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august of '85 (Steddie, Part 2)

A week.

Steve has had weeks of his life pass by like seconds—hell, the first ten years of his life seem to have left even faster than that.

But now, he itches.

It’s morning, and Eddie’s in a t-shirt and boxers chugging coffee like it’s wine, wandering aimlessly around the living room with a background of natural light and ocean, and all Steve can think is that he wants to pick him up and drag him to bed—his bed.

Last night, they had slept in separate rooms, but slept is a complete overstatement. Steve tossed and turned and struggled over many things, most of them falling back to Eddie in some way, shape, or form—the condensed version is this—

He’s gay? He’s gay. Well, half-gay. He should ask Eddie about that. Eddie? Yeah. Eddie. He should’ve known—if Robin and Nancy could physically make a baby, it’d be Eddie. Nancy and Robin making a baby—ew, okay, gross. Enough of that. Eddie—he’s really beautiful. And they kissed. Didn’t they meet less than two weeks ago? But Steve also invited him on a month-long vacation, so is kissing him really that far-fetched? Can something that happened even be far-fetched? Now he has to wait a week. Why? Why couldn’t it have just been, like, a day? And what had Eddie meant about ruining his life? What could ruin his life—being gay? Kind of too late to change that, isn’t it? But he is only half-gay. So he technically could just… go on. Normally. That seems like living sort of a lie, though, right?

Steve spent hours mulling over his situation in his brain, and only realized this morning the part he hadn’t really addressed—how the fuck is he supposed to last a week when Eddie will be walking around in his pajamas, breaking bread with him, swimming with him, walking along the beach with him, having tons of vacation firsts—

Fuck, and he’s just supposed to sit around here, genuinely crushing on somebody for the first time in months, and not act on it? When he knows it’s reciprocated?

He’s screwed.

“Eds—”

“That’s a new one.”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, mug hardly removed from his lips, curls down around his face like an actual lion’s mane. He’s beautiful, literally like some sort of model with that nose and those lips—Steve can picture this exact image of him, backed by those huge windows and all that water, shoved in some home-decoration magazine, and the lady looking through it would jump at his tattoos and his Metallica t-shirt but be so genuinely captivated by those eyes that—

“Hello? Earth to Steve?”

Steve snaps out of it, feeling heat rise up into his cheeks. it's embarassing to be caught staring so adamantly, but he hasn’t allowed himself to feel all of this yet. And he wants to.

Desperately.

“I—sorry. Do we really have to—”

Eddie puts up a hand, a terrible way to try and focus him because all Steve can think about then is that black fingernail polish and those rings and how those might feel on his skin or in his hair or even in his mouth, how they taste, or what it would be like to have them inside him or—

Woah. Woah.

Christ. When he gets it, he gets it bad, huh?

“The week is non-negotiable,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve is still staring at his hands, so he can’t find it in himself to be totally devastated, “I need you to be 100% sure this is what you want. I’m not ruining my first and only vacation by sleeping with my handler—”

“Woah, pause. Do not call me your handler.”

Eddie grins, and Steve thinks he can call him whatever he wants for the rest of his life if he keeps smiling just like that.

“Why not?” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, something Steve was not aware a man could actually do, and spins around like a true showman, “I’m an animal, baby. You just try and keep me out of trouble.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He wants, no, needs to reach out and pull Eddie in by the waist, push their noses together and tease him up close and personal, but--

He settles for sitting down on the couch, falling back into the cushions, supremely careful of the coffee in his cup. He took the plastic off these couches years ago. His parents never noticed. Has he spilled a couple times? Yes. Does it matter?

Not in his house.

“I know exactly how to keep your dumb ass in line.”

“Oh really?”

A challenge. Steve tries not to look too smug as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Distract and occupy,” he says, “Ask you about D&D and then hand you something shiny and you’re set for hours.”

If Steve thought that last smile was something, this one is a spiritual experience. Not only does Eddie beam, he tips his head back and laughs, exposing throat and releasing genuine joy and if that’s not everything Steve has ever wanted, he’s not sure what could be.

Is he whipped? He’s whipped. How is he even asking himself that question, of course he’s whipped. God—he’s gotta call Robin. He’s not even sure how he’s holding this conversation his mind is so fuzzy.

“Distract and occupy,” Eddie repeats, eyes shining, “I can think of a few different ways to do that.”

Oh. Oh.

Eddie is so not helping his situation.

They finish their coffees with easy conversation—how they slept, what the plan is for today, when they should go for groceries. They decide to shower and get dressed on their own timelines and when they’re ready they’ll be ready, which is nothing like it used to be with his parents. Minute by minute itineraries—his mom, when she was younger, was eager to do as much as they could in the time they were allotted. You’d think she would’ve been less concerned considering they had a whole month to waste out here, but she somehow always managed to fill every single moment with some tourist attraction or event. It never felt like too much, either. She was a planning master—completely balanced.

As she got older, and after the affair, all she wanted to do was lie around and drink wine on a beach somewhere else. Part of him suspects she just can’t handle being here anymore.

The memories that cradle him haunt her.

Steve uses his shower to get it the fuck together. He does not think about Eddie or smooth pale skin or what his tan lines are gonna be like in a week or wonder if he’s thinking about Steve and if he is, what he’s doing about it. No, Steve doesn’t think about any of those things at all.

He presses his forehead and nose to the shower wall and takes a breath. He lets the water fall over his skin and tries to wash away all this achy want and desperation, tries to look at it from the other angle—not forward, but backwards.

Eddie isn’t going to be a forever thing, that much is clear, so if Steve wants to keep himself from falling into actual pieces, the best thing to do is to stop all this unhinged fantasy. Eddie may be a crush, and a boy, and a beautiful boy at that, but he doesn’t belong to Steve anymore than Nancy ever did, or Robin ever did, or any of those random girls he shared sheets with.

No, Eddie is an end-of-summer fling. Steve has to make peace with that. He’s not having a Nancy the Second where he obsesses long after his opportunity is over—he’s taking the opportunity and he’s making the most out of it, just like his mom had all those Augusts before.

His shower finishes swiftly after that, and he doesn’t even bother blow drying and styling his hair before he’s throwing on the nearest thing—shorts and a t-shirt—and hauling ass downstairs so he can get to a phone before Eddie’s done getting ready.

Of course, he knows Robin’s number by heart, but he suspects that’s not where she is.

“Hawkin’s Family Video, how can I—“

“Rob it’s me,” Steve says quickly, “I’ve gotta talk to you and I don’t have a lot of time so I need you to just shut up and listen.”

“Steven—“

“I kissed Eddie, er, Eddie kissed me—you know what it doesn’t matter, Eddie and I kissed and I really fucking liked it and I think him and I are going to have the most intense summer fling of my life and I’m kind of freaking out and I also need you to tell me if I can like girls and guys because I definitely like girls but I’m obsessed with Eddie—he’s like, genuinely gorgeous and I don’t even know what I want him to do to me because I’ve never even thought about how any of this works and I think I’m probably losing it but I have to take the opportunity where I can even though he said it could only be an August thing but I, like, genuinely like him too so that’s really confusing and, like, logistically when we get home what if being friends is too weird and—“

“Holy fuck.”

Steve stops short at her whispered profanity. He has never heard her sound like that, and then it gets louder—

“Holy fuck!”

“What?!”

“You’re into Eddie?! Steve—we’ve been trying to get you a date for months and you’re into fucking Eddie Munson who you whined about having to meet for weeks?!” Steve flinches.

“Don’t ever tell him that.”

“Incredible!” She is laughing almost uncontrollably. Steve really hopes there’s nobody in the store because if he were in family video and heard maniacal laughing like that he’d have the culprit committed pronto.

“Rob, seriously, I don’t have time for this—“

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you were bi! That’s just—oh my god, of course.”

“Bi? What do you mean of course?” Steve asks, starting to get slightly offended.

“Star Wars? Indiana Jones? Blade Runner?! You’ve got a fat ass celebrity crush on Harrison Ford.”

Steve’s heard the term “shell-shocked” before, but he’d never really understood until this very moment. He might as well have been sucker-punched in the dick.

Of course.

Robin is laughing hysterically over the line, but he just feels like crying. Of course he likes men—is he stupid? Dumb question, yes he’s stupid. And it churns in his guts to think of all those kids who probably struggled through Hawkins High, knowing they were different, never knowing who or how to be, and he was just like them and yet there he was, excusing Tommy’s behavior and laughing along.

What a piece of actual shit.

“I'm an idiot,” he says weakly. Robin’s laughter dies abruptly.

“Hey—no. You’re not an idiot, it’s not always easy to—“

“I'm an idiot and a hypocrite,” Steve says, choking a little bit on the tears that slide down his cheeks, “God—I’m evil, Rob.”

“Steven, we’ve talked about this,” she says softly, “You didn’t—“

“Steve?”

Steve jumps and slams the phone into the receiver so hard a few wall decorations literally shake. He shouldn’t turn as fast as he does, should attempt to collect himself first, but he’s so surprised by Eddie’s sudden appearance he can’t even think to do that.

“I just—“

“Still need that week?”

Steve flinches. He puts the heel of his palm up against his forehead and takes a deep breath.

“No, but yes,” he says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feels, “I’ll wait if it’s what you want, but my mind’s made up.”

“Oh… so… what’s all… this about?”

Steve can’t help himself—he laughs a little. At least he’s got one thing up on Eddie, that being the ability to deal with people’s emotions arguably okay. Eddie certainly does not sound like he knows what to do in this situation.

“I just sucked,” he manages, but barely. He’s glad to have covered some of his face, because the tears are not stopping, and he feels like an idiot crying over something that’s ultimately his own fault.

He chose to be ignorant. He chose to be cruel. He chose popularity over sincerity.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate?”

Does he? Does he really?

“In highschool,” he groans, moving his hands to wipe tears away, sniffing hard. “I pushed around people—kids—who were just like me. I treated them like shit when I could have—”

Eddie’s arms close around him, fingers sliding into his wet hair, and Steve lets it happen—it feels like they’ve failed the “give it a week” stipulation already, but the embrace is good, and he needed it badly.

He doesn’t hug Eddie back, just lets himself be held.

“I’m gonna tell you something now, and if you tell anyone I did, I’ll fucking deny it.”

Steve takes a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

“Everybody sucks in high school,” Eddie says firmly. His fingers start to stroke across the back of Steve’s head and the feeling would have him absolutely catatonic if he wasn’t bent on hearing Eddie out— “Everyone. Kids like you, kids like me—we all had some chip on our shoulder, and some reason we were secretly better than everyone else. You were just… people just believed it about you.”

That doesn’t really make him feel better, because he knows that it wasn’t even anything about him they decided was better—it was his place on the basketball team (which had been mediocre at best) and his money and his hair and his last name and his friends and his charming manner and his pretty face—

Sports, money, hair—it’s all meaningless and stupid. It doesn’t matter, and this isn’t the first time Steve is realizing it, but it’s the first time he’s come to terms with the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and how he had abused that ridiculousness to its fullest extent. Not only had he abused it, he had enjoyed abusing it. And he routinely hurt people in the process, not to mention denying himself actual happiness and actual friends..

Fuck.

“I’m a bad person,” Steve whispers, and Eddie’s light petting turns into a firm grasp.

“A bad person wouldn’t feel shitty about this stuff,” Eddie argues, and then pulls back from the embrace, fixing Steve with those doe eyes and swallowing gaze, “And, I’ve got pretty high standards, like, Luke Skywalker standards.”

Steve smiles a little as Eddie reaches to brush away a few of his tears.

“I wouldn’t kiss a bad person, or agree to have a summer fling with them,” Eddie says, “And I wouldn’t bend the rules and let a bad person kiss me one more time to tide them over.”

Steve takes the opportunity for all it’s worth.

It taste like salt and spit because he’s still crying, but Eddie’s mouth is so soft and captivating that the kiss, which had every intention of being chaste, grows insistent and long. Eddie’s face in his hands, Eddie’s thumbs in his belt loops, the smell of shampoo and clean clothes and—

They break. Eddie smiles, letting a thumb pass over Steve’s lips.

“The week starts now.”

And, oh, is it bittersweet.

Friday, August 2nd—they spend what’s left of the day getting groceries, Eddie seemingly mesmerized by the small beach-town and its cobblestone streets and endless array of tourist traps. Every other storefront is a gift shop of useless trinkets, themed cafes, arcades, bars—if it’s going to empty your pockets, it’s there. Amidst all of it, though, there is a record store that’s genuinely cool, and if they hadn’t already purchased a crap-load of things that begged for a refrigerator, Steve would’ve been content to spend hours watching Eddie tear through the stacks, and then surprise him by buying every single thing he marveled at.

An idea for another day.

After that, they hang around the house, chatting, arguing, making pancakes for dinner—they get to bed at reasonable times, and despite how badly Steve wants to walk down the hall and crawl into bed with his… friend, he manages to just sleep instead, pillow trapped securely in his arms.

Saturday, August 3rd—ice cream for breakfast, which has them both giggly and on embarrassing sugar highs, so they decide today is a beach day.

Eddie’s unearthly, as usual, and excited like a child at the vastness of the ocean.

Excited or not, he’s still timid about getting in the water.

“What about the sharks?” he asks.

“Sharks don’t kill near as many people as cars do,” Steve points out.

“Really?”

“Really. Get in the water, Eds.”

“It’s still really weird to hear me call you that.”

“Get in the water, baby.”

Steve continues looking out at the ocean (not his favorite sight, because man, is that all kind of scary) even though he’s certain Eddie’s head whips towards him fast enough to break his own neck. Steve may be whipped, but he isn’t totally shit at flirting. Sure, he’s used to girls, but could it really be all that different?

A beat.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” Steve continues casually, “Let’s go.”

Once Eddie’s in the water he doesn’t want to get out of it, and Steve’s alright with that until he realizes how burnt Eddie is, and then practically has to drag him out and back up to the house so he can absolutely smother him with aloe vera.

“It doesn’t even hurt!”

“It will,” Steve chides, “You idiot—did you even put sunscreen on?”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbles sheepishly.

“Of course you did.”

Sunday, August 4th—Eddie is too embarrassed of his cherry-tomato appearance to agree to go anywhere, so they stay in and watch old movies. Steve desperately wants Eddie to cuddle up next to him on the couch, but at the moment, the older boy is radiating heat and visibly in pain, so he understands when Eddie leaves a generous amount of space between them.

Monday, August 5th—Eddie’s burn settles into a tan and Steve avoids eye-contact with him for about an hour straight, because he’s glowing, and Steve wants to shove him onto the nearest flat surface and… well, he’s not exactly sure what he wants to do, but he’d do it enthusiastically.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Then look at me.”

Steve tentatively lifts his gaze.

“Was that so hard?”

Yes. It’s miserable. This is the bitter part of the week—not being able to act on all these steadily brewing feelings of want and need. He loves being here with Eddie, but he wants to be here with Eddie, too. He gets it—or at least, thinks he gets it. Eddie doesn’t want him to make a hasty decision, regret it, and ruin this vacation for both of them.

That makes sense. Too much sense, really.

But it doesn’t make waiting any easier.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Steve breathes, and Eddie physically starts.

“I—what?”

“Drop-dead, breathtaking, whatever you want,” Steve admits.

Eddie’s the first boy Steve ever called beautiful out loud, and he can’t help but think this is exactly how things are supposed to be.

Tuesday, August 6th—Steve enacts his plan of taking Eddie to the record store, and it’s everything he could have hoped. Eddie is downright euphoric every second, so distracted he doesn’t notice Steve picking up all the records he puts down (after ogling them for extended amounts of time), and so distraught about Steve buying them he doesn’t even argue—just watches with wide eyes as Steve chats up the cashier who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair and can’t get a sentence out without stumbling over her words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the reason we came.”

“You… are you serious?”

“Consider this a thank-you for agreeing to a month-long vacation with a stranger.”

“I… don’t think I can accept this.”

“Too late.”

Wednesday, August 7th—Steve is cranky. He hates to admit it, but he’s tired of this. He’s not sure he can handle the next two days of no Eddie. Well, not exactly no Eddie, but like… half Eddie. He doesn’t like having half Eddie.

But he pushes it all down, because he’s going to obey Eddie’s one and only request, even though he knows his mind isn’t changing. If this week gives Eddie piece of mind, he'll deal with it.

Begrudgingly.

They go to an arcade and waste what’s probably hundreds of dollars for a sad amount of tickets and dogshit prizes—a collection of plastic shot glasses and a toy gun that doesn’t even shoot anything, but makes some unsettling noises when you pull the trigger.

They take the shot glasses as a sign to get tipsy that night, and end up drunk, daring each other this and daring each other that until the topic of skinny-dipping gets brought up.

“No, no—we can’t. There’s sharks at night!”

“In the pool, then!”

And then they’re stumbling drunk out towards the pool, shoving each other and yelling and laughing maniacally, and if Steve were anyone else he would say they were in love, but Steve’s not anyone else and he knows the time limit on all this, so he swallows that thought and focuses on getting rid of his shirt and pants without falling over. Then his socks, and—

He stills. He realizes, even through the fog of intoxication, this is a very precarious situation.

Despite how annoyed he is with the week, and how much he wishes Eddie would just say “fuck it” and change his mind, he knows it’s important. For Eddie, at least.

But Eddie’s naked in front of him and Steve can’t seem to remember how to function.

It only lasts a matter of moments, because soon Eddie’s in the water and teasing him about being a chicken, but Steve’s still thinking about everything he’s just seen, every inch of Eddie’s skin, how real all of him is in that water—

Steve can’t go a day, here, without being some sort of shaken to his core, can he?

“Get in the water, baby,” Eddie purrs.

“I can’t.” It falls out of Steve involuntarily—he’s drunk.

“Yes, you can.”

“How?”

“Lose the boxers, jump in the pool,” Eddie says, “It’s that easy.”

Steve shakes his head. Then swallows.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Steve—“

“I’m hard.”

He doesn’t realize it until he’s saying it, and then after it leaves him, understands that yeah. He’s fucking hard, and all that happened was Eddie getting naked in front of him. No contact, no sexual insinuation, just skin.

Eddie must be magic.

“I can see that.”

Steve is utterly mortified. He doesn’t know what to do except move his shirt (from where it had been clutched against his chest) to hide his growing erection. Now would’ve been a fantastic time to have whiskey dick.

“I… wanna finish the week,” Steve says softly. Eddie’s smirk dies on his face.

“Really?”

“I want you to trust me. I want… I want to do this for you.”

The look on Eddie’s face is foreign, and Steve doesn’t have the brain power available to figure out what it means, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Now that his intentions are clear, Steve drops the shirt and his boxers. A curious glance catches Eddie’s pupils dilating comically, but maybe that’s just from the alcohol.

Eddie backs away from the edge when Steve gets in the water, and they manage to keep their distance.

Barely.

Thursday, August 8th—Steve is itchy, and that’s all he has to report.

They lie around, swim in the pool, and walk on the beach. Nothing eventful, except he’s itchy with anticipation. He’s so close, so fucking close he can practically taste the sweat and salt on Eddie’s skin.

It’s not enough.

Friday, August 9th—midnight tonight and Steve is finally free.

They go for coffee, they hang around—and by hang around, he means Eddie hangs around his periphery as he scours every available source for something they can do tonight, because he has to take his mind off midnight

A bar with an indie band will do.

He tells Eddie about it, who’s got his nose in a book—

“That’s a good one,” Steve tells him.

“Really?”

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a textbook when I picked it up,” Eddie says, flipping a page.

“So did I,” Steve admits, moving around the couch. Eddie scoots for him so they can lie side by side. This is without any real words or indications—Eddie just knows, and he knows when Steve lies down next to him that they’re reading together, now, and asks him quietly if he can turn the page.

The summer home, tucked away in its own little corner of beach-front paradise, has a history far more interesting than the tale at hand, so I will tell it in hopes it makes my story a little fuller, a little brighter—Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name—

Steve likes this one a lot. He likes Augustine and Betty and James and the drama of it all, and the house on the beach, and all the twisting metaphors, and the way T.S. writes like she’s got a feather in her palm rather than a keyboard at her fingertips. Most of all, he likes that she begins and ends each chapter with a poem, and that his parents had lifted “Holiday House” from this book and plastered it across their own property. He likes that the novel lives here on the shelves of a place named after it. He likes that Eddie’s reading it, now, too.

They read together through chapters four, five, six, seven, and eight. Eddie seems invested, but the time it’s taken them to get here is enough to have practically starved them both.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” Steve says as Eddie turns to chapter nine, “Keep reading.”

“Without you?”

“I’ve already read it.”

Steve gets up off the couch, missing the warmth Eddie’s body had been exuding, but his hunger supersedes his desire to crawl back onto the couch and fall asleep on Eddie’s chest.

Tonight.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Should be one in the desk in the sunroom,” Steve replies without a second thought, “What’re you hungry for?”

That night they go to the aformentioned bar, Eddie get’s a little tipsy, and they have a fantastic time (at first). The band is beyond good, the crowd is loud, and by 10 P.M. these two girls have joined them, and Steve and Eddie are having a hell of a time chatting them up.

Ally and Aubree—neither of which are Steve’s type, but are arguably gorgeous. Blond, sunkissed, wreaking of tequila and sunscreen and cheap perfume. He’s finding it very funny to chat with Aubree (he’s pretty sure it’s Aubree) knowing full well he’ll be pedal-to-the-metal gunning it home at midnight. Maybe he and Eddie won’t even make it out of the car. Maybe they’ll go out to the parking lot and it’ll already be too late for them, falling all over each other into the back-seat while Ally and Aubree disappointedly hunt for different prey.

It dawns on Steve, then, he’s sort of being an ass, but so far, nothing in he and Aubree’s conversation has explicitly alluded to going home together. For all he knows, she’s gonna go home and jump Ally’s bones--same deal as him.

The same, however, cannot be said for Eddie, who is clearly too good at flirting for his own good, and has Ally completely hooked. Steve can’t help glancing over now and again, watching them closely, not feeling jealousy, but more… awe? He’s incredibly impressed with Eddie’s performance.

“You think she’s hotter?”

Steve starts.

“What?!”

“You think Ally’s hotter than me,” Aubree states again, voice loud over the music and the crowd, but not loud enough for it to catch Ally or Eddie’s attention.

“No—I—”

Eddie and Ally get up from the table. Something inside Steve’s guts sinks, and sinks low. He watches them disappear into the crowd. He swallows. He turns back to Aubree.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says, honestly, “I’m just not looking for a hookup tonight.”

