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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

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Werewolf Thomas x Merman Sammy.

This might end up taking multiple chapters, in addition to me digging in too deep, this ship in general just gives off a petty enemies, to reluctant allies due to supernatural circumstances, to ‘hey you’re not as bad as I thought.’, to friends, to lovers vibe.

Occam's razor indicates that the simplest explanation to a scenario is also the most likely scenario to be the true one.

For example: when an animation studio suddenly closes down and gets condemned, people who are on the outside looking in are much more likely to blame the studio's poor money management than go look for some extraordinary truth. That, paired with the workers of the said studio also coming out to site the terrible conditions of the place as an added cause for the studio's demise. When people have to work long hours with little pay to show for it in a dingy, gloomy, constantly-falling-apart studio that clearly wasn't going anywhere except six feet under or lower, they aren't exactly motivated to work hard or happy.

The Hunger was intense, growing beyond mere gnawing and was now consuming the cursed mechanic. The first change he felt was his teeth, the Curse deciding it was easier to make them all fall out at once so his new ones would grow in. He cut up his own tongue on the newly-made fangs. Call it an act of mercy or an act of mockery, but the tongue followed the teeth's example, falling out altogether so that the tongue of a wolf could grow in.

No one batted an eye when a majority of the studio's former workers left with some of them being untraceable, the lucky ones moved on to greener and happier pastures, others simply got a change in scenery, and sadly, accidents happen all the time in such an unsafe studio, people got severely injured in there all the time, so it was gut-wrenching for many, but not a shock to discover that it was common for unlucky people to lose their lives in the Dancing Demon's domain.

His entire body burned on the inside and outside, taking off his clothes did nothing for him as his new, thick coat grew in, a coat that was the same pitch black as his hair, at least, most of it was. The change did not hurt as much as he thought it would. As painful as it sounded when his bones became a crackling choir that reminded him of fireworks, it was not pure agony, he was sore, afraid, and so, very, very, hungry, but he was physically fine.

No one suspected anything like somebody intentionally sabotaging the many pipes that pumped ink through the entire building, that would just be silly! It was more than obvious that the pipes got the same treatment as the rotting wooden walls: they were ignored until it was too late. With all the wood, paper, flammable ink, candles, no windows, and avid smokers in that place, it was only a matter of time before that place went up in flames.

Colors began to dim and fade out leaving him with vision that could only see black, white, and the several shades of gray inbetween them. The trade off with his senses made itself clear as his sense of smell and hearing both grew stronger, he could barely think as the smells and sounds his human self had been blind to came to him at full force, overwhelming the mechanic. He held back the urge to scream and call for help, he knew none would come, unless it was the dogcatcher at this point. However he would not hold back the urge to whine, whimper and cry, as pathetic as he looked and sounded, he would at least give himself that mercy, even if he didn't deserve it.

No one thought the ink machine was anything more but an expensive and stupid project that definitely sped up the studio's already fast decline, but only with it's mere presence. Honestly, a machine that made models out of ink, wouldn't it be cheaper and easier to make a statue of your beloved mascots out of plastic or something like that?

Thomas yelped in surprise when the tail grew in, it felt like somebody gave his spine a good sharp yank. He was furious, scared, even remorseful as he knew he was responsible for this happening to himself and possibly others knowing Mr. Drew, and by god, did he want to sink his teeth into something.

No one except for crazy cross-clutching worrywarts who want to spoil every one else's fun and or conspiracy theorists would assume that the Little devil darling who graced the comics and silver screens for at least a decade would have literal satanic magic going on behind the scenes, no matter how screwy the man in charge seemed.

He was starving all day ever since the ritual, but now that the changes were over, he felt hungrier than ever before, like his stomach was a black hole that would make him consume everything in his path.

No one would ever seriously suggest that magic was real and led to being the studio's final nail in the coffin instead of becoming its savior like it's founder had wanted it to.

In the moment, Thomas Conner believed that Occam's razor was bullshit.

The mechanic knew what he'd seen, he knew to an extent what he took part in, he saw what happened to some of the unluckier members of the "Missing" studio workers, and most importantly of all, he experienced what he just went through. There was no 'simple' or 'normal' explanation for it; the ritual failed and as a result, he and a handful of other people had gotten cursed.

Here the new wolf was, squeezing his now much larger body underneath his bed to do nothing but cower like a frighted animal while trying to convince himself not to panic or to eat his pet snake. Keeping his human mind at the moment was both a blessing and a cur- -some extra salt to rub into his fresh wounds.

On one hand, the fact he was still smart enough to know better than to jump out the window and follow his nose for food like his instincts were telling him to was a lifesaver that kept him safe from animal control. On the other hand; if he was a beast in mind, he would at least be doing something more productive than sulking in his apartment thinking about anything else other than how badly he got fucked over, how his life was in shatters and how he had nobody but himself to blame for it (Well, aside from Joey, but that wasn't the point).

While far from ideal, his current plan was to remain under that bed, try his best to go to sleep, and occasionally chew its legs to stop himself from going on a rampage. He might not be the most supernaturally informed person, but he had seen enough werewolf horror flicks to know that nothing good would come if he gave into his hunger or if he tried to leave. Best case scenario; he'd become as sick as a dog after eating something he found in the garbage. Worst case scenario; Somebody decides that he'd make a great living room rug and BANG!

And then, his ears perked up as he heard the song.

It was a simple, repetitive tune, made with a music box maybe? It was the first time he heard it yet it felt familiar to him. The song itself was muffled, used a lot of ambiance in its melody, and if he strained his ears enough, he could almost pick up the sound of a voice singing along with it, but it was far too faint for him to tell who or what was singing, let alone what the lyrics to the song were. It sounded nice in spite of it's strangeness, but it gave him goosebumps. He knew it wasn't playing from the radio, he only kept it on when he was fixing something at home.

The curious wolf struggled to push a window open with his snout to figure out where it was coming from. He was making progress, the song did sound slightly less muffled now that he was poking his head out the window. Was it just him, or did the tune become faster? And it was also louder and more frantic, and he swore that the constantly repeating motif sounded like something he knew. The mechanic never considered himself to be a man with a keen ear for music, but he knew he heard it before.

Three short notes, three slightly longer notes, three more short notes, again and again and again repeating endlessly...---...Wait a minute. Thomas didn't recognize that pattern from a song, he recognized that that was a call for help!

"Don't do it..." He grumbled to himself as he put his paws up on the windowsill. "You don't know what'll happen, or if you'll even get there in time. Just go back inside and you'll figure out what to do with yourself in the morning."

The song, almost as if it was aware he was trying to ignore it like he was ignoring his hunger, grew louder and faster.

"Don't give in..." The wolf turned back. "You can't help anyone like this anyway, you'll only end up hurting yourself."

It... started to die down, back to its regular, chilling melody and grew even softer. Flickering away like a candlelight in the cold.

"Don't..." The wolf let out a very tired sigh as he looked out the window. "Oh fuck me."

Thomas leapt out the window and sped towards the source of the song, not caring who or what saw him in the city that never sleeps, he bolted directly into the forest. He tried to block out the new sounds of various creatures he couldn't hear before as well as the new smells of the earth underneath his paws and the plants all around him.

Strange marks were on the ground, they looked like someone dragging themselves through the dirt and the marks themselves smelled vaguely of fish and ink.

The song, while faint was very close, he was hot on the mysterious caller's trail! In fact, the wolf's new sense of smell started to become useful as he picked up some familiar scents in the woods; the smell of ink, smoke from a fire, and the smell of cologne- Wait, he recognized that specific cologne, it was that fancy European brand that the "missing" hot-headed music director used to keep himself from smelling like cigar smoke, vomit, and despair.

And the voice of the singer in the distress call 'song' did sound like him now that he was close enough to hear it. He felt a pit of dread in his stomach that almost made him forget his hunger. He knew that the musician was far too prideful to call for help for anyone unless this was his very last option and his will to live made the difficult task of overpowering his ego.

Squelch.

Almost confirming his fears and adding a new one that he was too late, the mechanic made the mistake of looking down and saw that he stepped on a severed leg. A black, tar-like substance that smelled like ink and rotten meat was squeezed out of the part of the thigh that should've been attached to a person.

"...Mr. Lawrence?" He hesitantly called out, thankfully getting him an exhausted groan in response. "Lawrence, where are you?"

"Here." A hoarse yet relieved sounding voice answered. "Look down."

The wolf looked down into a shallow pool to see what had become of the musician. If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't deny that the music director was always easy on the eyes, and while the curse effected him drastically, that fact about him didn't change.

The water was clear enough to show off the musician's jet black, fish-like tail which glistened in the moonlight, the still human half of his body went through some changes as well; his hands were webbed and clawed, unlikely to properly hold any instrument, let alone use it, his torso, arms, and neck had patches of black scales scattered about haphazardly like splashes of paint on a canvas. Aside from the siren's new set of teeth (which looked like they could haunt anyone's nightmares), waist-long hair when it was previously shoulder length hair, and glassier eyes, the man's head seemed relatively unchanged.

"Could you stop gawking!?" Sammy re-positioned himself to keep his tail out of sight, or at least he tried to, the damn thing was two thirds of his body and he didn't exactly have something to cover himself up with. "I'm not exactly 'thrilled’ about this... Change, for lack of a better term."

"That's one way to put it." The mechanic almost let out a sympathetic chuckle. "I’d never thought I’d be saying this, but it’s great to see you haven’t died yet.”

“Why thank you.” The merman sarcastically responded. “That’s exactly why I went through all the trouble of literally singing my fucking lungs out!” He exclaimed while gesturing to a pair of charcoal-black things that the wolf previously thought were rocks. “To hear you tell me that ‘it’s great I haven’t died yet’.”

The wolf rolled his eyes.

“So why did you go through all the trouble for summoning me here then? Aside from the whole ...fish thing, you seem perfectly fine.”

“It... wasn't intentional.” The fish-man begrudgingly admitted, his voice sounded bitter, but his eyes shone with fear. “I wasn’t thinking about who or what would hear me or come at the moment. My body was falling apart before my eyes and all that was on my mind during it was; ‘Oh god, I’m going to die here, aren’t I?! And if not, my life will be ruined beyond repair!’. And when I sang out as a panicked response, you became the first to show up. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The siren swam to the other side of his aquatic prison and sighed resignedly.

Tom’s ears folded back in guilt, It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the musician was cursed by the failed ritual HE played a giant part in. As strongly as he disliked the musician, it didn’t feel right to leave him like this; alone, scared, and immobile in a place that could even spell out his death if he was unlucky enough.

He walked over to the other side of the pool and laid down beside the edge of it.

“Hey, you don’t need water to breathe, right?”

The siren looked confused.

“I’ve been breathing air just fine, in fact, I think one of the few advantages to this new body is that it replaced my old lungs with healthier ones. Why are you asking?”

“Climb on my back and I’ll take you out of here, granted, I don’t know where we’re gonna go, but where ever it is, it’ll be better than sitting around waiting for your pool to dry up.”

The merman, while hesitant, did climb up on the wolf man’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck to keep him from falling off, the wolf stood up and ran deeper into the woods.

#bendy and the ink machine #thomas connor #sammy lawrence #fanfic #sammy x thomas #body horror

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borkha · 4 years

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" This place is much scarier at night ... they said. I don't see how creepy it is, just a bunch of Bendy cartons, some gaze-following posters, nothing new. "

" Keeping an eye on the entire studio is tiring, and quite a bit, plus today was a pretty tiring day, Joey wanted to finish 5 episodes today, the animators were into shit, the band sounded worse today and that made Sammy mad, nothing new really. "

The brunette continued walking until he entered the depths of the study, what a terrible fate awaits that poor devil.

He came to a warehouse there and sat on some boxes to rest and probably smoke some weed.

Joey always hung around, always happy that someone was staying with him in the studio, this time it was Norman's turn, the 16th are definitely his unlucky days.

The red-haired man went with his best smile in the dark corridors, as if waiting for someone to see him, in one of his hands he carried a basket with some things, a book, ink, a pen, ropes and some candles, in his other hand he carried an ax with blood and dried ink.

He paced the lower levels until he heard someone coughing, his smile broadened and he left. find out who he was, and indeed, Norman!

He was standing covering his mouth, apparently he was coughing up blood, tempting, Joey was saying.

He sneaked up on the taller man, while he left the basket on the ground and raised the ax, so that from one moment to the next, he sneezed inopportune and the blond noticed, Norman turned as fast as he could, but the pale boy was faster and hit him behind the knees, but forgot to roll the ax. Which ended up cutting off Norman's leg.

He let out a cry of pain as he fell to the ground, Joey, from the fright he hit him again but, in the face, and with the handle of the ax, at least he did something right ..

With Norman lying on the floor, his leg bleeding Joey had no choice but to do the ritual right there, feeling quite repulsed but hey.

He took off Norman's shirt and used it to put pressure on the amputated leg, then he took the elder's arm and dragged him to an area with no boxes or anything, he released him and went to get some things from the basket, he drew a pentagram with the ink and the pen, lit the candles and placed them in order, tied Norman with the rope and took the book, to begin the ritual.

In the middle of that, Norman woke up in pain, it took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, he rolled over trying to escape.

Joey, realizing that, laughed and took up the ax again and began slicing through Norman's chest in a circular fashion, which made the poor man scream.

Joey, for his part, was already a bit annoyed by the screaming, to which he crushed Norman's mouth with his shoe, probably breaking him a tooth.

When he finished cutting his chest, he got up saying something unintelligible to the dying man, and ran towards a wall, crossing it as if it were nothing.

This might have surprised the blonde, but it wasn't, he kept screaming as blood gushed from his chest. Within minutes, Joey came back through the ceiling, he had a speaker in hand.

He smiled and went to the dying human and crouched down next to him, this time he sang something quite soothing, but Norman's screams didn't stop, even if they were lower.

This irritated Joey more and with a single bite, he ripped Norman's vocal cords, this time everything was silence, he laughed a little and put his hand in that hole that the brunette had in his chest, he made a face of pain.

In a second it ripped Norman's heart out, this time. Ending his suffering .. for now. He put his heart in the basket and snapped his fingers, laughed harder again, and got up.

" Did you like that, Mr. Polk? " Laughed louder " Did you like that?! " This time, with superhuman strength he taked the deceased's head from the jaw and pull, ripping off the head of the deceased with everything and spine.

#batim #tw body horror #tw death #writting tag

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tilbageidanmark · 3 years

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Movies I watched this week - 37

Robert Bresson’s philosophical Pickpocket, inspired both by Raskolnikov from ‘Crime and Punishment’ and by Camus ‘The Stranger’. And in turn it inspired Paul Schrader, the other conflicted Christian filmmaker. Austere and mysterious.

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And so 3 by Paul Schrader (all starring Willem Dafoe):

✳️✳️✳️ The Card Counter, Schrader’s new masterpiece. A tortured soul seeking redemption in a ‘ballet of violence’, just like in many of his previous films. The part of the torture program in Abu Ghraib is tailored a bit too close to the real Mitchell / Jessen psychopaths. But OK. 8+ / 10

✳️✳️✳️ Affliction, a completely different set up: Nick Nolte’s turns into his drunk, abusive father in a cold New Hampshire winter. A sad story of how a family curse is passed through generations, without redemption. His poor daughter...

✳️✳️✳️ Auto Focus, atypical light Schrader pastiche about murdered actor Bob Crane’s friendship with John Henry Carpenter. Crane’s sexual obsession must have been the appeal to Schrader. Told as an uncanny pastel joke, that hides a dark and disturbed core.

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First watch: Sergei Parajanov’s homoerotic The Color of Pomegranates (1969), a stunning visual poem of nearly-ethnographic Armenian tableaux. Reminds me of Jodorowsky. The inspiration to Tarsem’s music video for R.E.M.'s ‘Losing My Religion’.

