#tnmw5 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

percywinchester27 · 2 years

Text

The new Mrs. Winchester (5)

Word count: 3.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Mentions of death, kidnapping, human trafficking; PTSD, forced marriage, mention of suicidal ideation, fluff... kinda ;)

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: Some more interesting stuff ;) Thank you for all your love!

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23 love ya!

The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist

You barely caught any sleep that night. Knowing that even the smallest creaks could be heard on the other side, had kept you from tossing and turning, frozen in place till your back and limbs started to ache. You didn’t want to give him more to go with than you already had. The other room remained silent. For the rest of the night hours, you floated in and out of consciousness, plagued with horrid dreams of roaming in the woods around the property, unable to find your way back to the house, while hungry eyes followed you everywhere, staring out of the forest.

You awoke to a still-dark room, stomach growling in protest at being kept empty since the afternoon of the day before. You should’ve eaten more than two bites at dinner.

Gingerly stepping onto the rug, you pulled on your old cardigan over the baggy pajamas and quietly made your way out into the corridor. The cold, dawn air stung your face. With the sun barely up, Abby wouldn’t bring your breakfast for another three hours. She might not even be up yet. Eyeing her closed door at the end of the corridor, you made your way downstairs, pulling the cardigan closer to keep away the morning chill. A glass of milk would suffice. Surely, there must be milk somewhere in the kitchen you had only once stepped into. Mentally chastising yourself for getting used to the hotel-style service when it came to food, you wandered through the ground floor in the vague direction of the kitchen.

When you did find it, you were come upon with the pleasant realisation of how old school it was. Another part of the house that hadn’t been renovated to fit modern standards. Huge stoves braced upon a solid stone counter, with pots and pans hanging from an overhead rack mesh. The double-door silver fridge, oven, and grill appeared to be the only ultra-modern equipment there. Martha stood humming to herself in front of the stove, back turned to you, as the smell of sizzling eggs hummed in the air. Your stomach made an embarrassingly loud noise; so much that Martha whirled around, eyes wide, hand at her chest.

“My goodness, Mrs. Winchester!” She smiled automatically, once the scare wore off. “What a pleasant thing to see you so early in the morning!”

“I… um… I was hungry.” You shuffled your toe from one side to another. “The eggs smell really good!”

Martha looked exactly how you’d expect a loving grandmother to be. Round and happy. And when she bestowed you with amused raised eyebrows, you felt happy, too.

“Why, I’ll fry you another batch of eggs right up,” she said. “Would you like them sunny side up?”

“Umm… just give me those!” You pointed at the once sizzling deliciously in the pan, as your stomach growled again.

“These are for Master Sam and he doesn’t take salt in them.”

You jerked up. “He’s awake?”

“Why, he’s right there.”

You turned around and almost had a stroke.

Sitting on the small round table on the other side of the kitchen was Sam, dressed in sweatpants and a full-sleeved t-shirt. He held a newspaper in one hand and seemed to have forgotten about the toast in his other, suspended halfway to his mouth. He appeared so natural in the setting that he almost melted in with the background. That must be why you hadn’t seen him at first, not that you had paid attention to anything once the smell of eggs had invaded your senses.

His wide-eyed expression of surprise held you in your spot, unable to move, or speak.

Sam blinked a couple of times then cleared his throat and said. “It’s alright, Martha. Add the salt. You can fix my eggs afterward.” He hesitated, before adding. “Put some bacon on the pan as well.”

“Weren’t you giving up on it?”

His eyes flickered in your direction, “Maybe from tomorrow.”

Martha chuckled quietly. She must’ve seen you frozen in place because the next minute, her hands were on your arms, fussing, leading you to the table. “And why’re you still standing over there, ma’am? Sit, sit!” She plopped you down on the chair right in front of Sam.

The small, round table accommodated four chairs and Sam immediately straightened up to make space for you.

Martha put a plate in front of you with two fried eggs, warm, buttered toast, and sausages. Not knowing what else to do, you picked up a fork, stabbed the sausage with it, and savagely shoved it in your mouth. Food, glorious food deserved all your attention. It helped to pretend that no one sat before you and you would have followed through with that strategy until a series of knocks made you stop.

