Something Is Not Right

Something is Not Right

Dean X Sister! reader X Sam

inspired by the first episode

Description: Dean is taking Sam home just as he promised. However, the youngest Winchester feels that something is not right and asks Dean to go back to get Sam.

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   The car ride was quiet the whole way back to Sam's place. Dean's tape blares through the speakers, vibrating the back seat the youngest Winchester occupies. (Y/n) watches as the tall silhouettes of trees turn into parallel buildings of a town. Street lights illuminate the inside of the car and she could almost see every knit-knack that was on feature through the shop windows. An exhausted huff escapes as she turns to look at her brothers through the rear view mirror. They both had solemn faces. Sam was looking through the window too, watching the black scenery pass by in a flash. Dean kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tense. He wasn't angry, just disappointed, and (Y/n) understood the reason. Sam was going home.

        Dean turns down a street and slows to a stop. It was vacant as it was a few nights ago, but uneasiness settled in (Y/n)'s stomach. Something wasn't right to her. Sam opens the passenger side door and is greeted by the silence of the neighborhood. He pushes the door closed and looks in at his siblings. 

          "Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam suggests.

         "Yeah, all right." Dean replies nonchalantly. 

          "Bye, (Y/n)," Sam says, before turning to leave.

          "Sam!" Dean yells out. Sam whips around quickly. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."

          "Yeah."

           Dean looks down at the steering wheel before slowly driving away. (Y/n) watches as Sam turns into a tiny speck until the building could no longer be seen anymore. The anxiety in her core rises to a boiling point and she begins to bite at her lip. Paranoia installs itself in her head and she begins to look back consistently, almost expecting to see a horrifying figure chasing after them with her mutilated brother in its clawed hand.

         "Dean," she finally cries out, startling her older brother.

           "Yeah?" He questions, glancing at her.

           "We need to go back," she said. Dean gives her a confused look.

            "Look, (Y/n), he is not coming with us. He's made-"

             "Dean, no-"

             "Listen, we can't force-" Dean raises his voice.

            "Something is not right!" (Y/n) yells.

           Dean slows his driving. "What do you mean?"

          "When we dropped Sammy off, something felt off to me. It was like something was there that wasn't supposed to be there."

  "I felt it too," Dean professes after a moment. He suddenly swerves  the Impala back around and pushes on the gas.

             It didn't take long before they returned to the complex. Dean jumps out of the car and runs up to the entrance. "Stay in the car," he shouts out to his sister, "if something happens, you know what to do!"

---

         Flashing lights circled the place like a disco party. (Y/n) stood by Sam as he loads up a gun. A grim look was on his face; he wouldn't even spare her a glance. Dean walks up from the side of the car. A long silence falls between the siblings as (Y/n) and Dean stare at Sam expectantly.

            "We got work to do," Sam contends, before throwing the gun back in the trunk and slamming the hood shut.

Genshin College AU: Part 4

Author's Note: This is my depiction on what I think Genshin characters would be like in present day college.

⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄⑄

🔥 Xiangling:

Xangling is one of the most talented cooks in the whole school. With only being a sophomore, the uprising chef already has a high reputation in the food industry. She’s a great influence within the Home Ec room, giving many tips on how to give recipes that Boom shaka-laka feeling.

She is very free-spirited with her time, usually finding inspiration within her friend group. Hu Tao’s quirky personality, along with Xingqiu’s mischievous nature, gives Xangling enough motivation to play around with her creativity. Surprisingly, the level headed Chongyun likes her cooking! Though, he needs a slightly different version of her spontaneous recipes due to his low heat-resistant pallet…

However, as great of a chef as the sophomore is, she sometimes runs into duds. One time, she was sponsoring a new sample that she was testing, and everyone in the cafeteria was more than excited to call dibs in trying the famous Xangling’s cooking. However, a bit too much Jueyan Chili was used in the small batch, and everyone had to be sent home because of stomach issues…

Xangling is great to go to when you need some flavor in your life! She’ll be more than happy to whip you up something, just making sure to tell her your preferences… who knows what she’ll put in there if not.

