#because my reaction to fear is to throw science at it

[lunapwrites]

Generational trauma is weird sometimes.

Like, I have never in my life seen let alone experienced a tornado. But both of my parents lived through a nasty one, and so now any time we get so much as a watch, I've got leashes and collars on the dogs and my bag strapped on with my ID and sturdy shoes (even if I'm otherwise still in my pj's) and my water bottle refilled and I am READY. All because I grew up on the story of my mom having to walk barefoot to the red cross station after her house got blown away around her.

Anyway, this comes up now because last week was the 50th anniversary of the inciting event, as it were, and my mom actually told her story straight for once instead of roundabouting it.

Pictures/info/TLDR version of the stories below in case you were curious.

Clocked in at half-mile wide. Multiple vortices. Wind speeds estimated between 250-305mph. 32 killed (plus two firefighters due to a subsequent fire) and 1,150 injured.

On the ground for 39 minutes, traveling about 32 miles. Downtown Xenia pictured at center, Arrowhead subdivision on the far left at point of touchdown.

The Arrowhead subdivision was the first hit - my mother's neighborhood. All that was left of her house was the hallway she was sheltering in with her younger brothers, and the closet where she'd stashed the family cat. They were home alone at the time. She was 14.

Image of the damage in downtown Xenia, where my dad was. He survived thanks to a passing couple who dragged him off his bike and to the nearest cover - the stairwell of an elementary school. It was partially destroyed, and he almost lost a finger to a flying brick, but he lived to tell about it. He was 16.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[juniperdugong]

How NOT to Summon a Demon

Pairing: demon!Sukuna x GN!reader (reader is in college) Genre: Fluff CW: Swearing WC: 872

Day 8 of To Halloween with Love Event

A/N: Hey at least my other two today were drabbles... ANYWAYS! Anyone up for domestic demon tutor Sukua AU tonight!! Hell yeah!

"I don't know how this happened..." You sat kneeling as you furiously scrambled to skim over pages and pages of text. Texts that you were sure you memorized to a tee but obviously... something went wrong somewhere along the way - Because instead of a silly little imp meant to help you with homework, you had a hulking man triple your size staring down at you.

"Yeah, well I'm here now and you've disturbed my peace." The man gruffs, grabbing at the book in your hand and examining it, "You screwed up."

"I know. Obviously, I know." You're scratching your head trying to think of something - anything - that would make this better. "What do I do? Send you back? How?"

"Nope. Can't be sent back till whatever you made a deal for is done..." Tossing the book aside the monster of a man took residence on your bed, making himself comfortable as you grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation; The bed squeaked and groaned with the sudden unknown weight.

"Oh- I wanted or- The deal I was trying to make was for help with my homework..." You sheepishly fold, now embarrassed as you hear the ridiculous words come out of your mouth - Who the hell tries to summon a demon to take care of something as simple as homework? And why the heck would a spell meant to do that summon this beast of a demon who obviously has more practice in killing than mathematics?

"Homework? Ha!" He picks himself up and grunts like an old man as he sits at the edge of the bed, "That's so stupid. You couldn't have made a deal to- I don't know. Become top of your class or graduate early of something?"

"I didn't have the foresight to make those types of deals..."

"Woah a dumbass like you can use big words like 'foresight'"

"Hey! That's mean." You snap back at him.

"I'm a literal demon... I don't know what you expected, babe." The use of a nickname throws you for a loop and your face gets warmer with the sudden casual talk between you two. You hear a deep chuckle come from the demon seeing your reaction.

He rubs his hands together and black dust begins to accumulate, with a simple snap a pair of glasses fit for himself apparates from nothing. "What are you doing then? Sit in your chair." He gestures towards your desk.

"What?" You do as he says out of fear but with confusion written all over your face.

"What do you mean 'what?', brat." He lurches forward and sits on the floor next to you, large enough that he sits at nearly the same height as you in your desk chair. "What are we doing first? Science, math, or English?"

---

The next few days become oddly comfortable with the presence of a demon. Thankfully, no one was able to see him other than you unless he wanted them to. Did this lead to many instances of him practically stalking you or appearing out of nowhere? Yes... but even these became common occurrences - Ones that you didn't really mind as long as you were getting your grades up.

It's only when the semester comes to a close and you and (who you learned to call) Sukuna are much more friendly than a person oughta be with a demon that you begin to wonder...

"Sukuna?"

"What, brat?" Sukuna mumbles, words slightly muffled as he nuzzles closer to your neck. You're both cuddled snuggly into each other. A light blanket draped over you because Sukuna's warmth was more than enough to keep the winter cold at bay.

"Why aren't you gone?" There's a pregnant pause as he takes in what you just said and you giggle as he suddenly manhandles you to face towards him - A furious look on his face (even more so than usual) that screws up into confusion.