Aubree grins at the compliment. Steve tries to keep his cool, but he’s feeling the exact opposite of cool. He is, in fact, spiraling. He realizes, in this moment, Eddie may not be attracted to that girl, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not going to oblige her.

Steve had thought this was all fun and games, but now he just wants to throw up.

Not that it’s any of his business what Eddie does. Not that Eddie’s obligated to stick to only him this summer. It’s a fling, afterall.

A fling.

“You wanna dance?” Aubree asks.

"What?"

She points, "Dance!"

The indie-folk vibe is not incredibly conducive to dancing, but Steve’s up for anything if it takes his mind off Eddie and that girl. That girl. Eddie had said verbatim he was gay, right?

He allows himself to be led to the dance floor.

He tries to forget.

He feels sick.

In the car on the drive back, Steve knows he’s being eerily quiet. He knows Eddie is uncomfortable with his silence. He knows he should turn on the radio, or say something, but all he wants to do is ask if Eddie kissed that girl, if maybe he did something worse than that, and if he had, Steve desperately wants to know how and why and what the logistics of hooking up with some random girl in Maine were when Eddie had said he was gay, and if all gay men could just hook up with women, and if all Eddie had to do was think of Mark Hamil or some other nice guy and that was good enough for him, because a hole is a hole and—

“Are you pissed, or something?”

Eddie’s tone is already accusatory, and it just makes Steve feel worse.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Then don’t act like a kicked puppy because I made out with some random chick at a bar.”

Made out.

Steve goes so quiet it’s like he’s not even breathing, at this point. He feels the urge to cry burning at the back of his skull and he fights it, hard. He knows it’s not his place to be upset—they never said anything about them being exclusive this summer. Steve was flirting with Aubree somewhat, too, and danced with her, even.

Not really because he’d wanted to, but still.

Steve swallows.

“Are you pissed at me?”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave the road, but his hands grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles are an unnatural shade of white compared to the rest of his skin. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him—all the more reason not to cry. He’s fighting tooth and nail for it. He doesn’t get why this all feels so bad. He doesn’t get why he’s so upset.

Maybe he had just expected tonight to be their night.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? “Why the fuck would I be mad at you?”

Steve’s turn to scoff—he has no idea why Eddie would be mad, but it’s hard to believe he isn’t when he sounds so goddamn angry.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“At least I’m not mad.”

“I’m not mad—” Eddie’s getting madder every second.

They pull into the driveway and Steve stops abruptly, pretty much wrenching the key out of the ignition and kicking the driver door open the way Eddie had done to the passenger.

It’s a little satisfying, he will admit.

He stalks up the driveway, because now he is mad, and hurt, and feeling like he’s been betrayed even though he hasn’t been. He wants to sleep it off. He has to sleep it off. “Now who’s the mad one?!” Eddie calls after him, and Steve's resolve snaps like a twig. He spins around, tears flowing, anger spilling.

“You don’t even like girls!” he yells. Eddie’s so taken aback he literally takes a step back, even though there’s a whole driveway of space between them. “What the fuck kind of asshole makes a guy wait an entire week to be with him, and then two-hours before the week is up, runs off to make out with some random bitch?!"

He hadn't meant that, the bitch part, but it feels so good to say it now, even though he'll feel guilty about it later.

“Why do you care so much?!” Eddie yells back, so furious now he’s literally red in the face— “You’re gonna do the exact same shit a month from now!”

“Says who?!” Steve shouts, “Who the fuck said September 1st is gonna roll around and I’m suddenly not gonna be fucking obsessed with you, Eddie?! Because I have been fucking dying for this week to be over, and it’s gonna fucking kill me to go home, but I’m gonna do it for you, okay?!”

His chest is heaving. He can feel the red in his cheeks and the salt on his tongue. He is, for maybe the hundredth time, utterly pathetic. But he can’t stop himself.

“Steve—”

“If we’re doing this,” he says, “We’re doing this. You’re mine for twenty-two fucking days. I. Like. You."

Steve turns on his heel and storms inside, leaving the door to Holiday House hanging wide open. As angry as he is, he doesn’t want to risk slamming it shut and having Eddie turn and go. This way, Steve at least knows he’ll follow him inside to shut and lock the door.

He trudges up the stairs and into his room, leaving that door open, too. He peels out of his shirt and unbuckles his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it angrily to the floor. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to put himself back in order, halting the flow of tears and taking deep breaths to soothe his anger.

“I’m sorry,” comes quietly from the doorway, “I just—I didn’t know it was serious for you.”

That seems ridiculous, all things considered.

“It’s not for you?”

There’s a long quiet. Steve doesn’t have it in himself to turn around. He should’ve known what he was feeling wasn’t reciprocated—Steve’s not the kind of guy Eddie wants or needs, and for some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for that, even though he knew it all along. He should be grateful, take what he can get, but all he feels is—

“I was trying to… I thought you would feel better about all this if you thought I didn’t care,” Eddie admits. “I thought if you knew how much I fucking liked you, you wouldn’t let me have you at all.”

Steve spins around, hands on his hips, chest still heaving.

“What time is it?”

Eddie blinks. He looks thoroughly disheveled, still red, and sheepish, like somehow he’s humiliated himself. In a few ways, he has acted like a fucking fool, but Steve is no less attracted to the idiot now than he was before. He did a stupid fucking thing, but Steve has done a hundred stupid fucking things in his life, and he’ll do a hundred fucking more. Eddie's logic is sort-of sound, he just wishes he would've said something to Steve instead of taking it out on some random girl.

“What?”

“What. Time. Is. It?” Steve demands again. Eddie stammers, eyes darting around the room until they land on the alarm clock on Steve’s bedside table.

“Twelve-thirty? Are we—”

Steve doesn’t let him finish.

He surges forward and seizes Eddie by the face, bringing their mouths together insistently, all tongue and teeth and spit and bitter remnants of tears. Eddie get’s hands on his ass and he moans about it, which spurs the older boy forward, and they go tumbling back into Steve’s bed.

I love you, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against his throat before he's sucking and biting and soothing with his tongue and Steve is reduced to sensation--Eddie's body on top of his, knee between his thighs, bedsheets against his back--

“Prove it,” Steve breathes.

And he does—over and over and over again.

End Part 2

(Previous Part)

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ms-understand · 7 months

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Public Libraries Really Are Punk Rock

I think if anyone pays attention to this blog they'll see that I love rock and roll music and pop music and the different ways things branch off and end up everywhere. That probably makes me seem like I'm all over the place, but I'm not. For me, a love for music began with punk rock. I had a second cousin who blasted Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols at top volume in his car. I was 12. It was the scariest thing I ever heard in my life, but unlike most people in a little town a half hour away from the cities, I LOVED it. Like I loved Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's monster. I wanted more and I found it on public radio (KFAI) and in public libraries. My cousin started making me tapes. I started doing little things with my hair to slowly start telling the world that I'm a punk rocker. I started meeting other kids with similar interest and they got me into skateboarding. When you hear the Minutemen say " punk rock changed our lives " there's a reason why you hear Sublime sample that. From one generation to the next, punk rock changed our lives.

I'm autistic. When I was a kid, I was put in classes full of kids with all kinds of completely different learning disabilities. I couldn't do much when I was in my first few years of elementary school. I couldn't read. I could write like a first grader, maybe, when I was around 9 or 10.

Then two things happened at all most the same time. That Sex Pistols story I just told you and Storm from the X-Men got a mohawk.

She got that mohawk and I started to learn how to read. It sounds weird, but when I was 12 I wanted to be a black woman with a white mohawk. If you think that's messed up, well I still want to be a woman with a white mohawk. I'm ok with being white now, but just not a white guy. And I'm a coward. There aren't many people who know me that would describe me as normal, and I even came out as trans on Facebook and said I was going to see a gender therapist and I did and after being asked a lot of questions the therapist told me what I wanted to hear and I would be able to get HRT, but I need to see a councilor a few times. So, I haven't made an appointment. I am terrified of talking to a councilor, even though I thought that was what the gender therapist was for.

I'm getting off track, but the point is that came from Storm, a comic book character, who was the superhero that I wanted to be, because she was a punk rocker. That got me sounding out words and reading. That got me to a library, where I could look things up in catalogs and find them and check them out. The public library got me listening to The Replacements, Husker Du, X, Gang Of Four, Devo, The Suburbs, Dickies, The Clash, and more. I first heard Metallica when the library got a new record called Ride The Lightening.

Every one of those records would get me looking up news paper and magazine articles about the bands.

Now, there's this blog thing and I'm listening and looking up and seeing how it all happened and where it came from and then doing that again and again because if I don't, I will sink into a depression and maybe end up in a hospital. I think there are probably a lot of people out there doing this. Maybe not in the same way, but with the same intention. Autistic kids are known for stacking things. I doubt all autistic kids do it, and a hole lot of kids in general do it. That's why blocks are a popular toy.

This is a blog inspired by many things but the root of it is from an autistic, queercore kid who wishes they could be Storm.

#autism #queer #storm #x-men #punk #me #books & libraries

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jjthoughts3000 · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The first Sunday to begin this tradition started in an argument.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: small mention of academic validation, academic burn out, emotional hurt/comfort, a small argument but nothing crazy, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, reader is involved in clubs, crying, reader is 18, petnames (sweetheart/babygirl), let me know if I missed anything!

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: multi-part fic (wip)

𝐌 𝐚 𝐬 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭

Senior year was hard on you and Eddie, and it had barely even started. You can still feel the August heat radiating from outside, but school began one week ago and it has been anything but a relaxing summer day.

Extracurriculars have been non stop due to recruiting new club members and planning the first day pep rally. The teachers also believe that since you’ve had “all this rest” over summer break, the students deserve homework on the first day and a unit test every Friday.

Today marks the 5th day of senior year and you’ve probably spent one hour with your boyfriend in the past week. Eddie is on his journey to find new hellfire members and you’re focused on passing today’s history test. Although you have the class together, one of you is more concerned about the test than the other…

After the stress of juggling classes, working at Family Video, and leading club activities, you are completely prepared to lay in bed with Eddie the whole 48 hour weekend and do absolutely nothing. But things don’t always go as planned.

After your last class of the day, you rush to the parking lot to meet your awaiting boyfriend. “There’s my little overachieve,” he greets with a smile. As you stride closer, he pulls you into his leather and jean padded chest and holds you for what feels like the first time in forever. “A 97 on the history test… god my girlfriend is a genus.” He kisses your forehead, still embraced in a hug, to show his excitement towards your test score.

“You know it’s crazy, but studying actually improves your grade. Maybe you should try it sometime, mister 56.” You comment back with a smirk.

“Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Wow, mimicking me, real mature. I think your new freshmen friends are rubbing off on you.”

“Hey! Don’t diss the baby freshmen.” Both of you pull away in laughter after finally having a normal conversation without the rest of the hellfire members or bandmates in attendance. Eddie walks around to the passenger side so he can open your door while continuing his train of thought. “Speaking of the babies, we have the initiation meeting tonight at 6. You’re comin’ right?”

“Wait, I’m not being initiated, why do I need to come?,” you questioned.

“Well you don’t need to come… I just want you to.” His voice got lower at the end of his sentence and he started fidgeting with his rings while waiting for your response.

How in the world are you supposed to say no to your boyfriend when he looks so shy asking you to attend his meeting? No matter how exhausted you are, you will always show up and support Eddie.

Which is how you found yourself finally on the way to the trailer park, well past 11 pm, after what felt like the longest initiation ever. You love attending hellfire meetings and observing Eddie in his element, but after what could be considered the most ass-kicking, mentally draining, and busiest first week of school in existence, all you wanted to do is lay in bed with your metalhead lover and listen to his rundown Metallica tapes. But no, you don’t get to spend quality time with your boyfriend. At this point, you just shower and go straight to bed, not missing the way Eddie is writing away at his desk, and doesn’t come lay down for hours.

He doesn’t pay attention to the way you move around his room, silently preparing for bed and falling asleep instantly, too immersed in writing next week’s campaign. Nor does he notice that you fell asleep without saying your “goodnights” and “I love yous.”

Saturday morning you wake up to the sound of the local news playing in the living room, knowing Wayne must have left the television on after he went to work. You head towards the static sound before switching it off, allowing the birds chirping outside to fill the new silence. You’re positive Eddie didn’t go to bed at a reasonable hour last night and decided to just make breakfast for one, assuming he won’t be up anytime soon.

A little past noon and a few book chapters later, you look up from your novel to see a mop of raven hair emerge from the hallway. “Mmm, I thought I smelled coffee.” he motions towards the pot you brewed and moves to stand behind the kitchen chair you currently occupy.

“There’s a little left if you want it, but it’s about time for lunch if you want me to make something.” You look up after responding to the half-asleep boy and he leans down to press a slow peck to your lips. With a hum of satisfaction he pulls away to grab a mug from the creaking cabinet, filling it with what's left of the caffeinated drink.

He slumps down in the seat next to you and takes a quick sip from his cup before responding. “Yeah we could eat really fast and then I gotta head to Gareth’s for practice.”

“I thought you didn’t have plans today?”

“Well the guys mentioned practicing today at the meeting last night since we have a gig on Tuesday.” He didn’t think anything of accepting the plan and continues to drink his coffee.

“But I figured that we would watch a movie or visit the music store you like or something today because we haven’t done anything together since school started.”

“We went to hellfire together yesterday...” He added confused.

“Yeah with 6 other people there.”

“We slept together last night.” You swear he’s being oblivious just to test your nerves.

“But we didn’t fall asleep together.” You emphasize on certain parts, hoping he understands your point. This conversation is going south real quick, and you don’t want to take your frustration out on Eddie, but you've had an exhausting week that he just seems to be ignoring. “You were too busy planning the next meeting to even lay with me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He stares you down waiting for a response, but his dark eyes looking at you with expectancy pulls a trigger in your patience.

Standing up to make your point before the words start tumbling out of your mouth, “Eddie, I haven't been alone with you in days. You’re either working on hellfire stuff or band stuff or weed stuff but never me.” Stopping to take a breath. “And you know I will always support you in whatever you do, but I need you to support me too. I’ve studied like crazy to pass that test and yet I didn’t make a 100. I went to every lunch table in the cafeteria this whole week, but only recruited two new people to join Student Council. I planned the first day pep rally for days and the yearbook staff still failed to show up on time, even after I delivered the schedule to them, twice. This week kicked my ass and all I wanted was for my boyfriend to hold me and tell me I did a good job. And I know you probably didn’t realize but–” he cuts you off by engulfing you in a hug and holding your tear-stained face to his chest. It’s then that you realized how emotional these past few days have actually been for you.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't tell you to stop crying, doesn’t tell you to calm down. He just holds you safely in his embrace, rubbing your back, as you let all the emotions of this week go. After a few minutes, you lift your head up, meeting his eyes filled with concern. “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. I know you support me and love me but I just needed you and–”

“And I wasn’t there. I dragged you along to a 5 hour long meeting and didn’t even notice how exhausted you look. I’m the one that should be sorry. I saw how much you were doing and how busy you were and I should have been there. And you’re right, you always support me at campaigns and gigs and practices, and this was my turn to show you the same love and I failed. I’m sorry sweetheart.” You can tell he means every word of that apology, which only makes you cry harder. He continues to repeat his apologies like a mantra until your tears slowed and your breaths stabilized.

“Hey,” he squeezes you to get your attention. “I have an idea.”

“Oh God…” He eyes you after that comment but doesn’t take it to heart, appreciating that you are back to a joking mood.

“Hush it’s a good one this time,” you show a lighthearted smile to encourage him to continue. “What if we had a set day where we don’t make any plans with anyone else? Like a day that we spend completely together.”

“Aw wait, that is a good idea Eds.”

“Thank you,” although his tone is cocky, you know that he is serious about the proposal. “Okay you wanna do Sundays, because we might have some gigs on Saturdays if the crowds are big enough and Friday nights are hellfire.”

“Sundays?”

“Sundays.” He seals the deal with a kiss and leads you to the couch a few yards away.

He breaks the kiss and holds your face in his warm hands, feeling the contrast of the cool rings on your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much you were burnt out this week. I was so wrapped up in the club to notice, when I should have been paying attention to my girl.”

“I wasn’t upset at you and I don't want you to stop doing the things you love, I just hit a breaking point today. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of expecting you to read my mind. I’m sorry too.”

“It’s okay, neither of us is perfect, but that's how we grow, together. I. Love. You,” emphasizing each word with a peck to your nose, cheek, and forehead. “Always remember that babygirl,” and finally your lips.

“Wow, Eds that was a very thoughtful response.”

“What can I say, I’m the aspiring Shakespeare of Hawkins.” You laugh at his regular antics, but his smile is a result of seeing you happy again.

“Okay I don’t know if I’d go that far. But I love you too. You think we can start our new Sunday traditions a little early?”

“Oh there is no way you're leaving my side until Bilbrey’s Class monday morning.” He holds you tighter to show the truth in his words and you just melt in his embrace, knowing the rest of the weekend will be spent attached to the metalhead boy beside you.

𝐀/𝐍: okay so that is how the first Sunday of many came to be. The next parts of this fic will include the different sunday activities y’all have done together. If you have any suggestions of something they might do, please let me know!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #hurt/comfort #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fluff #angst #multi part fic #Eddie munson multi part fic

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lg-123 · 2 years

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Minor Setback

Summary: Eddie meets this amazing girl who is tutoring him, but he doesn’t know it’s one of his closest friend’s older sister.

Pairing: eddie munson x henderson!reader

Part 2: https://lg-123.tumblr.com/post/689151918879227904/minor-setback-pt-2

masterlist

“Dustin hurry you’re ass up!” Delilah yelled down the hall. She had been waiting on the boy for 10 minutes and if he was any later, she would be late. “Shit!” Dustin said, muffled behind his door. He had been talking to Suzie and lost track of time. He cursed again as he tripped over his shoes and quickly grabbed his backpack. He met his sister out at her car, who then began to scold him.

“If you want to talk to Suzie you have to wake up earlier or at least make sure you have pants on.” Pants. Pants! He forgot pants. Delilah laughed as her brother sprinted back inside the house. Ms. O’Donnell had asked her last minute to tutor a student. She didn’t want to have him in her class for a third year in a row, which Del completely understood. She can’t imagine having Ms. O’Donnell for 3 years. That would be awful. Dustin finally came back out, wearing pants this time.

The drive to the school was filled with Black Sabbath and Metallica, courtesy of the mix tape Will and Lucas gave her for Christmas. “Here Dustin can you clean these?” Delilah asked while handing Dustin her glasses. “Um? I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re like blind.” Dustin responded, pushing the glasses back into her hand. She huffed at the boy, mumbling something about having collar bones. This was how the two were, though they didn’t speak usually at school, they still had a good bond. Delilah liked Dungeons and Dragons, not as much as her brother and his friends, but she still stepped in when one of them was sick.

At the school, Delilah left Dustin in the car. He usually napped when she met up early for tutoring. The halls were quiet, the faint sound of basketballs being dribbled echoed down the hall. The library was even quieter than normal, the only person there was the librarian, who just smiled at the girl. Delilah found a big table towards the back and proceeded to pull out the textbook and her notebook. She also had pre-written most of the notes, incase whoever did not want to actually meet up to study. Lastly, Delilah pulled out her planner and checked the name that was highlighted.

“Eddie Munson” She mumbled out.

“That’s me!” The voice surprised Delilah, causing her to tip out of her chair. “Oh Shit.” The voice said again, and two arms grabbed the girl and helped her back to her feet. “Sorry about that, I’m usually not so jumpy.” Delilah was beyond embarrassed. Looking up, she was surprised. Eddie Munson was Dustin’s Hellfire leader. Not only that but he was the cute guy from her history class. She was stupid. Unbeknownst to Delilah, Eddie was having the same conversation in his head. This was the cute girl from his history class. What he didn’t know is who her brother was.

“Anyways, I’m Delilah.” Del stuck her hand out for the boy to shake, which he did. “Eddie.” He smiled back. The tutoring session went pretty normal, until Delilah started to hum a song Eddie knew all too well. “You listen to Black Sabbath?”

Delilah was snapped from her thoughts. “Um yeah. They are like my all-time favorite band.” Eddie swore he died at her words. They spent the next 10 minutes talking about music. They found they had a lot in common. Both were sad when the time ended but Eddie was happy that she was tutoring him for the rest of the year. They both said their goodbyes, both blushing as the turned away. Delilah figured it would be tomorrow when she saw him next, but she was very wrong.

--------------------

“I’m telling you guys, she was amazing. We barely studied, we just talked.” Eddie explained to the guys at the table. Jeff just laughed at him. Eddie had told them all about “this amazing girl that was tutoring him” and how he actually likes her. “We had so much in common, I mean same music taste, same hatred for Ms. O’Donnell, it’s like she’s perfect.” The boys were surprised at his sudden infatuation.

“Hey why don’t you go out with Dustin’s sister; she likes Black Sabbath and Dungeons and Dragons.” Mike suggested, which earned a slap on the arm from Dustin himself. Eddie just laughed at the boy.

‘That’s very tempting boys but I don’t think I’ll pass on Dustin’s nerdy older sister. I guarantee she’s not as pretty and amazing as this girl.” Eddie spoke, smiling towards the ceiling.

Only Mike noticed Delilah seated behind him, he watched as her head fell. And when she walked out of the cafeteria, he swore he saw a tear fall.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #henderson reader #dustin's older sister #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #x Henderson!OC

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griffinspi · 2 years

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Peaceful Bliss

Eddie Munson x male reader

Warning: mostly fluff ig

----------------------------------------------------------------------

(6:00 am) It was a peaceful fall morning. The sun wasn't to bright this day. Your alarm goes off, you slowly awake from you slumber in a surprisingly grumpy mood. You were bothered that you had to wake up from the best dream EVER! As you groan and toss yourself out of bed, you stumble upon and leather jacket but, you're so tired you didn't stop to realized that it didn't belong to you. It belonged to the freak, Eddie Munson. You and Eddie are good friends so he probably left it by accident after you invited him and some other friends over to watch a marathon.

(6:30 am) Today you got ready very quickly. Normally it takes you 45 minutes because you always put some eyeliner on along with a small Smokey eye. You feel lazy today from staying up all night. As you wait out side for Eddie to pick you up a cold breeze hits you sending shivers down your spine. Eddie normally arrives at 6:45 but since he was up late too, you assume he won't be there on time.