👻 Hu Tao:

Hu Tao is an interesting person to meet… While majoring in business, she also works closely within an occult club that may or not be run by her as well. The sophomore is an imaginative person, finding new stories to tell her fellow students. Itto has befallen her prankish ways too many times already, and it always ends with him screaming down the hall.

Venti likes to help with her goulish pranks when he can, usually coming up with a “historical” tale to go along with it. They’re a dangerous duo when this happens, and many of the students and teachers become anxious when they're seen together. As sneaky as Hu Tao is, she somehow managed to become friends with Teyvat college’s law major, Yanfei. The studious student finds Hu Tao’s pranks to be quite funny, as long as she’s not on the other end of them.

Hu Tao does very well in her classes, and many of the professor’s encourage practice outside of class. However, Hu Tao has a funny way of marketing her future business to the student body. There’s been many instances of her standing in a far corner of a populated area, rambling on how coffins are needed sooner or later. She tends to scare away a lot of the people.

Hu Tao may be an odd friend to have, but she’s very entertaining to watch. She’ll even let you in on her secret plans if you're lucky enough.

Enough Adventuring for One Day

Pairing: Dean x Sister! reader x Sam

Description: The Winchester's sister gets lost in a store.

Warning: Separation, anxiety attack 

-‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’--‘๑’-

     (Y/n) follows her brothers into a local grocery store. It was a large building, with high concrete walls and a ceiling that towers over the sectioned shelving. Red, yellow, and blue stripes follow along the edge of the interior, like an Elementary school does to add 'excitement'. 

        "OK," Sam says as he takes out a folded list from his flannel pocket. "We just need the basics. We can start with- Dean! Where are you going?"

        "They have cakes over here," Dean says in an obvious tone, "They might be on sale."

        "That's not essential," Sam sighs as he watches his older brother walk towards the bakery with a childish desire. "I guess it's just me and you, bug."

        (Y/n) obediently waits behind Sam as he analyzes the prices of lunch meat. She holds in a bored sigh as she lazily looks around. The young Winchester's eyes seem to brighten as she notices a small aisle of room decorations. Even though she's not home a lot, doesn't mean she can't admire the aesthetic objects of the store.

        The girl scrolls down the different comforters and figurines until a painting on the top shelf catches her eye. The moon on the canvas cascades over a lake and a shadow of trees; its reflection ripples through the waters like a pale entity. Orbs of colorful light dance about the scene like frilly dresses at a lively ball.

        The inspired energy that the girl got from it didn't last, however. (Y/n) casually glances to where Sam was, only to find that he was gone. She quickly looks back and fourth from the walkway to see if she could spot him. With no luck, and panic starting to settle, she backtracks to the bakery to find Dean.

        Tears form in her eyes as she turns the corner to find that he disappeared as well. She begins to feel claustrophobic as she helplessly looks around for her brothers.

        The world begins to spin and it feels like she is slowly falling. Her cheeks become wet and she knows the dam in her eyes finally broke. (Y/n) is scared.

        A large hand grabs her shoulder and the Winchester jolts forward defensively. Her fist connects to the palm of Dean's hand. "Whoa there," Dean grins, "I know we told you to keep your guard up, but gee. That could've hurt someone." His eyes glance over her shoulder, " I found her, Sammy."

        Sam walks over and grabs (Y/n) by the arms. "Don't ever wander off without telling me again," he says sternly. "One minute I thought you were right behind me, then I look and your missing. What if something bad-"

        "Lay off her," Dean says, "(Y/n), you okay? you don't look so hot."

        Sam stops his ranting and notices his sister's pale expression. "You feeling well?" He questions as he feels her forehead with the back of his hand.

        "I- I couldn't find you. I'm sorry- I was looking at a painting and was going to go back to you, but when I did, you were gone. S-so, I went back to the bakery to find Dean, but he was gone too-"

        "Hey, hey." It's alright. You're okay," Sam coos, brushing away a few stray tears rolling down her face. "I'm sorry I blew up."