"What? You want me gone?" He's stern and you can detect just a hint of sadness and distress coming from him as his thoughts race.

"No. I mean-" And you do your best to wrap your arms around him and bring him in close... Only able to pull yourself closer to his unmoving form in the process, "You said you'd be sent back once the deal is up. My grades are up and my school work is done, so I'm just wondering-"

Looking up you see the rarest of sights - a slight blush on Sukuna's face as you remember his words from so long ago. "Kuna?"

"What?-" He comes back to his senses, bringing you into a tight hug and smothering you with his chest so you wouldn't see the face of the demon go red from embarrassment. "You're so stupid that you probably wouldn't be able to live without me... so I decided to stay."

"Yof cam do dat?" (You can do that?) Your voice is completely muffled as he overpowers you.

"I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm a fucking demon, babe."

And you're not sure if you're comforted by his words but you're kinda glad that you got this guy instead of some whimpy imp.

A/N: And just like that I'm caught up lol. I'm obsessed with soft Sukuna, sorry not sorry. My JJk "drabbles" always end up being ficlets and I have no qualms about that.

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

JJK Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[susandsnell]

Jonathan Crane, 14 and 21

Character Ask Game

Hiya Mira! Thanks for sending these. <3

Jonathan Crane - Batman (various)

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

As hotly contested as the term/aesthetic is, unfortunately I can't really work around Dark Academia being core to our beloved Scarecrow; the patchy professor's outfits and the ostracizing comments they provoke are so key to the character from his inception, and I'd love to see more Batman media where he's drawn in it. Knitwear, argyle, button downs (with salaciously rolled up sleeves when in the lab, oh my!), sweatervests, neutrals, patterned ties (though throw in the bolo for our Southern boy!), camel coats, heavy emphasis on neutrals and houndstooth. Double-bridged glasses are my personal headcanon, but wire frames are solid regardless. I also love it when artists/fanartists incorporate dorky Halloween elements into his wardrobe/accessory; I've drawn him with Jack-O-Lantern patterns/patches on his sweatervests, I've seen him drawn with ghost ties, he might even have some more scarecrow-themed looks just to really rub it in...the man is a nerd, let's lean all the way into it! On top of being funny and kind of adorable, I genuinely find "Crane is obsessed with Halloween themed clothes" to be a great characterization mainstay since it's super humanizing for your otherwise cold, poised and intimidating scientist to still dress like what he also is -- a dorky middle-aged college professor.

21. If you’re a fic writer and have written for this character, what’s your favourite thing to do when you’re writing for this character? What’s something you don’t like?

Oh, this is just delicious. Writing Crane, as with many villains, is a dive into the id -- he's Batman's drive for vengeance if it took a full nose-dive into Sweeney Todd territory, and I love getting to revel in that. I also really like to think "what's the most fucked up but still plausible thing I could have him do", but contrasted with "where might the weak spot be, and how do we get him to this point". Fear toxin inflicted on various characters is a wonderful gift-that-keeps-on-giving device in how it reveals so much about its victims, but I find that just as much, how Jonathan engages with inflicting it and with his victims' reactions really helps me work out just what kind of monster he is -- and where his empathy, should he have any left, lies.

As for what I don't like when it comes to writing him, I will say voice is hard just because he's so frequently underwritten, and I tend to write my headcanon version of him as a composite versus a more specific one (with that said, Nolancrow you beautiful bastard, let me capture your speech style you job-switching weirdo). This is more an insecurity thing (as is the would he do that? would he not? why? - the neverending tug of war that is trying to write believable and occasionally cute romances for awful people) than a problem with the character himself. The other big challenge with writing Crane is keeping it fresh; Batman himself has pointed out many times that he's one of the Rogues that evolves/learns the least with respect to MO and master plan (I guess because the field of science is always ongoing, fear is eternal, and revenge is almost as infinite in its scale?), and it's true he isn't really given much in the way of personal arcs. Because of that, I end up having to rely a lot more on trying to come up with new situations to put the old man in to try and nudge him in either-or direction.

Thank you so much for this!

[darlingvhs]

Oh you poor thing... I can't tell you how much I empathize with you. The absolute despair of loving so gut wrenchingly strong, only to have it hit a wall as if it was nothing. To feel like nothing because the person who was supposed to look at you with such wonderous eyes and speak of you in passionate tones, and to just smile, genuinely smile because of you and they just don't. The worst part is they keep telling you they love you and yet nothing they ever do shows it...

Don't be like me. Don't let this escalate further based on words, look for actions, for the old saying is often true. I married someone who truly doesn't love me. It's made my existence a living hell because of that feeling above festeres for years now and I just couldn't delude myself any longer. You are in a similar boat but much earlier in its voyage... Don't let your heart keep getting broken like this by someone. I can assure you if this exact same thing has happened before and it's happening again now, it will happen again and again.