(Photo above)

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In 1965-66 American-backed anti-communist militias tortured and executed up to a million ‘enemies of the state’ in mass killings in Indonesia.

The Act of Killing is a 2012 terrifying Danish documentary where a group of these now-old death-squad leaders recreate and reenact their actions from that time.

Indonesia, it seems, is not a very enlightened country.

The most original film of the week.

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Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere, a privileged father-daughter drama. A new superstar actor lives at the Chateau Marmont, and spends some time with his 11 year old daughter. Contemplative with Coppola’s usual slow, long shots style, but pointless and bland. The parent-daughter part was OK, but the Hollywood-fame portion was uninteresting. Even the hot pole-dancing Playboy twins were not exiting.

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“Ah, the smell of goulash!”

First watch: Lubitsch’s That uncertain feeling, 1941 erotic comedy, full of sexual innuendos and double entendres that the Hays Code didn’t catch.

“Phooy!”

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Truffaut’s 4th film, The Soft Skin, with Catherine Deneuve’s dead sister, Françoise Dorléac. A married man falls in love with a young stewardess. After 3 New Wave originals, this was derided as a “bourgeois melodrama” and was a commercial failure.

Always with Georges Delerue’s music.

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Orson Welles’s existentialist The Trial, based on Kafka’s novel. Starring unconvincing and too young-looking Anthony Perkins as a man accused of a crime he didn’t commit and which he doesn’t understand. Also with Jeanne Moreau. One literary bad dream with lots of absurdist going-ons. It all hinges on K’s feelings of guilt.

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A different kind of a bad dream, the ultimate Orange County, CA very black “comedy” Very Bad Things. Like ‘The Hangover’, but worst-case-scenario bad.

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Recommended by my mom:

The Hundred Foot Journey, a predictable restaurant-porn about the second Michelin star in a “little, quaint French village”. By Lasse Hallström, who specializes in this kind of international fairy tales, and Oprah Winfrey. Commercial clichés and stereotypical tropes. 2/10

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"You're a cookie full of arsenic"...

Sweet Smell of Success - 2 slimy operators, “publicist” Tony Curtis and influential gossip columnist Burt Lancaster unethically conspire to destroy a jazz musician in a gritty Manhattan Noir. Another sizzling Ernest Lehman manuscript.

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Barry Levinson paid tribute to ‘Sweet Smell of Success’ in his debut feature Diner, with one of the kids wandering around saying nothing but lines from the film. So I watched it again. What a wonderful piece of triple nostalgia (1959-1982-2021). Perfect in every sense, especially when showing unexpected sides to each character: Boogie doing hair, Billy playing the piano, Eddie dancing at the strip club.

“You’re gonna finish this?”

Best film of the week!

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Best Sellers, the new Michael Caine vehicle. He’s a cranky, washed-up, bitter author, who’s drunk the whole time. His orange cat is the only other good thing in this lame “comedy”. With a horrible Aubrey Plaza. 2/10

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2 X Vanya’s:

✳️✳️✳️ The 2020 British stage adaptation of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, with Toby Jones as Vanya, and Roger Allam as the professor. It deals with purposeful life, beauty, money, and one of the first discussions of ecological problems in world literature.

✳️✳️✳️ I’m glad I waited to watch Louis Malle’s last film, Vanya on 42nd Street, after the BBC version. Even though it was filmed 26 years earlier, it was much more contemporary. The combined talents of David Mamet, Andre Gregory and Malle modernized the play into a brilliant whole. Wallace Shawn was great! 8/10

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Chaplin’s delightful 1922 Pay Day, first (?) tramp film where he has a (nasty, harping) wife.

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U Turn, Oliver Stone’s sadistic, disgusting and pointless mess. Sean Penn is a permanently unlucky schmuck, who “pulls up to a tiny no place in the Arizona desert”. Bad Tarantino clone.

Thanks a lot for the recommendation, Sammy! 1/10

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Because Norm Macdonald died today, I watched his Dirty Work. A grave mistake! His dry humor was good for a few sardonic one liners, but not for this stupid, sophomoric loser. 0/10

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42 enjoyable minutes of a crash course on fromage, how to cut it and how to serve it.

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years

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Dark and Stormy Night

For Suptober Day 18. This one really got away from me!

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled over the land, causing the ground to shake with every rumble. Lightning flashed, illuminating the night with bright white streaks. Rain fell from the sky in waves, beating against anyone who was unlucky enough to be out in the downpour.

Most creatures were curled up in their homes, unwilling to venture into the storm. One poor person was not so cautious. Dean Winchetser was driving down a lone road cutting through the forest on his way home from visiting his brother. It had been months since he had seen Sam and he knew it would be a long time before he saw him again. Even though the visit had required him to take five days off of work, he didn’t regret it one bit. He would never turn down an opportunity to see his little brother.

Dean knew he would pick up extra shifts at his jobs to compensate for the lost work days but he didn’t mind. Sam was doing amazing in college and therefore Dean’s hard earned money was being put to good use. He would work a dozen jobs if it meant Sammy got to have his dreams.

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his 1967 Chevy Impala. Baby was the only thing left by his dad that Dean actually wanted. The thousands of dollars worth of debt was not wanted very much. Sam had offered to help pay off their dad’s bills, but Dean refused. Sam needed to save his money for better things. Dean didn’t mind working himself to the bone, it’s all he’d ever known. Sam was the smart one and had a bright future ahead of him. Dean was just a grunt. He had always been and always would be.

Dean was singing quietly to the rock song playing on the radio when suddenly a large black wolf ran across the road. Dean jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the animal and instead crashed into a tree sitting close to the roadside. “Son of a bitch,” he shouted as Baby’s hood grunted and groaned as it was crumpled. The car rumbled for a few seconds more before the engine and lights shut off, throwing Dean into silent darkness.

Dean grabbed his spare flashlight from the backseat and threw the door open and rushed outside to see how bad the damage was. He was immediately soaked all the way to his skin under the torrential downpour. Dean took quick stock of Baby’s crumbled hood, checking underneath to get a good look at the engine, and cursed under his breath. The damage wasn’t as awful as it could be and he would be able to fix it at the garage he worked at. The problem was, the garage wouldn’t be open for another five hours, so Dean couldn’t call them for towing assistance.

Once the damage had been assessed, Dean slipped back into Baby’s front seat, muttering a quick apology for getting water everywhere. He was already shivering as the chill from the rain seeped into his bones. He grabbed the blanket from the back seat and covered himself up as much as possible.

Dean woke from a light sleep sometime later, unsure of how much time had passed. He blinked his eyes before turning his head to look out the driver’s side window and was surprised to see a pair of glowing blue eyes staring at him. He screamed and scrambled into the passenger seat as the eyes continued to look at him. Suddenly, the eyes disappeared.

Dean continued to stare at the empty space, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He shook his head, trying to determine if he was still dreaming. Dean jumped, hitting his head on the roof, when there was a light tapping on his window. He was frozen as the tapping continued when a voice broke through the night. “Hello! Can you hear me?”

Dean slowly crawled forward and was surprised when he saw a hand knocking against his window. He reached for the handle and slowly rolled the window down, rain immediately blowing into the car. “Hello,” he called.

A head appeared in Dean’s line of sight. “Hey, it seems your car broke down. I can give you a ride to my place. At least, you’d have somewhere warm and dry until the morning.”

It was still too dark for Dean to make out much about the man. Dean chewed on his lips, unsure what to do. Being able to get out of the pouring rain sounded like a good idea, but this man could be some kind of murderer for all Dean knew.

“Have you decided? It’s still raining heavily and I’m getting soaked,” the man shouted, obviously annoyed.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean replied. Hopefully his decision didn’t get him killed. He grabbed Baby’s keys, rolled the window up, and opened the door.

Dean slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked before turning towards the other man. “Follow me,” he shouted over the pounding rain.

They ran to a pickup truck parked a few feet away. They threw themselves inside, both sighing at escaping the rainfall. The man started the truck up and turned the heater up as high as it would go. Dean immediately held his hands up to the vents and sighed at the warmth that started to rush through his fingers.

“I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you,” the man said, his voice deep and full of gravel.

Dean turned to look at the man next to him and gasped. The guy was drop dead gorgeous and if the circumstances were different, Dean would already be flirting with him. He had shaggy black hair, a few day’s stubble, plump lips, and the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean was suddenly reminded of the eyes he had seen when he first woke up. This guy's eyes were almost the exact same color and Dean felt a tremor ripple through his body at the realization. “Uh, you didn’t happen to see anything around my car when you pulled up, did you?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Castiel tilted his head. “I saw a large shape next to your car, but it was too dark for me to make out what kind of animal it was. It disappeared into the bushes before I could shine a light on it. Why do you ask.”

Relief swept through Dean. “Uh, your eyes are eerily similar to the eyes of whatever was by my car. It’s a little creepy.”

Castiel’s lips curved up slightly. “I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do about that.”

“It’s ok. I’m Dean by the way. Thanks for stopping and offering me a place to stay.” Dean shivered, his wet clothes sticking to him like glue.

Castiel caught the motion. “Don’t worry. My house is only about five minutes away and then we can go inside and change into something dry and warm.”

“That sounds awesome,” Dean said as Castiel started the truck and pulled back onto the road.

Cas glanced at him before looking back at the road. “So, how did you end up hitting that tree?”

Dean growled. “Believe it or not, a damn wolf ran out in front of me! I didn’t even know wolves lived in Kansas. Anyway, being the nice guy that I am, I avoided hitting the damn thing and instead crashed into that tree. It’s a good thing I wasn’t going very fast or who knows what would have happened.”

Cas nodded his head, his gaze focused on the asphalt in front of him. “Well, I’m sure the wolf appreciates you not hitting it.”

“It better because now my car is wrecked. If I didn’t already work as a mechanic, there’s no way I could afford to get my car fixed. As it is, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to get to my jobs without a working car,” Dean replied, tersely.

“Jobs?” Cas asked, obviously confused.

“Yeah, jobs,” Dean said with a nod of his head. “I work at Singer’s Garage during the day and then work at the Roadhouse at night. Helping to pay your brother’s way through college and having to pay off the debt left behind by your alcoholic father isn’t cheap.”

Dean snapped his mouth shut, surprised at himself. He rarely talked to people and within minutes of meeting Cas, he was already spilling his secrets. Something about the man was relaxing and made him easy to talk to. Dean took a deep breath and his nose was filled with the warm scent of sandalwood and jasmine. He glanced at Cas, wondering where the smell was coming from.

“I’m sorry. That must be tough to do. I work one job and it leaves me exhausted. I couldn’t imagine having to work two,” Cas replied with a quick glance in Dean’s direction.

Dean shrugged. “I’m used to it. Sam’s the smart one. I’ve never been good for anything besides grunt work. I ended up dropping out of high school so I could work full time just to be able to take care of Sam since dad was never around. When he told me he wanted to go to college, there was no way I was going to keep him from doing that. After dad died, I was forced to get a second job so I could continue to support my brother. His future is worth more than some lost sleep on my end.”

Again, Dean was surprised at how much he was telling Cas, but something about the man slipped past Dean’s reservations. He found that after keeping so much bottled inside for so long, he desperately wanted to get it all out. Cas actually seemed to be listening to Dean rather than just humoring him. Dean actually felt better, getting some of the weight he had carried for years off his shoulders.

By now they were pulling up in front of a log cabin. It wasn’t overly large but was bigger than Dean was used to. He had always lived in apartments and the one he currently lived in was nothing more than a run down crackerjack box. They exited the truck and quickly ran up the steps. Cas unlocked the door and then both rushed inside.

Dean could have wept with joy as he was surrounded by heat. His nose was once again flooded with sandalwood and jasmine. Maybe it was an air freshener or a cologne that Cas used and that’s why Dean smelled it earlier in the truck. He frowned at the water dripping off his clothes and forming a puddle on the floor. He looked at Cas and said, “You got a towel and I’ll wipe this mess up.”

“Let’s get changed first. If you want, you could take a shower while I get some clothes for you. I should have something that fits you,” Cas explained as he studied Dean up and down.

“That sounds great. Just point me in the direction of the bathroom.” Once Cas had given him directions, Dean made his way. He quickly turned the water on and stripped out of his clothes. As he stepped under the hot spray, he moaned in contentment.

He had just finished washing his hair when there was a knock on the door. “Dean, it’s me. I’ve got some clothes for you. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, just leave them on the sink. Thanks,” Dean called back.

He heard the door open and then shut a moment later. Once he was done showering, he dried off and then slipped into the sweatpants and shirt Cas had left. He couldn’t help but smell them, and something in his chest lurched at the warm scent that was practically imbedded in the fabric. He was definitely going to have to ask Cas about whatever scent this was because it was the best smelling thing ever. The clothes were a little tight but nothing Dean couldn’t live with. He dropped the towel in the laundry hamper and left his clothes hanging over the curtain rod to dry out a little bit. He then went in search of Cas. As he walked, he studied the pictures that were hanging from the wall.

There was one of Cas with his arms thrown around another man that was almost identical to Cas. The only difference was the eye color, Cas’ were a dark ocean blue and the other man’s was a bright electric blue. Another picture that caught Dean’s attention was one showing two large black wolves sitting side by side. Their eyes were eerily familiar and Dean found the two wolves stunning.

Dean walked into the kitchen to find the man standing in front of the sink, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. Dean felt his cock jerk at the sight. “Down boy,” he muttered to himself. Dean knew before he left, he was definitely going to get Cas’ number.

Cas looked over his shoulder and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

Dean almost melted from the look that the other man flashed in his direction. “A lot better now that I’m warm, that’s for sure. Thanks for letting me use the shower and giving me some clothes to borrow,” Dean said as he took a seat at the table.

Cas turned around and leaned against the counter. “You’re welcome. Nobody should have to be out in that kind of weather. Tomorrow, if you want, I can tow your car to the garage.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can just call Bobby and he will send someone out. One perk of working there means I won’t have to pay for towing fees.” Dean paused before adding, “It’s the parts that are gonna cost me. I love having a vintage car, but the parts for them ain’t cheap.”

Something flickered in the depths of Cas’ eyes, but it disappeared before Dean could put a name to it. “I really don’t mind towing your car; It’s the least I could do. Besides, I needed to go into town anyway.”

Dean stared at him curiously. “What do you mean you owe me? Pretty sure, I owe you, not the other way around.”

Cas dropped his gaze. “I, uh, just meant… I, uh, owed you for your… uh company. It’s nice to not have to spend such a gloomy night alone.”

“O...k. You alright Cas?” Dean asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Cas cocked his head. “Cas?”

“Oh, sorry. Your name is just a mouthful. I can say your whole name, though, if it bothers you,” Dean offered.

“No, it’s fine. Nobody has ever given me a nickname.” Cas moved to the fridge and opened the door.

Dean’s eyes went wide when he saw all the bags inside the refrigerator. Besides a six pack of beer and a few cans of soda, nothing but meat lined the shelves. His eyes jumped to Cas’ back as he felt his blood run cold. “Oh shit, this dude is like some kind of psycho murderer,” Dean screamed inside of his head.

He was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of a door shutting. “Dean, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Uh, is there any reason you have a fridge full of bags of meat?”

Cas chuckled softly. “I’m a hunter Dean. All of that is from the deer I killed recently. My freezer quit working, and I have nowhere else to put it. That’s why I have to go to town tomorrow, to buy a new freezer.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Dean replied, his body relaxing at the explanation. He knew he should be more cautious about Cas, but something about the man was making him lower his guard.

“What, did you think I was some crazy serial killer?” Cas asked..

“What,” Dean scoffed. “No, of course not!” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks at his embarrassment.

Cas obviously didn’t buy Dean’s lie. “Mhm,” he hummed as he handed a beer to Dean.