*y/n on the phone *

Y/n: "Hello?"

Wayne : "Hey y/n. Why are you calling so early?"

Y/n: "I was wondering if Eddie has woken up yet. He's supposed to pick me up and if he doesn't get here soon we'll be late." You didn't care if you were late though. Math isn't your strongest subject after all.

Wayne: " I think he just got up he'll be on his way soon."

Y/n:" oh ok tha-" but before you could finish Wayne had hung up. " wow someone's in a grumpy mood today." You say sarcastically.

(7:05 am) Bored Out of your mind from waiting you can here Eddie driving through your neighborhood. He pulls into you driveway blasting Master of Puppets by Metallica. You open the semi-rusted Van door to see Eddie tapping away on the wheel. As he turns down the music just a tad so he can hear you and pulls out of your driveway, he catches you staring at him. " what are you looking at, weirdo?" He chuckles knowing you hate it when he teases you. You snapped out of your gaze and look at the window. "Nothing" you say as you look at you reflection in the mirror. Eddie drops the topic, picking up about the Big D&D game today. You completely forgot about it and started wondering what the big surprise was that Eddie kept promising to the Hellfire Club.

(7:15 am) You make it just in time for school to open. You and Eddie walk over to Gareth to tease him about having his mom drop him off at school. A few days ago Gareth's car completely shut down and still he hasn't been able to fix it. As you walk in school and get you stuff from your locker you catch Jason staring at you and his friends are laughing. You show confidence but, really this kind of hurt. Of course you are used to it but today was boring and it was draining your energy.

(12:00 pm) Lunch Time. The time where Eddie is full of energy from being with his friends. " I really REALLY could go for some pizza right now." As he munches on a bag of chips. Him and his friends continue talking but you seem to have caught someone's eye. Nancy comes over to the table. Everyone there stops to look at her. " Hey y/n I was wondering if you could possibly answer some questions for me." She says in a pristine manner. " uh.. What are the questions about?" You furrowed your brows. " Well they are questions on the Hellfire club and your opinion on the magazine. I see you've read it already." She points to the magazine Eddie had read aloud moments before her arrival. Gareth chimes in, " sure we will answer some questions since we have many opinions on the magazine full of lies." We all know Gareth had a "secret " crush on Nancy since 1st grade. He took every chance to talk to her but, never really had a full conversation with her in a long time. "Ok great! Meet me in the library after school." Eddie hurries and shoos her away so he can continue to talk to his friends. You realize theres only little time between school ending and the D&D game. But you don't say anything because they all knew that way before you did.

(After school) You and Eddie are the only ones in the library all waiting for Nancy and the others. " So what do we do now?" You ponder as Eddie roams for some good books. " I don't know but, its getting late and we have a game to play." You can tell he's irritated and its making you go crazy. You find yourself staring at him a lot but he's never staring at you and that makes you crazy. He's funny and charming and that makes you crazy. You can't have him and that makes you crazy. You always wondered if he liked you the same way. You couldn't bring yourself to ask him, what if he rejected you, or stopped talking to you. In this small town being gay is never safe. You're not safe from bullies like Jason or your parents who believe its a sin. " hey, are you okay?" Eddie asks as he puts his hand on your shoulder. You had zoned out and you were staring at a blank wall. * you snapped back in* " yes I'm fine." You look at Eddie with a slight smile. "Good because you were starting to freak me out." He chuckled. He scent was so strong like a magnet you couldn't help yourself but to stand close him any chance you got. It pulled you in, you are in love with him but he doesn't seem to like you like that. "come on we have go now. No more waiting for this bullshit." He grabs your hand and starts walking out the door. He seemed nervous like as if he knew something was about to happen.

You arrive in the auditorium. Eddie pulled the curtains back but to your surprise no one was there. There was no table, no game , no people. "What's going on?" You ask as you turn around towards Eddie. " y/n... I have been want doing to do this for so long. But I've never had the courage to tell you.." You feel tensions rising. Eddie's nervous, really nervous. He blurts it out, " I love you y/n! And I have for awhile now." He stares into your eyes as you get closer. So close you can feel his breath on you. "I love you too" you say almost as a whisper. You pull him in for a kiss and without hesitation, he kisses you back. In that moment the feeling of peaceful bliss fills the air.

--------------The End--------------

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x male reader #writers on tumblr #tv shows

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neonoddeye · 3 years

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Nonsensical HxH Headcanons

In honor of me finishing the show, here are random headcanons that I have decided are completely accurate... to me.

Gon’s favorite movie is the entire Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, and Killua’s is the Star Wars franchise. They fight over this daily.

Hisoka once got caught dancing to “I Can’t Stop Me” by Twice in the forest by an unfortunate civilian, so he killed them.

He’s also a regular at a nail salon and gets along surprisingly well with the nail artists.

Kurapika’s sole weakness is peanuts. He has a severe peanut allergy.

Leorio is the same with lactose, but this doesn’t stop him from consuming dairy products almost daily.

Illumi is the best at Mario Kart, and this is 100% based off of how he drives.

Leorio probably takes years to order at restaurants and holds up the line, so no one likes going out to eat with him.

Gon and Killua had a huge Five Nights at Freddy’s phase and tried to film let’s plays. And then Illumi and Hisoka found their YouTube channel.

OMG AND THEY HAD ZUSHI AS A SPECIAL GUEST TOO AND IT WAS SO BAD BC THEY ALL KEPT DYING KFHDKB.

Bisky has won multiple triathlons and marathons, and has stickers from them all over her car.

She is also a local at the yoga studio. Probably teaches there, too. What I’m trying to say is that she’s one of those super fit, healthy moms and wears tacky shirts to prove it.

Leorio and Zepile meet up once a month to play Monopoly and get absolutely shit-faced drunk, which results in them arguing the next morning about who won.

Meruem found Fanny packs and won’t shut up about them.

This isn’t really a headcanon, but I’d like to imagine what would happen if you told Meruem or any of the royal guards a deez nuts joke.

Zeno is a tiktok grandpa. What he does on there is up to your imagination.

Silva was the drummer for a Metallica cover band in his youth.

Illumi sleeps with his eyes open

Hisoka is one of those people to go to Starbucks and order the furthest thing from coffee on the menu.

Illumi is like “dude that shit is WHITE” as he drinks his black coffee with 7 shots of espresso like it’s totally normal.

Ging eats coleslaw.

Leorio and Gon both have to look at their hands to tell left from right.

Killua doesn’t wear a helmet while skateboarding, and gets mom’d by Kurapika until he puts one on.

The secret way to beat the Chimera Ants is to show them hyper pop music.

Shalnark runs a meme page on Instagram

Chrollo was a WWII kid. He’s more of an American Revolution kind of guy, now.

Feitan is secretly a SoundCloud rapper. Everyone is too afraid to tell him that he’s just not fit for the role.

The Phantom Troupe play Cards Against Humanity together (except for Kalluto bc Illumi won’t let him). I think the most frequent winner would be between Feitan and Uvogin.

Chrollo texts like an old dad, perfect grammar and everything. It’s really easy to mock him over text.

Playing fetch with Mike is off limits at the Zoldyck house, due to too many casualties resulting from the activity.

Knuckle’s favorite movie is The Notebook. No one lets him pick on movie nights.

By some miracle, every picture Tonpa takes is fucking horrendous. It’s almost like a nen ability at this point.

Alluka is a Barbie movie connoisseur

Kite has seen every single Law & Order episode. He’d also win if he ever got on Jeopardy.

Unless Pariston is also there. Then, there would be bloodshed.

Kite also has Advil and Ibuprofen on him at all times. And stomach medicine. He has a sensitive stomach.

Ging does not trust any form of media produced after the 20th century.

Let me know if you have any more silly headcanons, bc these are really fun to make ♡

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh headcanons #anime #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #hisoka morow #illumi zoldyck #the phantom troupe #I’m really sad about finishing hxh #like I’m starting demon slayer but my heart still felt empty when I finished #feitan #shalnark ryusei #uvogin #pariston hill

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fandom-girl-99 · 3 years

Note

Share a biography paragraph of an OC! :)

Wow! I'm too excited for this! :)

Um...okay....ah...MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR MENTIONS OF MOLESTATION, RAPE, WARS, TERRORIST ATTACKS AND GENOCIDE!

My OC that took me 4 years to create is named Nansia Petrova and is part of The Vampire Diaries universe along with The 100 and Teen Wolf later expends into the MCU and Arrowverse and Outlander in later books, part of the Be Somebody Series.

Nansia Petrova was born on Saturday 15th of May 1999 in Nothern Ireland under the name Vasiliki Athanasia Andoniadou-O'Connell (later named Skorpiti after her step-dad adopts her), twin sister of Thomas Michael Adoniadou-O'Connell, older half-sister of Nicollete Kalina Andoniadou-Skorpiti, and younger half-sister of Declan O'Connell, firstborn daughter of Maria Andoniadou and Colin O'Connell and step-daughter of Dimitri Skorpiti. Nansia is of Greek and Irish descent, her Greek side is separated in parts she's 1/2 Peloponnesian Greek from a small town called Aigio in the region of Achaea in West Greece, 1/2 Eastern Thracian Greek (Eastern Thrace is nowadays European Turkey), her maternal grandfather's family are survivors of the Greek genocide of the 1910s when they were living in their small village called Eksmil in the peninsula of Gallipoli in Eastern Thrace, the village was destroyed completely during the Balkan Wars and World War 1. Nowadays Eksmil is a NATO Army base. Her grandfather's family arrived in Giannitsa, Pella, Central Macedonia, Greece in the 1930s after two decades of being nomads after the destruction of Eksmil. Nansia's mum, Maria, was born in Stockholm, Sweden in 1973 after her parents immigrate first to Holland then to Belgium and then to Sweden trying to get away from the Greek Civil War that was raging and later the dictatorship that tore Maria's mum's family apart for decades to come.

Nansia's parents will meet at a Metallica concern in 1999 in Ireland where Colin will cheat on his wife, Crystal O'Connell (nee O'Reiley) with Maria causing the births of Nansia and Thomas. Maria never wanted to be a mother and since she was forced into the role by both Colin and her family, she hoped for a son but when the doctors lied to her and told her that her son died and only her daughter survived the difficult birth, she started resenting her daughter. That resentment would go on for years in form of physical and emotional abuse and neglect from Maria's side to Nansia. Maria would marry Dimitri Skorpiti in 2003 giving birth to another daughter, Nicollete in 2004. During her marriage to Dimitri, his job in the Army made them live the life of a nomad every 3 to 5 years moving to a new city/town or island. Maria didn't like that life at all so she had many affairs whenever Dimitri would spend the 48-hours shifts in the Army base as it was mandatory at least three times a month or he was gone for a long period of time in Army exercises. These men Maria had affairs with would freely abuse and molest little Nansia and Maria wouldn't mind at all.

Throughout Nansia life when Dimitri became her step-dad he would carry on his family's tradition of training the women of his family in martial arts since they were 4 years old up to 14 years old, at 16 gifting them their first multipurpose knife/gadget and at 18 gifting them their first military-grade Swiss knife. Things that Nansia would use to survive later in life.

When Nansia turns 8 her mum would get sick with Lupus and would need seven surgeries to fix the issues in her legs causing Maria severe immobility later in life. Nansia was left to take care of her sick mum, her baby sister, the household, and everything for the next fifteen years.

When Nansia was 12 years old at school she was almost raped by a bully of hers but everything her step-father taught her saved her life.

In 2016 Nansia is at school during art class and she's listening to the radio where the normal program is cut to deliver emergency news about the Belgium terrorist attack to which Nansia loses her Internet best friend Vasia Nerou and injuries severely a family friend's family. That loss shocks Nansia to the core causing her to have a mental breakdown at the school's bathroom activating her so long dormant witch powers making her time jump to 2149.

There she would spend her life from 16 (a few months shying away from her 17th birthday) to 28 years old fighting in a post-apocalyptic world (See The 100 series plot) choosing to go by Nansia Skorpiti and spend 122 years in cryogenic sleep as a 28-year-old after the earth's destruction only to time jump back once she was awakened back to her 15 years old self's body reliving the same day over again without time jumping.

Having to go through her teenage years with memories of how her world will turn out made her fall into a deep depression and have several other mental anguishes. The radiation she was exposed to during 2149 caused her autoimmune issues making her sick with Hashimoto Thyroiditis and Osteoarthritis Chondopathy at the tender age of 17 years old. No, doctor could figure out how out of the blue she developed such health issues but Nansia pieced the puzzle together very quickly.

At the age of 19 the second time around, Nansia has a PTSD induce panic attack after a childish fight with her friends causing her dimensionally time jump with her not-so dormant witch powers to end up at the Salvatore Academy (enters The Vampire Diaries universe)

During her stay there she comes to learn that she is a tribrid, three species in one body, her mum's paternal side of the family has had a huge secret for decades! Nansia's grandfather's family weren't of the same dimension where Nansia's and her mum's generation were born into, they were from this dimension Nansia was currently misplaced in. Hailing from the Petrova witch bloodline who after Klaus Mikaelson almost killed them all in retaliation to Katherine Pierce running away from him and not completing the Sun and the Moon sacrifice to unlock his hybrid nature, decided to marry into a nearby werewolf pack the Makedon Arkadia one near where the Petrova family were residing. Causing the great-grandchildren of Katherine Pierce aka the grandchildren of Nadia Petrova, to be hybrids of werewolf-witch type. Nadia's youngest daughter Thalia Andonov and her youngest son Dimitri Andonov managed to escape Klaus after he found them once more and slaughter them being saved by Finn Mikaelson who has been keeping a protective eye on them for centuries with his beloved Sage.

Thalia in an attempt to get away opens a portal with her magic and ends up in a different dimension from the year 1555 to the year 1910 in Eksmil, Gallipoli, Eastern Thrace. There Thalia hides in the woods while raising her surviving son. Dimitri, Thalia's son, would become Nansia's great-grandfather.

Nansia learns that there is a family in this dimension the faces of Jeremy Gilbert and Elena Gilbert and her family, she gets adopted by them in hopes of giving her a semi-normal existence as she tries to figure out more about her witch and werewolf sides while going to school at the Salvatore Academy. Throughout her stay she uncovers more family secrets from her paternal side of the family and the jolting realization that Hope Mikaelson wasn't the first tribrid in existence as previously thought, that Nansia and her presumed dead twin brother were the first ones. Making them part Witch, part Werewolf and part Watcher, Watchers were like guardians of the supernatural world and of time and space continuum (I created the species of Watchers).

As she and her newfound friends search for answers both for her and for their Malivore problems (See the summary of Legacies) Nansia renames herself to Nansia Gilbert and finds a sense of belonging as she learns more about family secrets and finds love in places she never thought she would. She embraces her witch and werewolf ancestry changing her name once more to Nansia Petrova in honor of Thalia's family and Thalia herself. As she and Lizzie Saltzman search for her biological dad Colin O'Connell they come into contact with Watchers and find out that her twin brother is alive and living a semi-normal life in a different dimension. And that they had met once before during 2149 because her mental breakdown plus her magic outburst triggered their twin connection triggering his magic making him to dimensional displace himself alongside Nansia.

After many things that I will not say so I won't spoiler the entire plot Nansia and her friends end up in Thomas' dimension. (Now entering Teen Wolf fandom) Only to realize that Thomas is in fact Stiles Stilinski!

After her reunion with her twin brother she and Thomas decide to visit Colin together but their search leads them to New Orleans of Nansia's new home dimension where they meet their older half-brother Declan and the former boyfriend of Hope's mum. Meeting Declan makes them travel to Ireland where they see a dying Colin and meet the rest of the family.

After that, Nansia returns to Mystic Falls while Thomas returns to Beacon Hills and they finish High School and start college/FBI training for Thomas. Five years time-jump Nansia is living with her boyfriend Ryan Clake in Vancouver where she's doing her teaching residency when they learn that they're expecting their first child.

This news causes Nansia to re-think her entire life in that dimension and the fact she left her little sister behind with their abusive mother. That propels her into trying to return back and use her magic to collect evidence and take her mother on trial and to seek justice against everything Maria put her and her sister through. She wins thanks to the family she has created.

After the trial, she tells Nicollete of their ancestry welcoming her little sister into the world of supernatural beings and she learns that Nicolette had already triggered both her magic and werewolf gene making her a hybrid thanks to their mother's DNA. And Nicolette spent a decade thinking her sister was missing and that she was the only one. Nansia and Nicolette bond more as Nicollete is introduced her Thomas and Declan and the rest of the family. Nansia, gives birth to her first child a daughter names her after her little sister, Nicolette.

Nansia and Ryan would later get married and have three more kids, Dimitri after her step-father, Thanasia after her grandfather, and Thalia after Thalia Andonov. Nansia and Ryan would recollect to Mystic Falls from Vancouver when Nicolette will become six years old so she can attend Salvatore Academy and Nansia to also work as a history teacher there.

The end...ish I'm still writing! Hope you enjoy reading and so sorry for the long one! I tried to summarize it!

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wasjust-a-fangirl-here · 4 years

Text

Blind-Sided. (Part 1)

-----------------------------

Summary: This fic just follows the first episode, but Dean has a daughter, you.

Word Count: 7,098.

Fandom: Supernatural.

Warnings: Swearing, etc.

Pairings: Dean X Daughter!Reader, Sam X Niece!Reader.

Note: I did not proof-read this.. Here’s the first part to Blind-Sided. I have no idea where this was going, I just wanted to write something. I didn’t know what to do with this first part, but here it is and I might do another part maybe, differently, of course.

Here’s the Prologue to this.

----------------------------------

"So, what are you gonna do? You just gonna live some normal, apple pie-life? Is that it?" Dean questioned, walking behind the impala.

"No, not normal. Safe." Sam answered, following behind Dean. "And that's why you ran away." Dean said, scoffing.

Sam huffed, "I was just going to college. It was dad who said' if I was going to go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." Sam says, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, well, dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already, I can feel it." Dean said, "I can't do this alone." He added, looking back at Sam.

"Yes, you can." Sam says quietly, "yeah, well, I don't want to." Dean says, looking away from Sam.

Before Sam can reply, he hears a small voice asking; "is everything okay, dad?" They both turned to look at you, seeing you lean out the window, tiredly rubbing your eyes.

Dean smiled at you, "yeah, bug, go back to sleep." Dean says to you, hearing a small 'okay' from you, he turned back to Sam.

"So, 'dad' huh?" Sam asked, a small smile on his lips. Dean scoffed, "shut up, bitch." He retorts, hearing Sam laugh, he smiled again.

"Alright, jerk." Sam says, "what was he hunting?" He asked, Dean turned to open the trunk, letting out a small 'alright' "Let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean talked to himself, looking through the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked, leaning against the car. "I was working my own gig, this voodoo thing, down in New Orleans." Dean replied.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam mockingly asked, Dean looked at him. "I'm 26, dude." Dean says defensively.

Dean grabbed a folder, taking out the papers, "alright, here we go." He says, standing straight. "So, dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California.

About a month ago, this guy. They had found his car, but he had vanished, completely MIA." Dean says, starting to explain what their father was hunting, handing Sam some papers.

Sam looked at the papers Dean handed him, "so maybe he was kidnapped." He suggested, looking up from the papers.

"Yeah, well, here's another in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them in the past twenty years.

All men, all same five-mile stretch of road." Dean says, putting the papers back into the folder. "It started happening more and more, so, dad went to go dig around.

That was about three weeks ago, and I haven't heard from hi since. Which is bad enough." Dean added, grabbing a recorder.

"And then I get this voicemail yesterday." Dean said, pressing play, both he and Sam listening to the recording. "You know there's E.V.P. on that?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

Dean grinned, "not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam looked down, shaking his head. "All right, so, I slowed the message down and ran it through a gold-wave, took out the hiss and this is what I got." Dean says, pressing play again.

"I can never go home." A woman says on the recording. Dean looked at Sam, pausing the recorder. "Never go home." Sam repeated, thinking about the recording.

Dean stood up, closing the trunk of his car, "you know, in almost two years, I never bothered you or asked you for a thing." Dean says in a matter-of-factly tone, turning to sit on the car, looking at Sam.

Sam sighs, "all right, I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam says, "but I have to get back first-thing Monday. Just wait here." He added, turning to go pack a few things.

Before he can walk away, "what's first-thing Monday?" Dean asked, Sam turned back around, "I have this... I have an interview." Sam answers, "what, a job interview? Skip it." Dean says, shrugging his shoulders.

Sam scoffed, he knew Dean wouldn't understand. "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." Sam said, frowning at Dean.

"Law school?" Dean asked, smiling at Sam. "So, we got a deal or not?" Sam asked, Dean stayed quiet. Sam took that as a yes and left to go pack.

Dean got into his car, sighing. "So, that's uncle Sam, huh?" You asked once he sat down. Dean turned to look at you, "I thought you went back to sleep." He says, seeing you shrug your shoulders.

"I tried, but I couldn't sleep." You say, moving closer to the front of the car. "He sounded upset, is he not coming?" You asked, Dean noticed that you were worried.

"He's coming, but only for a few days." Dean answered, frowning a little. "Can we listen to AC/DC while we wait?" You asked, sitting back against your seat.

Dean grinned widely, going through his collection, putting in the cassette, Highway To Hell starts playing.

Dean looked at you through the mirror, seeing you smile. Dean smiled, he knew this was one of your favorite songs by AC/DC.

You were badly singing along to another song, you laughed, watching your dad drumming along to the beat against the steering wheel. Dean turned to you, smiling.

The song ended and Walk All Over You started playing, Dean heard you sighing, seeing you lean forward and resting your head against the back of the front seat.

Halfway through the song, Dean noticed you were watching Sam with curious eyes.

Dean turned down the music, starting the car and started to drive away from the building.

Nobody spoke, you broke the some-what silence; "hi." Dean heard you say softly to Sam. Dean saw from the corner of his eye, Sam turning to you in surprise.

"Hi, what's your name?" Sam asked politely. Dean looked in mirror, seeing you smile, "Y/n." You replied, holding your hand out to shake his.

Sam smiled, taking your hand and shook it, "nice to meet you." You both say at the same time, making you laugh. Dean smiled, he loved to hear you laugh.

"Daddy said you'd be tall, and smart, and that's why you're at college." Dean heard you say, Sam laughed, "yeah. Yeah, I am." He said, turning in his seat to look at you.

"What else did he tell you?" Sam asked curiously. Dean listened to you tell Sam all the things you can, until you were starting to fall asleep.