I know you may not want to hear it but they may not be deserving of your love. The only people who deserve your love are those who can return it in full. You may tell yourself she loves you a thousand times but if the little voice in the back of your head, your capacity to reason, is screaming they don't then listen to that voice. It may be scary, you may feel beaten and battered, but hey you have the absolute luck to be a human being.

Y'know how many of those there are? 8.2 billion. That 8.2 billion people who may be just the person for you. For me too as I seek to mend my broken heart, but you have the added benefit of being 18 rather than 24. You got college and the fields of academia to explore right at your finger tips. Any history you want is yours to explore, any art is yours to delve upon and to hone your skills in, any field of science be it physics, biology, chemistry, and everything in between is right there for you to explore and pioneer in, and of course there's also literature, language, etc, etc...

You have so much to see, so much to uncover, so much you could do if it suits your fancy. Don't be me, don't throw it all away because of fear... Besides, I guarantee, if you really dig into the the things you're passionate about... You'll meet lots of kindred spirits, and maybe, just maybe, one of them will be just the person for you. But above all else, know that you deserve love. Know it in your heart and mind. You are the descendant of billions of years worth of reactions and survivors, a chemical reaction we call life which consists of elements wrought in the death of stars, which has been going on with out end for roughly 3.8 billion years, always branching and adapting and you, dear, are among the survivors, you dear, are quite literally stardust personified. Never forget what you are, or where you came from because that is just your foundation, because you as an individual are much more than that. Love that part of yourself, love who you are, and love where you are going.

I truly hope my words help you, comfort you, and move you, because no one deserves the suffering you endure, especially when your heart just wants to love so strongly.

oh god — this is so heartwarming… thank you for taking the time to write such a beautiful message to me. i think i’ll look at this every time i feel particularly down or whatever!! this really put a smile on my face!! from the deepest part of my heart , thank you anon !! ♡〜٩( ˃́▿˂̀ )۶〜♡

[automatismoateo]

My Atheist Hot-Take: Religious people train their brains to work wrong. via /r/atheism

My Atheist Hot-Take: Religious people train their brains to work wrong. I'd welcome anyone educated in neuro-science to chime-in on this, but I'm of the opinion that the interplay between neuroplasticity and religiously-minded thought-patterns causes religiously-minded people to literally build their brains wrong. My (admittedly limited) understanding is that the human brain, complex as it is, largely presents in two ways. Often referred to as subconscious and conscious, lizard-brain and mammalian-brain, amygdala and grey-matter; etc etc. The former controls our survival instincts and fear-responses, while the latter is self-aware and can do math. So one assumes that, optimally, that the best way for our brains to work is that our grey-matter uses its complex logical capacity to govern and oversee the much-more impulsive and irrational reactions of its counterpart. Religious thought-patterns, however, operate entirely opposed to this. A core assertion of practically every religion is that it puts our conscious mind in-touch with something. Whether that something is a canonized 'God', a more abstract concept of 'spirituality', or some manner of pseudo-psychic bond with the rest of reality. In-short, I assert that the something which religiously-minded people are trying to connect with is simply their own subconscious, which religious indoctrination has caused them to misidentify as an entity or idea outside of themselves. As a result, they start using their grey-matter to justify their subconscious impulses rather than to regulate them in any way - Because to try and regulate those impulses would literally be questioning God/The Stars/Your Connection to the Universe; or whatever one's subconscious has been misattributed as. This is where the aspect of neuroplasticity I mentioned at the beginning comes in, which I'd appreciate a more informed perspective on: Neuroplasticity is the reason that 'habits' exist. Our brains are complex problem-solving instruments, and when it finds a resolution to a problem which assuages it, it literally builds that solution into its neurons; and tends to approach future problems with a similar solution. So, every time a religious person invokes willful ignorance to discount the ways their beliefs are provably wrong; every time they casually throw-out a thought-terminating cliché; every time they appeal to a concept like 'faith' rather than thinking about a subject any deeper; they're training their brain to continue operating that way. They're actively putting their lizard-brain in the driver's seat over their mammalian logic. Over enough time they'll actively re-wire their brain to operate this way by default, effectively becoming slaves to their own innate preconceptions and prejudices because the whole rest of their brain is utilized to reinforce these things rather than manage them. This is why there's such high degrees of overlap between religious conservatism and most forms of bigotry. Innate human tribalism causes our animal brains to send-off some uncomfortable signals when we see someone different from ourselves. Most people are able to logic-through those feelings and mitigate their impact on our behavior - Eventually leashing these impulses to be less-severe as we keep our logical minds in the metaphorical 'drivers seat'. However a religious mind feels that same tribalism, and puts it in control of their logic by beginning to concoct justifications for why they should feel that way. These kinds of self-reinforcing systems are why it's so hard to argue with - not just religious people - but anyone who's emotionally-entrenched themselves into something they believe. Submitted July 06, 2024 at 12:17AM by Geminel (From Reddit https://ift.tt/rWyH85E)

[gabriellereed]

It all felt— safe. Some part of her subconscious was watching Matty as she spoke, absorbing his reaction, and the look on his face, the gentle concentration there... it makes talking to him as natural as breathing. Second-hand. Comfortable.