He took the beer from Cas and their hands gently slid against each other. Dean gasped as a jolt of lightning sparked through his body. Not only that, but Cas’ skin was like touching a space heater! Dean pulled his hand away and studied his fingertips, afraid to find them burned. He looked back at Cas and said, “Uh, Cas, I think you might be running a fever. You’re feeling a little warm there buddy.”

Cas straightened and held his hand to his forehead. “No, I feel fine Dean.”

Dean eyed Cas warily. “Are you sure because you feel like a fucking furnace! Your temperature must be at least a hundred and one.”

Cas smiled softly and took a sip from his Coke. “I assure you, Dean, I’m fine.”

“Dude, I swear if you pass out on me, I’m gonna be pissed at you,” Dean warned.

“I’m not going to pass out on you. Would you like to watch some TV before we head to bed?” Cas asked.

Dean still didn’t believe the other man but there wasn’t much he could do. He took a drag of his beer before replying, “Sure, why not.”

They headed into the living room and Dean took a seat on the couch. He sat his beer on the table and noticed something strange. He picked up the clump of black fur and stared at it. He looked down at the couch and noticed more strands of black fur. “Cas, you got a dog or a cat?”

“No, why would you ask such a thing?” Cas asked as he grabbed the remote from the TV stand.

Before Dean could respond, a lone howl shattered the silence. Cas immediately looked out the window and frowned. He mumbled something under his breath before looking at Dean. “I will be right back. I need to go check on something.”

He was gone without giving Dean a chance to say anything. After Cas had left, Dean looked back down at the fur clutched tightly in his hand. He started thinking about everything that had happened that night.

First, he had seen a large wolf run across the road. Second, he had woken up in his car to a pair of bright blue eyes. Third, within minutes, Cas was knocking on his window, offering him a place to stay for the night. Fourth, Cas had a near identical eye color as the creature outside of his car. Come to think about it, the men and the wolves in the pictures had the same eye colors as well. Fifth, Cas had a fridge full of meat. Sixth, the man had a ridiculously high body temperature and was unfazed by it. Now, Dean finds animal fur and yet Cas claims he doesn’t have a pet. Not to mention the fact that as soon as Cas heard the howl, he said he had to go.

Dean dropped the fur as he put all the pieces together. “No fucking way,” he whispered to himself.

Everybody grows up hearing the tales of the shifters: humans who were blessed to have their souls intertwined with that of an animal, giving the person the ability to turn into that animal at will. Shifters were rare and reclusive, often living in places that resembled the homes of the animals they could turn into. Every so often, a shifter would take a human as their mate.

To be mated to a shifter was considered a great honor. Once mated, the human would go through a transition phase, turning them into a shifter as well. Shifters had heightened abilities, including better smell, sharper hearing, and increased strength. They also tended to have a higher body temperature than a regular human.

Dean looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cas came strolling back into the living room, a look of annoyance on his face. “Sorry about that. I forgot to call my brother about something.” He noticed Dean’s panicked look and asked, “Are you ok Dean?”

Dean jumped to his feet. “No, not really! I know what you are!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Cas said slowly. “What do you mean you know what I am?”

“You’re a shifter,” Dean accused.

Cas came to a halt, standing to his fullest height. He ground his teeth together before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“There’s a lot,” Dean exclaimed. “But maybe the fact that you run extremely warm, have a fridge full of meat, and have black fur in your house even though you claim not to have a dog or cat! Not to mention, I wake up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at me and the next minute you show up, also with blue eyes! I even bet you were the wolf that ran across the road!” Dean gasped. “Is that what you meant when you said it was the least you could do when you offered to tow my car since you’re the reason I crashed in the first place.”

Cas sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. He scrubbed his hand down his face before looking back at Dean. “Yes, I was the wolf that ran across the road, causing you to hit the tree. I was chasing after my brother and I thought you were further down the road than what you were. I’m sorry for causing you to crash. I will be more than willing to pay for any damage done to your car.”

Dean fell back onto the couch. Even if he had predicted the truth, he still wasn’t prepared to actually be told he was right. “Son of a bitch!”

Cas slowly walked towards Dean before taking a seat next to him. He smirked as he said, “I told you the wolf was probably happy that you didn’t run it over.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I bet! Dude, I’m happy I didn’t hit you. Although Baby might not be so happy.”

Cas scrunched his eyes in confusion. “Baby?”

“My car that I crashed trying to avoid hitting your furry butt,” Dean explained.

Cas flinched. “I really am sorry and so is my brother. He said if there’s anything you need, he would be more than willing to help.”

“Your brother? When the heck did you talk to him?” Dean asked sharply. Cas gave him a deadpan look before Dean realized, “That was the wolf who howled, wasn’t it?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, he wanted to make sure you were alright. As soon as you crashed, I ran back here to pick my truck up.”

“Why the hell were you staring at me in your wolf form?” Dean asked.

“I wasn’t. That was my twin, Jimmy. He stayed behind to watch over you while I came back to get my truck since my house is closer. I apologize that he scared you. He told me if he didn’t already have a mate, he would definitely be interested in you,” Cas said, his cheeks stained a bright pink.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be. I’m not worth being mated to, especially to a shifter. Hell, the only relationships I’ve had for the past few years are random bar hookups. I’m not worth anything long term.”

“Don’t say such a thing. You seem like a wonderful person Dean,” Cas admonished.

“The truth is the truth. I’m nothing special. I’m barely making it through life Cas. If it wasn’t for Sam, I’m not sure where I’d be. He’s the only reason I’m still trudging,” Dean explained.

Dean jumped when Cas grabbed his shoulder, the heat of his skin seeping through Dean’s thin shirt. “Dean, what you’re doing for your brother is amazing! You’re giving up your own happiness so that Sam can have his. I don’t know many people who would do that.”

“That’s because he’s worth it; even my dad thought the same thing. If he had had any money left over after he died, it would have gone to Sam. He didn’t intend to leave me a single dime, saying that a grunt didn’t need it,” Dean said bitterly. “The only problem was, his debt far exceeded his savings, so I got stuck paying off the ten thousand dollars worth of debt he still had.”

Cas growled low in his throat and it caused goosebumps to erupt on Dean’s skin. “Your father doesn’t sound like he was a very good man. You are not a grunt Dean, and you deserve so much better than the hand you’ve been dealt. You should have never been forced to drop out of school to take care of your brother. You shouldn’t be having to pay off your father’s debt. None of that should have fallen on your shoulders.”

Dean scoffed and looked at his hands. “It doesn’t really matter if I should have to deal with it or not because I do. That’s my life. Work two jobs, go home to a shitty apartment, and do it all over again the next day.”

“Does Sam know any of this?” Cas asked softly.

Dean’s head snapped up. “NO! When we meet up, I fly out to meet him. He offered to help pay dad’s debt, but I refused. He offered to help pay his tuition with the money he earns from his job, but again I refused. He deserved to be able to spend that money on himself. I know he hates living in the dorms. Maybe he can save up enough to get a small apartment next year.”

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to his cheek, forcing Dean to look at him. “See, how could you think yourself unworthy of good things? It seems to me that you’re extremely self-sacrificing and Sam is lucky to have you for a brother. Your father just didn’t realize what he had in front of him: an amazing and loyal son.”

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek before throwing himself into the shifter’s arms. He buried his nose in Cas’ neck, inhaling the soothing scent of Cas’ cologne: a combination of sandalwood and jasmine. He felt Cas wrap his arms around Dean’s waist and pull him in even closer to his body. “Shh, Dean, it’s ok. You’re ok,” Cas whispered softly.

“My dad hardly ever said a nice thing to me in the twenty five years of my life and in one night, you’ve said dozens of nice things. You’re too good to be true, Cas,” Dean mumbled against the shifter’s neck.

“You deserve to be told nice things Dean,” Cas replied softly. “If you’ll let me, I’ll tell you- hell I’ll give you nice things for the rest of your life.”

Dean pulled back. “What do you mean?”

Cas’ whole body went rigid. He nibbled on his lip before finally saying, “Please tell me you have felt a connection between us since we met.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, yeah I have. Something about you makes you really easy to talk to. Not to mention, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’ve been attracted to you and that damn cologne of yours from the moment I got a good look at you in your truck.”

Cas tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Dean, I’m not wearing any cologne. As a shifter, my sense of smell is already heightened. Most colognes are overpowering and make me sneeze.”

“Ok, so then what air freshener do you use because it’s the best smelling thing ever.”

Cas frowned. “Dean, I don’t use air fresheners either for the same reason.”

Dean shook his head. “Ok, so then why does everything around you smell like sandalwood and jasmine?”

A soft smile spread across Cas’ face. “Dean, that’s my scent. Every person in the world has their own unique scent.”

“Um, dude, I’ve never smelled another person before,” Dean said, looking at Cas as if he was crazy.

“Well, of course you haven’t,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes. “Humans don’t have a strong enough sense of smell like shifters do.”

“Then why can I smell you?”

Cas was silent for so long, Dean wondered if he was going to answer. Finally, in barely more than a whisper, Cas replied, “Because we’re true mates.”

Dean wheeled back as if he had been slapped. “NO! NO! Cas, no!” All shifters had a true mate, the one person that was their perfect other half. There was no way Dea was that for Cas.

At Dean’s words, the shifter crumbled in on himself. He slid from the couch, saying, “I’m sorry Dean. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

“Cas, wait,” Dean cried as he reached for the man’s wrist. “Why are you sorry? I should be the one apologizing!”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault that the wolf inside of me has claimed you for its own,” Cas said remorsefully.

“Cas, I’m sorry that your wolf was dumb enough to choose me! I told you, I’m not… I’m not special enough to have the honor of mating with a shifter. You deserve someone who is as amazing as you and… that’s not me,” Dean said, letting Cas’ wrist drop out of his grasp.

Cas turned around, fire burning in his eyes. He grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Dean was a little afraid of the man standing before him; Cas looked every bit the predator that he was. “You are infuriatingly stubborn! I already told you that what you’re doing for Sam is something you should be proud of. You might not have much in this world Dean but it’s not because you’ve thrown your life away! It’s because you’re sacrificing it so that your brother can have a better one! That is not something to be ashamed of!”

“Cas, I work two jobs and live in a shitty apartment! If I’m not working, I’m probably sleeping because I’m exhausted from working eighty to ninety hours a week! I hardly ever go out with friends because I can’t afford it or I’m just too tired. Hell, I took a week-long vacation to go see Sam and am already figuring out a way to take some extra shifts to compensate for the lost hours.” The fight left Dean and he slumped against the shifter. He closed his eyes and took in another deep breath of Cas’ calming scent. “I have nothing to offer you.”

Cas petted the back of Dean’s hair. “Dean, I’m not asking for anything. I don’t care how much money you make or what kind of apartment you live in. Your worth isn’t measured by those things. It’s measured by what’s on the inside and trust me, you have a heart of gold. Just give me- give us a chance. My wolf has never steered me wrong before.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I think that record is about to be broken.”

“Does that mean you’ll give us a shot?” Cas asked, afraid to get his hopes up.

Dean looked up at Cas and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. “Against my better judgement, yeah. I’ll give us a chance.”

A few months later, it was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain had quit minutes ago and now the plants were wet and the ground was soggy. Most creatures were inside their homes, waiting for the rays of sunlight to dry the land up.

Two creatures were unlike the rest, running through the forest, uncaring that their pelts were getting wet and covered with mud. A large tan wolf was sprinting as fast as he could, a slightly smaller black wolf hot on his heels. Dean put on a burst of speed when he saw their cabin appear in his line of sight. He had just landed on the porch when Cas barrelled into him from behind.

They both crashed to the ground before shifting back to their human forms. Cas straddled Dean’s hips and looked down at the man he adored. “I told you I would catch you my love.”

Dean laughed as he stared at his mate. Even soaking wet, Cas was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. “When you start gaining weight because you’re pregnant, let’s see if you’re as fast.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I would still be faster. Those bow legs I love so much slow you down, which is good for me.”

Dean shoved at Cas’ chest playfully. “Keep gloating and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Cas leaned over and nipped at Dean’s lips before soothing the sting with a kiss. “Don’t make empty threats love. We both know you can’t sleep without my knot buried deep in your ass.”

Dean shivered at Cas’ voice, lust slowly thickening it. He felt a trickle of slick slide from his entrance as his own apple and pine scent thickened with arousal. He wound his arms around Cas’ neck and pulled him closer, sealing their mouths together. Their tongues slid against each other as their hands roamed wet skin. “Love you Cas.”

“I love you too Dean. I’m so glad I chased Jimmy across the road all those months ago,” Cas replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad I crashed Baby into that tree. I can’t imagine life without you,” Dean said, pressing another kiss to his mate’s lips.

In the ten months they had been together, Cas had helped Dean turn his life around. Cas was a well published author under the pseudonym Emanuel Milton, one of Dean’s favorites actually, and had more money than he knew what to do with. He had helped Dean pay off his dad’s debt and get Sam set up in his own apartment. Dean was now living with Cas, beyond glad to be out of his shitty apartment. He still worked full time at the garage since he loved being a mechanic but only worked the weekends at the Roadhouse. Cas told him he didn’t have to work at all, but Dean couldn’t just sit around all day.

The best part of being with Cas was being turned into a shifter himself. Dean loved his wolf form and would spend much of his free time running through the woods with Cas. There had been a few things that had taken some getting used to, though. Shifters had secondary genders: Alpha and Omega. Cas was an Alpha and Dean had presented as an Omega meaning he produced his own lubrication and would have the ability to get pregnant. That had taken him a few days to come to terms with.

Dean looked at his stomach, already starting to show and couldn’t believe how freaked out he had been. He let his hand rest on the slight bump and smiled, excited to be growing a new life inside of him. He couldn’t wait to meet their pup.

Cas laid his palm over Dean’s. “What are you thinking about my love?”

Dean smiled. “Just how happy I am. I can’t believe I got the man of my dreams and in about seven months, we’ll have a pup of our own. It seems like I deserve nice things after all.”

“I told you, love, that I would give you nice things for the rest of your life if you would let me,” Cas said softly.

“Thanks for keeping your promise,” Dean whispered before pulling Cas into another heated kiss.

“Thank goodness for dark and stormy nights,” Cas replied before he sealed their mouths together.

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel #shifters #abo dynamics

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Note

Congrats to your 8000 Followers. Can I get Deanmon with stalker vibes? Like he watches Sammy's girlfriend or best friend. Prompt: "You will like the darkness, Sweetheart..."

Dark Shadows

8000 Followers Drabble Prompts

Prompt: “You will like the darkness, Sweetheart…”

Warnings: angst, stalking, implied kidnapping, written in Dean’s POV, no dialogue, mentions of an abusive childhood

Pairing: Deanmon x Reader

Word count: 406

Written in Dean’s PoV

I’m lurking in the darkness, use the shadows to hide my true nature. For weeks, I am following her. I can’t tell you why I am after my brother’s girl, or rather ex-girl, according to the rumors.

Sammy crossed a few lines to find me, even made a poor guy sell his soul. Y/N, that’s the girl I follow, couldn’t take it any longer.

She was always special to me. I saw it the day I met her at the diner.

Unlucky me - I had to go to check the cemetery. When I came back, covered in dirt, mud, and blood of another monster - my brother already won her heart.

For years I was only the ‘big brother’, the best friend. Tonight, I want more. I am driven to her like the moth to a flame. I even followed Sam for a while only to get a glimpse of the girl he called his girlfriend for too long.

I taste the whiskey in my glass, smiling to myself as every guy getting close to her gets the same answer. ‘NO.’

She’s a jewel under fake diamonds, a light in the dark and even more important - tonight she will be mine.

Y/N never wanted to be a hunter. It was her family dragging her into the same shit my father dragged us into. Her father was a possessive bastard, didn’t treat my girl right.

