers that you will and that she's already long forgiven you for prom and for everything.

She says she asked on both sides for you to be with her own ex-husband because she thought that's what you wanted and what you needed to be happy and not even him.

You tell her that you're the doctor Shepherd you've always wanted most- and that she's not even called that and that makes it even better for you.

Addison tells you that you're the individual that she's actually secretly pined over for the longest time and that she'd thought she was going to live out her life without ever telling you that.

You swoon completely, and then you ask Addison if you can stop talking now and get to the kissing already.

She smiles and she leans into your forehead and you lean into hers.

And she asks you to start it first so she knows that you're certain.

And you say that you're more than sure.

And then you take her lips into hers.

And then you kiss her for hours.

Since you want to enjoy this.

You kiss Addison long and slow.

You haven't had this much fun since before you can remember back to.

Even more so than any and all sex you have previously had all combined.

And then you never ever let go, and neither does she, and you and Addison Montgomery spend the next few hours in pure unadulterated bliss in your bedroom.

You don't give a care what people at the hospital might do or say or tell other people behind both of your backs like they always do.

And it's far, far, far, better than any sex that either of you has ever had, previously, with anyone, much less with Finn or with Derek or with Mark or with George...

It's much, much, better than any sex or kisses or touches either of you has ever had at any event in your lives that may or may not be referred to as some sort of a Prom!

(Years later, when you talk about your first time together, still, to this day you'll remember saying that it was the best sex of your lives thus far. Period. Ever.)

-Meredith Grey

As retold years later to Addison Montgomery. After your wedding to her. You tell this to her... And you tell her again, at your ten year anniversary, and again, when your first child together is finally born. And you both lived happily ever after, ever since, after all, even after the total disaster at the hospital Prom.

***** END OF CHAPTER 1

Author's Note:

Did you read the abridged version in bold throughout the story?

LOL. Semi-cheap writer's tactics. But it's a prom, so we get to be a bit corny and lame and a little bit cheesy, I guess…

Hope you enjoyed this story.

A lot of this was strongly influenced by reading AddisonAddek's work (you'll see some of your sylistics here, with the time jumps and self-angst and also the second person… Which I now apparently love. As an author, you're not sure if you'll like changing things up, but when you do, you think it's a little bit terrifying in a good way!)

Of course also shoutout to LordOfLezzies as usual as I'm rereading all their old works and I'm inspired by all the creative scenarios and I still have not seen this particular one anywhere so I decided to give it a go.

So, welcome to this one-shot of Prom? With MerAdd aftermath and also ending.

A slight homage to Coldplay's multiple versions of their hit song 'Lost!', here, with all the different punctuation marks.

How this ended up being written at 5 AM in the morning on a cell phone I will never understand.

See you around, folks. If you really, really, really, want to see the smut that is only implied here, let me know; that's why I left this open for more because I know myself well enough that I probably can't stay away. Though I'm really busy right now so maybe I will just leave it at that… Let me know in the comments!

Hope to hear all your thoughts on this.

If you're looking for something else to read, there's a new chapter up of Soothe - Chapter 16, and I'm hoping to get another one up really soon, as that is probably one of my favorite fanfictions that I've ever worked on.

Cheers, and see you around in the reviews, much love,

bobbiejelly

@bobbiejelly

Full story here:

- You’ll need to read it on one of these platforms to catch the hidden message because it didn’t transpose itself onto this site ;)...

Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24438112/chapters/58965151

Fanfiction:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13599945/1/Prom

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/894346376-1-prom

HOPE TO SEE YOU IN THE COMMENTS!!!!

And a classical shoutout to @lordoflezzies @lordoflezzies @lespians @lucy-lane-deserves-better @hannidelialanagram @sassyygayy @tisziny @thenetflixgal @hime for your support, @hime1993, and @addisxn-mxntgxmery and @heisenbeth for the cool blogs!, @answerstosatan, @agentrosetyler-archive @weshallmeetagain @multifandomfix for the cool fanfics on this tag already on tumblr! @lerevedenemo, @almostintellectualunicorn, @justhereforthelesbians, @lerasklpnv, @jessicazavala1234, @bebopfirefly, @jeonghyo, @cyanskies, @lyduennn, @singwhenyoucantspeak, for interacting with me so far on Tumblr, by liking/reblogging my fanfiction posts, messaging, following, helping with questions and that sort of thing!

(If you’d like me to untag you or never tag you again, at any time just let me know!!!)

Yeah, that’s a lot of shoutouts. Also shoutouts to @foibles-blog-blog @stephisinsanity and @mammothluv because i’m taking a shot in the dark that these are your same usernames from Ao3 and your works are remarkable for MerAdd and/or grey’s and pp in general even if that was AGES AGO, but y’know, bobbiejelly is late to the fandom... And hoping some ppl still want it to exist more...