It makes her want to keep talking to him. Affirms everything that she already knew: that she was meant to be here in Matty's bed right now. With him alone.

'Wait, I'm in bed with a criminal? That's kind of hot.'

Gabi throws her head back. Groans. She thought he would enjoy that tidbit specifically. And really, it was worth it for that teasing gasp. Even if he now had ammunition about her fish-related delinquency.

And all the other stuff.

Weaving in the mention of a foster brother. Admitting, this bit of information that smarts at her soul sometimes, that she wished her mother had worked to keep her ... yeah. She was glad to tell Matty. Despite the way it struck at her ribs like a painful echo, it felt ... good. Sharing it with someone she knew would receive it gently.

It was just more fucking confirmation that she loved him— the way the confession comes with no anxiety or fear, just a little pang of echoed memories.

And they kiss they share?

When Matty kisses her, she decides to put everything into that kiss. The lingering embers of lust. The happiness, the euphoria and shared bliss they felt when they came together. The trust, burning in her soul for him. And the love. All this ecstatic, incredulous love, the wild recognition that she found in him. Matty. Who she was meant to find.

She cups his cheek and threads a hand up into that glorious hair.

'A crocheting criminal, huh?'

Maybe it was the dim light, but Gabi almost swore she saw some wet glimmer of emotion in his eyes. Her heart constricts.

'Just my type,'

A lazy grin curls across her face, and she presses her forehead to Matty's briefly, makes a noise.

"How lucky am I to find someone who appreciates that ... extremely specific type."

Lucky really wasn't a big enough word for it. Not regarding Matty.

Because. Well. There's no way to describe the swoop of joy in Gabi's chest when he reveals that he also loves Studio Ghibli, loved Princess Mononoke as a child.

Gabi props herself up on arm suddenly.

"Wait. Really?" A grin. "You kinda look like Ashitaka." As if to illustrate the fact, she plucks a strand of dark hair away from Matty's forehead, away from the dark brows so similar to the character.

A beat.

Another confession.

"I kinda had a thing for him growing up."

A snort, and Gabi rolls away to the other side of the bed, in attempts to wrangle her laughter, rolls back over to look at Matty with a reddening face.

It was kind of maddeningly funny, actually. How the more they touched, talked, the more they did anything, it just... proved their compatibility. Reinforced how perfect this was.

Settling in close against him, Gabi watches his mouth carefully as he talks, absorbing it all with silent fascination.

He had studied computer science. Marketing. It sounds like part of that had been done to appease his dad? Gabi wonders which part of it he actually liked. And if he would do college differently, embrace an entirely different major if his father allowed.

And then, oh.

Oh.

This fucking bombshell of a reveal that has Gabi's mouth drop like a stone.

'Oh, when I was little, I … had a lot of different career ideas. And, um. I had a YouTube channel? Where I'd upload movies that I … wrote? And acted in?'

They even might, apparently, still exist.

"Matty. Matty." Gabi grabs his arm, gives him a little shake, eyebrows practically flying off her head. "Matty you cannot just drop the fact you have movies out there. On Youtube. That you acted in!"

She crawls atop of him. Presses her forehead against his own. "Now I have to find them. And we have to watch all of them together."

She administrators a kiss. Another one, for good measure, so charmed is she by this admission. And impressed. And just ... fucking delighted.

Of course Matty was creative.

"You know I fucking love that? That you wrote and filmed and acted in all of these." A little huff. "That's so cool. I could barely take a picture on my flip phone."

God.

Fuck.

Fuck!

It actually kind of hurt inside her chest now, the fact that she loved him, it felt like it was burning her up inside. In a good way. In a bright, beautiful way. That was... so fucking cute. And impressive. And now all she could think about was Matty with a camera pressed against his eye.

'Now, uh, back to you…'

'Do you still talk to your sister? And why do you crochet when you get mad?'

It's hard to pivot her attention back to answering questions about herself, but she does her best, snuggles up to Matty as she does so.

A hum.

"'Yeah. I try to make a point to see her around Christmas, you know? And we text. I helped proof-read some of her English papers."

Gabi's face is contemplative. A little smile there on her lips. She loved Cecily— loved her freckles, loved the way she would always tuck her hands behind her back shyly. It was harder, when Gabi was younger, when she was prone to comparing herself to her half-sister, wondering why her mother had gotten her act together to keep Cecily and not her. But now came maturity. Well. At least... more maturity. The realization that her mother's actions really didn't have anything to do with her.