You could see his knuckles tapping out the word

G-O-O-D M-O-R-N-I-N-G

Swallowing loudly, you looked up. Sam had abandoned both the newspaper and the toast to regard you cautiously. If you didn’t know better, you would have assumed that he looked… nervous.

“Morning,” you whispered, uncertain.

“Isn’t it lovely to have you both here!” Martha clapped her hands, making you jump in your chair. It shook Sam out of whatever he’d been thinking. He got up from his chair.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Martha. The coffee was great.”

Martha tutted. “It ain’t coffee, Master Sam, whatever it is that you drink.”

He chuckled. “You should try it sometime. Wakes you right up.”

“No, thank you. I’d much rather boil live puppies first.” At your gasp, she explained hurriedly. “It’s just a phrase, ma’am. Of course, I’m not even thinking about it.”

Sam chuckled some more at her embarrassment. “Don’t stay up for dinner, yeah? Just put it in the fridge. I know how to use the oven.”

“It’s unhealthy to reheat food!”

“So is staying up late,” he countered. “You have a good day, Martha.”

“You, too, Master Sam.”

He decidedly lowered his voice when he addressed you. “I hope you have a good day, as well.” Sam rushed out before you could so much as swallow the morsel in your mouth.

Had he just spoken to you? For real? Maybe you had imagined it. Sam didn’t speak to you.

Martha shoved the batch of crispy bacon on your plate. Sam hadn’t waited for the bacon, despite specifically requesting it. Martha cleared out the table, muttering about reduced portions and terrible coffee.

“What’s in that coffee?” You asked, curious.

She threw up her hands. “The hell do I know! A business associate got it from Bali. It’s supposed to have a mix of South-Asian spices and something healthy. I’m sure tar tastes better.”

You snickered at her pronounced distaste on the subject.

“Master Sam will drink anything if you tell him it’s healthy.” She shook her head in faint disapproval.

“He asked you to call him master?”

To your surprise, Martha laughed heartily. “Oh no no, ma’am. Quite the contrary. He’s been begging me for years to stop calling him that. But I’m an old nut, been seeing him since he was a baby and Master Dean in his knickers. Can’t stop now.”

You knew you shouldn’t… you knew very well that you shouldn’t manipulate the trust of this sweet lady, but no one else would talk, so you pressed. “How long have you been working here?”

“Oh, since before Master Sam was born. His mother was the most compassionate woman I ever knew and those boys take after her. Especially Master Dean.” Melancholy seeped into her voice at the name and she settled herself on the chair opposite to you.

“You miss him,” you observed quietly.

To your horror, Martha’s eyes filled up. “He’d be all up in my business since he was a little boy. Always pestering me to bake him those pies. Smiling widely and teasing me for being an old lady. But he’d wait by the door every evening to help me down the stairs because he knew my knees were rotten.” She dabbed the corner of her eye with her apron. “And when it came to his brother, he would walk three miles into town to get bananas for those peanut butter and banana sandwiches. In the rain and in the sun.”

“Peanut butter and banana sandwiches?”

She smiled through the tears, “Oh, master Sam used to love them as a kid.”

And he still kicked out his brother?

Martha clasped your hand, her veiny fingers shaking on yours. “I know what you’re thinking, ma’am,” she said, anger simmering just below the surface of her words. “I know what everyone says about him, but I know this, master Sam loved his brother. Loved him, I tell you…” She hiccuped. “No… he worshipped his brother… wanted to be just like him.”

She dropped her voice, whispering fretfully. “I was there when they brought in Miss Jo’s body. Master Dean had been beside himself with grief, and if it weren’t for Master Sam, he would have gone off and destroyed himself over it…”

Your mind was buzzing with too many questions. “But everyone says…”

“Everyone wasn’t there!” She snapped. “I don’t claim to know exactly what happened and the yelling was ugly, but it’s not what everyone says. Master Sam would never do that to his brother. And he hasn’t been the same since. Barely talks much. His laughter used to light up the house before, but I don’t see much of it anymore… and none of it outside this room.”

When you didn’t respond, she grasped your hand tighter in hers, prompting you to look into her old, vehement eyes. “You married a good man, ma’am. If you have to believe anything, believe this.”