If anyone knows of any other MerAdd writers around here, or if you are one yourself I haven’t met yet on Tumblr, pls. Comment on this post and/or message me! This platform is super new and I’m working on using it to gain more MerAdd in my life and also to share some stuff that is in the ether...

HAVE A GREAT ONE, FOLKS!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3

MerAdd, meddison, Meredith Grey/Addison Montgomery for the win!!!

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wendella · 5 years

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OUTLANDER Outlander Season Finale: Who Are the “Men of Worth” in Season 4? by Natalie Zutter www.tor.com

After last year’s Outlander finale, which literally shipwrecked Claire and Jamie onto the shores of America, I was expecting a bigger cliffhanger ending to this season—that the letter the redcoats delivered to Jamie at River Run would be conscripting the poor Scot to fight on their side in the American Revolution. Then I remembered that it was only 1770, and that the next big war was a few years (or, I’m going to assume, one season) away. Instead, the season 4 finale, filled with resolutions both neat and messy, ends on Jamie getting a much more pressing, one-on-one assignment that reemphasizes this season’s enduring question: Can a good man do a bad thing and remain a “Man of Worth”?

Spoilers for Outlander season 4.

The thing is, it’s difficult to care too much about Jamie being ordered to hunt down Murtagh on behalf of Governor Tryon, because it seems too obvious that, between the two of them, they’ll be able to come up with a solution. That could mean faking Murtagh’s death or smuggling him back to Scotland, and thus away from Fraser’s Ridge, which would carry its own bittersweet heartache, but it’s not as if there’s an ideological chasm between them—hence the low stakes. It also seems a far-off problem when this season was more than a little uneven, and I’m still working through my frustrations with how the Brianna and Roger plots shaped the latter half of the season.

So, what feels like the most appropriate way to send off Outlander season 4 is to return to the theme linking the past thirteen episodes—good men doing bad things, bad men doing things that might have positive ramifications despite their intent—and reexamine the worthiness of Outlander’s men.

Jamie: If I were Jamie, I would be feeling like a right arse by the end of this season. First he helps outlaw Stephen Bonnet escape, out of a misguided sense of goodwill toward a fellow immigrant in this new country, only for that to blow up spectacularly in his face. Of course, he has no way of knowing how the consequences of his act of charity will lead to his daughter getting raped by Bonnet, but it’s a sobering lesson in the dangers of believing the best of your fellow man. Then Jamie swings to the opposite end of the spectrum by assuming that Roger is the one who violated Brianna, beating him senseless without taking a breath to consider, to question the circumstances, propelled by pure rage. Brianna is rightfully furious at him—and they have one of the best moments of the season, when Jamie screams and kicks a chair in frustration and Brianna snaps, “No! You are not allowed to be angrier about this than I am.” He’s clearly wrestling with so much self-loathing that, after twenty years of maturing and growing beyond the hot-headed lad he was when he met Claire, he has regressed back into an impulsive thug.

But Jamie has also learned self-awareness in the intervening decades, as he demonstrates in his incredible scene of vulnerability, asking Claire if she and Bree think that Frank was the better man. He got the girl—she went back in time for him—and he still doubts that he’s good enough. Sam Heughan has brought so much depth and nuance to a character who could have stayed a one-dimensional fantasy; watching James Fraser grow up has been one of the series’ greatest delights.

Roger: On the one hand, Roger endures indescribable pain and suffering as a slave of the Mohawk—the worst possible time travel experience, all because of a misunderstanding he was only partly to blame for. On the other hand, every time he’s offered the chance to be the good guy, he finds a way to be unlikable. Slut-shaming Brianna for being unsure about marrying him as a virgin was difficult to watch, especially considering that the next time they see each other, she was the one to compromise her comfort and pledge her life to him because of his unwillingness to budge. He reiterates multiple times that he had the chance to leave and kept coming back for her, but we only hear that through his telling, which casts him as some romantic hero. At the last minute of the episode he comes riding in on a horse, for crissakes, but that’s more than a day after Jamie and Claire return to River Run, believing that Roger was unwilling to join them.

Again, these are the kinds of choices one would not wish on anyone—such as being told that there is a good chance that Brianna’s baby is not his, and that to honor the terms of their handfast would mean committing to raising that child and spending the rest of his life in the past. If anything, as much as their plotline aggravated me, at least it forced constraints on Roger’s decision, instead of him getting to set the stakes. Roger is not a bad man, but he has demanded a lot of Brianna; I’m curious to see them build a more equal partnership going forward.

Stephen Bonnet: I’m still so impressed with how Bonnet went from charismatic stranger to fatal threat in the space of one episode, and how just a few acts of specific cruelty did so much to change the course of the Fraser family’s lives. Considering how we witnessed his turn in the premiere, it was difficult to muster up any real sympathy for him when Brianna confronted him with her emotional speech about how her child would be nothing like him. Offering up the ruby seemed like a rare moment of vulnerability for the criminal, but I suspect that was more of a formal obligation to contribute one positive thing to this bairn’s life than any regret for raping Brianna in the first place. Also, I’m not convinced that he perished in that prison, and am half-expecting that he will reappear, cockroach-like, next season to kidnap the baby that might be his.