        "Yeah," Dean butts in, "Don't cry, cause I got you cake."

        "For her?" Sam spectates with a raised brow, "Really?"

        "Of course," Dean bickers back.

        "Can we just stick together while Sam finishes his shopping... Please?" (Y/n) interjects, "I think I've done enough adventuring for today."

“Get over yourself, McLean” - Chris McLean x reader

Author’s Note: I honestly don’t know but enjoy anyway. Reader is gender-neutral. 

Warning: TOXIC LOVE

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:**:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–

  There’s a lot of things you could say about Chris McLean. Of course, you could go on and on about his charming attitude with the cameras or his brilliant ideas when it comes to reality TV. You could also say a few things about his personal life too.

  When his current manager called you one evening to ask if you would consider taking a position in McLean’s new show, you almost hung up. There was no way you were working with your ex-boyfriend of all people. However, being the respectable and polite celebrity you were, you allowed them to explain the situation.

  You still chuckle at yourself for accepting. They reciprocated with eager that they needed a co-host for an upcoming show called Total Drama Island. They wanted someone more level-headed to contrast from Chris’s boisterous personality. It will consist of twenty-two contestants going through different trials put on by Chris, all competing for tabloid fame and a small fortune.  Even if he was striking by himself, the show would do so much better with someone to balance the care for the campers. Who better than the old power duo of (Y/N) (L/N) and Chris McLean?

  You knew what they were actually doing, a wolf in sheep’s clothing scenario. The directors wanted a host romance, or at least allow the audience to make up theories about your relationship with the Host with the Most. Honestly, you didn’t care. There was no way you were falling in love with him again. You only had to deal with him for eight weeks, then never see his stupid face for the next decade. 

    When your yacht came up onto the dock of the island, you immediately cringed by the smell that hung in the air. The island itself featured a few rickety cabins and a mess hall that looked like it was minutes from collapsing. You almost felt bad for the teenagers who would be staying here, but it’s not like they didn’t sign a contract. Even if they were promised a stay at a five-star resort.

  “Let me help you with your bags,” a gruff voice says from behind you. You recognized it to be Chef, an old friend of Chris. You recall that he’s a rough character, but he was always kind to you. You assume it was because you were Chris’s old sweetheart. He was invited to the wedding, after all. Times do change, don’t they?

  “Sure. Didn’t think I’d see you here. Nice to see you again,” you say sweetly, handing him one of your bags.

  “Yeah… I didn’t think I would be here either,” Chef grumbles, taking another suitcase and throwing it over his shoulder, “I’m surprised you actually showed up.”

  “Come on, it’s not like me to put down a challenge! Mind showing me where we’re staying?”

  He nods, walking past you with a rugged smile. “It’s just, you and Chris… You fell out, yeah? When was the last time you talked?”

  “The campers are sure in for a treat when they arrive, huh?” You say, stretching your arms over your head with a yawn. 

  “Short Stack,” he answers with the nickname he used to call you, “You know he’ll wanna talk to you.”