"She's a good kid. And I'm ... really glad, she got the childhood she should have, you know?"

Her hand finds Matty's. There's a squeeze. Once, twice, a third time. Almost Morse code, in a way, three little pulses of 'I love you.'

And then there was the crocheting.

Gabi snickers.

"Uh. When I was younger .... I kind of had a temper. This one boy made fun of the way my friend talked with her retainer, so I threw a plastic bucket at him on the playground." A pause. "It was full of sand."

"My foster mom at the time was kind of older. And she sat me down and made me learn how to crochet that very day. Told me to focus all my angry energy into counting the rows. Making sure all my movements were neat."

She chuckles at the silliness of that image. Some nine year old aggressively clacking aluminum hooks together as they fashioned a hat.

"So now I just do it automatically. Great for ... organizing the mind."

There's a comfortable pause. A moment where Gabi stares at him, marveling at how nice it felt to share that, how nice it felt to be tangled up in his bed talking. How nice it felt to love him right now.

Gabi presses another kiss at the corner of his lips.

Matty listened.

Matty listened and watched, patiently, absorbing every word, memorizing every detail of her life.

Howl's Moving Castle was her favorite movie, and it only made Matty's heart grow fonder, if that were somehow even possible? It just made sense that he would love her so instantly. Matty loved Studio Ghibli films. So, this only reaffirmed that she was, indeed, his soulmate, and that he loved her already.

She had a foster brother. She was smart, unlike him. She got into Cornell. And she was … a criminal?

Matty gasped.

"Wait, I'm in bed with a criminal? That's kind of hot."

He laughed. The story only endeared him more. She was passionate. She cared for animals. When she finally showed her face again, Matty was smiling at her, urging her to continue.

A half sister that was really cool. The next part was a little difficult for Gabi to say, so he inched closer (somehow), and rubbed her back. He hoped she understood that she didn't have to say anything she wasn't ready to yet. But she did anyway.

It sounded like her childhood had been difficult, at least in some parts, and it tore Matty up inside that she ever felt jealous about such a difficult situation. Something totally out of her control.

Matty kissed her back softly, holding her as close to him as he possibly could.

Then, came the final confession.

"A crocheting criminal, huh?"

Matty couldn't even give her a hard time about it for too long. There was this overwhelming feeling in his chest, a lump in his throat. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He swallowed, blinked away whatever emotion might've been in his eyes. He would tell her. That night, he would tell her that he loved her. It was a big revelation, a scary one, but Matty was so sure that she felt it, too.

He could wait, just a little longer.

"Just my type," he finally replied, smiling.

"I loved Studio Ghibli growing up. Princess Mononoke was my favorite. I wanted to be like Ashitaka. And I was definitely one of those annoying Dragon Ball Z kids."

Matty's college life wasn't super impressive. He couldn't get into any of the Ivy League schools, which really pissed his father off. He was embarrassed to tell the world that his son was too stupid to get in, so he made an insanely generous donation to NYU so he could keep a close eye on Matty.

"I studied computer science. And I took a bunch of marketing classes. Not enough for a double major, but just enough so that my dad didn't get too pissed off."

Matty continued to rub her back, thought silently about what else he could share with her.

"Oh, when I was little, I … had a lot of different career ideas. And, um. I had a YouTube channel? Where I'd upload movies that I … wrote? And acted in?" It sounded much worse out loud! Matty grimaced. "And I might've forgotten the password to that account so… those videos are just out there. Maybe I'll get discovered."

Matty laughed. Maybe one day he'd show her.

"Now, uh, back to you…"

"Do you still talk to your sister? And why do you crochet when you get mad?"

[sataniquepanique]

Painkiller - Part 4 Cries In The Night

Summary: It's the end of the year, and Eddie goes missing after Chrissy's death. You are the only one who knows where he could be hiding.

Genre: slow burn, fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: I have one final part after this, and yes it is finally smut (I just love slow burn romance, okay?)

Six months had passed since you started your senior year in Hawkins. It was honestly pretty hard to believe that in less than 2 months you would finally be graduating. You had applied to a few colleges in the surrounding area, but the one you really wanted to get into was in New York City, back on the East Coast. You hadn’t told anyone, especially Eddie, that you had even applied there, worried about his reaction. Spring break officially starts tomorrow, and you can’t wait to spend an entire week with Eddie. Your feelings for him had grown over the past few months, but you couldn’t muster up the courage to admit them to yourself, let alone him, over the fear that he wouldn’t reciprocate. He never looked at other girls, apart from the occasional passing glance, and you could never tell if it was lustful or just because he had sold drugs to them in the past. 

“You still coming to my art show tonight?” You look up at him from your lunch. 