*****

You wandered the halls all day by yourself, ducking into the corners to avoid company. It gave you the time to think things through, starting from the very start. Jack had been telling the truth after all about not ‘tailing’ you. Once you got the hang of the house; at least, the part you were allowed into, he’d stopped following you. So you walked on, struggling with the two warring images of Sam. The first one had presented itself from the get-go: an arrogant man who purchased a living, breathing person just for the pretence of a wife, to show off to people. A man who had kicked out his brother, and then managed to become the sole owner of an estate that ran into several million. Someone who barely uttered a word if it didn’t serve a purpose.

Then there was the image that you had seen and felt: A man who hadn’t touched a hair of your body when he could have done much, much worse to no consequence at all. You hadn’t heard him converse with the staff, but neither had he been rude to anyone. The way Martha and Jack, two of the oldest employees, talked about him with such confidence and then the biggest of all– how he had treated you since yesterday. The only word that sufficed? Careful.

Shaking your head to dispel the notion of the man being anything good, you lowered yourself onto the parapet of the corridor, the evening sky lighter at the sides and darker down below. Jack had been right. If you really sharpened your ears, you could hear the gurgling of the brook. Your legs carried you down the parapet and the corridor, out into the ground after that. And by the time you reached the pier over the brook, night had already shrouded the woods before you.

Dangling your feet over the edge just like earlier, you eased your hands behind you, supporting your weight on them. The brook gurgled, the trees rustled and the wind whistled so rhythmically that your loneliness itself melted into contentment. The questions pelting your brain stopped.

“Not trying to drown yourself today?”

You wanted to smile at the sound of his voice.

“If it ain’t the guy-in-the-woods,” you announced, not turning.

“Hey yourself, scary-lady.” He lowered himself next to you on the pier. “You look… chipper tonight.”

You shrugged. “A girl can’t always be thinking of blood, right?”

He laughed at that, carefree and you envied him, so, so much for being able to laugh the way summer felt.

“How did you find me? Please don’t tell me you’re tailing me.”

He put his hands up. “Oh, no. Total chance. I was fishing upstream. Good season for salmon.”

He smelled like fish a little bit, plus the end of his jeans and the sleeves of his jacket were soaked. And somehow, you just knew he was telling the truth.

“You catch any?”

He screwed up his face sheepishly. “One. But then it slipped right out of my hands and I got all wet trying to catch it again. I figured if it was brave enough to escape the mighty me, maybe it deserved to live.”

“So you suck at fishing.”

“No!” He protested, seriously offended. “I’m practically God-level. You just caught me on an off day.”

“Right.”

You observed him carefully, the fine lines at the corner of his eyes, the precise shade of his light brown hair and it all felt familiar. Not the way one feels after knowing a person for long, but in the sense that the features reminded you of another person, maybe a painting.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said, coming clean. “I actually came down here hoping to find you.”

“Me?” But he didn’t sound surprised.

“Yeah.” You kept your eyes focused on his hand, on the pulsing vein in the thin crease where his thumb met the index finger. “I didn’t set out to kill myself that day, you know? Just to run away; and not from a person. I wanted to run away from my own head… and I guess… the only way to do that is to… well… you know…”

He gazed into the distance, seeing things beyond the trees. “The only way to truly run away from yourself is to face yourself, isn’t it? But I’ve been there… I know that urge.”

“I guess… I just wanted to thank you for the other night. I… I haven’t felt like I could talk to anyone since… since a very long time.” Not since Carmen.

“Hey?” The softness to his voice prompted you to look into his eyes. “You ever feel like you wanna talk? Light a lamp on the corridor in front of your room and I’ll come find you here.”

Too relieved to care if you came across as desperate, you whispered, “really?”

“Yeah. I think it’s high enough that I can see it from all the way across the brook.”

“Is that where you live?”

He winked, “Wouldn’t you want to know, so you could send those wolves after me.”

Snickering, you shoved his arm. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’ll tell you my name the day you tell Sam that you sneaked off to meet me.”

The smile slid completely off your face. “So he could tie me up in his basement?”

It was his turn to snicker. “I don’t think Sam’s that kinky, but who the hell can say?”

That. That right there was why this man you had met only once before felt like a friend already. He could joke about things like that without insulting or pitying you… treating you like an equal just like that first night.

And you snickered with him, at the absurdity of the conversation.

“We should come up with names for one another. You know, suitable for secret rendezvous,” he suggested.