  “I’m an adult, Chef. I know what I got myself into.”

~~~~~~~~~~

  Actually, seeing Chris was harder than you thought it was going to be. You wanted to run and hide as you made your way back to the dock. The first episode was airing tonight, and the crew wanted to make sure everything was prepared for when the contestants arrived. Old memories swirl in your thoughts as he turns in your direction. As much as you wanted to turn away from his overambitious smile, you had to stay professional. The camera crew gets you mic-ed up, before directing you to your designated spot.

  “I’m so stoked you accepted the offer,” Chris grins.

  “I don’t usually decline a gig either,” you reply coolly as you straighten the creases of your sheer blouse.

  “Starting in five!” Someone calls out.

  “So excited to work with you again! Just like old times, huh?” He says with the same enthusiasm he always has. He places an arm around you, rubbing your side.

  You smack his hand away. “We are co-worker, Mr. McLean. Act like it.”

  “I am!” He whines as he shakes the stinging sensation from his fingers. “(Y/N)-bear, no need to be that way!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “You used to love it.”

  “Key word: used to. Get over yourself, McLean.”

  Chris is quiet for a moment, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re still mad about that?”

  Your eyes narrow at him, and he frowns for the first time.

  “You know it wasn’t like that,” He pouts. 

  “I’m not talking about this,” you hiss through your teeth.

  “She flirted first-”

  “It was a freaking interview- shut up. Just shut your mouth. We are here to host, nothing more. I’m not here to start up old drama.”

  “See a yacht- starting in 5, 4, 3. 2,- ACTION!” A director announces.

  Both you and Chris beam for the cameras. You stood tall, putting on a friendly façade for the viewers. On the inside, you wanted to strangle Chris.

 “Welcome back to Total Drama Island!” Chris proclaims, his arms stretched out wide, “I’m your host, Chris McLean, with everyone’s beloved (Y/N) (L/N)!”

 “Great to be here, Chris!”

 “Awesome. It’s time to meet our first eleven campers!”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:**:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–

Present Silence

C̲l̲o̲c̲k̲w̲o̲r̲k̲ ̲x̲ ̲N̲o̲n̲-̲B̲i̲n̲a̲r̲y̲!̲ ̲r̲e̲a̲d̲e̲r̲

❥ Warnings: mentions of neglect, mental instability, hints to eating disorder, mentions of cancer, death of a parent

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

   (Y/n) wasn’t much for silence, yet it was the exact thing that haunted them in the dead of night. You could say it rooted from a traumatic event from their childhood; an abandonment that made them become almost non-pellucid to the outside world. Not that they cared. They saw society in a fixed lens, seeing every little speckle of morality as if it was a blemish on their sketch book.

  However, the white tiled halls outside their room didn’t even make any motion. No reverberation of heels clicking against the marble or the creaking of an old wheelchair rolling down the narrow walls. It’s as if the present became quietude itself. Static fills the emptiness inside (Y/n)’s head, spreading down throughout their body like a virus. It bleeds into their veins, leaving a heavy formication. Their fingers itch and claw at the ashen sheets below them, pulling at the restraints hung taut at the edge of the bed.

  They wanted to scream, beg to the black figure standing in the corner to stop. It watches them with gaping eyes, its black irises widening with delegation. The creature wasn’t real, they knew this. The suppressed subjectivity of their mind was interesting. The morbidity that it plays with made (Y/n) want to laugh. To say that it all started with a drawing was much too simple.

  The doctors liked to prescribe it as a disease; a disease that will slowly consume (Y/n) as they spiral into madness within these matted panels. (Y/n) thought of this ‘sickness’ as gospel. With their new pair of glasses, they could distinguish what was true and what was false. Who was for them and who was not. That power does come with a cost.

  (Y/n) was quite bright as a child, finding new ways to express themselves as an upcoming member of a Utopia they thought existed. With a pencil and paper, they could abstract anything that popped into their young mind. They love to draw. It was an activity that allowed them to show others how they saw the world. Bright and opportunistic, with the sun shining over everyone in brand lighting.

  ‘That world doesn’t exist. Get over your stupid dreams of becoming something that’s unrealistic.’

  Their mother had told them that a long time ago, when the colors they once saw turned bland. When their father left, life as they knew it flipped upside down. ‘You can be anything, and I’ll be there for you,’ he said. What a joke. He should have known that the cancer would get to him before (Y/n) would ever aspire in a work ethic. Their mother wasn’t much of an enthusiast, especially after her husband died. The one luminosity that ever dared to make her smile was the one that left her with a kid she didn’t even love.  