“…I wouldn’t miss it for the world…” he said, distracted by a magazine he was reading. 

“Can you believe this shit?” He mutters, flipping the page and reading the headline out loud, “Dungeons and Dragons…studies link violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide and even…murder!” He snarks as he slams the magazine down onto the lunch table. He was really revved up today. “We’re the freaks because…we like to play a fantasy game?” He stepped up onto the table, his voice getting louder. “But as long as you're into band, or science, or parties, or a game where you toss BALLS into LAUNDRY BASKETS!” He shouted over towards the basketball team’s table, where Jason stood up and yelled some vague threats back at him. Eddie turned around after taunting Jason, and walked his way back down the table towards you. “It’s forced conformity. That’s what’s KILLING the KIDS!” He exaggerates as he hops off the table. “You boys…” he points to Mike and Dustin, “…are the future of Hellfire, you need to keep the legacy going. Jeff graduates this year, Gareth has a year and a half, and me…this is my year. ’86 baby! Before you know it I’m gonna walk that stage, flip Principal Higgins the bird, snatch that diploma and run like hell outta here.” He came and sat back next to you. 

“Didn’t you say that last year?” Gareth says. 

“…and the year before?” Jeff chimes in. 

“Yeah, and I was full of shit!” Eddie snaps back. 

“Eddie, are you really going to graduate this time?” You look at him suspiciously. You had tried to help him this year, studying and making flash cards and pushing him to try and apply himself. He wasn’t stupid by any means, he just didn’t feel like doing the actual work. He promised that the two of you would graduate together this year though. 

“I am army crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O’Donnells. If I don’t blow her final, I’m outta here.” He says, flashing you a huge smile. 

“Eddie…a D? Seriously?” You groan. He just keeps smiling, unconcerned. The bell rings, and you stand up and throw your bag over your shoulder, “I’m going to be setting up my gallery wall after school for the show tonight, so no need to wait up. I’ll see you around 8 at the show…?” 

Eddie looks up at you, his deep brown eyes making your heart flutter,  “Like I said, I wouldn’t miss it even if the world ended.”

The end-of-year art show was being held in the library, since the championship basketball game was occupying the gym. It was the culmination of everything you had been working on in your AP Art class all year. Eddie understood how much this meant to you, so he didn’t mind when you bowed out of tonight’s Hellfire meeting. You wait by your gallery wall, smiling as parents and students walk by and scan your work, talking about how talented everyone is. You check your watch, 8:15pm. Eddie hasn’t shown up yet. Hellfire Club ended at 8, so he should’ve been here by now. The show goes until 9:30, maybe he just got held up with one of the Hellfire kids, he still has time to get here. You spend the next hour nervously tapping your foot, arms crossed, staring at the door waiting for him to walk in. 

9:15 and still no sight of Eddie. You’re furious. How dare he? He knew how important this was to you. You grabbed your denim jacket and left the show in a hurry. When you get home, you ask your mom if anyone called for you as you throw your car keys on the counter, she says no and you roll your eyes. Once upstairs in your room, you toss your jacket onto the floor in anger and lay on your bed, furious and upset. You fall asleep thinking of all of the things you’re going to say to Eddie tomorrow when you see him.

You and Eddie had plans to meet at your spot in the woods the next day at dusk to celebrate the first day of Spring Break with a smoke session. You showed up a little before sunset and sat at the picnic table, trying to steady your breathing. You were still pissed from the night before. Time passes, and Eddie still hasn’t shown. The sun had already set, and you were sitting in the dark woods alone. You’re not doing this again. You’re not waiting around for some guy that clearly wants nothing to do with you. You stand up and walk out of the woods to your car, trying to control yourself from driving to his trailer to kick his ass. 

As you enter the lot outside of the woods, you see a BMW ripping into the parking lot, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. Dustin hangs out the front passenger side and screams “GET IN! GET IN NOW!” You slide into the backseat, confused and alarmed, next to Robin and Max who you recognize from school. Steve Harrison, Dustin’s “best older male friend” (his words, not yours), is in the drivers seat and tears out of the parking lot while you look between Dustin and the rest of the group. 

“…does anyone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” You ask in an annoyed tone. “Eddie’s in trouble…” Dustin says, looking back at you. You feel the blood drain from you face. He looks over to Max, who then fills you in on the events from last night: Eddie bringing Chrissy to his trailer, Chrissy dying, the police looking for him as a suspect, and Eddie going missing. You shake your head in disbelief, shoving the thoughts of him with another girl to the back of your brain. 

“Eddie wouldn’t kill anyone or anything. He didn’t do this.” You say desperately, feeling awful for being so furious with him.

“We know, which is why we need to find him and help him,” Dustin responds, “Do you know where he could be?” 

You think for a second. Where would he go where he knew no one would think to look? 