Last week I sliced his throat. - I took a few pictures to prove to my girl I am worth her love.

Sam never had the guts to do so, even knowing her father beat my girl black and blue. That bastard walked all over Y/N and my brother did nothing.

I watch her walk out of the bar. She didn’t drink anything, didn’t talk to anyone. Y/N just sat there, not looking at anyone but at her reflection in the mirror.

I wait for a heartbeat, and another before I get up and toss some money onto the table. Sadly, I have to step out of the darkness now to follow my girl.

Outside the chilly air hits me and I take a deep breath, watching my girl wipe some tears away.

I walk faster, almost run toward her position and then I cover her mouth with my hand, gently brushing my lips over her ear.

“You will like the darkness, Sweetheart…" I whisper before I take her with me.

SPN Forever Tags

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————————————–

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2

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#8000 followers #8000 followers celebration #8000 Follower’s Celebration #dean winchester #Demon Dean #demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #demon dean x reader #angst #stalking #Dean's POV #dean winchester fanfiction #SPN drabble #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester SPN

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renwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

we are family

Day 4: we are family.

Describe or draw a familiar moment. Are they close, or estranged? Are they blood relatives, or family found with friends?

Two Traynors stared each other down, hands hovering over a small box. There were 5 empty shot glasses in a semicircle around them, flanking the pristine chess board between the pair.

Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Priya Suresh-Traynor pleaded with her family. “Dessert is almost ready, do you two have to do this now?”

“The fate of the galaxy depends on it, mum,” Samantha Traynor mumbled back, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You heard the kid,” Geoffrey Traynor seconded with a lazy smile. “I need to know my little sprog‘s mind hasn’t gotten soft since she’s been away.”

“Soft?? Did you miss the part where I kicked Polgara T’Suza’s arse across the Citadel?”

“Vid or it didn’t happen.”

What are you, five??

...God, I wish I had a vid. Are there vids? I wonder if I can ask for one...

“I have a trophy proving it happened. And a witness.” Sam’s eyes flitted over to the witness in question, her gaze narrowing.

Commander Annelise Shepard held her glass of red wine in surrender. Her voice came out wet and shaky from her fresh sip. “She’s—” Shepard patted her chest from the cough. “—She’s correct. She electrocuted that asari good.”

And got a shower as a prize.

That narrow challenge in her eyes switched to panic as Sam glanced back at her father, who was tsking in disapproval. “Neuro-feedback chess? ...Sammy. You didn’t.”

The Comms Specialist scowled. “I didn’t choose it, it was part of the tourney rules. Usually, yes, I have slightly more integrity.” Unless I really want to win, that is. “It was just a lark, father.”

“Well as long as it was on a lark you buried that smug asari, I guess you’re forgiven. ...still can’t top your Dad at 5-Shot Speed Chess though, I bet.” The older man blew on his knuckles theatrically and gave them a wiggle before resuming his position at the worn speed clock.

Oh, you’re on.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Priya gave an apologetic smile at Shepard, who had taken up perch at the kitchen counter partition. The bar seat next to her was empty, waiting for Sam to return from her tense game. The matriarch of the Traynor family was busy at the stove stirring the simmering pot of kheer on one burner while checking a boiling sugary syrup on another. The warm kitchen filled with the scent of Indian spices and jasmine rice bled over into the prefab living room area.

“I wish I could lie and say something like ‘they aren’t usually like this,’ but…” Priya shrugged and smiled fondly at her husband as the game began. The speed clock snapped with each hit as the older and younger Traynor dove into an intense exchange of pieces. “It’s actually a tradition when Sammy comes home.” She paused before clarifying. “A tradition since Sammy was proper drinking age, mind you.”

Annelise smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Sighing, Priya tapped away her Omni-tool where a reverse countdown timer could be seen by Shepard. “I think it was One-Shot Speed Chess back then,” she admitted. “I swear we were a classy family at some point. ...I can’t recall when, precisely, but I assumed we had to have bumbled into it somewhere in the last 25 years.”

“I’m 26, mum,” Sam reminded loudly as she slapped the clock once more.

“We were definitely classy when you were one, sprog,” Priya snarked back. “I mean, you weren’t because you just ate and shat all day, but Geoffrey and I were newlyweds and still extremely classy.”

“Muuuuuuum!”

Oh my God do we have to talk about me shitting my diaper in front of Shepard???

Annelise failed to hide a staccato of exhale-laughs behind her wine glass, amused by the exchange.

Oh my God why did we come here?

...Oh shit Dad almost had me there.

Oh shit are they doing this on purpose? Working together against me??

Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!

Sam had to do a few lazy blinks to push back the swimming in her head and vision. Those shots were creeping in fast aided by a full stomach of naan and saag paneer. But she resumed focus on the game at hand, giving the clock another slap as she nudged her white bishop in an offensive position.

“So, Comm—Annelise,” Priya fumbled slightly. “What are your parents like?”

Mum. Did you not watch any ANN profiles?

Shepard’s sip of wine was casual, unruffled by the question. “Couldn’t tell you. Both gone. Mom when I was four from eezo poisoning, Dad when I was thirteen. Fire in our apartment building.”

What could have been a very awkward silence was instead filled with Priya’s empathetic tongue cluck (honed from years of practice as a registered nurse). “You poor thing. Too much life experience forced onto someone so young.” Her vigorous stirring motion never wavered. “Not to mention the life of a marine on top of all that. What a hand this universe deals us, hm?”

“Indeed,” Annelise agreed. She smiled sadly, her eyes inward as though weighing something. “This reminds me of the dinners I had with my brother and dad.”

Oh? Samantha’s head tilted so she could hear better. Her father was closing in on one corner of the board, but her queen sprang into a hole in his defenses.

“Oh?” Priya asked, echoing Sam’s own curiosity.

Nodding, Annelise rotating the now empty wine glass in her hand. “Dad wasn’t much for cooking, but John loved it. He loved grilling and barbecue. He’d usually save some of his courier paycheck for a good cut of meat at the store and try out different seasonings.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I bet he would have loved your cooking.”

“I fear I know the answer, but where is ...John?” At Shepard’s nod, Priya continued. “Where is John now?”

Oh no.

Should have given your folks some notes, Traynor.

I didn’t think it was my tale to tell!

How are you this bad at relationships, Traynor??

“Also gone, right before Dad. Car accident.” Annelise chewed her cheek a moment. “You know, before the Skyllian Blitz, I thought I was pretty unlucky based on all that.”

“And now?”

“Well, everything’s kind of a shit show, so jury’s out on that.” Annelise looked over at Sam, who was getting louder and more erratic with her clock taps. “But lucky in other ways.”

“Oh good answer, love!” Priya crowed, snapping the towel in Annelise’s direction. “A for effort, superbly charming response.” Her Omni-tool started beeping, signaling the woman to pull the pot of rice milk off the burner and set it aside to cool before turning her attention to the syrup. “What were three favorite things your brother cooked?”

An exhale deep through Shepard’s nose as she held her chin in her hand. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.” She nodded at Priya’s silent pantomime offer to refill her wine glass. “He loved ribeye steak. Kind of fatty for me, and too damn expensive, but… I dunno, I liked it because he liked it so much.”

Aw. Sam felt a pang of longing for Shepard. There was a fondness to the woman’s tone that didn’t come up often.

How often does Commander Bloody Shepard have a moment to think about her family? Or talk about them?

We should work on that, Traynor.

Geoffrey piped up regarding one of his favorite subjects. “Good man! Good cut of beef. What temperature?” He pointed a finger at Annelise as though calling on a student in one of his classes.

“Medium rare.”

“Good man indeed,” Geoffrey agreed as he slapped the timer one more time. White and black sides pieces were dwindling as lines of attack thinned out.

“Let’s see, what else… He actually did a spiced mutton I really liked. Sometimes lamb. Both were dirt cheap for awhile in Seattle before the drought, so he made a lot of it.” Annelise smiled as she accepted a small round poor of kheer, a sprinkling of ground nuts on top. “Oh, and his ribs were to die for. John had this dry rub mixture he spent months tinkering with. Took damn near eight hours to cook, but worth it.”

Geoffrey exchanged a look with his wife before cutting back to the game. Priya nodded.“Oh we love lamb in this house. One of the many reasons we applied for colony life. No more ration stamps from those artificial trade wars with the Volus, and all our farming sustainable and available direct to the colony first.” Priya fired up her Omni-tool. “I have a lot of great lamb recipes if you’re—goodness! I haven’t asked how your cooking chops fare?”

Nudging a pawn over to take Sam’s knight, Geoffrey jibed. “A loaded question, dear. We all know our Sammy is completely dependent on Alliance-provided cafeteria food. How she survived four years at Oxford is a complete mystery. She should have either ended up three hundred pounds from eating rubbish or died of scurvy.”

Hey!

“You talk a lot of shit, old man, for someone who just got checked. And it’s called a dormitory meal plan, I’ll have you know. I had three square meals.”

I just probably didn’t drink water the entire time. All booze or energy drinks.

“Of cafeteria food, further proving my point. Also, check.”

Ugh. Also, what?

That exhale-laugh from Annelise almost pulled Sam away from her last ditch strategy. The Commander extended her own Omni-tool. “I’d love the help. While I can survive on a remote moon with just a knife and a canteen, I don’t prefer to. I did undercover work for a year after graduating N7, so we had to learn how to be human again. Cooking included. Some of it even some fancy five course meals meant to impress targets.”

“So you know where all the forks go and what they do?” Samantha asked, slapping the timer. “Check.”

“I definitely do.” Those green eyes glittered with mirth.

“Oooh, be still my heart.” Sam shot a finger-gun at her girlfriend.

Priya made some flicking motions with her fingers before an answering ping from Shepard’s wrist. “Well, here are some of Sammy’s favorites. Someone should have them, since the pride of my life can’t make toast.”

“Hey!”

“I also made note of some of the ones with Sammy’s allergies.”

Annelise flicked through the holo screen, studying the recipes. “Curry, shellfish, and peanuts, right?”

You forgot public speaking and losing at chess to my father.

Sam’s mother clutched her heart theatrically. “You know! Oh Geoffrey, did you hear? Sammy trusted her with shellfish, darling!” Priya poured a ladle full of the syrup over a small pyramid of large cake-like balls that had been chilling in a dish. She brought the dish over to the pair of competitors whose game was nearing completion.

“Check! And I did, love! It seems our Samantha is serious about this one! ...or her commanding officer looked at her file.” He grinned at his daughter before reaching for one of the gulab jamun.

Scowling, Sam slapped his hand away from the bowl before slapping the speed clock again. She could feel a heat rising in her neck and jaw (hopefully it was just the alcohol). “No dessert til we finish the game! And check!”

After a tentative bite, Annelise dug into the bowl of sweet kheer with enthusiasm. “I mean, you’re not wrong, sir. But I had the decency to act surprised when she finally told me. How was that again, Samantha?”

Oh sonabitch.

“When we went out on a date in public for the first time and I stole a bite of your lobster roll and my throat closed and we had to go to the med center.”

Both of her parents barked her name at the same time. “Samantha Karuna Traynor!” Her father added, “You always were a sucker for lobster despite never learning your lesson. And check.”

“It was worth it!” Sam squawked. “It was delicious! Also: check mate!” The pawn she’d been nudging forward that her father ignored got promoted to a rook and was now perfectly positioned to box in his king.

Geoffrey stared at the change of fortune, dismayed and swaying a little in his chair. The shots were clearly taking hold. He tipped his king over in surrender, bowed his head at his daughter, and grabbed the topmost gulab jamun.

Samantha joined him with a second ball, the syrup coating dripping slightly. They raised their desserts in salute before taking a big bite.

Mouth full, Sam grinned up at Shepard who was standing next to her chair. “I had you there to rescue me, darling. I knew I’d be all right.”

“I hope that’s always the case,” Annelise smiled back as she kissed Sam’s forehead.

Before she slowly dropped down to one knee.

#merweek2020 #mass effect relationship week #june 4 #shaynor #samantha traynor #femshep #samantha traynor x femshep #family #i petered out at the end #i'm tired #we are family prompt

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damnedtoearthnothell · 4 years

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It’s been a hot second since I have broken down my thoughts on a Chiefs game over here.

I’m gonna be real, I’ve been spoiled the last few years, and even though I have seen this team go 2-14 this game was a bit of a disappointment for me.

Defense:

Tyrann Matthieu looks back, which is nice. And L’Jarious Sneed is a beast. Breeland was on and off, and we finally started hearing Chris Jones’s name again. Clark has been off lately, I hope it gets fixed. Thornhill seems to not have recovered fully from his ACL injury.

Offense:

Tyreek. Hill. Is. So. Unlucky. Poor dude had touchdown after touchdown called back. Bell looks GREAT. D-Will #2 looked pretty damn good. Sammy had some good moments. And Travis f**kin Kelce man.

Special teams:

Harrison Butker carried us.

#football #american football #nfl #chiefs kingdom #kc chiefs #chiefs

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 5 years

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Dear Hannah,

Pairing: technically Destiel, but that’s not what this is about Word Count: 4.9k (wow wtf) Warnings: mentions of self-harm, cancer, shitty father John (as per usual), angst and angst and father-daughter love and angst. Summary: When Dean, strapped to a bed, coughing up a storm, catches sight of his newly-adopted baby girl, he decides that, if he is to leave this world, he has to leave something behind for his favorite person. So he writes a booklet, trying to tell her all the things he would’ve if he was alive. Author’s note: This was originally done for @welldonebeca ‘s 2019 Song Challenge but I fucked up thinking the deadline was the 31st of October instead of the 15th. Whatever the case, my prompt was movement, by Hozier, which I interpreted as Dean being fascinated by his daughter enough that he’s inspired to write a letter book to her. Of course this wouldn’t be the entire thing, but I had to keep it under wraps.

Feedback is always welcome! No beta, all mistakes are my own.

~~~~

Hannah,

Christ, it’s the third time I’m starting this. The truth is, I’m coming up with blanks as to how to actually start. This has got to be the best I’ve got.

I’ll tell you the moral of this story, my story, from the get-go. Life’s a fucking bitch, okay? I want you to know that from now. I’d try to hold back on my swearing, but I want you to know me as the person I am, the person I’ve always been. I know what having an absent, terrible father’s like, as you’ll soon see, and I don’t want that for you. I wish I could tell you all this up close, give you advice, tell you all my crazy-ass stories as the dumbass of the teenager I was, and all the shenanigans your uncle (wow, Sam really is a friggin’ uncle!), by a campfire, while you drink your first beer.

Sadly, my odds aren’t looking so great, honey. So this is all I got. I know it’ll never be enough but something is better than nothing.

Enough with the chick flick introduction, though. Let’s start.

The pen’s heavy in his hand, and it’s equal parts the mental heaviness, the weight of the task, as it is his fatigue. Dean’s really just started this. He can’t believe it. The heaviness of uncertainty, of whether or not he’ll get enough time to finish it settles on his chest like an anvil. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t make it before his time comes.

Hannah’s sitting right there, carelessly looking at the plastic, grinning stars above her crib. She’s so innocent, skin creamy, chocolaty and bright, a young, fearsome woman that’s gonna turn out to be so incredible, he’s certain. A small baby who’s soon to walk.

Dean already knows, this kid is destined for great things.

She’s gonna grow up, past the tutus and the miniature racing-car collections, she’s gonna have a movie she’ll play on repeat for ever and ever, with a song that he’ll learn by heart after having heard it so many times. She’s gonna go to high school and she’ll be bullied but she’ll learn to kick some serious ass. She’ll develop interests, she’ll have mediocre grades but a fiery passion and a love for anything alive.

She’ll, then, go to college. She’ll fall in love, with people and life itself. She’ll do what she loves most and she’ll be so damn good at it, she’ll excel.

And Dean… Dean will be nowhere near her to see all of it.

The bitterness… it makes his eyebrows stitch together, his lip curl in clear frustration and sadness. After everything he’s been through, finally finding the person he loves most and creating a full-ass apple pie life, and it’s all gonna be gone as soon as it started. Because, as he told his favorite Hannah, life’s a fucking bitch, and there’s no denying it.

As he lays there in his bed, pale as a sheet, watching her giggle for a while, reaching for the stars, soon yawning, small eyelids shutting softly and rocking just slightly, he… he falls in love with her. This tiny, tiny happy-beyond-words creature that could ask anything of him, and he’d do it, god damn it. He really would.

A giant bubble grows in his chest, a bubble that makes him feel like he’ll protect her at absolute all costs. He’ll grab the moon and fucking move it if that’s what she needs. And all she has to do is yawn and fall asleep.

A tear appears in the corner of his eye, lingering and falling down his ashy cheek. He can’t believe he brought this bright ray of sunshine to this world, and he’s about to make her live with an absent father. That he won’t get any memories with her at all. It’s torture. All of it.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he grabs his pen with more determination. If he’s to leave her with something, it’ll be a part of him and that is that.