As soon as you fell asleep, Sam turned back forward, glancing at Dean.

Dean looked at you through the mirror again, seeing you wrapped in your blanket. Sam also looking at you again, once he knew you were fully asleep, he looked at Dean.

"Who's who her mother? How old is she?" Sam asked, Dean sighed, his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times. "Remember Mia?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah, her parents were killed by, what was it? Vampires? Yeah, vampires." Sam says, nodding his head. "Yeah." Dean says, "that's who her mother is?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah, and to answer your other question; she's five, about to turn six soon." Dean said, smiling at Sam. "Where is she?" Sam asked quietly, "Mia, she called me. Told me to go to her as fast as I can.

And I did. What I wasn't expecting was to find her bleeding out and little Y/n confused, but still trying to her mom." Dean said, gripping the steering wheel and loosening his grip.

"She died, but asked me to look after our daughter. I wasn't sure at first, but once I had a good look at her, I knew. She was, is, my daughter." Dean added, Sam turned to look at you.

You were still asleep, Sam stared at you, noticing you had some of Dean's features. Sam smiled softly, he knew once you opened your eyes, they'd be a little like your mom's, if he remembered correctly.

Sam turned back forward in his seat, sighing.

About five hours into driving nonstop, you were still asleep.

Sam looked at you again, chuckling and shaking his hand. "Is she always asleep when you drive?" Sam asked, Dean glanced at him, smiling. "Yeah, I think she loves the sound of the engine." Dean answered.

Half an hour later, you woke up, as Dean parked at a gas station. Dean got out of the car, you following besides him. "What are you doing?" Dean asked, looking down at you.

"I have to use the bathroom." You answered, looking up at him, both of you walking inside, you, heading straight for the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, grabbing a few things to buy, also grabbing what he knew you liked. Dean walked up to the counter, seeing you walking over to him. After Dean paid for the stuff, he handed you some of the stuff.

Both of you walked outside, you going towards the car and going inside, while Dean went to fill up the car with gas.

"Hey, you want breakfast?" Dean asked, holding up a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in one hand and candy in the other. Sam scoffed, "no, thanks." He answered, going through Dean's cassette tapes.

"Besides, how'd you pay for all that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam asked, "yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." Dean answered.

"Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." He added, going over to the drivers side once he was done.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, closing the door, box of cassette tapes on his lap.

"Uh, Burt Aframian, and his son Hector." Dean said, tossing the stuff he had in his hands on the seat, starting the car. "Scored two cards out of the deal." He added, smiling at Sam.

"Sounds about right." Sam admitted, nodding his head. "I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection." Sam said, still going through the box of tapes.

"Why?" Dean questioned, "well, for one; they're cassette tapes, and two; Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock." Sam answers, throwing a cassette tape back into the box.

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole." Dean stated, grabbing one of the tapes and put it in. "You know, 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year old. It's Sam, okay?" Sam says, as Back In Black started playing.

Dean heard you laugh, he smiled at Sam. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." Dean says, turning up the music and drove away from the gas station.

Sam got off the phone, hanging up. "All right, so, there's no one matching dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something." Sam said, Dean glanced at him, nodding.

"Check it out." Dean says, seeing police cars and officers on a bridge. Dean parked away from them and looked in the glove compartment. "Alright, sweetheart. You know what to do." Dean says to you.

"Stay hidden, and don't make any noise." Dean heard you say monotonously, he turned to look at you, seeing a comic book in your hands and sitting at the far right in the shadow.

Sam turned to look at you, wondering just how used to this you are. "Let's go." Dean says to Sam, he followed Dean, going out the door and walking towards the abandon car, he assumed.

"Spotless. It's almost too clean." Dean and Sam heard someone say, "so, this kid, Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" A man asked, "yeah." Another replied, "how's Amy doing?" He asked again.

"She's putting up missing posters downtown." He answered, "you fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked, "and who are you?" The same person asked, looking at Dean and Sam.

"Federal marshals." Dean answered, showing him his fake badge. "You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" He questioned skeptically, "ha, thanks. That's awfully kind of you.

You did have another one just like this, correct?" Dean asked again, walking closer to the car. "Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There's been others before that." He answered.

"So, this victim. You knew him?" Sam asked him, he nodded his head. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." He answers, "any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Dean asked, walking around the car, hands behind his back.

"No, not as far as we can tell." He answered, "so, what's the theory?" Sam asked, walking towards Dean. "Honestly? We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" He answered.

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean commented, Sam stomped on Dean's foot, forcing a smile at the police officer.

"Thank you for your time." Sam said to him, "gentlemen." He added, walking away, Dean following behind him and hitting Sam behind his head.

"Ow." Sam said, turning to Dean. "What was that for?" Sam asked, "why you gotta step on my foot?" Dean asked, "why do you gotta talk to police like that?" Sam retorted, Dean looked at him.

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find dad, we gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Dean said, Sam looked over Dean's shoulder, clearing his throat.

Dean turned around, seeing the sheriff and two FBI agents. "Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asked, "no, sir. We were just leaving." Dean answered, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." Dean said as the two FBI agents walked past them.

Dean and Sam walked past the sheriff and towards the impala.

Dean turned to looked at you, seeing that you were asleep again.

He and Sam got out of the car and saw a girl hanging up a missing poster. "I'll bet you that's her." Dean says, "yeah." Sam said, both of them walking towards her.

"You must be Amy." Dean says to her, "yeah." She answers, "yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean and this is Sammy." Dean said, pointing to Sam.

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy says, glancing at them and starting to walk again. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Dean says, walking besides her.

"So, we're looking for him too and we're kinda asking around." Sam said, standing in front of her, another girl walked over to them. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked Amy, "yeah." Amy answered her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam asked them, "sure." Amy said, all of them walking towards a restaurant. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home.

He said he would call me right back. And, uh... he never did." Amy explained, the four of them sitting in a booth. "He didn't say anything strange? Or out of the ordinary?" Sam asks, "no." Amy replied, "nothing I can remember." She added, shaking her head.

Sam looked at her, "I like your necklace." He said, nodding at it. Amy looked down, grabbing the pendant into her hand, smiling. "Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents,

with all that devil stuff." She says, breathing out a laugh. Sam smiled, looking down at the cup in his hands and looking back at her. "Actually, it means just the opposite.

A pentagram is protection against evil." Sam explains, "really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." He added, "okay. Thank you, unsolved Mysteries." Dean said, patting Sam's shoulder.

"Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared... something's not right. So, if you've heard anything..." Dean said, seeing them look at each other.

"What is it?" Dean asked, "well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Amy's friend says, looking between him and Sam. "What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean questioned at the same time.

Amy's friend glanced at her, looking back at them. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she's still out there.

She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up, well, they disappear forever." She explains to them. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

You were still asleep when they went back to the car.

Dean and Sam decided to go to the local library to search for some more answers, leaving you in the car again.

Dean was typing on the computer, 'no results found' Dean read, his brows furrowed, typing again, 'no results found' showing again. "Let me try." Sam says, his hand going towards the keyboard.

Dean swatted his hand away, "I got it." He says, typing again. Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair away. "Dude! You're such a control freak." He said, hitting Sam.

"So, angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?" Sam asks, typing on the keyboard. "Yeah," Dean answered, looking at the computer screen. "But maybe it's not murder." Sam said, typing in 'Suicide' instead of 'Murder'.

'1 result found' it showed, Sam clicked on it, Dean's eyebrows rose, glancing at Sam and then back at the screen.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge. Drowns in the river." Sam read aloud, "does it say why she did it?" Dean asks, "yeah." Sam answers.

"Why?" Dean asks again, "an hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub, she leaves them alone for a minute and when she comes back, they aren't breathing.

Both die." Sam read again, "hmm." Dean says, "'our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it.' Said husband Joseph Welch." Sam finished, "that bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asked, pointing at the picture with a pen.

It was dark when Dean and Sam went back to the car, they saw that you were awake, waiting for them.

He and Sam decided to go back to the bridge, Dean parked and looked at you. "Stay in the car, okay?" He asked, you nodded your head, leaning against the car door.

Both he and Sam got out of the car and walked in the middle of the bridge. "So, this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean said, leaning over, looking at the running water below.

"You think dad would have been here?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. "Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean answered, walking and looking around.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked, following behind Dean. "Now we keep digging till we find him. Might take a while." Dean replied, Sam stopped walking, sighing. "Dean. I told you. I gotta get back by..."

"By Monday. Right. The interview." Dean interrupted, turning to look at Sam. "Yeah," Sam says, "yeah. I forgot." He added, "you're really serious about this, aren't you?

You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean questioned, "maybe. Why not?" Sam answers, "does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asked again.

"No. And she's not ever going to know." Sam says, stepping closer to Dean. "Well, that's healthy." Dean says, "you can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later

you're gonna have to face up to who you really are." he added, turning to walk again. "And who's that?" Sam asked, following Dean. "You're one of us." Dean answered simply.

"No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life." Sam says, walking in front of Dean, both of them stopping. "You have a responsibility." Dean stated, "to dad? And his crusade?

If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like." Sam says, "and what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone and she isn't coming back.

I mean, even Y/n won't know who her grandmother is, other than you and dad telling her who she is and the pictured you guys show her." He added, Dean grabbed Sam and pushed him against the bridge.

"Don't talk about her like that." Dean says, looking at Sam. Dean let go of him, walking away from Sam. Dean saw a woman standing on the railing of the bridge.

"Sam." Dean says, not looking away from the woman as she looked at the both of them and then jumped off the bridge. They both ran towards her, leaning over and seeing nothing.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked, "I don't know." Sam says, as the engine of Dean's car started and the lights turned on. Dean looked towards his car, Sam doing the same thing.

"What the?" Dean says, "who's driving your car? Does Y/n know how to start the car? Did you leave the keys?" Sam asks, Dean pulled out his keys from his pocket.

"No." Dean answered, holding up the keys. Sam looked at the keys in Dean's hand and back at the car as it started to drive towards them, they both heard you scream as it drove.

Dean and Sam ran away from the car, jumping off the bridge. It stopped driving as they jumped off. Sam, even though he jumped off, he grabbed onto the bridge. Sam climbed and sat on the edge, looking down at the running water below.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam yelled, seeing Dean crawling out of the water and lying down on his back. "What?" Dean yelled back, Sam smiled. "Hey, are you alright?" Sam asked.

"I'm super." Dean says, laying there for a while. Sam laughed, going over the rails and saw you standing just outside the car. Sam walked over to you, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Sam saw you jump in surprise, but relaxed once you saw it was him. "Where's my dad?" You asked, looking up at him. "He's down by the water, he's coming." Sam answered, as you climbed onto the hood of the car.

"Did the ghost do that to the car?" You asked, looking at Sam. "Yeah," Sam replied, standing next to you. It was five minutes before Sam heard Dean walking over to the both of you.

"Y/n, thank god." Dean says, Sam looked at you, seeing your nose scrunching. "Are you okay?" Dean asks, walking closer to you, but you hid behind Sam. "Yeah, I'm okay." You say from behind Sam.

Sam laughed, "what are you doing, bug?" Dean asked, trying to look at you. "You stink." You say, again, from behind Sam, peaking at your dad, smiling. You jumped down from the car, going back inside, Sam walking besides you.

Dean shook his head, going to look over his car, opening the hood of it. "Car all right?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean, as he closed it. "Yeah. Whatever she did to it, seems all right now." Dean answers, standing in front of the car, Sam nodded his head.

"That Constance chick, what a bitch!" Dean yelled, "well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam says, he and Dean sitting on the hood of the car.

"So, where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam asked, Dean threw his hands up, shrugging. Sam, finally noticing the stench coming off of Dean, looking at him.

"Y/n's right, you smell like a toilet." Sam said, looking at Dean. Dean looked down at himself, he did smell.

Dean found a motel as the sun came up. You stayed in the car while he and Sam went to go check in.

"One room, please." Dean says, the man grabbed the credit card Dean put on the counter. "You guys having a reunion or somethin'?" He asked, looking up from the card and then at him and Sam.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, "that other guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." He answered, Dean nodded his head, looking at Sam.

Both of them walked out and headed towards the room their dad paid for, after asking which room it was.

Sam picked the lock, while Dean stood behind him, looking around. Sam opened the door, walking inside, looking behind himself and saw Dean still standing there. Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him inside.

Sam closed the door once Dean was inside, still holding onto him. They both looked around the room, "whoa." Sam said, Dean walked over to a lamp and turned it on.

Dean grabbed a hamburger that was on the nightstand and smelt it, he groaned, putting it back on the nightstand. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." Dean says, looking at Sam.

Sam was crouching down, looking at the salt around the bed. "Salt. Cat's eye shells. He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Sam says, standing up, looking at Dean.

Dean walked over to the wall, looking at the papers their dad hung up. "What do you got here?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean. "Centennial Highway victims." Dean answers, still looking at the papers.

"I don't get it. They're different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities... there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" Dean asked, as Sam walked over to the other side of the room.

Sam turned on another lamp, "huh. Dad figured it out." Sam said, staring at the papers. Dean looked at him, "what do you mean?" He asked, "he found the same article we did.

Constance Welch. She's a 'Woman In White'." Sam answers, looking at Dean, while he looked back at the wall in front of him. "You sly dogs. Alright, so, if we're dealing with a 'Woman In White', dad would have

found the corpse and destroyed it." Dean says, looking back at Sam. Sam looked at the papers in front of him, "she might have another weakness." He said, nodding his head.

"No, dad would wanna make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" Dean says, walking over to Sam, standing by him. "No. Not that I can tell. If I were dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.

If he's still alive." Sam says, "hmm." Dean said, "alright. Why don't you go see if you can find an address and get Y/n from the Car. I'm gonna get cleaned up." Dean says, "hey, Dean. What I said earlier, about mom and dad, I'm sorry..." Sam starts to say, but Dean held up a hand to stop him.

"No chick flick moments." Dean interrupts, Sam laughed, "all right, jerk." Sam says, nodding his head. "Bitch." Dean replied, heading into the bathroom.

Sam chuckled, walking towards a mirror and grabbing a picture of his dad, Dean and him, smiling at it.

Sam went out the door, to go get you and Dean's bag so he can change into different clothes.

Sam and you walked into the room, Sam saw you head straight for the bed and immediately going to sleep.

Sam laughed, walking towards the bathroom and putting Dean's bag inside by the door, closing it and walking back towards the bed, sitting down.

As Sam was listening to his voicemail, Dean walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner and also grab Y/n something to eat as well." Dean says, grabbing his jacket.

"You want anything?" Dean asked, "no," Sam answered, looking at Dean. "Aframian's buying." Dean said, standing by the door. "Uh-uh." Sam said, Dean looked at you and walked out the door.

Putting on his jacket, Dean looked to his right, seeing the cops from yesterday and the guy from check-in, pointing at Dean.

Dean turned, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, calling Sam. "What?" Sam answered, "dude, five-o. Take off." Dean says, "what about you?" Sam asked, "uh, they kind of spotted me.

Go find dad." Dean said, hanging up the phone. Dean turned around, looking at the cops. "Problem, officers?" Dean asked, smiling at them. "Where's your partner?" One of them asked, crossing his arms.

"Partner, what... What Partner?" Dean asked, stalling them.

Sam woke you up, looking out the window as a police officer walked over to the room.

"Come on, sweetheart." Sam says, both of you heading into the bathroom and out the window.

Both Sam and you walked around and headed straight for the impala. Sam opened the door for you and closed it once you were inside. Sam went over to the drivers side and started the car, driving away.

"Where's my dad?" Sam heard you ask tiredly, "uh, about that. It might be a while before we see him again." Sam answers, looking at you through the mirror.

"Can we go somewhere and eat?" You asked again, "I'm hungry." You added, "Yeah, sure." Sam says, going to the diner that Dean was supposed to go to.

Sam parked, both of you getting out the car and walked into the diner. Both of you walked towards an empty booth, a waitress walked over to you guys and handed both of you menus.

"Hi, what's your name cutie?" She asks, smiling at you. Sam saw you smiling nervously at her, "Y/n." You answer, looking at Sam and back at her. The waitress looked at Sam.

"She yours?" She asked, "oh, no. No, she's my niece." Sam says, "hey, uncle Sam. Can we order now?" You asked, Sam looked at you. "Yeah, sweetheart." Sam says, "what do you want?" He asked, you smiled.

"French toast, please?" You asked politely, looking up at the waitress. She nodded her head, looking at Sam. "Same for me." Sam says, grabbing the menu from you and handing both of them to the waitress.

"Okay, you want anything to drink?" She asked, grabbing the menus. "Apple juice, please?" Sam hears you say, "water for me, thanks." Sam said to her, "alright." The waitress said, walking away.

After you both ate, Sam and you were driving around town. Sam was asking around for Joseph Welch.

Sam parked, once he found out where Joseph Welch lived. Sam turned to look at you, seeing you laying down and reading another comic book.

Sam got out of the car and headed straight for the door, knocking on it. A man answered the door, "hi, uh, are you Joseph Welch?" Sam asked, "yeah." He answered, walking out the door.

"Did this guy, come over and ask you a few questions?" Sam questioned, both of them walking, Sam handed him a picture. "Yeah. He was older, but that's him." Joseph says, handing back the picture.

"Came by here three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter." He added, "that's right. We're working on a story together." Sam said, nodding at him. "Well, I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on.

The questions he asked me." Joseph says, looking at Sam. "About your late wife, Constance." Sam says, "he asked me where she was buried." Joseph says, "and where is that again?" Sam asked.

"What, I gotta go through this twice?" He asked, "it's fact-checking." Sam says, "if you don't mind." He added.

"In a plot behind my old place, over on Breckenridge." Joseph says, "and why did you move?" Sam continued to ask, "I'm not gonna live in the house my children died." Joseph admitted, he stopped walking, looking at Sam.

Sam stopped walking as well, looking back at Joseph. "Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" Sam asks, "no, way. Constance, she was the love of my life." Joseph replied, shaking his head.

"Prettiest woman I ever know." He added, "so, you had a happy marriage?" Sam asked, nodding his head. "Definitely." Joseph answered hesitantly, Sam sighed. "Well, that should do it.

Thanks for your time." Sam says, walking towards Dean's car. Sam looked at the keys in his hands in thought, looking up. "Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a 'Woman In White'?" Sam asked, looking over at Joseph.

Joseph turned to look at Sam. "A what?" Joseph asked, "a 'Woman In White'. Or sometimes 'Weeping Woman'?" Sam repeated, "it's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years. Dozens of places: In Hawaii, Mexico, lately, in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story." Sam explains, walking over to Joseph.

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense." Joseph says, turning to walk away. "See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these woman, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him.

And that man is never seen again." Sam added, "you think... that has something to do with Constance, you smart-ass?" Joseph asked angrily, "you tell me." Sam says, "I mean, maybe.. Maybe I made some mistakes

But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell outta here. And you don't come back." Joseph said, looking at Sam, before walking away.

Sam sighed, watching him walk away. Sam got into the car and drove away, calling the police station and faking a call.

A few hours of driving around, Sam headed towards Breckenridge.

Sam answered his phone, "fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Sam heard Dean say, "you're welcome." Sam says, smiling. "Listen, we gotta talk." Dean says.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a 'Woman In White', and she's buried behind her old house, so that would have been dad's next stop..." Sam says, "Sammy, would shut up for a second?" Dean asked, interrupting him.

"I can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet." Sam added, "that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho." Dean said, "what? How do you know that?" Sam asked, glancing at you in the mirror.

"I've got his journal." Dean answered, "he doesn't go anywhere without that thing." Sam says, focusing back and forth from the road and the side of the road.

"Yeah, well, he did this time." Dean says, "what's it say?" Sam questioned, "ah, that same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." Dean replied.

"Coordinates. Where to?" Sam asked again, "I'm not sure yet." Dean answers, "I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?

Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, "whoa!" He gasped, stepping on the brakes and dropping the phone. "Sam? Sam, are you guys okay? Sam!" Dean yells on the phone.

The car stopped, Sam looked at the road in front of him, breathing heavily. "Uh. Uncle Sam?" Sam heard you ask, he turned to look at you.

Sam saw you looking at a woman sitting next to you, she looked at you and then at Sam. "Take me home." Was all she said, Sam and you didn't respond to her for a while.

"Take me home." She repeated firmly, "no." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror. She squinted her eyes at him, locking the doors and started to drive the car.

Sam tried to open the doors and windows, then he tried to get control of the steering wheel, but it was no use. Sam sighed, sitting back against his seat.

The car parked outside an abandoned house, "don't do this." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror again. "I can never go home." She says, despair in her voice, looking at the house.

"You're scared to go home." Sam says, turning to look at her, but she was gone when he turned around, looking at where she was sitting and then at you.

Sam turned back forward, looking out the door and then at the passenger side, seeing her again. She was moving closer to Sam and placing herself on his lap.

"Hold me, I'm so cold." She said, "you can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful." Sam says, "I've never been." He added, closing his eyes, trying to move away from her touch.

She leaned towards his ear, "you will be. Just hold me." She says, before kissing him. She sat up and disappeared. Sam looked around, seeing you had your eyes covered, sitting on the seat with your back against the door.

Sam screamed in pain, unzipping his sweater and looked at his chest, seeing her fingers in his chest as she reappeared, disfigured. Sam screamed in pain, while you screamed in fear.

You both heard gun shots and glass breaking, Sam looked out the broken window, seeing Dean aiming his gun at the window still. Dean shot again, Sam sat up, "I'm taking you home." Sam said, driving the car straight into the house.

Dean's eyes widen seeing the car go straight into the house and heard you stop screaming. "Sam!" Dean yelled, Sam stopped the car. "Sam?" Dean asked, "here." Sam answers, groaning in pain.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, walking towards your door, seeing you leaning against the seat, unconscious. "Hey, bug, are you okay?" Dean asked as he opened the door looking over you.

You had a cut on your right side of your forehead, other than that, you were fine, unconscious, but fine as Dean can tell. Dean lied you down, leaving you in the car.

"Sam are you okay?" Dean asked, going out the car and going to the front passenger side to help Sam out. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think, is she okay?" Sam answered, looking at you and then at Dean who opened the door, "can you move?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Help me." Sam replied, Dean helped him out of the car. "There you go." Dean said, both of them standing by the car, seeing Constance holding a picture frame.

She looked up from the frame, looking at the both of them angrily, throwing the picture frame down and pushing a dresser in front of them, they both groaned, trying to push the dresser away from them.