Brianna’s son: Just born, and as far as I remember they did not mention his name. So, for fear of revealing the few book spoilers I stumbled upon in my research (ironic, I know), I’ll just reiterate that he’s a wee fighter and not tack on “like his da” since we are just ignoring his paternity. It was clear, though, that Bree was anxious to meet the little guy, in case she somehow saw Bonnet reflected in his face, but that upon taking him in her arms she was relieved to feel nothing but overwhelming love.

That said, from the moment that Brianna decided to keep the baby, there was no saving her plotline for me. But that’s a discussion for another piece.

Young Ian: I can’t feel anything but oddly maternal pride upon witnessing Ian’s character growth, particularly in this season but even stretching back to when he dragged his poor uncle and aunt across an ocean to save his overeager ass. The season premiere saw him grappling with the trauma of being raped by Geillis, of shaping his identity around what happened to him while not letting it define him; concurrently, he’s learned how to make himself a useful member of Fraser’s Ridge. Sure, offering to marry Brianna was classic dumb Young Ian; selling Roger to the Mohawk was nigh unforgivable. But he more than made up for it by offering up himself in Roger’s place, to live among the Mohawk and replace their dead member. Honestly, it was about time that Ian learned who he was without his blood relations there to protect him. And look how he made it through the gauntlet! That’s our boy.

Murtagh: It’s fascinating to see how the writers fit Murtagh into the narrative, considering that the character is kinda living on borrowed time—that is, he’s long-dead in the books, but they spared him in the adaptation. His and Jamie’s reunion in Wilmington scratched one of my narrative itches—that prolonged moment in which two souls, separated by time and distance, slowly recognize one another while the viewer is screaming omg, hug already!! But now not only are they caught up on the last decade-plus of each other’s lives, but they also recognize that they have landed on different sides of a growing conflict, due to their respective definitions of self-preservation. I’d like to see the series delve more into this next season, to really make it an impossible choice for Jamie.

Side note: Murtagh and Jocasta’s argument-turned-hookup, complete with her throwing whiskey in his face, was amazing.

Fergus: Under-utilized this season, stuck in Wilmington and mostly just reacting to the plot action when it comes to him. What would make Jamie’s dilemma more affecting would be if Fergus (who, it’s been established, can’t find work anywhere else) joins the regulators in earnest—making it twoloved ones that Jamie is contractually bound to hunt down.

Otter Tooth: The initial discovery of Otter Tooth’s skull made it seem as if he and his silver fillings would play a larger role in the season. While at first it was a surprise that it took only half of an episode to lay out his story, it also speaks to the utter tragedy of the failed time traveler. Unlike Claire, who finds a willing believer in Jamie when it comes to Culloden and other predictions of the future, poor Otter Tooth could not convince enough of the Mohawk to heed his warnings about the Iroquois being forgotten. Instead, he was branded a madman, hunted down, and forced to haunt this time and place, unable to bring about the change he so desperately wanted. Moreso than almost any other plot this season, it’s a thought-provoking story that Diana Gabaldon included, and the writers adapted. Plus, the post-credits visual of him in his present watching the two white boys play Cowboys and Indians was wrenching, and one of the series’ best of these little moments.

Lord John Grey: Poor Lord John puts up with a lot this season, mostly in the form of the daughter of the man he loves blackmailing him into marrying her, lest she out him to everyone. But this is the man who maintained affection for Jamie even after being friendzoned, who has proven over and over that he will put his own desires behind those of a child in need of a father, or a pregnant woman who will be dishonored without a husband. LJG is good people.

William: What a fierce, pouty li’l jerk. It’s too bad that we weren’t treated to the narrative weirdness of William’s half-sister Brianna becoming his stepmother, but perhaps he’ll reappear in future seasons.

Lesley: To be honest, I had barely registered him before he got his throat slit by Bonnet, but nobody deserves a death like that. RIP.

Frank: FRANK. His one cameo this season, in a number of revelatory and gutting flashbacks, was the perfect way to bring him back—especially since we see him through Brianna’s eyes, after years of him refracted through Claire’s perspective. But even Brianna doesn’t realize how many complicated feelings it layers on top of Frank’s motivations to know that he had the obituary the whole time and never let on to Claire that he knew about her supposed death. Not that I blame him, considering how she treated returning to their marriage as a consolation prize, but still.

George Washington: Presumably, but we only got a few scenes with him. I’m looking forward to (hopefully) more of the would-be President next season.

Rollo: Very Good Boy. Very glad he made it through the season and will accompany Young Ian on this new adventure.

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