~~~~~

I was born on January 24th, 1979, the first son of a, dare I say, colossally unlucky family. Your uncle, Sam, my brother, is four years younger and will ALWAYS be a wimp, don’t let the height fool you. He always had terrible, shaggy hair and was always the sharpest tool in the box. Hell, the boy went to freaking LAW SCHOOL of all places! That’s kinda crazy!

My parents, your grandparents, were Mary and John.

Mary was a sweet, incredible, fearsome blonde woman, kindest of them all. She’d cut the crusts off my toast, sing Hey, Jude to me before bed and tell me angels were watching over me. (While we’re on the topic of the Beatles, make a note to listen to them. “Hey, Jude” must be your first song, but beyond the classics [Let it Be, Hard Day’s Night, I Saw Her Standing There, I Wanna Hold your hand etc] I hope “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” will hold a special spot in your heart, much like me.)

So, Mary. Sweet Mary. She was a real badass, you know. This one time, Sammy was hungry, so I decided to make, get this, French fries. I think I was seven. She caught me getting ready to pour oil in a very hot pan. When I say she swooped in, I mean it, quite literally. I think she saved me a hand that day.

Now, about John…You’ll have to forgive the mess that I’m about to make with this, but John was a fucking sorry excuse of a father, alright? He got piss-drunk every night after Mom died, and naturally, Sam and I were the punching bags, sometimes literally. The best nights were the ones he wasn’t home.

For years, the house was silent. Sam and I tried to keep everything clean, stock up on canned food, because at times we would only have ten bucks to hold us for over two weeks. I took him to school, fed him, made sure he studied –not that I really had to- and kept John of his hair. At sixteen I picked up a shift at Bobby Singer’s garage, a man that, at this point, deserves the Dad title significantly more than John.

Whenever Sammy was sick, it was my fault. Was anyone loud? Dean’s fault. House dirty? Dean’s fault. Did we wake him up? …Let’s just say we learned not to do that.

I tried to put myself before Sam, did anything I could to protect him. There were times when that wasn’t even enough.

I dropped out of high school at seventeen. The second I saved up enough money, I rented a hole of an apartment at the other side of town, in an attempt to help Sam have a normal life, and we hauled ass out of there.

Before I tell you about our shitty apartment, let me tell you about the highlights of my high school career. Starting off with me “unintentionally” kicking a ball at my least favorite teacher’s face (and hitting him) ((Don’t take your father’s example, kid, violence isn’t the answer.)) (Did feel pretty good at the time though), making out with Jenny in the Janitor’s closet and with Arthur at the locker rooms afterhours (I don’t know what age you’re reading this at, but I sure hope it’s over 16). Also, that one time I pulled a prank at my friend, Cole. I spray painted his entire locker. He didn’t like me very much, to be honest…

~~~~~

An important story I feel inclined to share with you, would be the fact that I was once a bully.

Kids are just mean, but also, I couldn’t understand that troubles at home, traumatic pasts and anger are not to be taken out on other people who are not at fault. Instead of finding a healthy way to deal with everything that was happening at home, I decided that every happy person that was weak enough to meddle with, didn’t deserve any happiness.

I picked on a couple of people, but I think the one I will always regret will be Kevin Tran.

Kevin was a freshman when I was in junior year. He was in the Math club, the Science club and the Robotics club. He had maybe two friends, he was skinny, short, shy as hell, he drowned himself in oversized clothes and always carried a neon green book bag around, that worked on me like red cloth to a bull.

Every time I spotted the bag in the hallway, the drill would start. Shoving the poor kid against the locker, calling him names and laughing at his face for no apparent reason. I’d steal his calculators when I found out he had chemistry tests, spray paint the door of his locker and cause rib bruises from my shoving him against walls and furniture.

I soon find out Kevin was severely depressed. In fact, I saw him in the back of the school, where I’d usually go out to smoke because I thought it was cool (it’s not, it makes you light headed, unfocused and struggle to breathe. Just an all-around terrible experience, but this is just a side-note.)

It was a Friday after school. I didn’t wanna go straight home and Sam still had one more period, so I decided to go smoke and listen to some music in the back of the school building. And that’s where I found him.

I don’t know into how much detail I should go here, but Kevin was harming himself. With a small pocket knife, he sat on an old basket and made incisions on his arms, tears running down his face like a faucet. My God, Hannah, I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life, because I knew, and I knew very well, that at least part of those incisions were caused by me.

I called out to him, and the look on his face, as he scrambled away from me, made me feel so much worse. I was the scum of the earth at that moment. I was the biggest asshole on the planet.

My initial reaction, I’ll admit, was pretty harsh. I grabbed the pocket knife out of his hands and threw it as far as possible in the grass. I grabbed a small first aid kit I had in my bag (in case anything happens to Sam), made him sit down by force and bandaged him up. He’d been reduced to sniffles by the time I was done.

Somewhere in between, I remember, he asked me why I was doing this. I didn’t answer.

Eventually, when I was done, I sat on the ground in front of him, ripping blades of grass from the ground. I apologized. Something along the lines of “I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse. What I’m going through is not an excuse, but I hope it makes you understand that it was nothing to do with you. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

That evening, Kevin was one of the very first people who found out about John. His own dad had passed away, and things at home were rough with his mom. That, along with the whole depression thing… it wasn’t a good combo.

After a solid two hours of talking with him, making amends, apologizing profusely and getting my apology accepted (which I absolutely didn’t deserve by the way,) we made it back out front.

From then on, I stopped picking on anyone. Kevin and I actually became really good friends, though we drifted apart eventually. I think he works in Google now.

This is really important. I want you to pay attention and take heed of my words. There are a couple lessons in this story.

One, be kind. Always be kind. To everyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re going through a rough time or not, the same way it didn’t matter that Kevin’s father was dead. You don’t know the other person. There’s never a reason to not be kind, if the person has done nothing to you. A smile can make somebody’s day, a compliment can go a long way, and being open and honest and kind will make people who are looking for help find you, it will make other’s lives better, and if you’ve helped even a single person, your life has been successful.

Two, never, and I mean never take your emotional pain out on yourself, or others. There are healthy ways to deal with ugly emotions. There are people who can help. Find a new hobby, as silly as it sounds. Start doing something creative, something that draws your attention elsewhere, like art of any kind, or, in my case, fixing cars. Something to keep you busy. If you’re in trouble, emotional or otherwise, there are people who love and support you, who will do their mightiest to be by your side, and if those aren’t your friends, they’re definitely your family.

Bottling up emotions, or dealing with them in horrible, unhealthy ways has been my go-to. Don’t be like me. Express yourself in different ways, and don’t keep your feelings shoved under the carpet, because it will, absolutely, unceremoniously explode, and you’ll take people down with you. And that’s when you’ll feel like the worst person in the world. The guilt, the residue of said ugly feelings isn’t worth it. Trust me.

If you make mistakes, if you hurt people who don’t deserve it, learn from it, grow, be better. Do not sink into yourself , don’t hate yourself. Apologize, make amends and move on, try to never do the same thing. It’s okay. We’re all human. The only thing that matters is that you try to be better.

No matter what, remember that I will always love you.

~~~~

So. Our apartment back in Kansas was, as I told you, a real dump. It had a tiny-ass kitchen with a miniature stove, two mattresses that were creaky and lumpy and were left there by the previous owners, as well as the TINIEST bathroom you’ve ever seen. It didn’t have shower walls, it had a shower head and a drain on the floor and was not in any way separated from the toilet. The walls of the place were peeling, the floor was tiled and cracked in a bunch of places and the humidity must’ve been over 80%.

I fucking loved that place.

On our third day there, I borrowed some spray paints from Cole, carried them in a cardboard box up the claustrophobic, green stairs, and opened the door in absolute triumph. That day, Sam and I opened the two windows, scratched the paint off the walls with two spatulas and went WILD. It must’ve been the only day Sam didn’t study.

Actually, no, now that I think about it, there was another time, when little ol’ ten-year-old Sam fell off a ledge and freakin’ broke his arm. I dumped him on Cole’s bike and pedaled to the hospital like a maniac. That was the first day he didn’t study.

Anyways, that apartment wall made our crappy little living situation a home. Our own sanctuary. We finally got agency over our lives, from staying up late, to choosing which type of dish soap we’d use because it smelled better and didn’t remind us of the terror chores once were. Eventually, we got soft blankets, books, board games, decorations… Finally, after 18 years, we’d started our lives.

I think one of my favorite memories would be coming home from my first date with a guy. I was just 18 and Benny, the dude, kissed me before I left, his fists clutching at my flannel. I was driving home with a giant, dopey-ass smile, stretching from one ear straight to the other. That same night, with new-found confidence, I told Sammy to drop his book, bought ourselves some beers and snacks, and drove to my favorite clearing.

There, right under the stars, with Sammy trying out his first beer, I told him I’m bisexual, and the cute bastard hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. That same night, he thanked me for everything I did for him while living with John. We talked until the sun was rising.

I’ll tell you this right now, kid, in case you haven’t gotten it yet. I love Sam. Love him to bits. I raised that kid all on my own and will do anything to protect him. I know he cares for me, I know it kills him to see me like this, in a bed, pale, miserable and coughing every three seconds. I just want you to know, honey, that whatever you need, anything at all that, for some reason, you don’t want to tell Dad, you go to Sam, okay? You can trust him to be supportive, loyal, to be there for you when no one else is and to love you like you’re his own daughter and best friend. I promise you, he will always, always be there when I’m not.

That night made us grow so much closer. The lesson here, I’d say, is be bold and confident in what you believe in and who you are. Be your own, unique self, be brave, and love whoever you choose to fully and with your whole heart, without shame, ever. If you are yourself, I promise, you’ll find the people that love you for you, not the person you’re pretending to be. You’ll inspire other to be themselves.

A good example of this would be my best friend, Charlie. When I came out, I was armed to the teeth to deal with whoever wanted to bully me for that part of me. To tell you the truth, my school coming out was a mishap. It takes nothing but a risky make-out session in the janitor’s closet and nosey students that rip doors open far too violently. Nevertheless, I was literally out of the closet, fists up. And that’s exactly when I met Charlie.

With her comic book stories and her books, her bubbly personality and bright smile, she wiggled her way into our lives and permanently stayed there. She was a freshman when I was a senior, but she seemed to find sanctuary by my side, as I did by hers. She was just one of those people who clicked, you know? Far too mature and interesting for her age, with an obsession with computers, even back when they were barely even a thing.

She now lives with her long-term girlfriend, Gilda, who owns the best bakery in the state. Ask for the apple pie, you will not be disappointed.

Charlie demanded of me to tell you, first off, to watch Marvel and screw DC right to hell (with which I have to agree, though Batman still remains one of the coolest Superheroes of my childhood (and Joker, the coolest villain)). She also told me that, if you read this, go ask her for her comics, She’d love to let you borrow them and she’s certain you’ll love them. Second off, she asked of me to tell you the Impala story…

It’s not as grand as she makes it out to be, honestly. However this is the part where you’ll learn all about the one and only Bobby Singer.

Bobby was my boss, an old friend of dad’s John’s and the first person who ever saw the bruises under my sleeves. He gave me a job, a family, and later on… a car.

Bobby owns a scrapyard. He taught me everything I know about cars, including driving, and for my seventeenth birthday, he brought a dusty, beat-up car in my workspace. The hood was bent, the seats were torn, and the engine needed immediate replacing. The customer never paid the price for the compartments the garage had paid, so under store policy, the car was ours.

Hannah, I can’t exactly describe to you how long it took me to repair that car. Buying the spare parts and assembling them would’ve probably taken less time. I built her from the ground up, it took me almost a month and a half of daily, eight-to-six work, but I made it. I fixed her up. She was in prime condition, and I had completely fallen in love with her.

I finished working on her early January, dreading the moment I would see her drive away. Bobby had seen all the effort, by then I’d worked at his place for over a year. So, on the day of my birthday, I opened my locker to put on my jumpsuit, when I saw a box placed on my neatly folded clothes. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now. Yes. It was the keys to my dream car. A beautiful, sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the one I had brought back to life. And it was all mine.

I don’t think I’ve hugged Bobby any tighter since then. Hell, I don’t think I’ve hugged him period.

That car… That car is probably the most stable thing in my life, apart from Sam, obviously. I’ve cried in that car, I’ve escaped from my terrible past, I’ve laughed, I’ve had my first time, I’ve been through breakups and I’ve spent my best days with it. I cherish it more than any other item I know. It’s not even an item, it’s my baby. I love it almost as much as I love you.

I met your dad, and kissed him for the first time in that car.

It’s actually a pretty fucking hilarious story. Cas was on a date with this guy who was completely disgusting and creepy as hell, so in true movie fashion he decided to, get this, jump out the bathroom window and escape.

Yeah.

So just as he was running out of the bar, the guy must’ve caught wind of him or something, because he stepped outside in order to find Cas. What did your dad decide to do, I hear you ask? He ducked behind a car in the parking lot, opened the first unlocked door he found, and jumped in.

Spoiler alert. It was my car.

I was sitting in the front seat, fighting with Sam through text when the door opened. It was highly comical, watching this guy duck behind the bench seat, mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh God, please don’t see me, oh God.” I cleared my throat.

“Oh, I see you, buddy.” That’s the first thing I told him. The look on his face and the genuine yelp, made me laugh a full belly laugh, and completely forget about my fight with Sam. He apologized profusely, explained panicked what had happened and begged me to stay in my car just for a couple minutes so the guy can lose him.

Long story short, we ended up going out ourselves. I don’t know how to explain it… we just clicked immediately. Like, there was a connection. Him and his big words, his baby blue eyes, his steady, deep and rough voice… I knew right away that all I wanted was to spend time with him, learn everything he was willing to share with me.

I’m so glad to have met your Dad. He was, is and always will be one of the best, kindest, most humble and genuine people on the planet. He sees the world from such a beautiful point of view that contradicts my eternal realism (he enjoys calling me pessimistic.) He’s a genuinely great person, and I can’t wait for you to figure so out yourself, if you haven’t already.

Of course, it wasn’t all fine and dandy. Meeting his parents was hellish. Let’s just say, Chuck and Naomi aren’t… the best people. They tried really, really hard to stop us from seeing each other, and eventually, they completely disowned Cas. He doesn’t like to talk about them much. His brother, Gabriel is an asshole, but a loveable one, while his other brother, Michael, you probably don’t know about. And you shouldn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. If Cas wants to share that story with you, he’ll do it at his own time.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about, when finding your person, to keep them, fight for them, don’t stop loving them because everyone else is telling you (unless of course that person is toxic). But I don’t think I can give you solid love advice through a dumb book. Every relationship is different, and your Dad’s better at this than me anyways.