The lights flickered and Constance looked towards the stairs, water was coming down. She went over by the bottom of the stairs, seeing her children. "You've come home to us, mommy." They both say, going by her side and hugging her.

Constance screamed, the three of them dissolving into a puddle.

Dean and Sam watched their interaction, before looking at each other and finally pushing the dresser down and away from them. Both of them walking over to where Constance and her kids were not ten seconds ago.

"So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean says, sighing. "That's why she could never go home." Sam said, "she was too scared to face 'em." He added, smiling at Dean.

"Found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." Dean says, patting Sam on his chest, Sam laughed in pain, "yeah, I wish I could say the same for you." Sam says looking at Dean. "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Sam asks, Dean turned to look at him.

"Hey. Saved your ass." Dean says. pointing at Sam. Dean bent down, inspecting his car. "And I'll tell you another thing; if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you." Dean stated, looking at Sam.

Dean drove, AC/DC's Highway To Hell was playing. Sam was looking at a map, trying to find where the coordinates lead to.

"Okay, here's where dad went. It's called Black Water Ridge, Colorado." Sam says, Dean nodded his head. "Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked, glancing at the map.

"About 600 miles." Sam answered, "if we shag ass, we can make it by morning." Dean said hopefully, looking at Sam. Sam looked up from the map and then at Dean.

"Dean, I..." Sam says, "you're not going." Dean says, "the interview's in, like ten hours. I gotta be there." Sam stated, Dean sighs quietly, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home." Dean said, focusing back on the road.

After hours of driving, Dean parked in front of Sam's building. Sam got out, leaning against the open window. "You'll call me if you find him?" He asked, Dean nodded his head.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam asks, smiling. "Yeah, all right." Dean replies, "bye, uncle Sammy." Sam turned to look at you, "bye, sweetheart." He says, smiling at you.

Sam stood up straight, walking towards his building. Dean started the car, "Sam." Dean says, looking out the window. Sam turned and looked at Dean, "you know, we made one hell of a team back there." Dean said, "yeah." Sam replied.

Dean looked away and started driving. Sam watched the car, sighing.

Dean drove around the building, wanting to check on Sam, he looked at you after parking the car again. "Stay here, alright?" Dean said, "okay." You say as Dean got out of the car and ran up towards Sam's apartment.

Dean kicked the door open, "Sam!" Dean yelled, running towards the bedroom. Dean saw Sam laying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, while the room was on fire. Dean looked up, seeing Sam's girlfriend on the ceiling.

"Sam! Sam!" Dean yelled at him, "Jess!" Sam yells, Dean walked over to him and pulled him up from the bed, pushing Sam out the door. "No! No, Jess!" Sam yells over Dean's shoulder, looking at the ceiling.

"We gotta get out!" Dean yells, still pushing Sam out the door, while he kept yelling for his girlfriend.

Sam stood behind the impala, the trunk open, while firefighters put out the fire. Dean walked over to him.

Dean looked at Sam, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, Sam nodded his head, throwing a gun back into the trunk.

"We've got work to do." Sam said, closing the trunk and walked towards the passenger side. Dean got in and drove away.

You guys stayed there for a few days longer before Dean decided to check out the coordinates their dad left behind for him.

Tag List: @snobunns

#Supernatural Imagine #Supernatural Fanfiction #Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader #Sam Winchester X Niece!Reader #Blind-Sided Part 1 #another part?? lmk pls #my fanfic writing

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blueaura · 4 years

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Lost and Found Ch. 7

A/N: I was supposed to finish this chapter the day before yesterday but then the finale happened and I needed time to recover. I loved it - it wasn’t perfect but I still absolutely loved it. It made me cry, which I detest but I still loved it. If anyone wants to talk about the finale, send me an ask or a message! Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Y/N didn’t know how to feel when Dean said they were 10 minutes out. She was nervous and anxious at the prospect of entering an unknown environment, but she was also reluctantly looking forward to not sleeping in a motel room anymore. She tried to desperately keep herself calm as they approached the bunker. The car ride had been surprisingly enjoyable. Dean’s music was similar to her tastes and they had a lot of fun annoying Sam, who ended up plugging in his earphones. The tension present in the beginning of the ride had melted away by the third Metallica track, and Y/N had finally relaxed after all the excitement of the previous day. But now she felt all her emotions crowding her, bombarding her senses as the distance between them and her new home continued to shrink. Temporary new home, she reminded herself.

Dean noticed her little freak out session in the backseat but decided against pulling over. He knew that if he gave her the slightest chance, she’d run, even if deep down she wanted this. So, he just continued driving and hoped that she would have an easier time once they arrived and she had a chance to unwind.

The bunker came into view just a few minutes later and Dean winced as he belatedly realised how this abandoned building would look to a stranger like Y/N. He didn’t exactly see any option other than to get her inside the bunker and re-affirm that she’s safe, so he pulled up in front of the huge building as Y/N took in her surroundings.

“This is your home?” she sounded skeptical, but not afraid which Dean took as a good sign.

“It was an old men of letters bunker and since they were all wiped out in the 50s, as legacies, we took over. Our grandfather was a member.” Sam had already jumped into nerd mode and started explaining who the men of letters were, so Dean figured his brother could handle Y/N and busied himself with unlocking the front door.

Y/N walked down the steps still not exactly sure this was as awesome as Dean had described in the car, but then the entirety of the bunker came into view and she looked around in awe. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of barely contained glee as they saw the young hunter excitedly explore the place. This was probably the most animated they had seen her in their short time together. She actually looked and acted like a kid and Dean’s heart ached at the unfamiliar sight.

“This is amazing! You guys have your own freaking bat cave!”

Sam started to explain everything to Y/N and Dean took this opportunity to go in search of their resident angel. With a quick word to his brother, letting him know where he was going, Dean made his way to Cas’s room leaving Y/N and Sam to nerd it out.

He knocked on Cas’s door but heard no response. Worried, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. He opened the door completely and stopped in his tracks, smiling wryly at the sight that greeted him. Cas had apparently taken Sam’s suggestion to heart. He was lounging in what looked like Dean’s sweatpants and hoodie, with Netflix playing on the TV he had apparently dragged from Sam’s room to his own. Cas himself was sound asleep, the dim light from the TV letting Dean see the drool on his face. He snickered quietly and took out his phone to click a picture.

Although Cas looked better than before, Dean was still worried about his friend. Just the fact that he needed to sleep was enough to tell him that Cas wasn’t at full strength, despite his claim that he was better. He contemplated waking the angel up and introducing him to Y/N but decided against it. He looked relaxed for the first time in days and Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to disturb him just yet.

After taking a couple of more pictures, for blackmail material of course, Dean finally left Cas to rest, closing the door lightly behind him. Instead of joining Sam, he decided to make up a room for Y/N and hunt down some food. He chose the room right in front of his, so that if she had any problem, she could come straight to him. He also realised at that particular moment that he cared more about this girl than he did for his privacy and it was a little jarring for Dean Winchester. He knew Sammy would probably make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made his way back to the war room after making sure Y/N’s room had everything she could need, and realised that Sam had moved on to the library where Y/N was currently exclaiming over all the different books, seemingly over her hesitation of staying with them.

“Well, Cas is asleep and I think your room is missing a TV. And possibly some clothes. He was lounging in sweats which is a first. But at least he looked better,” Dean said to Sam.

“I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Y/N turned to Dean, still at ease, which made him less anxious about having her there. Maybe it would just work after all.

“Usually they don’t. Cas… he already wasn’t at full strength but then this witch Rowena put a rabid dog curse on him – it’s a whole thing, I’ll explain later. But he was pretty wiped out and I guess he’s still recovering. He doesn’t look near death anymore though, which is good.”

“I’m more surprised that he’s actually wearing something other than his usual look,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever seen him wearing normal clothes besides that one time when he was human – it’s a long story,” he said before Y/N could ask.

“You’ll tell me later I presume,” she said wryly, echoing his previous statement, “You guys have a lot of long stories.”

“What can I say? Our lives are interesting,” Dean grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

He walked her through the bunker, showing her the common washrooms, the kitchen and pointing out his and Sam’s rooms.

“And this,” he pushed open the door, “is yours. You can personalise it if you want. I’m right next door and Sam’s is right down the hall so, holler if you need anything.”

Y/N looked inside and suddenly the overwhelming feeling came back. Her own room. For the first time in her life she had a place she could call her own, albeit temporarily, she had to keep reminding herself.

“Thanks,” she said, and if she sounded a little choked up, Dean mercifully didn’t mention it.

“Settle in and get some rest kiddo,” he nodded at her, “Cas will probably be up in an hour or so… you can meet him then.”

He hesitated at the door. “Have you… did you change your mind?” he cleared his throat roughly, “about Cas and the… thing I mean.”

“I… I don’t know Dean. Maybe later. It’s already too much right now.”

She felt awful when he visibly deflated, cursing herself for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

“Yeah, alright. No problem, kid. Just – let me know if you change your mind.”

He quickly left the room after that.

Y/N was pacing her new room. She couldn’t get over the defeated look on Dean’s face. She knew he wouldn’t show it, but he too really wanted to get it over with. If she was being honest with herself, so did she. She was just scared.

The more Sam reiterated the idea, the stronger it grew in her head. At first, she had laughed at the mere implication that Dean Winchester could be her biological father, but then she started building it up in her head, and now she honestly needed to know. Because now she wasn’t sure it was a joking matter, after all.

But for a person like her to even begin to grasp the idea of family was too much. She wasn’t scared of whatever the results could be. She could do worse in that area. What scared her was whatever came after – after finding out the truth. She once again felt anger rising for her mother. If only she had been honest, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, Sandra L/N was hardly ever honest.

Could she be happy here? It was safe, she had access to food. It was a home base – everything she had dreamed of having in the last few years since she had been alone. And rationally, she knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t hurt her – at least not intentionally. She usually took much longer to trust someone but there was just something about them that made her feel… safe. Something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with – Sam had reassured her of that much already. And maybe she would finally have someone to look out for her and in return she could look out for them.

She started pacing more furiously as she went over multiple scenarios in her head, overthinking every little detail. Family equalled hurt and pain in her head. And for Y/N, it had always been difficult to win against her head. She remembered when she used to believe in her mother, before she had realised that she was just a burden to her – someone she got saddled with and had no choice but to drag around. She hadn’t stopped hunting when Y/N was born, in fact she had thrown herself more into it. Her recklessness was what had finally done her in. Y/N had mostly been left with the neighbours or cheap babysitters when she was younger, before her mother decided that she was old enough to survive without supervision. She had been 6 at the time.

She had figured out how to survive by herself and she was good at it. She didn’t mind being alone, but she also craved affection, which created a weird juxtaposition of want and need inside her, that she mostly tried to bury deep down. The past week had thrown her life into a complete frenzy and all her defence mechanisms seemed useless at that moment.

Before she could spiral further, Sam knocked at her door, to fetch her for dinner. She visibly reigned herself in, but Sam didn’t comment once – just gave her an understanding smile. All these little instances were piling inside her head – how kind the Winchesters were to her and how much they seemed to care about her, making her crave that connection with them that she was too scared to allow herself to form.

“Cas is up. He’s in the kitchen with Dean, so you can meet him now,” Sam said as he started leading the way to the kitchen. Y/N’s steps faltered behind him. He paused and looked back at her,

“Hey, it’s alright. Cas is not gonna hurt you and we’ll be there the entire time,” Sam tried to console her.

“I know… I think I’m just realising that I’m about to meet an actual angel,” she squeaked, forgetting everything else for a minute.

Sam smiled at that. He remembered how overwhelmed he had been when he’d first met Cas, although the meeting hadn’t been a great one. He and Dean sometimes forgot that having an angelic best friend was not common for everyone else.

“You’ll be fine. Cas isn’t like other angels – for one, he isn’t a complete dick,” Sam laughed as he continued with Y/N in tow.

“Easy for you to say. I have never even met an angel before!” This easy camaraderie with the brothers was what was pushing her to get over her fears and Y/N could feel that pull again – the need to find out more.

“Well, you’re about to in a minute. Come on,” Sam gently pushed her in front of him, guiding her to the kitchen.

She saw Dean first, who was handing a cup of coffee to, she presumed, Castiel. Cas wasn’t what she imagined he would be. He didn’t seem intimidating. He had a ridiculous case of bedhead going on and it looked like Dean was in mother-hen mode again, as Cas was wearing a blanket around his shoulders that he didn’t seem too happy about.

Dean turned to her and smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat as he put the final touches to the pasta he’d whipped up.

“Well, looks like it’s introduction time! Y/N, this is our best friend and resident angel – Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N,” Dean grinned as Cas tried to awkwardly shake Y/N’s hand.

“It’s really good to meet you Y/N. I understand that you’re looking for some answers I may be able to provide. I hope I can be of assistance,” Cas’s voice was very deep, which surprised Y/N. She weakly smiled back at him, not entirely comfortable with the subject.

“Ah, yes. We’re gonna take a rain-check on that bud. You’re not at full strength yet and I don’t want you to derail your recovery,” Dean didn’t want to put Y/N on the spot and say she didn’t want to find out yet. The kid had been through enough.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said, annoyance clear in his voice, “It barely requires me to do anything. I just need to look at her soul.”

“My soul?” Y/N squeaked, but no one heard her because Dean was suddenly almost yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait! Look at her soul? Like what you did to that boy, and to Sam when he was soulless? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sam was what?” her voice was even more high-pitched now but again, she was ignored.

“No Dean. I don’t need to touch her soul to recognise it. I merely need to look at it carefully, with her permission of course. I’m very familiar with your soul, I would recognise a piece of it anywhere,” Cas assured in a soothing voice. Dean was now looking away, embarrassed and Y/N wondered what was going on there. She turned to Sam – confusion clear on her face. He just shook his head, exasperated. Clearly, he had been stuck watching this dance for a long time.

“Yeah, alright. As long as there’s no soul touching involved. That isn’t pleasant from what I’ve seen. And look, there’s no rush alright? You need to rest a little more and Y/N needs some time to adjust,” Dean said much more calmly now that he knew he wouldn’t be subjecting Y/N to excruciating pain.

Cas was clearly rearing up to argue with Dean about his ability to perform the task, regardless of his recovery, when Y/N spoke from behind them.

In that split second, she decided that it was no use putting it off until later. She would either drive herself crazy or talk herself out of it entirely and run away from the only safe place she knew.

“Alright. Do it.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately, which unnerved Y/N to no end, but she steeled herself against the scrutiny. This was it. This was her choice.

“Let’s do this,” she repeated, nodding for good measure.

Dean looked at her for a good minute, then nodded to Cas, clenching his fists even as Sam moved to stand beside him and Cas came to stand in front of where Y/N was sitting.

She exhaled sharply as she felt his palm touch her forehead. It was show time.

Chapter 8

TAGS: @vicmc624 @carisi-sonny @zizzlekwum @geekqueen5 @mondefantastique @lemondropirwin @hamildork @mrswhozeewhatsis

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dad!dean x daughter!reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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kyber-kisses · 5 years

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Lights Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, Y/N and Dean acting like utter children, some minor injuries.

Summary: When the power cuts out in the bunker, Y/N devises a plan on how to pass the time. (Consider this a crack!fic)

A/n: for once, I wrote something fluffy and not full of angst. Arnt y’all proud of me? Anyways I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! ( Also this is a hot mess, and definitely not my best piece but idgaf.)

It was one of those rare Saturday nights. One of the few times where no one was working a case, and the residents of the bunker were practically free to do whatever they wished. Sam had taken Eileen out for the night, Dean was probably having a horror movie marathon on the TV in Sams room, and you were curled up in one of the massive chairs in the library, nose deep in a book you had bought months ago, determined to finish it.

But like so many times before, it was as if the universe saw you with your guard down and decided to spice it up a little bit.

Just as you were beginning the final chapter, the power shut off. All the fucking power just shut off, drowning you in darkness as the bunker became eerily silent.

You half expected the warning lights to flash on, igniting the room in a deep red hue, but it never came, meaning the power shutting off was from a purely normal cause and nothing supernatural.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” There was a shout from down the hallway, and you couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face.

Dropping your book down on your seat, you stood up, naturally moving across the room. You had lived in the underground palace long enough to know where everything was, which made maneuvering through the dark that much easier.

But apparently Dean hadn’t gotten any better, because as you rounded the corner towards your room, you slammed into a solid wall of muscle, and then tripped, collapsing onto the harsh tile floor. Dean going down with you.

The hunter let out a sigh, “Ow. You could have given me a warning.” Dean groaned, untangling his body from yours as he tried to sit up. Even if he squinted, he still couldn’t see shit.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You joked, voice thick with sarcasm, as your hands flew out to find the wall. Unfortunately they did not meet the intended destination. There was another yell from Dean, and you recoiled.

“First you trip me and make me fall, and now you’re slapping me?! What the hell did I do to you?” He exclaimed.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you sucked in a breath, “I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean-“

You shouldn’t have been waving your hands around because one of them came into sharp contact with Deans jaw, sending the hunter stumbling back in the dark, clutching his face.

“Ow! What the fuck?!”

“Oh God, I did it again! I’m sorry, I so so sorry!”

This was just going downhill at an alarming speed. You needed to fix this, and quick. Before you accidentally found a way to kill Dean.

“I think I have some flashlights in my room.” You breathed, trying to calm yourself.

“Good idea. I’m right behind you.”

But he wasn’t.

As you took a step forward, the two of you slammed together again, Dean hitting his nose against your forehead with an alarming amount of force as yours connected with his chin. You both let out another yell, followed by a couple groans as you nursed the bridge of your nose.

“Oh god, oh fuck. This is a train wreck.” You mumbled, suddenly desperate for the light the bunker was currently lacking.

“Good god, woman. Your sense of direction is terrible!” Dean breathed, “here, c’mon.” His hand shooting out to find yours, only to hit something else, (that was most definitely not a hand.)

A puff of air escaped your lips as you gasped, doubling over in pain “Dean, did you just punch me in the boob?”

“I swear I didn’t mean to. I was trying to grab on to your hand.”

“Well, you almost grabbed something else. You do that again and I’ll kill you.” Bringing your arm back, you threw a punch in the general direction of his arm, finally hitting your intending target for the first time that night as your knuckles connected with his bicep.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. Can we just go get those lights you were talking about?”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” You nodded, sliding your hand down Dean arm and tangling his fingers with yours. A rush of heat went up your body and you were glad the lights were out so Dean couldn’t see the blush on your face.

What you didn’t know was that Dean was glancing down in the direction of your intertwined hands, suddenly surprised by your action but not daring to let go.

“Also, my room is in the other direction, Dumb ass. You’re the one who needs to work on their sense of direction.” You quipped, pulling Dean through the dark with ease as you navigated the corridors towards your room.

Dean ended up sitting on your bed patiently as you dig through the drawers of your desk, waiting in almost complete silence. Almost.

“Are you humming Metallica?” You mused, haphazardly discarding a pile of folders on the floor as you continued to search for the object you needed.

“. . . Yes. Don’t judge, I don’t really have anything else to do at the moment.”

“Aw, poor baby.” You teased, throwing another folder over your shoulder.

“Shut up. I was on the last five minutes of the movie when the power shut off. I’m a little bitter.”

“Oh, whatever shall you do Dean Winchester?”

Dean purses his lips, twiddling with his thumbs as he continued to wait, “Your obnoxious, you know that?”

“Yes, but you love me, so quit your whining.”

There was another thud from across the room before you let out laugh, finally producing what you had been looking for.

“Bingo!”

“You find something?”

There was a small series of cracks from where you knelt, and then your face was illuminated with a neon glow, giving off enough light to show Dean your proud grin.

“I thought you said you had flashlights.”

Crossing the room, you dumped a collection of glow sticks into Deans lap, giving him any array of colors.

“Yeah, well I lied. Plus, these are so much more fun.” You shrugged, pulling open the door to your closet as you went in search of the next item on your list.

“But why do you just have glow sticks lying around?” He questioned, flipping a bright pink one in his hand as he looked over at you.

“I was at the dollar store. It was a box of fifty. I couldn’t just walk away.”

“You’re so goddamn weird.”

Looking over your shoulder, you shot the older Winchester another grin, dragging an old cardboard box out from the depths of your closet.

“Watcha got there?”

“Well, seeing as we don’t know when the power will come back on, I thought we could do something to pass the time.” Throwing the box onto the bed, you snatched one of the glow sticks from Dean, flipping open the lid.

“Oh?”

You hummed a response as you tilted the box in Deans direction, allowing him to peer at the contents.

“Are. . . Are those nerf guns?” An amused smile taking up his face as he reached over to grab one of the harmless weapons.

“Yes. Yes they are. What do you say we have a nerf gun battle in the middle of a power outage?”

*. *. *. *. *.

“Why the hell are all the lights out?” Sam yelled, taking cautious steps down the bunkers stairs, quickly flicking on the flashlight on his phone as he and Eileen slowly entered the war room.

The power was never shut off like this in the bunker. Ever. There was always at least one light on, even when nobody was home.

“Guys?”

Suddenly there was a soft whistle as something shot past Sams ear, hitting the wall behind him with a light tap before landing on the floor almost silently.

“What the fu-“

“Sammy? That you?”

“Yeah Dean. Want to tell me what exactly is going on?” Sam questioned, walking across the war room towards the electrical box and flipping it open. There was a series of clicks and just like that, the power flickered back on, illuminating every inch of the bunker.

Dean stood at the bottom of the library step, a bright orange nerf gun clutched in his hand, and a couple of glow sticks tucked into his belt loops. Beyond that, the floor was littered with foam darts and even more of the neon glowing objects. It looked like some party enhanced battlefield.

“Dean, what the hell happened?” Sam spun, eyes taking in the state of the bunker.

The hunter opened his mouth to answer but was cut short when he saw you step out of the doorway behind Sam. Without hesitation the two of you were raising your weapons in unison, firing at each other. Quickly stepping out of the way, Sam and Eileen watched with surprised eyes.

Your aim was perfect as the dart whistled past the confused duo, hitting Deans forehead dead center. His was a little more off and you paid the price as his shot hit you in the throat, making you free hand fly up to your throat as you coughed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh god, Y/N I’m so sorry.” Dean dropped his gun, taking quick steps towards you.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You waved him off, stooping down to pick up the dart, “but I did win.”

When you popped back up, your eyes widened along with Dean, finally getting a thorough look at each others face.

