SPN: John/Ellen, R
Title: Not a Crusade
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: John/Ellen
Rating: R
Word Count: 578
Summary: Ellen built her own life, thank you very much.
Notes: As always, thanks to the lovely neroli66 for the beta. Written for 15minuteficlets.
Ellen wasn’t one of those rich kids who were spoiled from the second they popped out of the womb. She earned what she had, pushing her way through life and making it into what she wanted, not what she’d been handed. Living that way gives one a certain appreciation for others who share the philosophy.
Her husband had been everything to her, but life was about living in the present and not getting stuck knee-deep in the past. She had a beautiful baby girl, who turned around and grew into a tough, solid woman that Ellen could take pride in; see parts of herself in.
The two of them ran the Roadhouse, giving back what they could to the community that took her in, let her be one of the girls with guns instead of an outsider. Sure, she didn’t hunt, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help, couldn’t point people in the right direction or give them a place to drown their sorrows when the bad guys won.
As much as Ellen would like to believe otherwise, the bad guys did their fair share of winning.
They won her husband, ripped him out of her life as easy as raking in the chips after a hand of poker. Those bastards left her alone, standing still in a run down bar with her little girl and no way of protecting herself.
So she found a way; found a purpose. The woman she had turned into was a far cry from the young lady she had been, but she felt more at home, safer in the place she’d earned. The only time her walls crumbled, even a little, was when John Winchester ran through town.
He always came by with the fire of hell on his heels, rushing in for a night at a time, but unable to really escape from whatever it was he was after. The first time she took him to her bed, he made her forget who she was; made her feel like a trembling, nervous little girl in a world full of men and monsters and firepower.
His calloused hands turned smooth against her skin, building up a fire that crackled between their bodies. His gruff, foul-mouthed lips were softer against her neck; teeth gentle as they nipped below her ear. And when he slid inside of her, he was careful, looking down at her in awe as he moved above her.
The other times - so many that Ellen lost count - weren’t soft or sweet. They were about two broken people coming together and taking comfort in each other’s bodies, trying to make something out of the fucked up hand destiny had dealt them.
John Winchester was not the kind of man Ellen would have chased when she was younger. He was beat up, tormented in a way no one else she knew could even imagine. Half the time she feared she’d end up pinned to a ceiling, burning up as she became his next crusade.
All it took was one look into his eyes, and then she could ground herself, pull her walls around her again and become that stubborn, steadfast woman that she was. John’s heart belonged to Mary, and Ellen had to reign herself in lest she yearn for his. She was a woman full of ambition, someone who had harshly carved out the life she lived, claimed it as her own. She didn’t need pity, and she didn’t take handouts.
Prompt: Ambition
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: John/Ellen
Rating: R
Word Count: 578
Summary: Ellen built her own life, thank you very much.
Notes: As always, thanks to the lovely neroli66 for the beta. Written for 15minuteficlets.
Ellen wasn’t one of those rich kids who were spoiled from the second they popped out of the womb. She earned what she had, pushing her way through life and making it into what she wanted, not what she’d been handed. Living that way gives one a certain appreciation for others who share the philosophy.
Her husband had been everything to her, but life was about living in the present and not getting stuck knee-deep in the past. She had a beautiful baby girl, who turned around and grew into a tough, solid woman that Ellen could take pride in; see parts of herself in.
The two of them ran the Roadhouse, giving back what they could to the community that took her in, let her be one of the girls with guns instead of an outsider. Sure, she didn’t hunt, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help, couldn’t point people in the right direction or give them a place to drown their sorrows when the bad guys won.
As much as Ellen would like to believe otherwise, the bad guys did their fair share of winning.
They won her husband, ripped him out of her life as easy as raking in the chips after a hand of poker. Those bastards left her alone, standing still in a run down bar with her little girl and no way of protecting herself.
So she found a way; found a purpose. The woman she had turned into was a far cry from the young lady she had been, but she felt more at home, safer in the place she’d earned. The only time her walls crumbled, even a little, was when John Winchester ran through town.
He always came by with the fire of hell on his heels, rushing in for a night at a time, but unable to really escape from whatever it was he was after. The first time she took him to her bed, he made her forget who she was; made her feel like a trembling, nervous little girl in a world full of men and monsters and firepower.
His calloused hands turned smooth against her skin, building up a fire that crackled between their bodies. His gruff, foul-mouthed lips were softer against her neck; teeth gentle as they nipped below her ear. And when he slid inside of her, he was careful, looking down at her in awe as he moved above her.
The other times - so many that Ellen lost count - weren’t soft or sweet. They were about two broken people coming together and taking comfort in each other’s bodies, trying to make something out of the fucked up hand destiny had dealt them.
John Winchester was not the kind of man Ellen would have chased when she was younger. He was beat up, tormented in a way no one else she knew could even imagine. Half the time she feared she’d end up pinned to a ceiling, burning up as she became his next crusade.
All it took was one look into his eyes, and then she could ground herself, pull her walls around her again and become that stubborn, steadfast woman that she was. John’s heart belonged to Mary, and Ellen had to reign herself in lest she yearn for his. She was a woman full of ambition, someone who had harshly carved out the life she lived, claimed it as her own. She didn’t need pity, and she didn’t take handouts.
Prompt: Ambition