I don’t know exactly how long this thing is, by this point, but I’ve almost finished the pages of this booklet. I was really, really worried I wouldn’t finish it in time, but here we are. However many thousand words later, and I’m clueless as to how to wrap this up.

My life isn’t over yet, however it looks like it soon will be. I will confess to you, I’m scared, but most of all I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, at life and fate, if that’s even a thing, at God even. I’ve fought my whole life for peace and quiet, and right when I have found it, it’s being ripped from under my feet. Cancer fucking sucks.

No matter, my chin is up, and so are my fists. Winchesters don’t give up easy. I will fight this until my last breath, even if the chance of watching you grow up and being able to tell you everything I’ve written face-to-face, is nothing but a sliver. After all, impossible odds were always my favorite.

Sweetheart… I don’t know what to say. This might be the only thing you have left of me for the rest of your life, and it tears me up inside. Of course, I will not be able to write thirty five years of experience in a small book such as this, but this is a part of me, memories you can keep all to yourself. Ask Dad or Sam about any of it, I’m sure they’ll fill some gaps, tell you things I haven’t written.

I don’t want you to cry much, even though I’m not sure you will at all, given the fact that you’ve never met me. Either way, whether you feel or think anything of me or not, I want you to know that I love you so much. I’ve only known you for a couple of months, and, already, you’re the brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

I promise I will be by your side no matter what happens, through every milestone and hardship, I will love you from wherever I am.

Honey, please stay true to yourself. Never give up, no matter what curveballs life throws at you. There’s always reason to keep going, even if you can’t see it. Always keep fighting, ‘till your last breath, ‘cause you’re a Winchester and you’ve absolutely got this.

If there is something I want you to remember from the scribbly mess I’ve made, it’s this:

I love you. I’m proud of you. I believe in you.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

Bonus:

Tears streaming down velvety soft cheeks, dainty fingers gripping the book tightly, like her life depends on it, Hannah stares at the ceiling and groans at the mess she is. It’s the second time she read that last bit, and just as she thought she’d gotten over it, here she is, crying just as hard as the first.

She gets off her bed, pulling on her sweater sleeves. Feet in slippers, she makes her way down the corridor, knocking on the door, and opening when she gets an answer. Her fingers grip the doorknob, the other clutching the book, and she stares at the bed, watching as green eyes look up from his laptop.

“Why did you give this to me, you ass, you’re not dead,” she sobs, and Dean pushes his laptop to the side, arms opening wide to invite her in them.

“Aw honey,” he coos, a gentle, loving smile on his face. Hannah climbs on the bed and slides to his side, curling up in his arms. “It’s okay.” Fingers stroking her hair gently, as sobs wrack through the poor girl’s body. Dean almost feels bad.

Just then, Cas appears in the doorway, having heard Hannah’s cries. He sees the booklet clutched in her arms, her face buried in Dean’s neck, hidden behind her spring-curly hair. He makes eye contact with his husband, a knowing half-smile on his lips, as he leans on the doorway.

“I love you,” Hannah says, nose stuffed and running. “Thank you for not giving up on a relationship with me, even when you didn’t think you’ll survive.” Tears wet Dean’s eyes, as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you too.”

#dean fluff #dean angst #destiel #daddy!dean #destiel dads #supernatural au #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn angst #spn fluff #oc

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brittle-bone-gabe · 4 years

Text

Erase Me: Chapter Two- The Old Song

Introduction, Chapter One, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven

Summary: Welcome to the never ending, never changing loop. The loop can’t break, it’s always been the same. Henry never realized he was trapped, but coming back to the animation studio for the “first time” just to see a small, human-like child makes Henry realize that dreams really do come to life.

Read on other platforms: AO3, FFN, Wattpad

Slowly, Henry started to come to, the memory was hazy for a moment on what exactly just happened here. What could he remember? A note from Joey Drew… the studio… the ink machine… that ink demon, and that child. Henry’s eyes shot open, the kid. Somehow that… well, could Henry even call what he saw a child? From what he remembered he had horns, and fangs. That couldn’t have been possible, unless, of course, Henry imagined him from the fall he had beforehand.

Henry groaned, a hand on his throbbing head as he slowly started to stand up as to not overwork himself. “My head… What the hell’s going on here?” He questioned out loud, hoping that some sort of force would be able to answer him. The ringing in his ears were starting to subside as he was able to focus on what was going on around him. Henry used the wall between the two coffins to steady himself so his head would stop its spinning, from there he could see his axe propped up against one of them. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do…” he took a step forward, picking up the axe, “press on. See if I can find a way out.”

Immediately Henry chopped the wooden planks that were blocking the door to what he had assumed was going to be not the way out, but at least out of his creepy, almost ritual looking room. Once he went through the door, it led down a small staircase, no problem, right? Halfway down, some wooden planks from overhead fell, breaking on the floor underneath. Jesus, this entire building was an OSHA violation… Just keep going, just keep going, Henry had to repeat to himself as he made it to the bottom of the stairs. From there, he came across what appeared to be a shrine to the dancing demon himself. Written in ink on the wall read “HE WILL SET US FREE” next to a Bendy sticker with candle flames dancing about, emulating the dim light Henry needed to see.

“How did this place get so big?” Henry wondered. From what he remembered working here there was the main studio on the first level, directly below that was the music department. Anything that wasn’t directly into media making, such as offices or finances were handled outside the building, across New York if Henry remembered correctly.

From the corner of his eye he saw a something reflecting off the candlelight. It was another cassette player. Curious in this find, Henry pressed play.

“He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness, I see you, my Savior. I pray you hear me. Those old songs, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me, and I will be swept into your final loving embrace. But love requires sacrifice. Can I get an amen?”

The voice that played over the cassette player sounded strangely familiar, but Henry couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. He knew that it had to have belonged to someone he once worked with all those years ago, but how would their tape end up all the way down here?

“I said… ‘can I get an amen?’” The same voice called out, Henry spun around quickly, thinking that whoever made the tape somehow appeared behind him, but… nobody was there… The tape had stopped, Henry knew that for sure as he saw the play button pop back up with the tape clicking as it had nothing else to reel.

“Great, now your mind’s playing tricks on you…” Henry said to himself, putting a hand on his head, “there’s gotta be a way out of here.”

Gripping the axe tightly, Henry pressed on down the hallway, his eyes were trying to adjust to the poor lighting of the area. Mainly candles that sat in front of the Bendy cutouts were guiding his way through these unknown hallways. One Bendy cutout had a pentagram that was similar to the one the boy was sitting in not too long ago. Somebody else had to be down here making those, there was no way that a child knew how or what a pentagram was, right? The horns and fangs the kid had though… Henry knew that he couldn’t be human, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the kid looked like the dancing demon himself. A stupid thought… This entire studio and experience was much more than Henry could handle, how did this even happen in the first place? Did Joey lose his mind the moment Henry left? It sure appeared that way.

As Henry pressed on, he came to a hallway that was completely flooded in ink. Great, how wonderful. From where he was standing there was no other way to get around it other than physically walking through the ink. Maybe someone should just tear down this building and start over, obviously it has too many issues to be kept standing.

Just wanting to get through the hall, Henry didn’t hesitate to step through the ink. It came up to his ankles, feeling a bit cool which told him that it’s been sitting there awhile without anyone attempting to clean it up. Who would anyways? The studio was a disaster and supposed to have been abandoned.

“Shh, shh, shh…” Henry heard someone hiss as he made it halfway across the flooded hallway. Almost immediately, a tall, dark figure was walking across the opposite hallway, holding the hand of the same child that Henry came across earlier.

“Hello? Excuse me?” Henry called out.

“It’s time for sleep… rest your head, it’s time for bed.” Henry knew that was the same voice as the one from the cassette player.

“Can you help me?”

The figure ignored Henry, walking straight across the opposing hall, there was no way that they couldn’t hear him asking for help, so what was that about? Once Henry got out of the ink floor, he rounded the corner to see where the figure could have went, but he was met with a dead end, a Bendy cutout and a pentagram on the wall. There was no doorway that they could have possibly went through to leave the area.

“Where the hell did they go?” Henry asked out loud, pressing his hand on the pentagram to see if maybe it was a secret switch or something to open a false wall like the movies. Nothing. Okay, this had to be a fever dream, right?

Shaking his head in disbelief, Henry turned around, going to the other side of the hall where he was met with a closed metal door and a switch next to it. Could this place be anymore complicated?

“This shouldn’t be too difficult… hopefully…” Turning around, the first thing Henry noticed was a giant statue of a familiar cartoon character; Bendy himself. “Joey… what’ve you been doing while I was gone?”

The switches couldn’t have been far from the main power source, right? So, all Henry had to do was retrace his steps from the moment he walked in just to the gate. Going through the ink flooded hallway for a second time was certainly unpleasant, in fact, Henry was either losing his mind or more ink was trickling its way down from the ceiling. That didn’t happen before, did the man that seemingly disappeared with that kid have something to do with it? Hell, were they even real to begin with? How was it remotely possible for them to pass through a wall?

Looking back, Henry could recall three power boxes that were hanging up on the walls, each of them had a candle on top of them, as if they were guiding his way through. One in a corner by the tape, another one just before the ink hallway, and the last one was at that dead end he came across. At least they didn’t make it too difficult for him in that sense. Henry didn’t have much time to run around the studio all day trying to figure this out; more than anything he was ready to go home and put this whole studio behind him once more.

Why did I come here? Henry thought after flipping the last switch. This had to be a trap of some kind… Would Joey do that to me? The doubt of Joey’s intentions was starting to come a head when Henry opened the gate. Why else would he bring Henry here? Not once has he caught a glimpse of Joey, only… what? Ink monsters and a kid?

With his newfound frustration and burst of anger, Henry swung his axe as hard as he could into the wooden planks that were boarding up the doorway. None of this was fair to him; he had a loving wife, recently retired from a job he genuinely loved, and for what? Just to get sucked back at Joey Drew Studio’s again? Did this place not take enough of his time already?

Kicking in the last wooden plank, Henry couldn’t see the axe he was holding out in front of him. The only thing he could make out was the faint dim lights that were around the room. The only thing he could think of was to keep his free hand to the wall to his right, moving with it until found a doorway. The light above was flickering so much it was starting to give Henry a headache… or, well, this entire situation was causing him a tension headache for sure. Unfortunately for Henry this looked like the only way out, and the stairway was flooded with so much ink that there was no way that door was going to open. While that was unlucky, the was a hopeful lining; on the wall was a power switch, maybe now he could see where he was exactly. One by one he could hear some lights flickering on with thuds, the light that he could see light up the wall in the center of the room: Music Department, it read in big letters; underneath in a smaller font read: Director: Sammy Lawrence.

Sammy Lawrence, Henry knew he recognized that voice on the tape from upstairs. The tape itself made no sense, it wasn’t like Sammy to be… religious, to say the least, it wasn’t something he seemed to care for. He couldn’t help but wonder how Sammy was doing nowadays.

The department was quiet now, Henry had been hoping more lights would turn on, in fact, he wasn’t quite sure what to do now. He had only been down to the music department maybe once or twice while working here as Sammy did not like it when anyone showed up unannounced, especially when he was writing songs. Once he was zeroed in on what direction he needed to take a song he wouldn’t pay much attention to anything else around him. Henry always said he worked too hard…

Silence was quickly replaced with a sort of groaning noise coming from overhead. The ceiling was low when Henry looked up, and he didn’t see anything but ink leaking through and down to the floor. Although, looking a bit closer this ink seemed a bit different, if that was even possible. Unless Henry had completely lost his mind he’d even go as far as to say that the ink looked like it was… bubbling? Ink couldn’t do that, right?

Just as Henry was about to poke the blobs with the handle of the axe, the ink quickly morphed into somewhat humanoid figures, minus their legs. They crawled around on the ground rather quickly going straight for Henry, as if he were an intruder in their home. Henry couldn’t phantom what was happening right now, as they crawled towards him, he backed up until his back pressed against a wall. Their shrieks triggered his fight-or-flight response, as if seeing the impending danger wasn’t enough already; closing his eyes, Henry swung the axe in all directions of what he would soon call Searchers. They let out pained grunts as the axe split them in half, turning into dissolved ink onto the wooden floor… all expect for one who was being incredibly stubborn about dying. It kept dodging every swing Henry threw at it with its somewhat abnormal speed, the other ones weren’t this fast, why was this one different? The Searcher lunged at Henry, he took a quick step back, bringing the axe down hard over its inky head, causing it to split in and half disappear into the floor with the rest of them.

As if killing the Searchers flipped another switch, the other lights in the music department lit up completely, even some soft music started playing. Letting out a shaky breath, Henry took a seat on the floor next to the Music Department sign, he just needed a moment to calm himself and understand what the hell just happened here. So, lets get this straight… There’s more living in this studio than a kid, a, what Henry could only assume to be, ghost, and whatever chased him upstairs? Definitely a fever dream, it had to be, there was no other explanation for this. Henry leaned his head back against the wall a little hard, causing a cassette player to fall from the wobbly shelf that was above him, landing in his lap.

How many of these did this place have? Henry thought as he pressed play.

“So first, Joey installs this Ink Machine over our heads, then it begins to leak. Three times last month we couldn’t even get out of our departments because the ink had flooded the stairwell. Joey’s solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically… Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. Thanks, Joey, just what I needed… More distractions. These stupid cartoon songs don’t write themselves, you know.”

A thought occurred to Henry about all these cassette players that were laying around… What if they weren’t just there for looks, but for a reason? Maybe the team was locked away in the studio somewhere and by following the tapes Henry would find them? Was that possible? Or was Henry reading too many mystery novels again that he was overlooking their importance? That’s what Linda would always tell him anyways. Linda… What would she think happened to Henry if he never made it out of the studio? That he left to work with Joey again and he had a tight work schedule? No, that wasn’t going to happen. Thinking of his wife was all the strength that Henry needed to force himself to stand up, holding the axe tightly.

He was going to get out of here, one way or another.

Henry rounded the corner to the right of the Music Department sign, walking up a set of stairs that led to a projection booth. Sitting unsafely on the edge of the balcony was the projector itself, it appeared to be old but in working condition as it started playing an old Bendy film on its own. Henry watched the cartoon for a moment, feeling highly nostalgic about his time working here with the original crew, the thought alone made him smile. Hopefully they were all doing well. He leaned against the desk, accidentally pressing the play button of yet another cassette player, causing him to jump.

“Every day the same strange thing happens, I’ll be up here in my booth, the band will be swingin’, and suddenly Sammy Lawrence just comes marchin’ in and shuts the whole thing down. Tells u all to wait in the hall. Then I hear him… He starts up my projector, and he dashes from the projector booth and down to the recording studio like the little devil himself was chasing behind. Few seconds later, the projector turns off, but Sammy, he doesn’t come out for a long time. This man is weird… Crazy weird! I have half a mind to talk to Mr. Drew about all this, but then again, I have to admit, Mr. Drew has his own peculiarities.”

Henry recognized that voice in an instant: it belonged to Norman Polk, the projectionist at the time. While Norman did get in on some pranks with Wally, that didn’t stop the fact that he was still rather suspicious of everything going on around him. It could’ve been a nice trait to have, but sometimes Norman’s paranoia went a little too far.