“Oh my god.” The two of you speaking again in unison. Dean had a small cut on his lower lip, along with a red welt just beneath his eye, no doubt from your hand when you accidentally hit him. As for you, you had a bruise across the bridge of your nose and a tiny cut on your chin indicting that he had slammed into you much harder than he originally thought.

“Did I do that? I’m so sorry, Dee.” You stepped forward, thumb lightly grazing over his busted lip. God, you were a hot mess, and Deans beautiful face had paid the price.

“Hey, hey it’s fine. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I should have watched where I was going.” He smiled.

*. *. *. *. *.

Digging through the freezer in the kitchen, Dean produced a bag of frozen vegetables, wrapping it in on old dish towel before walking back over towards you. He still felt guilty for accidentally plowing into you earlier, and it made his insides churn.

“I could have gone and gotten ice myself.” You sighed, Dean sinking down in the seat next to you and pressing the bag softly to the bridge of your nose.

“I know. But it’s the least I could do. I did punch you in the boob earlier, and slammed into you . . Which I am sorry about by the way.”

“It’s okay. It happens.” You chuckled, moving to press your hand on top of Deans, holding the bag in place. There was a small stretch of sudden silence as the two of you got lost in thought, eyes softly locked on to one another.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

Though your face was partially covered by a bag of frozen vegetables , Dean could see how bright your eyes were. You still looked so happy despite being slightly battered by him.

God, he felt like a little kid with a crush. This was so weird.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“why are looking at me like that?” You slowly questioned, lowering the bag of veggies from your face.

oh god, had he been staring again? Damn it.

“Oh, uh. . . You’re just really pretty that’s all.” He stuttered, suddenly fidgeting in his seat, the words practically falling out of his mouth. He couldn't contain them anymore.

That got you to fall silent. And you definitely couldn’t stop the scarlet tone your face was taking. Dean thought you were pretty? The Dean Winchester thought you were pretty?”

“I’m really not, but thanks?”

“But you are.” Dean spoke, eyes never wavering from you as he tilted his head. And then, a sudden as the light coming back on earlier, he was leaning forward and capturing your lips against his. It came out of nowhere and sucked all the breath from your lungs.

And You froze. You don’t mean to, but you froze, which only made Dean pull back, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“Shut up.” You sighed, grabbing hold of the collar of his flannel and tugging him back to you and firmly planting your lips on his.

This time you kissed him. This time you were prepared. This time it was perfect.

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Sometimes it takes a few tries, but eventually what’s meant to happen always finds a way.

The End.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox @horrorstreet @imabitch4jensen @minneapolis-harry

#dean imagine #dean x y/n #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #supernatural #bi-danvers0 #bi danvers writing #spn x y/n #spn x reader

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daleisgreat · 3 years

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Old Joy

2006’s Old Joy (trailer) is the longest 77-minute film I have ever seen, but I mean that in only the best kind of ways. Director Kelly Reichardt intentionally establishes a deliberate, plodding pace about two distant friends who fell out of touch meeting up to go on a road/hiking trip to find a tucked-away and highly reputable hot springs. The film opens up with Mark (Daniel London) meditating at home when he gets a call from his free-spirited old friend, Kurt (Will Oldham), with an invite for a last-minute weekend trek to discover these mystical hot springs. That opening scene does a masterful job with its minimalist dialog and awkward body language to indicate how Mark is still not quite settling into married life with a kid on the way and comes off a little too eager to jump at the opportunity to get out of the house last minute for the weekend.

The film jumps to sitting in on an extended driving scene with Mark listening to political talk radio, and when he meets up with Kurt is when the intentionally long scenes start to take hold. I like smartly written films with smooth-flowing dialog filled with edgy quips and retorts, but I also appreciate a complete 180 as seen here and in movies like Slacker where the dialog sounds….uncomfortably natural. When Kurt and Mark start off driving, there are many advertent pauses during the conversations where it seems like the two are trying to think of topics to bring up to talk about and catch up. I can 100% relate to that, and it is insanely rare how often I run across that in average big-budget films and pull it off so well like it is done in Old Joy. Highlights from the road trip part of the film include how well shot little moments are like a gas station stop with oblique camera angles that somehow capture the subtle but noticeable moments of the excitement of getting out for the weekend as Kurt and Mark amusingly toss beverage koozies at each other. Watching the pair drive around aimlessly while Kurt tries to remember how to get to the springs and eventually resorting to a makeshift campsite while exchanging philosophical stoner verbiage is another memorable scene of their journey.

I would be remiss to go this long without giving a shoutout to Lucy, Mark’s canine pal tagging along for the journey. In the bonus feature interviews, it was enlightening to hear that it is actually Reichardt’s dog who she had no choice but to include in the film because she could not find a dog-sitter while filming. Reichardt stated she was anxious about how it would work out since Lucy had no film training. Lucy wound up as a perfect third wheel for the adventure. She blended in perfectly, especially with some smart improving with Oldham, where he would instinctually play with her during the hiking spots of the movie. Eventually, the trio found the hidden turnoff to their destination and go on a hike to see the hot springs. The film once again, through exquisite cinematography and intentional drawn-out shots with very little dialog, shows how all the hassle to reach their endpoint was worth it. It is a boldly ambiguous, memorable scene. The film not-so-climatically wraps up with Mark dropping Kurt off, and the movie goes out of its way to capture another little thing so well that few other movies have pulled off in the form of the malaise-filled drive back home and the dread of the return to the normality.

I have the Criterion Edition of Old Joy, and it has four bonus features totaling about an hour altogether. Daniel London and Will Oldham reunite for the first time since production wrapped in 2006 for a conversation filmed in 2019. They exchange many interesting production stories, with the one standing out the most to me being the warning from the park ranger escorting them to the hot springs on how brave they were to go in there because of all the gunk they have fished out of there over the years. An interview with Reichardt is a must-listen on how she decided to film this movie after taking a sabbatical from filmmaking. An interview with the author of the original short story the film is based on, Jim Raymond, on how he met Kelly and how satisfied he was with her treatment of the adaptation and changes she made for the big screen. Finally, Director of Photography Peter Sillen shares a fair amount of production factoids and insights. This being a Criterion release, there is the requisite booklet included, which has a 14-page essay by Ed Halter that thoroughly dissects the film and its production and the entirety of the 22 page original “Old Joy” short story from Jim Raymond. I accidentally stumbled upon this movie browsing through the latest Criterion releases, and the description of the film made it sound right up my alley by how unorthodox it is. This style of filmmaking may not be for everybody with its different structure and laidback style of dialog from the average theatrical movie. I wound up absolutely loving Old Joy, and was thrilled to hear how this film was a hit with critics and was the catalyst for Reichardt directing more beloved indie films following this like Wendy & Lucy, First Cow, and Night Moves. Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Endgame The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve The Clapper Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Inglourious Basterds Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Justice League (2017 Whedon Cut) Last Action Hero Major League Mallrats Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Nintendo Quest Not for Resale Payback (Director’s Cut) Pulp Fiction The Punisher (1989) The Ref The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Pilgrim vs the World The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT Trauma Center The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

#random movie #old joy #kelly reichardt #daniel london #will oldham

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imaginesmai · 5 years

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Tony Stark-Feeling old

Requested by anon. I know your request was a little bit different (they are already together), but I just got carried away with this idea, I hope you don’t mind!

Plot: you say something that tiggers Tony’s inners insecurities and doubts.

“Oh, daddy” you cried out, arching off the bed and squeezing Tony’s dick inside you. You bit your lip and let your cheeks be flushed while you came down from your orgasm; and when you looked up to Tony, your eyes were half lidded and dreamy.

Tony wasn’t smiling. At all.

He was frozen in place above you, on arm braced against the headboard of his bed, the other hand still loosely wrapped around your neck. His own dick was rapidly softening inside you, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull out, or even move at all.

Your smiled faltered, and the last few moments seemed to catch up with you all at once.

“Oh my god” you gasped, and pushed him off of you quickly, scrambling out of the bed and frantically trying to look for you panties between the clothes on the ground. “I – fuck, can we… forget this? I’m, fuck, sorry Tony – I didn’t , I wasn’t –“

You groaned and hopped up and down as you shimmied down your way into the tight skinny jeans, not being able to look at Tony. You just wanted to get out of there, as soon as possible and forget what you had said to the man you had been sleeping with for almost four months then. Screwing everything up was a good definition for what had just happened.

“Um, I think, I have things – yeah, you don’t… I –“ Tony flinched at his own choice of words. “I’ll get FRIDAY to call you a car”

When you looked back, Tony had the heels of his hands on his eyes, rubbing at them and laying on his back. The AI replied softly, unaware of the situation inside the room. You winced at the word ‘taxi’, as Tony would always drive you back to your apartment once you had finished; if you didn’t stay the night. Which, lately, was becoming an habit.

“Thanks” you muttered, pulling your hoodie on over what appeared to be Tony’s Metallica old shirt, yours then. “I’ll call you. Or text you, yeah”

You stepped into your sneakers and ran a hand through your hair in a half hearted attempt to settle it into place. Looking at him once more, Tony hadn’t changed positions, and didn’t make any attempt to stop you. So, a few seconds later, you took your backpack and bolted from the room, whispering a quick goodbye.

The door slammed shut, Tony sat up and then fell back onto the mattress. Curses and shouts left his mouth when he heard the front door shutting too. He grumbled and rolled over a few times, until he buried his face in his sheets. They still smelt like sex, and you. Sweat, his Axe deodorant, and coconut shampoo.

“She called me daddy” he grabbed one of the pillow above his head and threw it across the room, knocking over a pile of science journals he had been meaning to look over.

“She did indeed, sir” FRIDAY answered, robotic voice completely neutral.

“I’m not her father’s age” he moaned. “Am I?”

“You are, in fact, two years older than Mr. Y/L/N father” FRIDAY supplied helpfully. Tony was sure he could hear an attitude in her voice, probably a few lines of code he needed to adjust.

Tony grabbed another pillow and put it over his head, drowning out the AI’s voice trying to fix it saying that he wasn’t as old as your granddad. If he couldn’t hear the damned thing, he didn’t have to think about the fact he was much older than you, older than your actual ‘daddy’. He burrowed into the mattress and tried not to think about it, but it was impossible.

Yes, he knew he was older than you. It was all legal, you were a student from college that he had interned a while ago. And yeah, he was aware that the more he thought about that, the more he was thrusting idly against the silk sheets beneath him.

He hadn’t had a chance to cum, and he was hard again. Hard over the same girl who had called him ‘daddy’. Which actually daddy was younger than him

Rolling out of bed, he headed into the bathroom, opened the shower and twisted the knob on the shower to a temp just above freezing.

Once there, he started thinking. He had met you when he had been forced by Pepper to give a presentation to college students, something about looking forward to the future and search for every opportunity that comes your way. Honestly, Tony had been too busy staring at you to focus on what he was saying. While his mind went on autopilot and he told all those old jokes and motivational advices he knew by heart, he sneaked glances at you; and at the end of the day, he had managed to invite you to his pent house to take a look at his lab.

Tony had never met anyone as passionate in their hobbies as you, and the idea of getting into your pants quickly became an offer of interning with him. He ended up destroying two prototypes of his newest job the next week, when he fucked you against the desk. And he had enjoyed every second of it, from the late nights talks about nanotechnology to the arguments about Star Wars. The age difference hadn’t bothered him, until that day.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and checked for messages; none new, no missed calls. Just a notification from your name appearing recently in one of the newspapers that usually gave Tony problems. Frowning, he clicked on the pop up and swiped his thumb around the screen.

“The fuck?” Tony jabbed at the screen and zoomed in as much as he could without the photo going blurry.

You were sitting at a coffee shop, hunched over a mug with a boy next to you. He had his arm wrapped around your shoulders and was leaning in close. Now, he wasn’t the jealous type, because he trusted you, and he vaguely remembered the guy from one of the your classes.

It didn’t stop the annoyance as he read through the screen the comments about a possible break up or another fail from his part. His heart clenched painfully on his chest when he suddenly was surprised by a hand on his shoulder.

Tony grabbed a half busted gauntlet he had been tweaking from his bedside table and whipped around, training the pulse cannon at the intruder. Once he saw the annoyed chocolate eyes, he sighed and slumped down, dropping the weapon.

“You think it’s funny? Scaring me like this?” he scoffed, glaring at Rhodey. “I have a heart condition, don’t make it worse”

“I’ve been calling you for a while now” he shrugged. Rhodey wasn’t wearing his normal suit for meetings, instead dressed down in soft grey joggers and a black hoodie. “I thought Y/N was spending the night in?”

“You have just missed her” Tony snorted and headed into his closet to put on some clothes. He wasn’t worried about Rhodey watching him; his friend had seen much worse. “She left before I went into the shower”

“You never let her leave alone” Rhodey clucked his tongue. “Trouble in paradise?”

Tony felt his stomach clench. He hadn’t thought until that moment that, maybe, you were upset about it. Maybe he had been a little bit rough; he was a hard man to love, he knew, and he had hoped to control himself for your sake.

“We didn’t fight” Tony argued weakly, pulling on an old shirt worn so thin it barely felt like wearing a shirt at all. “We just had a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding? About what?” Rhodey changed his weight from one feet from another, and crossed his arms.

“None of your business” Tony tugged an oil stained pair of sweats and balled up his towel, throwing it in his friends general direction.

“What, couldn’t get it up?” Rhodey sniggered. “I mean, really, at your age it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re old enough to be her father, she should understand.

Tony’s stomach fell farther at his friend’s remark. Usually, Rhodey joked about the age gap with him on multiple occasions, and it hadn’t bothered him before. The mechanic busied himself with stripping the sweat soaked sheets off of the bed, turning his back on Rhodey so he couldn’t see the hurt on his eyes.

“Oh god, really?” he gaped at Tony, and then laughed. “That’s it, you don’t have like, stock in a company that makes little blue pills?”

“What? I don’t have one of those, and you know it.”

“You’re a billionaire, I’m sure you can afford to buy it” Rhodey walked behind him as Tony rounded the bed. “Listen, at your age is completely normal that your-“

“Listen, it’s not cause I’m old” Tony snapped, facing Rhodey. “Well, I guess it sort of its”

Rhodey blinked at him and nodded, waiting for Tony to continue.

“It’s because she called me daddy” he sighed.

“And?”

“And nothing!” Tony twisted the sheets in his hands. “Y/N called me that and I freaked out, so she ran out of here”

“I gotta say, you’re kind of surprising me here. I thought you were some kind of millionaire playboy”

“Billionaire, playboy philanthropist” Tony corrected automatically. “What does that have to do with my problem?”

“You never did any roleplay?” Rhodey picked up a small glass seal that rested on the shelf and inspected it, as if he wasn’t talking about sex with his best friend. “The whole daddy thing isn’t even that odd”

“It’s not the same! I am old enough to be her dad!”

Through the years, Tony had seen every and each kid of kink. He had been asked to tie someone to bed until the ropes left bruises, had seen some weird toys, and had done it in the weirdest places. With you, he had felt the need to be extra careful, and many times had put your needs before his own; just showing you the worlds of pleasure was enough for him.

If it was true the ‘daddy kink’ was one of the thing that turned you on, he couldn’t help but feel even more turned on.

“It’s not like her calling you daddy changes any of that” Rhodey pointed out. “You want my impartial opinion? As if I hadn’t seen you having sex on the roof while I landed with the helicopter?”

“Not really”

“Talk to her” Rhodey waggled his phone at Tony. “I’ve seen the article, and I’m sure she’s upset. Go there and comfort her. And if she wants to go with whole daddy kink, well, just jump on the boat. You’ve done worse”

Rhodey exited the room between laughs just as Tony threw his knotted up sheets at him, missing by inches.

For once, Tony Stark put his pride and opened your chat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One talk later, thirty minutes of ride back to his place, and scattered clothes around the place, you could say Tony and you had worked out your differences.

“You want to be a good girl for daddy?”

You sucked in a harsh breath, and nodded eagerly. The hard mattress was starting to feel uncomfortable under your naked front, and you swore you were getting bruises just for how hard Tony was driving inside of you. But you couldn’t, or didn’t want, to stop him just yet, so you moaned instead of complaining.

With a pitiful cry, you half begged Tony to move a little bit faster; because even if his trust were powerful, he was pulling in and out really slow.

“Do you want me to move faster?” he breathed against your ear, and pressed his body against your back. “You know how sorry I am for earlier. Just ask me what you want, baby”

“Daddy” you bit your lip, and caught his brown lust-clouded eyes over your shoulder. “Please, daddy, move faster”

Beads of sweat were running down his forehead. His arms hurt from being up so much time, and his legs cracked awkwardly each time he made some weird movement. Complying, Tony moved his hips faster and accommodated his arm so that it was under your waist.

He tugged you upwards, and soon you were meeting each other in the middle. With one final cry, your walls clenched around him and he spilled himself inside you. His weight fell to your right, and you had to take a few seconds to catch your breath before even moving your face to look at him.

When you did, he was already doing so. His fingers had travelled to your hand, and were intertwining themselves little by little.

“I’m sorry about earlier” Tony whispered. “I just – well, I guess I freaked out. With the whole age thing”

“I don’t think daddy has anything to do with age” you chuckled and finished linking your hands. “I’m sorry if it bothered you, it wasn’t-“

“Hey, none of that” Tony frowned. “Now that we’ve done it, I wish you had told me sooner. This is… amazing. Best sex I’ve ever had”

You laughed, and Tony’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. When he was with you, he felt as young as ever. He was happy, without worries, and felt as if he had the world between his arms. While you talked about everything and anything, he couldn’t help but to admire you.

The little dimple on your cheek. That wild strand of hair that framed your face. The excited eyes that brightened up his life. The way your voice rose when you talked about something funny. He didn’t have to look down to your naked body to know he was in love with you.

“I like the way our hands fit perfectly” Tony blurted out, interrupting you mid-sentence. “I like the way we fit together, actually. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere apart from here”

The look on your face at his words could have been frozen and stared at for all the years to come, according to him. Inching closer, you leaned into his side until your noses were touching, your breathes mixed and your sight was blurry with each other.

“I love you” you pecked his lips once. “and I” twice “don’t care” another time “about the age difference” one more “or about what some newspapers say”

“I know” he chuckled, and pulled you close for a full kiss. “And if I’m to say, I feel honoured to be your daddy”

“I think I love hearing you say it” you purred, and moved your hand up to his arm.

“And I think I love you more”

That night, Tony Stark felt anything but old.

Slow sex/love making & “I like the way our hands fit perfectly ” From my prompt list Smut and Fluff

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wickedsrest-rp-archive · 4 years

Text

High Tide || Season 1 Finale Chatzy

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The beach PARTIES: @wardinasrani @carbrakes-and-stakes @inconvenientsimonstrocity @hackysackace SUMMARY: Ritual at the beach

“Hey Bill.”

Bill Took looked from counting money behind the General Store’s cash register. He absently glanced across the counter to meet the unblinking stare of Sam Rainsbottom. A long silence passed as Bill waited for his teenage clerk to offer up some inane lacrosse trivia or give some hyperactive opinion of how ‘lit’ something was. But Sam just stood there absolutely still, only the slightless rise and fall of the short boy’s chest letting Bill know that he wasn’t having a staring contest with a statue.

“Um...yeah Sam?”

“They're calling me,” Sam said in a dull monotone. “I must go.”

“Sure Sammy, I can clock you out. Who is…” It was then that Bill bill noticed the bloody boxcutter on the store’s floor and shifted enough to see the designs cut into Sam’s palms, welling up like eyes crying red tears. “Oh my god, wait Sam! What..”

But Sam Rainsbottom was already out the door, each step matching a rhythm that sang through his veins. The chant filled Sam’s ears and rushed along his spine like ice, drowning out the words of friends and relatives that attempted to stop the boy, features transfixed in mounting concern. Sam apologized with a drugged smile and insisted in a soft far away voice that the stars Vanth and Orcus stood ready at the gate, and the great vaults of Amansinaya echoed with the cries of those who’d been born adrift from time. He mustn’t keep them waiting.

The cloud’s had congealed into the red-stained amber of evening by the time Sam’s slow steady steps carried him over Jericho Hill and through a small patch of woodlands suddenly devoid of bugs or birdsong. The wordless melody guided him past Dark Score Lake and beyond the habor’s docks where Sam’s father was probably anchoring his fishing boat for the night.

The waters of the ocean seemed to stretch out like a vast sacrificial slab, churning with strange whirls and ripples despite there being no wind. Hooded figures cavorted in a festival of antediluvian worship on the shore. Sounds of fire, lightless caverns, lightning turning sand into glass came from the congregations’ lips, bathing Sam’s ears in alien psalms that played havoc with his neurochemistry and instilled the air with a pressure that felt like the moon had drawn too close to the Earth.

Sam’s tennis shoes crunched on the sand as he approached the beach.

Simon didn’t normally find himself at the beach, especially after the last couple weeks he had. First the wolves, then the full moon and its… horrors, the past week with whatever illness he seemed to have contracted, the vision at the Morgue... All of it was worrying, almost so much so that he nearly didn’t even notice as he was walking to his car that he… wasn’t actually walking to his car, abandoning the things he had bought uh... Somewhere as he instead walked in the general direction of the ocean. He didn’t have a chance to go home as he was initially trying to head to his car with food for his dog nor did he have a choice for what he WANTED to do - there was a thought in his head, a new set of sounds that he couldn’t understand that felt like a string of ink being woven through his neurons, getting mixed up with the wires already crossed from his being a wolf and he wanted to stop walking but he couldn’t. He walked, feeling almost like a zombie that aimlessly shuffled though he did his best to make it look like he DID know where he was going and why and he didn’t let the facade drop until he found himself with a small collective of other people, two men and… Alain? What was he doing here? He glanced down and saw the things that he presumed one of the men had drawn, and though it didn’t look immediately recognisable to him, he deduced that it was magic of some kind. Another ritual? He noted the rock in the center and, not entirely sure what to do or why he was here other than some otherworldly compulsion, he rubbed an arm with his hand awkwardly and stood there, quiet and waiting for… HOPEFULLY some form of explanation, wondering if any of this had to do with the vision he saw from the supernatural eyeball that stuck to his hand.

Years of practice, hours of preparation, and yet Darwin's forehead was damp with sweat as he traced the lines of the Circle in the sand. It wasn't ideal, he'd have to make sure the waves wouldn't erase all his hard work, but the ritual had to happen at the beach. That's where everyone would be summoned, and where they'd stop the madness that's been plaguing the town. Or die trying, but Darwin tried not to dwell on that.