“Thelma and Louise,” you deadpanned.

He looked unimpressed. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s very morbid given the conversation we just had.”

“Admit it… it’s funny.”

“Alright,” he gave in with an eye roll. “A little. But I’m thinking more like Han Solo and Chewbacca.”

“Sounds good, Chewie.”

“You’re Chewie!” He protested. “I’m the good-looking badass. Hell, I have a ride as sweet as the millennium falcon.”

Who was this guy? You wished so bad that you knew, but with gun-wielding men protecting the property, you understood his necessity to stay anonymous. “Okay, Han! Have it your way.”

The thought of gun-wielding security reminded you that you needed to get back to the room before they came looking. You got to your feet.

“Good luck fishing, Han.”

He jumped up as well. “You take care of yourself, Chewie.”

You left him standing there at the edge of the water, feeling lighter than you had felt in days, or months, or even years. When was the last time you’d had the privilege of walking by yourself, barefoot in the grass without having a man following you around? When was the last time you saw the sunset at the horizon knowing that the night wouldn’t bring any horrors? You had food when you wanted it, the right to wear whatever you wanted to. You had been so obsessed with hating Sam all these days that you hadn’t stopped to think about the kind of freedom he had allowed you. No, you didn’t want to be grateful to him, but how could you not be that when your day ended in silk sheets instead of stinky cots?

Abby reprimanded you in her own way for disappearing like you had. You didn’t mind, letting her unload her worry with tuts and disapproving huffs while you stuffed down another one of Martha’s amazing dinners.

The day had been one rollercoaster to another. Starting too early at breakfast with Sam and ending at the chat with Han. You couldn’t pinpoint it precisely, but when Han talked about Sam, there was a certainty in his words. Laying back on your pillow, you thought over everything you had learned today, wondering why any of it mattered to you. It made sense before, to gather as much information as possible about the man who owned you because your survival might have depended on it. But now? Why did it matter now when you knew very well that Sam didn’t want you dead, neither was the connecting door opening anytime soon. Why were you so curious about him to pounce on unsuspecting cooks and men wandering in the woods to understand the man?

Admonishing yourself, you turned off the bedside lamp and knocked on the frame behind you as a force of habit.

I-T-S G-O-I-N-G T-O B-E O-K-A-Y. Y-O-U-L-L B-E F-I-N-E

G-O-O-D N-I-G-H-T

Just as you closed your eyes, the knocks sounded on the other side:

N-O P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S T-O-D-A-Y?

Your heart made itself very known in the next second, each beat distinct.

Raising yourself on your elbow you glared at the wall over you. Hating him had been so much easier than this tangle of emotions you felt for him now. So, the taps that followed were loud.

N-O

A whole minute passed. Before you could jump to conclusions about having said the wrong thing to him, came another series of raps.

G-O-O-D N-I-G-H-T. H-O-P-E Y-O-U S-L-E-E-P B-E-T-T-E-R T-H-A-N L-A-S-T N-I-G-H-T

You wanted to hate him so bad. And you hated that you didn’t.

*****************************

A/N 2: Let me tell you, things only escalate from here and I think in a good way :)

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or you can add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

TNWM taglist:

@cosicas-cuquis @daughterleftbehind @maliburenee @spn730015 @aeo10fan @stoneyggirl2 @houseforwhores @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @linki-locks11 @cookiechipdough @impalaimagining @gabavaldman @multifandom-slxt @chalicia @mrswhozeewhatsis @likhelbentin @vividreader @mackiemcb @qveenmikaelson @lightchesters @deanwanddamons @bluedragonflylady @daddys-littlewhitegirl @mlovesstories @sams-bubblegum-bitch @chinosherlock @hoboal87 @sandlee44 @mariaenchanted @little-x-wolf @theanniewisegirl @supraveng @i-is-for-inspiring @fandom-princess-forevermore @sammedeansandwhich @trexrambling @wittysunflower @strawberryycows @joseyrw @agenthellcat @lacilou @giggles1026 @aloneatpeace

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester #sam love club #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam x y/n #sam winchester x y/n #reader x sam winchester #Ana writes Sam #anawrites #anawritesspn #tnmw5 #Ana writes tnmw #suicide ideation mention #q

126 notes · View notes