Just as Henry walked back down the stairs to go to the other side of the music department that he could remember held Sammy’s office, he could hear the projector turn itself off. Did it have a timer? He couldn’t remember if the projectors did that one their own. Once Henry was at the end of the hall he could see the large ink flood in front of Sammy’s office that his tape talked about, there was no way of getting in until it the flood from the pipe above stopped. From behind, something dropped to the floor with a metallic cling. A set of keys? Henry picked them up, there were only three keys on the ring, one had to be for Sammy’s office, but where did they come from? Did the kid Henry met earlier drop them for him? Hopefully he was okay…

On the floor next to where they keys had fallen were the small ink covered footprints again. Were those there before? They led into a closet next to Sammy’s office, but when Henry tried to turn the handle it was locked. Whoever left the keys behind for him knew exactly what they were doing. Upon opening the door brought Henry into a small closet with nothing noticeable inside but yet another cassette player. These had to be clues, no doubt about that. They could be so cryptic that the first time you listen to them it’s hard to make them out as such until thinking back on it.

“Every artistic person needs a sanctuary; Joey Drew has his and I have mine. To enter, you need only know my favorite song: The bass fiddle sings with deep articulation. The violin shudders with a piercing voice. The piano delicately calls. The violin again screams. Sing my song and my sanctuary will open to you.”

Okay, that was easy enough, right? All Henry had to do was memorize the song order to get into this sanctuary. What Henry was going to find in there he had no idea, but he knew it would help figure out what’s going on here.

Henry kept repeating the order of what instruments he had to play over and over so he wouldn’t have to run back and forth to replay the tape. He had this, he had this, nothing was going to direct his attention away from this sort of puzzle.

Once he stepped into the band room, the projector turned itself on overhead. Startled, he looked up at the projection booth to see the same child from earlier leaning over the railway, looking down at Henry with a toothy grin as the projection played. Henry opened his mouth to say something, but the kid only motioned as if he were playing a violin, as if he were telling Henry to hurry up and play the instruments. There was so much Henry wanted to ask him, but he figured that the man who was dragging him along earlier wasn’t too far behind.

Henry located the instruments that Sammy mentioned in his tape, he strummed the bass that was in the corner of the stage a few times before looking back up at the projection booth. The kid gave him a thumbs up, so at least he was doing something right. He picked up the dusty violin, leaving fingerprints as he plucked the strings as he moved over to the piano, tapping a couple of keys before plucking the violin again. Instantly, the projector turned off. Did he do something wrong? Looking up again, the kid was no longer there, but the metal gate at the end of the room opened.

Moving cautiously, Henry went inside the room, peeking around the corner to make sure nobody was in there. Henry couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved that it was empty, maybe a part of him was hoping to find Sammy again, even though he could be a jerk he was still an interesting person to be around.

On the floor near the desk was a pentagram, the same pentagram that Henry had passed out on upstairs. These had to mean something. Why else would there be so many of them, right? The lines were too perfect and specific for the kid to draw… On the wall written in thick ink read: “SING A HAPPY SONG. WHISTLE A MERRY TUNE. WAIT FOR HIS ARRIVAL. HE’S COMING VERY SOON.” Great. Another cryptic message. Henry stepped over the pentagram, turning the valve of the flow pump. That should cover one side of the pipe, now he just needed to find another.

This room gave Henry more of a bad vibe than the rest of the studio put together, so he turned around to leave, as he was nearing the end of the small hallway, a Bendy cutout poked out from around the corner, causing Henry to jump. God, he was never going to get used to that. For a kid trapped in an animation studio he sure did have a lot of pranks up his sleeve.

The band room seemed darker than what it was before Henry left, the door was closed, and the projector was still off. The uneasy feeling was back again, and rightfully so. From the ceiling dropped more thick ink blobs, similar to the ones when Henry first entered the music department. This time he was ready. The Searchers scared the hell out of Henry, but he knew they weren’t an awful threat, the noises they made sent a chill down his spine.

Taking a step back to gain some distance between himself and the Searchers, Henry held his axe tight as they started crawling over towards him, shrieking as they did. Were they ordered to attack him, or were they just this hostile to everybody? Well, it wasn’t like they saw many other people to begin with, they most likely saw Henry as a threat even though he would never purposely go out of his way to hurt anybody. That just was not in Henry’s nature.

Henry cut through the Searchers as they were only tall pieces of grass, thankfully they didn’t put up much of a fight. What could they do anyways? They were just ink. Could they really have done too much damage to him? It wouldn’t have been as if a human were to attack him, right? Nothing made sense down here, Henry had to remind himself not to think too much into it since there was no chance he’d get answers anyways. The only thing on his mind right now was to drain the ink and find the exit. He had to think of his wellbeing and getting back to Linda.

The studio was still rather dark, but that didn’t stop Henry from noticing the fresh ink footprints that were trailing down the hallway back towards Sammy’s office. Or that’s what Henry had assumed they were going. As he followed them, they took a sharp left into an area that Henry never new existed. It led to a staircase with a sign over the doorway that read: Infirmary. Since when did the studio have an infirmary? Why would the studio need one of those?

As he made his way down the stairs, Henry noticed from where he was on the stairs that there may have recently been an ink flood. As long as he didn’t have to walk in waist high ink again he’d be fine. There was a single bed in the room with some illness related Bendy posters scattered around the walls. As Henry walked further in, he noticed the kid was standing on his toes in front of the valve that he needed.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked gently, as not to scare the kid into running away.

He looked back at Henry with wide eyes, as if he didn’t expect the adult to follow him down here. His confused look quickly turned into another toothy grin as he spun the valve into place, the way it turned told Henry that it must’ve been missing before.

“Did you find the valve?” Henry asked him. The kid nodded, turning the valve all the way until they could hear the flow from the pipes being cut off. “Thanks. So-“ Before he could finish his sentence, the kid phased through the wall again, as if he wasn’t allowed to be around Henry. “Well, that should do it…” Henry said to himself before heading back upstairs.

Sammy said the pump control to get out of the department was locked in his office, so once Henry flipped that and go back to the stairs by the entrance, he should be able to get out of here. Thank god, something about the music department made him uneasy, maybe the lack of music and how grim it appeared to be.

Sammy’s office, as like the animation department above, was a wreck. Sammy would never allow his working space to become that messy. Papers and books on the floor, writing on the wall… No, that would never fly with him. Henry couldn’t help but notice the blueprints for the ink machine were on his desk. Why would he have this? That was way beyond his department… Again, Henry stopped himself from overthinking, as that would do nothing to get him out of here. Instead, he pulled the switch, leaving the office to its mess.

From above, Henry could hear thumping. Probably just the pipes, he would tell himself as he made it to the main area of the music department. He could hear the ink draining from the stairwell. Finally, he was-

Something hard smacked Henry on the back of the head, causing him to grunt in pain as his vision started to blur. He wasn’t sure what it was but judging by the metallic echo in the silent room that it was going to leave a bump. Henry fell to his knees, his vision starting to blur even more as he looked behind him to see what the hell just happened.

“Rest your head… it’s time for bed…” He heard Sammy say, but the creature in standing before him didn’t look like Sammy at all. In fact, it was the man from earlier who was dragging the kid around the hallways.

-----

“There we go now, nice and tight,” Sammy said out loud as he finished tying Henry to the wooden post.

Hearing his voice snapped Henry back into the situation that he was, forcing himself to open his eyes to see what the hell was going on. He couldn’t move, that much was obvious, but he was wide eyed at the creature that was standing in front of him. Sammy was completely made of ink, wearing overalls and had a Bendy cutout head over his face. What the hell happened to him?

“We wouldn’t our sheep roaming away now, would we?” Sammy continued, holding Henry’s axe tight in his hands, shaking his head, looking over at the kid who Henry didn’t notice was standing on the other side of the room, “no… we wouldn’t…” He loosened his grip, turning back to Henry as he started to lightly swing the weapon around. “I must admit… I am honored you call all the way down here to visit us. It almost makes what I’m about to do seem cruel,” he admired the axe once more before turning around, walking over to a wooden post to prop up the weapon out of Henry’s grasp. “But the believers must honor their savior.” He walked over towards Henry again. “I must have him notice me.” He looked at his prisoner for a moment, something inside his mind was trying to connect wires, as if he knew who this was, but… nothing was coming to mind. “Wait… you look familiar to me… that face… Not now, for our lord is calling to us, my little sheep. The time of sacrifice is at hand, and then I will finally be freed from this… prison. This inky… dark… abyss I call a body.”

The kid behind Sammy let out a whimpering sound, as if he was scared of what was to come. The noise instantly made Sammy react, turning around to face him before kneeling down to his level. He gently grabbed the boy’s shoulders before putting a finger up to mouth of his mask.

“Shhh… quiet. Listen! I can hear him.” Sammy let go of the kid, standing up and moving back over to Henry who had no idea what to say about all of this. “Crawling above. Crawling!” Instantly Sammy’s mood switched, turning to Henry just as the thumps in the ceiling were growing louder, “Let us begin, the ritual must be completed! Soon he will hear me… he will set us free.” Sammy looked over at the kid who still looked scared, but he trusted Sammy. “Stay here, for there must be an outside witness to the ritual.”

As soon as Sammy turned his back on them to go into the other room, the kid stuck his tongue out at him, as if this was just another boring chore he had to do. The speakers let out interference just before Sammy spoke through them.

“Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep. Rest your head, it’s time for bed. In the morning you may wake, or in the morning, you’ll be dead.”

Searchers fell from the ceiling, but they didn’t even acknowledge that the child was there, or they knew to never mess with him. The kid knew something Henry didn’t know, but he looked too scared to let Henry in on it. The room shaking and the thudding in the walls and ceiling didn’t make it any easier on him either.

“Hear me, Bendy! Aris from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering!”

“Can you help me?” Henry asked the kid who looked at him with wide eyes, “I can try to get us out of-“ Before he could finish what he was saying, the kid slowly shook his head, holding up an ink stained finger to his lips but no sound came out. As he dropped his hand, the metal gate from across the room opened to reveal a hallway that was covered with wooden planks.

“Free us, I beg of you! I summon you, Ink Demon! Show your face and take this tender sheep!” A loud growl and banging sounds came from the room that Sammy was locked in. That wasn’t apart of the plan. “No, my Lord! Stay back! I am your prophet! I am your-“ Sammy let out a scream as the Ink Demon let out around growl.

Henry was so focused on the door, that he didn’t even notice that the kid had moved from his spot and grabbed Henry’s axe. The ropes loosened around Henry’s wrists before they dropped to the floor. The kid held the axe up to Henry, who took it in a heartbeat. He half expected the kid to phase off through the walls again, but this time he was standing in the doorway where the gate had lifted, waiting for Henry to follow him. Henry had to cut down the Searchers who screeched at him before attacking.

“Wait, where are we going?” Henry asked the kid, who only responded by motioning for him to follow. What choice did Henry have at this point?

While the kid was small enough to squeeze through the wooden planks that were blocking their way, Henry had to cut them down so he could move on. He was trying to be fast, not knowing how far that Ink Demon thing was behind them. There was more screeching from behind, but there was no way Henry was turning around to look. The kid grabbed Henry’s arm as he led him into a room that was completely flooded with ink, just as they were about to take a step into the dark pool, the Ink Demon sprung out, scaring them both with it’s loud growl.

Thankfully the kid was there thinking on his toes, Henry was almost frozen to the spot until he drugged on his arm to keep him going. They turned around, taking a right down the hall that was quickly getting stained in ink as the Ink Demon drew closer. There were so many twists and turns that this place would have been a maze for Henry if it weren’t for the kid leading him to safety. Hopefully. Henry’s heart was slamming against his chest the entire way, almost tripping over himself but he refused to fall. He needed to get out of here.

The kid turned right again, in front of them was an open door that led to a room. The Ink Demon seemed to have gotten a bit lost in the maze himself, thank god. When they entered the room, Henry slammed the door and used the plank drop lock and propped the axe up underneath the handle for extra measures. He had no idea if that would actually do anything considering the fact the kid could just phase through walls anytime he wanted to.

Henry looked down at the kid who was still by his side, this was the first time he noticed that he was clutching a Bendy plush toy so close to his chest. It appeared to be the same ink stained one from their first encounter.

“Is it safe to keep going?” Henry asked the kid, who only nodded in response. Henry opened the opposite door that led into a large hallway. A few steps in and a soup can rolled across the floor, Henry held an arm out in front of the kid so he’d stop walking in case they were in danger. “Hello?” Henry called out in the dimly lit area, “Someone there? I know you’re in here… Come out and show yourself.”

Heavy footsteps echoed through as a tall figure rounded the corner. As they got closer into the light they could recognize that tall anthropomorphic wolf anywhere.

“Boris?”

#my fic #bendy #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine fanfic #bendy and the ink machine fanfiction #batim #video game fanfic #henry stein #bendy the dancing devil #sammy lawrence #Break the Cycle AU

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writinginthesecrettrees · 5 years

Text

Father’s Day

Currently thinking of Henriksen, going over reports and hotline tips about Winchester sightings, trying to figure out where they are - or where they’re headed. He’s set a guard on his and his agents’ families again, although he doubts it’s necessary.

The Winchesters never used to do anything for Father’s Day, but that changed last year with the death of the Winchester patriarch just after psycho Sammy’s birthday.

He’d handed photos and autopsy reports to Guntram earlier that day, hoped that the kid’s fresh eyes could find some clue for what the Winchesters might be planning this year. Henriksen’s got them memorized, stamped in his brain: that unlucky trucker, tied to a plain wooden chair with some kind of satanic symbols painted on the floor around him. He’d been tortured before his death, half drowned with some sort of acid that left burns in his mouth and throat and lungs, and his chest is a mass of splintered bones and stab wounds.

“They made this one personal,” Henriksen tells Matt.

“How?”

“Killed the trucker that rammed into their car. The poor SOB killed their daddy.”

“And the sulfur powder at the scene? That’s different than anywhere else.”

“We can’t say for sure. My theory is they were making gunpowder there. That, or it’s entirely unrelated.”

Currently thinking of Henriksen getting a call kicked over to him from another task force. “Sounds like your guys,” he’s told before the other agent hangs up, leaves him talking to the South Dakota Highway Patrol. When he’s done with them, he calls his team together, tells them to grab their bags and get to their plane. They’re headed for a truck stop off I-90, just outside Rapid City.

When they arrive, the bodies have been moved to the morgue but the rest of the scene is untouched.

“Don’t think you’ll get much useful here,” a highway patrolman tells him, and Henriksen has to agree.

The Winchesters had burned the place before the left, sprayed gas from the pumps across the shop and the Hardee’s attached to it before tossing a match, and the entire truck stop is scorched and black. It’s a miracle it’s still standing, after the gas in the pumps and underground tank exploded.

He leaves most of his team there anyway, sets them to combing through the wreckage for anything that might be helpful, heads over to meet Guntram at the morgue.

Body count is 22, and each of them shows signs of having been tied up. Two families (three kids, and Henriksen has to excuse himself to punch a wall when he sees the too-small forms laid out under blue sheets), six workers, and nine truckers had been at the truckstop when the Winchesters rolled up, and none of them survived.

The children, at least, died quickly. Gunshots to the back of the head, no torture or mutilation - their families could still have open caskets for them. Their parents were less lucky. The time of death is significantly later than the children, and Henriksen knows the sick fuckers made the parents watch as they murdered the kids.

The lone mother was carved up, deep stab in her gut the fatal blow, and her body was left where she died, eyes fixed unseeing on the dead children. Her husband, and the two fathers of the other family, had been locked into a station wagon, hands and feet bound, and crushed under a big rig. The workers all suffered multiple stab wounds.

The real rage was reserved for the truckers. Dismembered, and Guntram retches when the coroner points out how he knows they were still alive for most of it. There aren’t enough limbs for the number of heads and torsos they have. None of the parts have skin.

“They haven’t taken trophies before,” Guntram says.

“That we know of.”

“It all looks…”

“Uncontrolled?”

“Yeah. Messy. Think Dean did most of them?”