People started gathering, and Darwin finally decided to show himself. He walked toward the others, hands raised in an offer of peace. His movements were slow, calculated, and he used the shadows to mask his nervousness. When he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “Good evening. You might be wondering why you've been called here, or by whom.” He paused dramatically and turned to point at the area he'd prepared a little farther down the beach. A big rock had been placed at the center of the circle, forming a rudimental yet effective altar, and on it he placed his tools: a dagger, a bowl, and a small wooden box that somehow seemed to shake every now and then as if something inside was tossing and turning. “We're here to put an end to a great menace that could very well wipe this town out. We all have a role to play today, and it is imperative that we do it well, or we might be doomed. We'll only get one chance, so I expect everyone to follow my instructions carefully.”

Again, he paused. How did you explain to a bunch of strangers that you were a demon expert about to summon a monster in front of them and force them to fight each other in the hopes of channeling some mystical force and banishing a creature that they might not even have seen? Darwin pinched his nose and sighed. Tonight would be harder than expected. He let his eyes focus on each of the others, studying them, trying to figure out who everyone was supposed to be. “I know none of you have any reason to trust me... So trust yourselves. You all came here following an impulse, deep inside you know we must act now. I promise... And those of you well-versed in the supernatural know that's not a word that should be used lightly... I promise that everything I'll ask of you will be for the good of everyone. Now... One of you should be able to change their form. Now would be the time to do so. Their natural enemy should encourage them.”

The hunter still had patches of grey ash in his hair as he approached the sea shore. This was not his plan for the night, but he had left the cemetery with no complaints, crossed the road ignoring the sound of honks and ended up stepping on wet sand, toward the group of people who he knew he had to join. His true purpose was to be here, with these people, with that kid who worked at the store next to his garage, this guy with the really excellent barber, and Simon ? What the hell was Simon doing here? The last time the two had been near water, Alain had ended up in jail. Yep, he did not like how this was going.

The promise made by Barber guy did not convince him, but he was right about everything he had said. Something had brought them here, something bigger than them all, certainly. Completely ignoring whatever rules he had on discretion, the hunter drew his sword out and turned toward Simon. There was something in the way Simon had reacted to the news of a shifter being present that did not sit well with the hunter. Pointing his sword in his direction, Alain stepped forward. The look on his face was neither grim nor menacing yet, but the threat was very present. He spoke calmly, although his tone and attitude would change, should he not listen. “Simon, I have no idea what is going on, but, I think this guy is right?” He would not have been able to explain why, but the man was right. He had to be.

And so it was that Sam Rainsbottom found himself on a beach with a bunch of Metallica Fans, a guy who believed the lake was possessed by demons, a guy who looked as confused as Sam himself, and a last guy who apparently was a preacher trying to get the other guy change and accept Jesus into his heart...or be stabbed?

“W-woah woah,” the teenager said, trying to interpose himself between Alain and Simon. The chanting and growing sense of dread had taken Sam’s nerves to a feather pitch. But though Sam was visibly shaking in the face of horrors he didn’t understand and the lacrosse championships were about as “violent” as he was up for. However he wasn’t going to let some guy get stabbed because of this creepy lake jesus religious stuff.

“Stop!” It suddenly occurred to Sam that he was interposing his attractive yet very soft and slashable body in front of a dude with a sword. ...Regrets? Yes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t hurt him!”

So in one moment, Simon had no idea what he was doing but in the next, the man with the fantastic facial hair had given a succinct, yet understandable explanation for why they were gathered - well, understandable as it could’ve been given that he was correct about this being a ritual. The part he was a little more concerned with, however, was how the man with the facial hair mentioned that one of them should be a shifter. He wasn’t referring to… Simon, was he? Maybe he was talking about the younger man… he didn’t peg Alain as a shifter either and he obviously wasn’t talking about himself. “Y-yeah, about that last part--” He didn’t get to finish his sentence when Alain suddenly pointed a… sword at him. Alain owned a sword? “Hey!” He held his hands up, taking a step away from Alain. “Alain, it’s… me? Simon?” He asked uncertainly. He wanted to mention that he was not, in fact, a shifter; just a normal person with other people and this was all some massive misunderstanding. Even if he was, he didn’t CHOOSE to shift - that was something only born wolves could do, right? Then the youth jumped in front of him and while he didn’t necessarily feel protected, it was slightly comforting to see someone so noble as to take a sword for him, if only for a couple seconds until the sword pierced through him and into Simon himself. “Uh… I think you have the wrong guy,” Simon mentioned, looking over at the ritual-performer despite something inside him knowing that something was wrong. Well, wrong-er.

“No, no, no!” Darwin blurted out, shaking his head. “First the shifter will change, then blood will be drawn, you're doing this all wrong!” Amateurs. He had to remind himself that these people didn't know what Darwin knew, and admittedly his explanation had been vague. At least they seemed the heroic, self-sacrificing types, that bode well for the ritual. With an exasperated sigh he took another couple of steps backward, moving closer to the circle. “Very well, let me be more clear. One of you is a shifter, one is a hunter, one is a human. And then there's me, I'm the magical one. And the sharpest dresser, clearly.” That last bit wasn't necessarily true, but it helped him: while the dark clothes, the many mystical symbols hanging from his neck and the eyeliner only made him look like one of the bad guys they gave him confidence, and he needed to project the aura of a man perfectly in control if he wanted to inspire trust. “Now, I don't care who's who. And if you're worried about your identity being discovered, there are spells we can do to make people forget. We're here as allies, not enemies. But,” he paused dramatically, his eyes focusing on each of the others. “Balance must be restored. Hunters hunt, and shifters shift, that's how it's always been, and how it must be tonight.” Of course, he kept it to himself the role the human would have to play. Somehow he figured it would be best to save certain revelations for the very last moment. “We don't have much time. The cultists might find us. So, you, with the sword...” He focused his attention on Alain. “I assume you're the hunter here. If a change won't happen in the next moments, it is your duty to make it happen. By force, if necessary.” Darwin took another long pause, this one clouded with genuine fear. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he opened his arms. “You can even attack me if it'll make the shifter change. Just... Not the face, please.”

Alain’s attention went back toward sharp beard, who looked exasperated, at best. Alain, who was far from impressed by the man’s accusations, did not comment, and instead listened, lowering his sword. It wasn’t like he had anything to fear from grocery boy and Simon. Yet. If anything, he was more worried about the man who claimed he was a magician. He reminded him of Felix in some aspects, and that was not really a good sign for the hunter. “So this is about bringing balance back to the force? Dude, that’s the plot of Star Wars.” If he shook his head with disapprovement, he did not leave. He would have left, maybe he should have left, but he had this feeling he couldn’t quite catch, that kept him here, with this group of seemingly normal people. He had to play his part, and if whatever this guy said was true, then maybe they would finally stop getting fish rain, eyeballs everywhere, endless nights, and other types of horrors. He was not the kind to get his hopes up, as he could not afford being disappointed again. And so he listened, and looked at Simon from over the kid’s shoulder. “Simon, you have to shift. You need to shift,” they did not have time to lose. Cultists were everywhere and they would find them if they did not get this over with, and that’s what brought him to get his free hand on Sam’s shoulder, pushing him aside as easily as if he were a toddler. “I don’t know why you’re here, kid, but let’s make sure you don’t get hurt.” And if Simon turned, then Alain would keep on making sure of that. “Now Simon, don’t make me do things I don’t want to do, and turn.”

Black waves lapped at the shore. Sam’s lived near the ocean all his life and been running around his father’s fishing boat since he’d been old enough to walk. Each wave usually had gradations of color that reflected the hues of the sky, topped by white froth as the tiniest particles of water reacted with friction against the air. Sometimes algae deepened it with green or undercurrents dredged up bioluminescent creatures that made the sea look a starry tapestry unto itself.

But now the waves were just a cold stygian void, broken only by beach debris of eyes whose neve cords tangled together on the sand like some perverse nightmare version of kelp.

Sam Rainbottom did not believe in magic, demons, aliens, werewolves, superhumans, or wizards. Even God, karma, and the angels seemed like wishful thinking in a world where so many were hungry and hurting for seemingly no reason.

But as he looked at the grim travesty that afflicted nature and say cavorting cultists beseeching the chthonic depths of the sea and outest reaches of space with sounds no human tongue could utter, something instinctive in Sam knew that something was wrong. Not wrong in the sense that this preacher guy was going to stab this other guy, or weird as in whatever sexy Gandalf over there was talking about. There was a more profound wrongness in the air right now that Sam felt in his bones, but didn’t have the words to explain or deny.

Sam wasn’t thrilled about being pushed by sword-preacher guy, but had been manhandled so easily that even Sam was stupid enough try his luck on that front.

“S-so uh...what d-do you need me to do,” he asked Sexy Gandalf, glancing nervously at the clusters of hooded figures by the shore whose chanting was rising in sonorous urgency. Sam wasn’t really sure why he was actively volunteering for whatever Satanic ritual was going down here, save that Sexy Gandalf seemed to be the sole point of certainty in a world going increasingly mad.

Wait wait wait WHAT? What was going on right now, where did Simon make the wrong turn and how did he get off the ride? He still held his hands up in surrender and looked at the strange cast of characters he was around. “I don’t know what you’re thinking is going to happen,” Simon didn’t address anyone in particular but his quiet voice was taking a tone to it - fear, most likely. He didn’t think they knew what was going to happen because HE didn’t; up to this point, he had no memory of when he’d transform and was forced to put the pieces of the night together going by clues he was left the morning after. He wanted to protest that he wasn’t a shifter insomuch as an ‘involuntary curse-bearer'; when he thought ‘shifter’, he thought of someone like Nora who could control her form or even a Born wolf like Salva or Ariana. Simon not only didn’t have control, he didn’t have memory of those times. “I, uh… I can’t,” He decided to conclude lamely. “I have no idea what I’m doing or how I’m… doing.” This was awkward. He hated talking about himself and what he... Could or couldn’t do. “You sure you can’t find any actual shifters?” He was pushing the problem off and he wanted to help, almost more than anything at the moment given the evident peril but he had ACTUALLY no idea of how to help.

“I haven't seen Star Wars, but I can only assume it ripped off from other ancient stories, because this is the plot of many rituals older than the written word itself.” Darwin replied to the Hunter, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Comparing magic to some ridiculous sci-fi flick. Tsk. At the very least the Hunter seemed willing to go through with things, as was the human.

Darwin turned to the kid and put his arm around him, doing his best to sound reassuring and comforting. Not a role that fit him, but he tried. “Young man, you're going to have the biggest part in this. Aside from mine, obviously, I'm the main character in this play.” A wink, playful, meant to ease the tension and to buy some time. How could it break to him the news that he was going to be a sacrifice? Darwin hoped it wouldn't be fatal, they needed the human to survive, but with the cultists so close, a demon about to be freed and a shifter that was obviously as green as the lettuce he had earlier... Things were looking grim. He hid his concerns behind a practiced smile. “You, my dear, are going to make this whole ritual possible. Without you,” without your blood he mentally corrected himself, “We wouldn't be able to do what needs to be done. You'll make it vulnerable.” Darwin didn't elaborate on the 'it', deciding to turn to the shifter instead.

The very reluctant shifter. “You don't seem to grasp the situation here. Hear the chantings? That's a bunch of cultists. You know all the eyes? In the sky, in the sink, in people's flesh...” To further make his point, Darwin raised his palm, showing the empty eyelid still there, sleeping quietly in the center of his hand. “They're working to bring forth something even worse. The magic we'll perform here will stop them, will stop everything. But we need you to transform.” With every word he took a step closer to the shifter. The instructions were clear, the hunter was supposed to force the change. But things weren't going according to plan, he needed to improvise. Of all the hunters and shifters he could get, he had to be stuck with the peaceful ones... He had to push them, somehow. With a sudden movement, he raised a fist toward the Shifter's face. Darwin closed his own eyes as he swung his fist, hoping that an old-fashioned brawl would get the Hunter and the Shifter into the proper mood.

The hunter looked at the self proclaimed leader, who sure had a lot of wrong opinions, with all the disdain he could summon. He must have been the spitting image of his father right now, and his disdain grew bigger, but for himself this time. His wrinkled nose still there, Alain watched as Darwin wrapped an arm around the kid.

If there was something Darwin could do, it might be to make sure that Sam was kept from harm’s way. However, something the magician said brought another frown to his face. What could he possibly mean by this? Was Sam in danger? A bigger danger than this situation, being near those cultists, was? Pinching at the bridge of his nose, Alain gave Mr.Talkative a look. “And what part exactly does he play?” Although, instead of an answer, all he got was Darwin raising his hand on his friend.

He had to react, fastly, and that’s exactly what he did although, now that Darwin’s fist was out of the way, they still had to find a way to make Simon shift. Force him to shift. If he was close to dying, he would have no other choice, no matter how good a person he was. “I’m sorry, bud,” with no warning, he wrapped his hand around Simon’s throat, and started squeezing the life out of him. With his hand on him, whatever happened next, he would at least have some sort of control over the situation, right? Unless…

This whole situation seemed like a bunch of bad ideas rolled into one grandiose bad idea. Everything the snappy dresser said made the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stand up all over again. The more he talked, the more Simon was being put under the impression that this was another one of those blood rituals. GRANTED, the last time he participated in one, they only needed a couple drops so surely that might be the case here, right? But then the man turned to him and he tensed up instinctively. The cultists, the unnatural eye the man flashed on his palm, the recollection that there was possibly a supernatural eldritch squid in the lake and the sun being reduced to a giant eyeball… the werewolf took a step back for every step the supposed spellcaster took towards him to maintain that distance but stopped when the other man did. There was a soft exhale, maybe it was-- Aaaand it wasn’t over. While he didn’t flinch necessarily, Simon’s reaction time already prepared him for getting decked in the face but the impact never came, instead blocked by Alain’s hand. What was wrong with these people? If they could just talk things out, this could be solved, right? “Look, I’m sorry but I can’t just--” He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when Alain went from blocking the mustachioed man's incoming punch to starting to strangle him. He was caught off-guard by it and at first, for just a split second thought that it was a ploy but he quickly realised that it wasn’t as superhuman strength dug fingers into his neck, rapidly blocking off his circulation. Without thinking, his hands went up to Alain’s, scrabbling at it to get him to let go but he felt like he was in the lockjaw of a crocodile. “Alain--” He gasped, managing to figure out what was happening in those few seconds and if he was permitted to remember this, he would be sure not to blame Alain in any way for his decision. It made perfect sense; neither of them knew what would spark a forced transformation and the thoughts refused to cross Simon’s mind. He was killing him, that much he could feel. The human kept struggling fruitlessly, trying with every fiber to regain control of the situation because in the bottom of his gut, this was not going to go how it was planned anyway. At this point, he could only hope for forgiveness for what he was about to do. “I’m-- sorry…” Then it began; unimaginable pain coursing through his body, ripping over and under and in between every cell of his being. Grunts morphed into yelling that one usually heard on a battlefield accompanied with a missing limb before the shock took them. The hands that grappled Alain’s sharpened, lengthened and mutated where the claws started to dig into the skin. Clothes were ripped as though they were made of paper mache as fur sprouted like grass in tufts; this was no partial transformation, not this time. The yells turned into snarls and growls as Simon was twisted around and subsequently unfurled like a blooming flower, a writhing mass of sharp bits and angled limbs, gangly and wiry. Though the process might’ve seemed like it took several hours, it was over in a matter of minutes; where the man stood before was now a lithe, deep brown beast with piercing blue eyes and a long, scraggly tail that hung behind him, swaying faintly and breathing heavily through its nose as if it just ran a marathon. And it was fast. Eyes dancing over Alain’s features for a few seconds, then the spellcaster’s, a thin snout took to the air briefly before it dropped onto its long front legs and turned sharply to find Sam. Weak link. First prey. It leapt for the human, hearing only the call to destroy something, someone.

Like most human residents of White Crest, Sam lived in a state of a pathological denial. On some level it was a defensive tactic that the mind employed to shelter itself from grim truths best left unknown. Since colonial antiquity, Sam’s ancestors had been born and raised on land that teetered on the liminal horizon between Earth and Non-Euclidean dimensions whose alien realites defied hominid understanding. The only way for a powerless mortal to cope was to censor their own perceptions. The blindfold had been handed down generations and placed over a child Sam’s eyes by parental admissions whenever he mentioned things half-seen in the night.

But now, as a man contorted and seemed to split open before him, there were no more safe lies that Sam could tell himself. There was no sanitized logical explanation for the cracking of bones as they forcefully elongated or the serpentine slithering of muscle cords beneath the skin as organs and fibers reshaped themselves in seconds. The familiar form of human being was punctured by claws and fangs before distending until a sickening skull-crunch followed a man’s visage vanishing into something elongated and lupine. This was impossible..wrong. Sam must be dreaming, crazy, or high maybe. But when that feral sapphire gaze met his own, the young man knew in his blood that he was fully lucid.

Sam’s pale blue eyes widened with the terror of revelation, as if rose-tinted glass had been finally shattered to let in true light for the first time.

The teenager staggered a few steps back as the hulking russet-furred predator charged at him, stumbling on the slick occipital nerve seaweed as his pale lips mouthed soundless words of panic.

Darwin didn't fight back when the Hunter pushed him away from the shifter. That sort of quick reaction, when blood boils hot and instincts take over, that's exactly the sort of reaction he was hoping for. He didn't bother answering the other men's questions, he just hurried back to the circle. The sound of bones shifting and rearranging was disgusting, but to Darwin's ears it was music: it meant the transformation was underway. He checked the circle on the sand, still intact despite the waves lapping at it. This would work.

In the few seconds they had before the transformation was complete, Darwin shouted “The shifter needs to draw blood from the human! I know it's horrible, but it's what must happen.” Again, he regretted being the bearer of such bad news, but he had no time to reassure the group: he opened the box and picked up what looked like a glowing orb covered in runes. That was a family heirloom, or the closest to it Darwin had: a powerful artefact he'd stolen from the Asrani and had used to trap the demon with Nell's help. Without warning, Darwin grabbed the dagger and used it to stab the orb. The blade dug easily into what looked like stone, cutting it as if it was flesh, and demonic energy started flowing from it. It fell on the lines in the sand, and expanded, filling the circle and making it glow with an eerie light that mirrored the moon's. Darwin started chanting, ancient words of power he had committed to memory, and the light shone brighter, blinding even, as something started to take form in the center of the circle as the creature was being released by its magical bounds.

“In a moment, a demon will rise from this.” Again, Darwin made sure to raise his voice, making it loud enough to be heard over the growls and fighting. “It'll attack us. I need its blood. And the human’s blood. And time to perform another ritual. And no one must die!” Channeling his own energy into the circle to give the demon form was already draining him, truthfully Darwin wasn't sure they were going to make it, but he had to act confident. The creature in the circle was almost solid, drawing his magic and using it to feed its own appearance, and Darwin felt he could move his focus from the summoning to the fight behind him. He turned to watch the wolf, the hunter and the human. “Remember, I need blood, not death!” Reeeally helpful, Darwin.

The leap was the quick part but the Wolf was soon inches from Sam’s face, drained of colour and frozen with shock. He was on the ground, not as exciting for the kill. The wolf loomed over him, dark umber fur brushing against Sam’s pale skin as its nose took in the terrified scent of the boy, his face, his hair, his neck. As it absorbed the stench of its prey, pitch-black claws held Sam’s arms, digging into the soft flesh as though they were made of melting ice cream. It drew back its head, the mangy fur on its thin neck bristling with a snarl that rumbled in its throat and it pulled its claws out sharply, leaving eight deep, dark gashes on his arms, four for each. The smell of blood flowed through his senses and it panted with a cruel desire. With another deep, guttural growl it reached forward again to put a paw on Sam’s stomach when suddenly it yelped and recoiled, feeling something pierce its hide on its hind leg and it whipped around to see Alain with his sword puncturing its skin, deep and sure as it sliced past part of the bone and leaving it notched. The blood dripping from its claws, it abandoned its previous quarry and instead turned to regard the slayer, keeping low to the ground with a limp immediately noticeable.

Demon. Blood. No dying. Ritual. Motherfucking magic nonsense.

Simon did not leave Alain any chance to protest or actually do what he wanted to do. Punch Darwin in the face. This pretentious fuck. He couldn’t stop the wolf from lashing out at Sam. Far from the hunter the idea of killing his friend, but some silver would have been nice to have. He did not really think this through, and while he was not entirely sure that this would work, clearly he could still do some damage with his sword, and stop Simon from hurting the poor kid. And so, as the wolf lifted his paw to strike again, the hunter bolted forward. The sword went easily through the flesh. He barely had time to breathe out in relief, for the beast was turning toward him (which he expected), menacing as ever. He had no other choice but to keep the damn thing away from Darwin and Sam, and so, readjusting the weight of his sword in his hand, Alain stepped back, luring Simon away from the two. Although the more he stepped back, the more he got close to the cultists. Perhaps this would end up being a two birds one stone situation. If he was being honest, facing a werewolf was not something he often had the chance of doing (to say the least) and improvisation being what it was, the hunter could not help but have a bad feeling about this. He had no idea, whatsoever, of how he was going to get out of this situation. If anything else failed, perhaps he would have to go for his usual methods, but losing Simon would truly be heartbreaking, and he wondered, what if, if someone died, none of this would even work?

One of the few tangential benefits of overwhelming confusion and terror is that your brain is so chock full of white noise that pain has to wait its turn. Sam looked down at his arms, palms bearing dried cuts from a boxcutter in the shape of eye-like sigils and now cruelly symmetrical slashes that welled up in scarlet. The athlete had lived a rough and tumble life with plenty of hard knocks and pain during practice, but the gulf between that and what he was experiencing now was so wide that Sam felt like he was being swallowed.

He had tunnel vision, eyes rimmed with wet red and darkness as the huge beast and man with a blade gracefully danced like deadly shadows at the edge of his consciousness, their movements like flickering flames as everything else threatened to be swallowed in smoke. For a time Sam heard only the steady crash of ocean waves and the ragged sound of his increasingly shallow breaths.

But something in Sam fought against the descent from shock into unconsciousness. When rational thought failed, instinct took the wheel, and a stubborn neanderthal part of Sam didn’t give a damn about things making sense so long as he lived. The teenager’s breathing steadied, perhaps having his coaches to thank for years of being hollered at as he powered through the enervating weakness brought on by blood loss and overstimulation. He staggered back to his feet and made his way over to Darwin, the memory of being needed there managing to cut through the dark fog in his head.