  Life wasn’t too bad. (Y/n) still had the gift of sight and vision that provided them with the love of drawing. As they woke up from the distant memory of a peachy story, they then realized their potential. No one understood their craft though, using the aphorism that grotesque and dark art did not aid in this world’s progression. (Y/n) did not adjure this type of thinking. Didn’t they see it wasn’t that of a pretentious display?

  The school recommended that they be transferred in an institute during their third year of high school. (Y/n)’s mother was more than compliant for their requests. ‘They need medical help. A kid their age should not be thinking so deeply about these things.’ The nurses were nice enough. They had charming smiles and always made nice comments on (Y/n)’s latest projects. They were fake, sadly. Though, (Y/n) appreciated their efforts to perceive the meaning.

  The crisp breath of the inky silhouette fans over (Y/n)’s face. A shudder goes down their spine, pricking their nerves like hot wax. It lies on their leaden body, grabbing at the muscles of their neck with a tight squeeze. (Y/n) was hyperventilating again, the edges of their field of vision spotting. It was a trick. Why was their mind going against them so?

  They twist and turn against the restraints tied around their limbs, the leather rubbing into their skin harshly. The feeling of it burning at the pellicle of their wrists and ankles erupts another feeling inside the pit of their stomach. They needed to get out. They wanted out. The sudden anticipation to move ached in their joints and they struggle more against the phantasmal weight on them.

  (Y/n)’s hands slip through the material, and they heave themselves upward. The darkness emitting their sight disperses into the shadows of the room, leaving them to gasp for air. Rubbing at the red pigmentation of their abused wrists, they kick off the belts holding their feet. The distant sound of a clock erupts the quiet void of the room.

  The window adjacent to the door opens gradually, and the form of a girl crawls in. The constant ticking coming from the girl’s retina eases the density crawling at (Y/n) with vigor. The static falls into a pleasant buzz on their skin.

  The girl pushes her brown locks out of her face, her one hazel orb almost glowing in the moonlight. Her sewn smile stifles one to reach (Y/n)’s blue-tinted lips. She reaches into the bag hanging over her shoulder, unzipping it with ease. She pulls out a black book and tosses it onto the thin bedding. Despite her not speaking, (Y/n) nods their head in appreciation.

  “Thank you, Clocky…” (Y/n) huskily remarks. Their fingers graze over the rough fabric of the cover and they open it to see it was another sketch book. It was probably one she snatched from one of her 'jobs’. She would never say what she did, but that didn’t cause any frustration on (Y/n)’s part. “You always know how to make me feel better…”

  “I saw you screaming again,” Clockwork replies, “Did you have another episode?” She sits down on the mattress, crossing her arms.

  (Y/n) simply taps at their head, the pads pointing towards their left eye. They suddenly get up from their position, their malnourished body contorting with audible pops. Clockwork watches them with precise movements as they grab for a box under the furniture. (Y/n) opens it, grabbing some paper and two graphite pencils.

  “Will you draw with me?” They ask sweetly.

  Clockwork looks towards the door, before breathing out. “Alright, but only for a little bit. I’m not supposed to be here.” She places herself on the cold floor as (Y/n) positions the material.

  “I’ll show you the new monster I saw tonight. I’ll call it Present Silence…” They muse as they begin to drag the charcoal tip over the clean sheet of paper with eager. Clockwork observes as they wind the black substance in circles. Normal people would call (Y/n)’s art as childish or rubbish, but she was fascinated with it. They drew the way she saw the world.

  “Are you not in the mood to draw?” (Y/n) asks, stopping for a moment to look up.

  Clockwork hums in response before grabbing the book from (Y/n)’s lap.

  “I’m not finished-” They reply, but don’t fight with her as he looks over it.

  “Present Silence, you say?”

  They nod with a smile. “It suffocated me.”

  She gathers her thoughts, before placing a hand on (Y/n)’s head. She brushes her fingers through their hair; these were the hands of a killer. Her hazel eye locks with (Y/n)’s as they wait for a response. She gives them back their art piece and picks herself off the ground.

  “Where are you going?” (Y/n) says sadly, “Stay for a little longer?”

  Clockwork climbs over the windowsill, her hand holding onto the glass. She glances back, a ghostly tender look veiling over her harsh looking demeanor. “The next time I visit, I’m bringing something special.”

  “What you bring me is always special,” They answer.

  “See you…” Clockwork says in response, closing the window back to where it was before she entered. Present Silence once again greets the lonely figure within the room.

 ⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Yummy jellybeans 🍬