Henriksen considers that, thinks about Sam Winchester shooting three children coldly in their brains while Dean strokes over their parents with his knife, whispering about how they’re all going to die. Thinks about Sam sitting back while Dean goes to town on the rest of their victims. Gets his face up close to the pieces of trucker laid out on the autopsy tables.

The skinning was expertly done, and they were all alive all the way through it. Drugs in their tox screens would have kept them alert, denied the comfort of unconsciousness.

The rage and violence might be Dean, but Sam has the same potential inside him.

“I don’t,” Henriksen finally answers, making Guntram jump. “I think Sam is just as into this as Dean. Think about it: their daddy was killed by some trucker who was probably drunk when he swerved into their car. You really think Sam’s gonna let his brotherfucking brother have all the revenge?”

(masterpost)

#currently thinking of henriksen #serial killer au #serial killer dean #serial killer sam #tw: torture #tw: gore #pissed off murder husbands

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years

Note

If you know Snowflake, could you do a fic of the little guy and his dad playing a board game together?

Considering what I put the poor guy though in the tape fic, he deserves some fluff.

(Snowflake is @floxy-offical ‘s OC, I did not steal.)

In spite of his clumsiness and care-free attitude, Wally did take his job as a janitor seriously. A solid 90% of the time, he was focused on mopping up spilled ink and fixing the leaking pipes, but that wasn’t all he was paid to do. On the rare occasions where the ink wasn’t trying to escape the pipes to get on everyone and everything (especially Sammy) he was cleaning normal things; like windows, tables, trash cans, and in today’s case, the insides of closets.

Sometimes while he cleaned, a little freckled imp would watch out of curiosity. Being new to existing in general, while he was often spooked by many things, Snowflake would also find himself fascinated with random things in the studio.

“Hey dad, what is that?” The toon inquired as Wally pulled out a long, large box.

“This?” Wally blew the dust off of the cover, revealing the box’s faded, illegible title. “Looks like a board game to me.”

The cartoon imp tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh, it's Hey, why don’t we play it later when I’m on break?”

“Really?” The small toon broke out into a wide grin.

“Sure! It’ll be fun. But first, I gotta finish up dis mess.”

“Okay”

The imp sat down and waited patiently as his father finished up his job.

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

As playing on the floor in front of the closet where pipes were notorious for bursting was not the safest or the smartest idea, the two started to set up the board game on the break room table. At first, Wally assumed that the box was some kind of knock-off monopoly considering how the board itself looked and that there were cards, worn but still colorful paper slips that seemed to somewhat resemble money, and six silver pieces that the janitor assumed were the 'player' pieces.

However, the more of the board game the pair got out of the box the less sense it seemed to make to him; the paper that he originally thought was the game's currency were actually pictures of weapons, there were also a bunch of tiny wooden skeletons, livestock, castles, and a giant rubber hand were all apparently important parts to this monopoly-esc ...fantasy farming board game?

Honestly, at this point he was beginning to suspect that the 'Board game' he found was actually three or four different board games all crammed together in the single box, even the rules didn't make any sense and it didn't help that they were mostly ruined by ink! Yet strangely they seemed to be the only thing in the box that was ruined by ink, everything else either looked brand new, worn with time and time alone, or worn down with time and many years of being played with. Which had also further supported his idea that this was three completely different games all mixed together in one box.

"Ya know, I have never seen this game before now, guess it'll be a new experience for both of us!"

Snowflake nodded excitedly, while he took beautifully painted tiny wooden sheep out of the box. The timid devil normally was uneasy about new experiences, the board game seemed to be safe enough, even if neither of them quite understood how it was meant to be played.

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

The bad news was that the ruined rules meant that they couldn't play the new game how it was meant to be played, but the good news is that the janitor was creative enough to suggest that the two made up the rules for the game in a way that made sense. They didn't know what it was before, but the new main goal of the found game was that the players go around the board slaying the skeletons and collecting livestock while avoiding the giant hand who would steal all of the unlucky player's animals. Collecting enough different animals meant you got a castle and whoever had the castles at the end of the game won.

"So after slaying the skeleton on the blue space, do I collect two cows and three sheep or three cows and two sheep?"

"Hmm..." Wally looked at the weapon cards Snowflake had played and back to the handwritten rules the two had made. "Well, ya used two axes an' five firyahcrakeahs against da bonehead ova there, which breaks him down real quick but spooks away two of da sheep due to ovakill. So ya get two cows, one sheep."

"Aw, shoot! I knew I shoulda used the longsword instead..."

"But da good news is, ya now have enough cows ta get anotha castle!"

Snowflake excitedly took out his third castle, proudly putting it on the blue space he was currently on as both a victory against his skeletal foe and possibly the final push he needed to beat the game.

"Yes! Now I'm tied with you, and I just need two more chickens to win!"

"Not if I get my tenth sheep first!" Wally rebutted mischievously as he reached for the dice.

"Remember, the hand is closer to you than me!" Snowflake giggled with the same amount of mischief in his tone.

Maybe after the game, they should ask Joey were he had found it in the first place, or if they could bring the one they found back home.

#bendy and the ink machine #hell's studio au #wally franks #snowflake the demon #fanfic

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forever-more-never-again · 5 years

Text

In My Dreams (Scene Fifteen/Fifteen - Alternate Ending One)

Word Count: 2146

Pairing: Slow burn Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in the Supernatural Universe? And also happen to have a crush on one Dean Winchester! Will you make it back to your normal college life? Slow burn romance. Angsty Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Scene One / Scene Two / Scene Three / Scene Four / Scene Five / Scene Six / Scene Seven / Scene Eight / Scene Nine / Scene Ten / Scene Eleven /Scene Twelve / Scene Thirteen / Scene Fourteen / Alternate Ending Two

Masterlist

I yanked on the wetsuit and tucked the ziplocked rock inside against my chest. Meanwhile Sam secured the salt and Dean tucked the blood vials into a chest pocket. We all had an ingredient. That meant we all had to make it to the end.

At least, that was the unspoken promise as we all stared at each other one last time.

The sun was rising. The seagulls crying as they circled above us.

And with that, we waded into the Ocean.

Sam was the first one under. His long legs making quick work of the distance and he was soon by the Cove entrance, head popping above waves to signal us.

Dean and I shared a look. There was something in his gaze that had my heart beating faster than ever.

One last deep breath, and I sank under the water. Swimming up to Sam, I followed the men as we went deeper into the tunnel.

My eyes stung from the salt water, but I kept them open, not knowing if a Mermaid was lurking.

And then there was light.

Staying quiet, we broke the surface of the water right near the entrance, staying near the rock walls. And what we saw had me stifling a gasp.

Mermaids. Sickly blue in color, faces gaunt with sharp teeth flashing in the pale morning light. Powerful tails slapping each other as about five of the creatures fought over a deer carcass, blood staining the sandy beach on the other side of the Cove.

Quickly, but quietly, I pulled out the Rock, and, with it still in the ziplock, the zipper open, Sam poured in the salt and Dean dropped the blood onto it.

And then Dean took the rock out of my hands.

Turning, I widened my eyes, a silent disbelief. Dean merely smirked. But it felt softer.

It sparked a warmth in my chest that fought off the chills that the cold Ocean water was giving me.

And then we attacked.

“Hey fuckface!” I shouted, drawing the fighting mermaids attention.

Two of them were obviously male and their teeth were stained red with bits of skin still stuck between the razors.

Blue milky eyes narrowed in on us three. And then one of the females hissed, “It’s you...Hunter.”

And then I was yanked under water.

My gasp of surprise was unlucky as my mouth filled immediately with salt water. I gagged but the water just kept pouring in. My eyes darted around frantically and then caught sight of one of the mermaids hands wrapped around my ankle, keeping me just below surface level. Drowning me.

And then a flash of brown hair and I popped back above water with a desperate cough, hacking up all the water.

Above the water was a battle field as well.

Dean had managed to make it to the beach and was taunting a few of the mermaids to attack, which meant that their huge bodies were on the beach and they had less mobility.

I coughed a few more times and then began strokes to reach the beach as well, hoping Sam didn’t get caught up with the mermaid after rescuing you.

As I crept around the snarling blue creatures, I finally made it to Dean’s side.

As he ducked under slashing nails, he grinned at me, “Feeling that adrenaline yet [Y/n]?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, but hair stuck to my face, clinging like dead weight.

And then Dean managed to strike one of the mermaids in the chest, the rock piercing it like Butter, the salt causing smoke to rise from the wound.

The mermaids all stopped their attacks to look on in shock, and I was relieved to see Sam surface as his mermaid lost it’s focus.

But then Our looks turned to horror as the mermaids began laughing in glee. The wound was healing! The mermaid wasn’t dead!

Dean swore under his breath and then shouted across the Cove, his voice loud and echoing in the small space, “I thought you said this would kill the bastards, Sammy!”

Sam yelled back, his voice strained as his struggle with the mermaid began anew, “It said it would! Maybe one of the ingredients was wrong!”

Taking stock of the situation, I reached into my open wetsuit and took out my twin pistols that I had tucked in their earlier.

Twirling them with a flourish, I flashed a wide grin at the mermaids, “Who wants some Death and Justice?”

And I began firing, keeping the creatures at bay while Dean frantically went through what we knew about how to kill them.

And then his green eyes flew wide and he stared at me, “[Y/n]! The Blood!”

I gritted my teeth as I fired another bullet at the male who had crept closer to me, his claw like nails slashing into my ankle causing white hot pain to flood my body, “What do you mean?”

“The couple weren’t in love! We need new blood!” Dean’s voice was louder as he jumped out of the way of snapping razor jaws and landed next to me.

I jolted as he grabbed one of my hands, nearly dropping my pistol, “Woah! Dean?”

His green eyes bored deep into my soul, and for a second it was silent. I couldn’t hear the churning water, the snapping of jaws, the snarls of the Mermaids, Sam’s grunts as he fought. I couldn’t hear anything because I was stuck in an emerald storm.

“Do you trust me?”

All I could do was nod.

And then Sound came rushing back as Dean knelt, dragging a finger through the slash on my ankle, drawing the blood onto the rock and then biting his thumb deep enough that blood welled to the tip.

“Come get some!” And he dove back towards the horde of angry creatures.

This time when he managed to strike a creature, there was smoke once more, but this was followed by an agonized shrill shriek as the mermaid thrashed before turning into foam.

Dean’s grin was infectious as he almost danced from Mermaid to mermaid, killing them.

And then, there were no more.

Just three heavy breathing humans, in a cove filled with Ocean foam and blood.

“You took your time. I was almost drowned like twenty times.” Sam whined. His lips jutting into a pout.

I giggled. Froze with wide eyes as I slapped a hand over my mouth. My eyes flickering between the two men. And then we all began laughing uncontrollably. The adrenaline from the fight wearing off.

“How did you know that it was the blood?” I managed to ask when I could get my breath back.

Dean smiled at me, Dropping the blood stained rock as he tugged me close to him, our bodies fitting together perfectly, “Because no one could love anyone more than I love you. And then I remembered your words on the cliffside last night.” He ducked his head and his lips met mine, a different heat filling me as I responded to the passion. Pulling away, he whispered, “You love me.”

All I could do was nod, as my head filled with thoughts of kissing him again.

But before I could, a cough sounded from behind me.

Groaning, I dropped my head onto Dean’s chest, it vibrated as his deep chuckle rang through the cove, “We always seem to get interrupted, huh , babydoll.”

Nearly four hours later, we were all back in the hotel, packing up the duffel bags and making sure we erased all trace that we had ever been at Ocean Shores.

“[Y/n].”

I most definitely did not jump into the air and scream, no matter what Dean says.

“Cas! You’re going to give me a heart attack I swear!” My hands found my chest where my heart once more began to beat after stopping.

Cas tilted his head.

Cute, I thought.

Dean came up and wrapped an arm around my waist as we faced Cas, Sam pushing past us with a sad smile, to get Baby ready to go.

“What’s up man? We just wrapped up the case, want to get drinks with us?” Dean’s posture was relaxed and casual, but I could detect a hint of unease that was buried in his voice.

Cas faced me, his face not giving anything away, “Are you ready to return home?”

My head tilted to mirror cas, a frown on my lips, “That’s what we’re doing now. You want to hitch a ride to the bunker? I knew flying would one day get boring.” I snorted, popping my hip out as I rested a hand on it.

Dean’s arm tightened around my waist for a split moment, “[Y/n].. he meant.”

I stopped teasing as that soft tone came into Dean’s voice.

Turning to look up at him, I placed a hand on his cheek, noticing the stubble that had begun growing back in.

My smile was soft as I looked right into his eyes, “I know what he meant. I also know what I said. I’m home with you Dean. I want to stay.”

Dean’s gasp was loud, and then his lips were on mine and my feet were lifted off the ground as he picked me up and spun me around.

Letting me go, he stared at me in awe, “Are you sure? You want to stay? What about your life and family back in the other universe?”

I shook my head, a smile still on my face, “I know what I am losing, but I also know what I am gaining. I have a chance at real happiness and love. I don’t want to lose that.” My fingers slipped into his, the rough calluses on his fingers cementing me into the moment.

A glance around the hotel showed that Cas was once more gone.

Shaking our heads, we walked out to where Sam stood leaned up against the car.

His eyes widened at seeing me still there, hands linked with Dean.

“You’re staying?”

I smiled at him, “I’m staying.”

His laugh filled the air as he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

“Welcome to the family [Y/n].”

I smirked at the giant man, “I call shotgun.”

And the tender moment was gone as Sam pretended to be shot, “You would punish me to the back seat? My poor legs!”

I laughed at his antics as I slid into the passenger seat, reconnected my hand with Dean after I was seated, “Sucks to suck, Bitch.”

Sam crawled into the backseat and smiled warmly into the rearview mirror where he could see his brother’s thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand, “Jerk.”

Extended cut:

I yawned as I padded down the bunker halls, following the smell of Bacon.

It had been almost two years since the Mermaid hunt. In that time, I grew more efficient with my pistols and began hunting with the brothers.

Sometimes I would find myself saying something that didn’t make sense, and occasionally a dream would have me confused, wondering why I would be dreaming about a college and homework.

And sometimes Sam would mention another Universe or something, and ask me what was going to happen in the future, like I had any say in it! I’m pretty sure he was just trying to joke with me, but I told him to look up some new jokes because I didn’t get it.

But throughout it all, all the confusion, all the bullet wounds and scars from knife wounds, all the laughter and memories I had with Kevin and Charlie, all the sorrow and pain from Sam being possessed by an angel and killing Kevin, though it all, I had Dean.

Entering the kitchen I walked up behind the man at the counter and wrapped my arms around him, humming sleepily.

“Morning Babe. That smells delicious.”

Dean’s chuckle was quiet as he turned around in my arms and snuck a kiss from me, “You ready for Charlie to take you out for a girl’s day today?” He asked with a smirk.

I groaned, snuggling my head into his warm chest, “I love that girl. But She’s more hyper than this little guy.” I said, nodding my chin down to my growing stomach.

Dean knelt down to be face to face with my baby bump and rubbed a hand on it gently, “You been stressing your momma out little man? What did we say about being nice to your mama?”

In response, a tiny little foot hit Dean’s hand.

I smiled as I watched that same amazement and awe wash over Dean everytime our kid reacted to him.

Standing back up, he kissed me once more, drawing my lips in deeply and pulling me close.

Breaking apart, he stared into my eyes, “I love you.”

I smiled back, “I love you too.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver

Supernatural Taglist:

@hobby27

In My Dreams Series Taglist:

@jadepc @stevieboyharrington @clarinette07 @topthis808 @wolfkg @heythereamigodude @100kindsofblake @animegirlgeeky @thebookisbtr

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural tv show #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader imagine #Sam Winchester #series #alternate ending #apple pie life #slice of pie life #white picket fence #rose writes #please give credit #please give feedback #series end

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