“…Reefer Rick.” You blurt out, everyone staring at you, confused. “He’s at Reefer Rick’s house! He gets his weed from him.” You say as you lean forward to give Steve directions. 

You pull up to Reefer Rick’s lakeside house and you scan the surrounding area. It’s pitch black, and the house is dark. You and the rest of the group walk up to the front door, shining flashlights into the windows. 

“…I don’t see anything…” Max whispers as she peers into a window. 

“REEFER RICK! REEFER RICK!” Dustin starts banging on the front door while Steve shushes him. 

You walk to the corner of the house and look around back. You notice the door to the boat house is cracked open a little. “Guys….” You motion to the boathouse. Robin pushes past you and leads the group over toward the lake. She slowly pushes the boathouse door and you all cautiously follow inside. It’s empty. There’s no one inside, except for a rowboat bobbing along in the water. Steve grabs an oar and starts poking around inside the tarp covered boat, while the rest of you shine flashlights around looking for clues. 

“…hey, look over here. Someone’s been in here.” Max says, holding up an empty bottle. You walk over to her to inspect further, while Steve continues to jam his oar into the tarp.

“…maybe he heard us? Got spooked, and ran…” Robin says. 

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar!” Dustin muses sarcastically. Steve gives him an annoyed chuckle, “I know you think you’re being funny Henderson, but considering almost everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny—” 

Suddenly, someone pops out from under the tarp and slams Steve against the wall, broken bottle to his throat. 

It’s Eddie. You’ve never seen him like this, and your heart stops the second you see him. He’s visibly distraught and terrified, hand shaking as he holds the glass shard to Steve’s neck. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA EDDIE! IT’S ME! IT’S DUSTIN!” He holds his hands up to Eddie, trying to calm him down. “Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” Dustin says calmly, “We’re on your side, we’re here to help!” 

Steve throws the oar down beside him.

“…Eddie?” You call quietly from the back of the group. He snaps his gaze over to you and immediately drops the bottle to the floor when he see’s you. You push past the others and wrap your arms around him, squeezing as tight as you can. He grabs back, one hand clutching the back of your jacket, the other tangled in your hair. He’s crying softly into the side of your neck. “Oh Eddie…what happened” you whisper. 

“You won’t believe me…” he sniffles, pulling back to look at you. 

“Try us.” Max chimes in behind you. You put your hand on Eddies cheek and he leans into it, “you’re safe now” you promise. 

You spend the night with Eddie in the boathouse to make sure he was okay. You slept on the wooden floor, wrapped in his leather jacket, holding onto each other. 

Eddie refused to let you stay with him the next day, after he found out the police were officially searching for him as a murder suspect. He said he didn’t want you to get mixed up into all of it, and forced you to leave to go back home no matter how hard you protested. Steve drove you home that afternoon after he came to drop off food and supplies to Eddie. Once you sat in the passenger seat you broke down in muffled sobs, face buried in your hands. You had held it together for Eddie’s sake, but with him out of sight you couldn’t hold the fear of losing him inside of you anymore. 

Steve dropped you off at your house, giving you a hug and a sad smile as you went inside. 

You didn’t hear from anyone after that. 

The next 48 hours were filled with panic and worry as you watched the entire town of Hawkins turn Eddie into a murderer. You were questioned by the police multiple times, regarding him and the rest of your friends, each interrogation ending up with you screaming at them that they were wrong. 

You had never cried this much in your life. You assumed the worst after 2 days of not hearing from Eddie, or from anyone for that matter, and you were inconsolable. You finally decided to get high one night, hoping it would help you fall asleep and not have nightmares. Laying in bed, you started to drift off but are startled awake when you hear tapping on your window. Assuming that you’re hallucinating, you ignore it you and roll over, your eyes met with the photo of the Hellfire Club framed on your nightstand. You stare at it, glance over your friends faces, until you meet Eddie’s. His smile warms your heart, but also breaks it into a million pieces. The tapping starts again, and you get up to see what’s going on. You open the window and peer out to find Eddie standing below, soaking wet throwing little rocks at your window. “Christ…Eddie…” you motion for him to climb up the lattice, and he clamors through your window. You take him in, noticing that he’s covered in blood and scratches. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. He just stands there, defeated. You lead him over to your bed and peel off his jacket, having him lay down while you curl up next to him. You start to cry as you trace your fingers over his arms and see how cut up he is. 

“…I thought you had died…” you whisper. He groans as you accidentally touch one of the cuts, “almost…but I had to make it back here…I couldn’t leave you alone.” He kisses the top of your head as you bury your face in his chest. You want to hear the story of what happened, about the trauma that Eddie has been through the past few days. But for now, he was safe and you both drift off to sleep in each others arms. 