Darwin watched the fight, secretly grateful that he was a few feet away from that monstrosity. He had no qualms against werewolves, but seeing the wild beast going on a rampage only fueled his convictions: demons were better. You could reason with demons, bargain for your life. There was no talking to that bundle of muscle, fur and fangs, and seeing it in action he realized the Hunter would be too busy dealing with it to help Darwin with patching the human up.

The human was soon becoming Darwin's favorite person: even with deep gashes on his arms, he still made his way toward Darwin and the circle, and for that Darwin was grateful. He stepped closer to the wounded human and helped him walk where he needed him, right at the edge of the still glowing circle. “You're doing wonderful, just a few more steps, a few drops of blood and then it'll be over.” Darwin paused and quickly added “In the good way, not that you'll die. I won't let it happen.” As he spoke Darwin moved Sam's arms gently, so that they were right above the circle, and then... “I'm sorry, kid.” With only that as a warning, Darwin squeezed one of Sam's arms, watching as the blood dripped onto the circle where the demon's blood still awaited with an ominous glow. “With this sacrifice, thou art free,” he murmured, fueling those words with his own magic.

The moment Sam's blood touched the magical energy on the sand, it quickly spread, painting the lines of the Circle a deep, rich red, glowing with the demon's life force. The human's blood mixed with it, swirling and bubbling as it anchored the demon to this world, and the glowing figure in the center of the circle grew more concrete. The light solidified in a humanoid shape, wearing a dark suit that would be more fitted in a fashion show rather than here, on a beach, next to a rampaging werewolf. The creature's head, though, was far from human: instead of a face, a giant round mouth filled with curved teeth, the sort that would leave their victim no chance to free themselves.

The demon hesitated, bringing his hands to his own throat, and Darwin let out a sigh of relief: the magic was working: Sam's blood not only anchored the demon to this dimension, it also made it breathe. The logistics of it were lost on Darwin, he wasn't a scientist, but seeing the demon gasp for air let him know one thing: it could be drowned. And so...

“Hunter, wolf! Over here, drown the Dator! In the water! When the moon is at its peak!” Which was right about now, and would probably only last a few more minutes. They had to act fast. Of course, wolves were not known for being able to follow specific instructions, and the hunter was probably too busy to really listen to Darwin, so he had to come up with a new plan, quick. He considered using mental magic on the werewolf, something that normally he hated: he'd sworn he wouldn't use his powers to bend someone else's will, he was better than his family, but did he have a choice here? He focused, and tried to tune his magic to the wolf, sending it images of the demon, hoping it would make the wolf focus its attention on a new target, but as soon as he started channeling his energy, the Dator Vitae sensed Darwin's magic and turned its head toward him. Still struggling for air, the creature jumped forward, and Darwin wasn't quick enough to dodge: the demon tackled him to the ground, and the two started struggling on the sand. “Little help, here!” Darwin grunted, doing his best to keep the demon's mouth away from him.

He could hear Darwin shouting from afar, although what disturbed him the most was what he could see in the darkness. What the fuck was this monstrosity? Thoughts of beheading and burning it crossed his head, and this sounded like a much more pleasant option than Darwin’s. “Fuck no, I don’t wanna spend the next week hiding my hands and legs,” he cursed in French, and then started cursing at Darwin, and his whole family while he was at it. Alain knew what would happen if he put his hands in the water. He had ended up swimming in it just two weeks ago, and what followed had not been pleasant. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the ink did not fade, and he had to wait, and wait, and wait.

Alain, however, knew that he did not have a choice, and instead of keeping on dancing around Simon with his sword still in hand, the hunter darted on the wet sand toward Darwin, Sam, and the demon. In the long term, he doubted that he could outrun a werewolf, but what mattered now was to keep Darwin alive. It turned out that his habit of wounding legs was really a good habit to have. Taking advantage of his short advance, the hunter kicked into the demon’s side, sending it flying a few meters away, head falling into the water. Heh. Maybe they wouldn’t have to walk into the water, after all. “Don’t thank me,” he shot a sarcastic smile at the all too proud magician, who had lost a bit of his glow now. Walking past him, the hunter kicked against the demon who was trying to get up, shaking his head. Glancing over at Simon in worry, Alain pressed his foot to the demon’s back.

The Wolf kept its bright blue eyes on Alain, seeing the glisten of its own blood on the blade he held up and pointed at it but not acknowledging that the blood was its own. Sam's gore filled its senses but now Alain was the prey and it circled with the hunter in a staring contest, eyes boring through the slayer, waiting for an opportunity to lunge, a spot of weakness, a move to counteract. Other voices were heard but ignored, other sounds tilted an ear but the man with the sword was the target.

Then it shook its head briefly but fervently, as if hearing an acute noise that punctured its concentration, images of something it couldn't understand but didn't inherently fear flashing before its eyes and in its head. The images were short enough not to fully register but in those few moments of distraction, Alain had made a move. Teeth bared and dripping saliva, the Wolf started to give chase and staggered with the first bound as its leg gave out before it had a chance to send adrenaline through its system to keep it going, sending the beast skidding along the ground. Once it righted itself, steeling its muscles, the second push was enough and the Wolf pursued, seeing Alain occupied with something. Perfect. It leapt at Alain, mouth gaping and claws out like a cat about to catch a bird.

Sam had responded to the appearance of a lamprey faced monster from the tribute of his own blood at first with dumb incomprehension. However when the creature had summarily attacked Darwin, Sam had immediately attempted to football tackle the Demon. Sam’s body was quickly losing blood, life, and strength. Nonetheless he fought against the creeping feeling of numbness in his limbs and tried to wrestle the strange suited thing off Darwin, teeth gritted in a blind determination to make the madness stop. Unfortunately Sam’s strength was purely mortal and wouldn’t have likely budged a Demon even if Sam’d was bodily sound and four feet taller.

The fact that the dude with the sword then interrupted Sam’s fierce mortal struggle to simply punt the lamprey monster into the water and do a Captain Morgan pose on it might have been a bit emasculating if Sam had the mental space to think about anything other than pain and the enormous wolf-thing making another charge.

“Dude heads up!”

Darwin was thankful to the human: even with his wounds still fresh he tried. Granted, he only managed to get the Dator Vitae more upset and to bleed all over Darwin's clothes, but that was secondary to the fact his intervention kept the demon from latching its face to Darwin's body and sucking him dry of magic. When Alain arrived and kicked the creature away, Darwin crawled back, trying to put a few more feet between himself and the fight.

“I'll thank you all once this is over,” he replied to Alain, voice tinted with a hint of frustration: his part had been done, and now that brawns were what truly mattered he felt useless. The Wolf's growling drew Darwin's attention to the giant shifter charging at them, and he panicked. The wolf seemed out of control, and headed toward Alain. He doubted the hunter would be able to handle both a Dator and a werewolf, so Darwin gathered the few magical energy he had left and focused again on the wolf, trying to create a mental connection between himself and the creature.

Despite being a skilled magician, and having studied mental magic for years, it was difficult: a shifter's mind was always slippery. Ever changing, and working on instinct more than rational thoughts, it gave Darwin very little to work with... There would be no communication with the wolf, at least not with words. Instead, Darwin pictured the Dator Vitae, and sent that image to the wolf, along with visions of raw, succulent meat, the smell of a grill and the woodlands, and hoped that would be enough to lure the wolf into attacking the demon instead of Alain. Still on the ground, out of breath and almost magicked out, there was nothing more he could do, and he lacked the human's stamina (or maybe it was willpower, the human truly seemed to be a remarkable individual) to push his own limits. Not to mention, he needed to save his strength to conclude the ritual once the demon had been drowned.

The Dator Vitae, for its part, refused to just stay down quietly. Using its supernatural strength, it struggled against Alain's foot, grabbing it with both hands and pulling, trying to make the hunter lose his footing and drag him into the water instead. In the distance, the chanting grew louder and louder… There was a good chance the cultists were approaching. Darwin could only hope Bertrand had somehow managed to lure them away from the ritual and would be able to distract them long enough.

“Putain de…” Alain frowned and did what he should have done seconds ago. Chopping off both the Dator’s arms, he turned toward the whole coming right at him. Good luck getting yourself up with no arms, the hunter thought to himself, although he didn’t really have time to check whether this thing could regrow limbs fast, as he now had to worry about Simon, who was leaping at him. A glimpse to the left and he saw Darwin and Sam looking somewhat safe. While he doubted that the human would help (and he did not blame him for it, or expected him to), Darwin sounded both like someone he would detest, and like someone capable, who knew what he was doing. Maybe it was the comment about Star Wars being a rip off, but the hunter had a bad feeling about the magician.

He tried to grab the wolf’s front legs, but the claws dug into his arms as he did so, and his foot slipped from the demon’s back. Alain really hoped that having cut off the arms would play its part into keeping this thing drowning. Right now, this was not really his priority anyway, razor sharp teeth were inching closer to his face the more the claws dug into his arms, forcing him to give more room to the wolf. “Bordel de coui- Simon, tu fais chier,” there were more curses in French as the hunter struggled to get the damn beast off of him. “A little help here,” he called out. Alain had not noticed it yet, too focused on Simon, but the chanting of the robed cultists had gotten louder and louder, as they were getting closer.

Everything seemed to be going in a blur yet standing still in time and the Wolf was no exception, in one area for a moment then advancing on Alain in the next, static yet in motion. It struggled with the hunter, snapping wildly at his face as its claws pierced the skin on his arms, being held at just enough of a distance though it pushed with strength that certainly belonged to it and not the human it was forced to share a body with. As it lunged and growled and drooled, however, its mind was filled with something else, something familiar yet distant and it recalled the images it suddenly saw, having been from minutes before. The combination of the images coupled with the new stench of whatever was coming from the armless thing in the water overrode the wolf’s instincts; Alain wasn’t the target anymore. The sensation was roughly akin to seeing another predator threatening to take away its prey. The wolf, with no trace of care, tore its claws out of the hunter’s arms and twisted in a fluid motion until its bright blue eyes fell upon the demon. Threat, thief, enemy of what was the wolf’s. With a barking snarl, the wolf dropped onto all fours again and dug its claws into the ground to get an extra burst of thrust as it aimed for the armless creature in the water, sharp night vision seeing that it LOOKED like water but it was pitch black. It didn’t need to focus on the water though, it only had eyes for the creature and it landed on the demon with the many rows of teeth, taking its paws to the snappy suit it was wearing and clenching its teeth into the shoulder of the other as the two rolled into the water, falling beneath the surface and becoming invisible in the murky black depths save for bubbles and splashes of activity from a stray limb.

Sam sat exhausted on the bloodsoaked sand watching as both wolf and lamprey creature vanished beneath black waves. It was easy then, as blood poured over his arms, to imagine that this wasn’t anything more than a dream. The pain was real though, climbing up his spine and guts. He coughed in thick shuddering gasps. Wide blue eyes drifted from Alain to Darwin, but nothing about their bloodstained appearances and bearing offered up any alternative explanation to Sam’s mind.

They’d murdered a wolf that’d split open from a dude, and a fish thing in a suit that’d been lubricated with blood out of a rock.

“This isn’t...that doesn’t.” The sky, sand, and sea began to spin like a gyroscope, switching places with each other. The world somersaulted and Sam felt like he tumbled off its axis. Damp sand and slick eyeballs pressed against his cheek as Sam slumped down on the shore and the world went dark.

The Dator Vitae had let out a terrible screech when its arms had been severed, but it didn't lose any of its fighting spirit, and only the weight of the werewolf kept it from lounging. Instead of attached to the spine of the hunter who'd hurt it, the Vitae found itself tackled by a wolf. Unable to fight back, it was dragged underwater, the black liquid filling its mouth. There was some sort of magic in the water, the demon could feel it, but it wasn't a magic it could feed on. Instead of strengthening it, it made it weaker. Its movements were sluggish as it tried fruitlessly to struggle against the beast keeping it underwater. The Dator's legs kicked, its teeth scratched, but the wolf was just too strong, and without its arms the demon couldn't get the upper hand, nor could it get free. And eventually, once the water was all it could taste, see and feel... The Dator Vitae stopped struggling.

“Good boy, keep it down!” Darwin mumbled to himself as he watched the wolf disappear under the pitch black water of the ocean. As the one who'd summoned the demon, he could somewhat sense its energy, and he smiled in feeling the way it faded with each passing second. He tentatively stood up and took a couple of steps toward the hunter, keeping a safe distance. “I think... Only a few more moments, and then it'll be over.” He sounded far more exhausted than panicked, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes of his concern. Gone was the façade of the confident magician, he was too tired, too drained to keep it up. He looked up and sighed. “Right on time... A few more minutes and it would've been too late.” As tired as he was, Darwin couldn’t keep a small smile off his face: the ritual had been completed, he could feel it. He gathered the last of his magical energy to send out a quick signal. A small flash in the sky above them, so that Nell would know they made it.

“Now we just need to find a way to calm the wolf and get out before the cultists arri” Darwin's voice was cut off by a sudden thump, and he turned to watch the human faint, his fall softened by the sand. “New plan. He needs a doctor, he lost a lot of blood.” Darwin silently vowed to keep watch on Sam's unconscious body once this was over, they owed it to him. Slowly, he reached the human, and did his best to lift him up, ready to carry him away, on his own if he had to. “Hey, Hunter...” Darwin frowned. They all worked together, risked their lives together, and he didn't know how else to call him. “We can’t do anything for the wolf, but he’s gonna be fine. He’s a wolf. And the cultists… They deserve an angry wolf.”

#wickedsevent #wickedswriting #chatzy

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spilledkauffie · 5 years

Text

Family Stuff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: FLUFF A/N: Happy Spernatural Day! (Everybody’s kinda in here!)

“I’m serious you guys,” you furrowed your eyebrows, standing at the bottom of the stairs, “be careful.”

“Don’t worry we’ll be just fine,” Sam said with a smile, placing a hand on your shoulder and kissing your cheek, “it’s really not that dangerous.”

“Are supermarkets known to be very dangerous places?” Jack asked confused, following Sam’s motion to kiss your cheek and then heading up the bunker’s stairs to the exit.

“No,” Cas commented, third in the line, “it’s just Y/n’s over protective motherly instinct to ask us to be careful on all outings.”

Dean quietly chuckled to himself as he watched the scene play out in front of him, from the table he was at. You were so short compared to everyone that it was always funny when you decided to take charge and truly try to enforce it. He watched you cross your arms and attempt to hide the prying smile on your lips.

“Okay, mister,” you tilted your head at Cas.

“We will be fine, I promise,” Cas tilted his head with a faint smile, before heading up the stairs.

You watched, biting your thumbnail, until the three of them had left. It always made you nervous when anyone left, call it paranoia or just an occupational hazard, but it worried you every single time, no matter if the mission was a demon or a tub of ice cream. Shaking your head, telling yourself you shouldn’t just stand there doing nothing but worry, so you headed back to where Dean was.

“Well,” you huffed, running your hands through your hair, still damp from your shower, “seems like Jack liked his first piece of chocolate pie.”

You began picking up the plates from moments ago when you were all gathered around the table for a little late night dessert. Dean wobbled the glass beer bottle back and forth, watching you gather up all the dishes. Of late the conversations the two of you had been having felt more...real. You talked about Jack a lot and like he was your own kid. You personally were staying at the bunker a bit more than usual, waiting for them to get back. It was starting to feel, in its own odd way, normal, at least to Dean.

“Don’t you think?” You looked over your shoulder, walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, no, he seemed to like it,” Dean tried to play it cool, distracted by his own thoughts.

He got up to follow you, leaning back against a countertop, opposite to where you were already washing the dishes. Lovingly looking you over, he liked the moments where you were completely and comfortably yourself. You never understood why, but when you were in sweats and his old Metallica t-shirt, he always complimented you. To him you were relaxed, safe and with him, that’s what mattered most.

“Hey, uh,” Dean started, as you shut the water off, turning around while drying your hands, “I don’t think I ever said this, but thanks for taking Jack in so much.”

You watched him tap the glass bottle with his finger, as if he had a lot more than that to say on the subject, but couldn’t quite yet. Smiling softly, you set the towel down and made your way over to him. Taking a moment to meet his green eyes, you had felt something was up with him for a while, but couldn’t place it exactly. Not wanting to pry it out of him, you opted to let whatever he wanted to say naturally happen.

“Of course,” you smiled softly, “that’s what family does, Dean.”

Tracing a hand against his jawline, you stood on your tip-toes to kiss him softly, before walking back to the common room. Nodding to himself with a faint smile, you were only making his emotions for his new found normalcy deepen. Leaning against the doorway between the two rooms, Dean took a sip of his beer, watching you clean up the table a little more, straightening all the miscellaneous papers Sam had spread out and what not. You stopped only to flip your hair over and put it up into a messy, but efficient bun.

Dean imagined what it’d be like if tomorrow he didn’t have to get ready for a hunt. If tomorrow he could just stay in bed with you, for as long as he wanted. He eyed your figure and just wanted to spend time with you, in more ways than one.

“What?” you looked over to Dean, who was staring.

“Nothing,” he dropped his gaze.

You didn’t push it. Instead you grabbed a book and moved to the couch, curling up at one end. Mainly you were trying to keep yourself preoccupied, and you were instantly happier when Dean joined you. It was silent for a while, and you didn’t mind, but your senses told you something was still unsaid.

He reached out for your hand, and you let him take it from your lap. Pressing a kiss against the back of your hand, he rubbed his thumb softly against your hand now settled on his lap. Lowering your book and looking over to Dean, you were met with his gaze.

Feeling a heat rise to your cheeks, you’d never get used to his affectionate looks of love.

“What’s the look for?” You asked curiously, setting your book down with a smirk.

“What look?” Dean tried to act cool, “I’m not giving a look.”

“You’re giving a look,” you responded out of certainty, adjusting yourself on the couch to be cuddled right against his side, his arm around the back of the couch.

“Do you want to watch Tombstone? Do you want sex?” you started guessing, stroking his jawline with your fingertips, “Sex during Tombstone?”

“No, no,” Dean chuckled to himself, adoring how well you knew him though, “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?” You shifted your body to face him more evenly.

“Just...my life,” he admitted, “how it’s changed, since I met you.”

You smiled sweetly, laughing a little, as if your presence really made that much difference in his crazy life.

“I’m serious,” he said, to which you gave an attempted serious face, prompting him to explain, “I’ve never felt more hope and happiness then when I’m with you. You know exactly what to say when I’m being stupid. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, and I get to wake up to that everyday, which is pretty great. My brother and Cas love you. I think Jack is mesmerised by you and I can’t blame him.”

You leaned your head against his bicep, smiling.

“I just love you a lot,” Dean said, “you’ve made my life so much better. I’ve changed, we’ve changed and I just don’t want to lose that.”

Pushing yourself up a bit, you caressed his jawline and smiled into the kiss you gave him. His arm slipped from the back of the couch to around your frame, bringing you closer to where you had to brace yourself with a hand on his chest.

“Dean Winchester,” you pulled back, feeling him rest his forehead against yours, “wife me up already.”

You bit your lip and giggled, closing your eyes, not noticing him reach for his pocket. His fingers quickly finding the cold metal circle that happened to be your ring size with a beautiful diamond on it. Dean swallowed nervously-

“Y/n!” a familiar voice called out.

Dean quickly shoved his hand in his pocket casually and cleared his throat.

You looked over the back of the couch and up, to see Jack quickly running down the bunker stairs towards you. He had a plastic yellow bag in hand with seemingly only one single object. You perked your eyebrows trying to show the same amount of enthusiasm when he was finally standing in front of you.

“I found what’s called a puzzle and it has your favourite flowers on it,” Jack pulled the box with a picture on it out of the plastic bag, holding it nicely, “maybe we could all do it tonight?”

He looked between you and Dean, when Cas interjected.

“Jack, they have to sleep it’s already-”

“Oh come on Cas,” you smirked, standing up from where you were cuddled with Dean, using his thigh to push yourself up. His hand slipping down your body as you stood, “don’t tell me you’re getting to be an old man, it’s only eleven thirty.”

“By human definitions I’m already an old man, an ancient man,” Cas answered, walking towards the table.

“Of course I’ll play it with you, Honey,” you hugged Jack with one arm, rubbing his back, taking a look at the box with him as you walked to the bigger table, “maybe we can get Dean to play too.”

He shook his head, seeing Sam set down all the groceries on the table before you started telling him to take it to the kitchen, Cas was already sitting, waiting to begin while Jack took a seat next to him as you opened the puzzle.

“Yeah, how many pieces is it? Five and maybe I’ll do it,” Dean responded, watching his heart walk towards everything he loved most.

“2,500,” you called back.

“Two thousand five hundred?” Dean practically yelled, almost in disbelief that a puzzle could even be that many pieces, dropping his head back.

“Don’t be an old man,” you teased, knowing that would get his attention instantly, as you swayed your hips looking over your shoulder.

Dean stood up and came to where everyone was, but directly looking at you, “I’m not an old man, old men actually like playing puzzles, so Cas is an old man.”

“This was established,” Cas sighed.

“No, you’re just grumpy like one,” you continued to tease with a smile, not failing to notice how Jack was adoringly looking between you and Dean, “I bet Jack and I can find two sides of the puzzle before you, Cas and Sam find one.”

“Oh,” Dean tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, “that’s a bet.”

With everyone seated you dumped out the pieces, and took your seat next to Jack, who had to be the most excited being to ever play a puzzle in that moment. You were turning all the pieces over and hunting all the flat ones. Sam started to reach for one you had an eye on, and you practically lunged out for the piece, but to no avail against Sam.

“No,” you whined, retreating slowly, “I totally had my eye on that one, you just have eight foot arms.”

“Yeah, eight foot arms on our team, shorty,” Dean teased you.

You dropped your jaw at his remark, watching Sam laugh to himself while shrugging in agreement and Cas continue the hunt, still trying to get the whole objective.

“I love family game night,” Jack smiled, sifting through the pieces.

Glancing over at Dean, he gave a soft smile, before telling Cas to hurry up. When you looked back down, Dean watched you show Jack how the pieces should fit together, while simultaneously slipping your foot up Dean’s leg under the table. He knew he wanted life to stay exactly how it was, and he’d make that official when the time was right.

#spilledkauffie #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural x you #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #spn #spn x you #spn x reader #spn x y/n #spn fanfic #spn fluff #jensen ackles

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