[wildroseparadise]

Azure: Pietro Maximoff x reader

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x reader

Word count: 1,1k words

Requested: Yes, for Anonymous. I hope you like it!! ♡

Summary: Imagine you and Pietro teasing each other ever since he joined the team after Novi Grad but coming to a huge realization after he catches you from falling off a kitchen counter. (soulmate!au)

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight sexual theme but nothing major, [Please tell me if I missed any!]

Want to join my TAGLIST? Follow the link, please!

Walking into the kitchen in the late afternoon, Pietro is greeted by an entertaining sight. Leaning against the door frame of the open kitchen, he stands there quietly before deciding to announce his presence, "Good afternoon," he jokes, tipping an imaginary hat.

"Hey!" you call out, not able to turn fully to greet him.

You stretch your whole body, arm flung above you in attempt at reaching the top shelf in one of the kitchen cabinets. A reasonably small packet of fancy-looking pasta laying on its side, unopened.

"Could you bring me a chair, please?" your other hand coming down to pull at the longer sweatshirt you had gotten to borrow from Peter, "Midtown School of Science & Technology" written in large black letters on the grey fabric. It was warm in New York that day, so you had chosen to only wear the shirt with a pair of formfitting shorts underneath.

"No, actually. I think I'll stay right here." he smirks, and you can hear it in his voice, too. Clearly, he was enjoying the view of you struggling in the corner of the large kitchen, sweatshirt hiking up higher and higher each time you moved.

"Ugh!" you grunt, already starting to climb the side of the counter, both knees now stable on the edge of the cold stone slab.

You grab the handle of the already open cabinet with your right hand, the left gripping onto the lowest of the three wooden sections inside; your elbows shaking as you use your arms to pull yourself to your feet as steadily as possible.

Now standing with your heals over the edge of the countertop and chest pressed firmly against the shelfing, you realize how rocky your stance was and how easy it would be for you to fall backwards and hit your head on the sharp corner of the kitchen island nearby.

"Ehm, Y/l/n... you seem very awfully close to falling, there..." there is uncertainty in his voice now, but none the less you brush off his comment.

"Oh, hush now. It's your fault for not giving me a chair, and besides, I'm already up here," you roll your eyes at him, not fully turning towards him for fear of falling.

You must let go of one hand to grab the pasta but neither grip seems strong enough to hold you steady all by itself. You opt for removing your left hand, since its closest to the packet, and instead hold the handle with an iron grip- elbow turned into your ribs for more stability.

"Besides, I know you love the view," you joke, making an act of rolling your hips when you change stance, bare feet now having a broader gap between them. You hear Pietro groan behind you.

Sometimes the noises he makes as reaction to your teasing make you want to touch him, if just to see if they would get louder. Would he throw out more sokovian curses? More of those insatiable grunts?

You had never seen color before and neither had he, according to Wanda. In the beginning you thought that he was your soulmate because nothing had ever felt truer than when you were around him, but after he had avoided your touch like poison after joining the team, you had given up on that dream a while back, along with any further attempt of making physical contact with him.

It hurt, but you'd settle for this. This kind-of-friendship that felt oh so comforting and heartbreaking at the same time.

Leaning backwards slightly to reach into the cabinet, you realize that the cabinet door hasn't opened fully, and you instead fall back further than you had initially planned, "For fucks sake, Y/n, do you have a death wish or something?"

"Calm down, I'll just--" you shriek, losing your grip around the handle and falling backwards almost in slowmotion.

You squeeze your eyes shut hard, mentally preparing for an impact that never occurs. Instead, a gush of wind grazes your cheek, warm arms enveloping you in safety.

"Are you okay?" A choked gasp sounds from beside you, voice muddled in concern and uncertainty. You nod, opening your eyes to be met with white spots pulsating in your vision.

Looking around, the large smears of light disappearing and leaving space for a whole new world to be registered in your eyes. Sure, the vase on the kitchen island was still shaped like a half circle and filled with lilies, but now the ceramic was a deep blue instead of the almost black it had been before.

You looked around the room, the walls that had felt so trapping and dreary before were no longer a dull grey, but instead a vibrant azure, much like the color of the sky outside the large window that had never brought you anything but a dull ache. Finally looking down at yourself you realize that the sweatshirt you had worn so many times before hadn't been grey and black, but instead blue and yellow.

You looked up at the man that held you in his arms. His hair was much alike what it had been before, a whirlwind of greys and silver. His skin was an olive tone that brought a familiar warmth to his face whilst still allowing for defined features.

But what had changed most was the blues of his eyes. They were slightly wide with poorly hidden anxiety, but they still brought you such overwhelming comfort.

"I knew it..." you whispered, not even registering that you had said anything until you saw his mouth falling open in silent reply.

"You- You did?" he holds you tighter in his arms,

You nod slowly, only now registering the clear anxiety and stress he was displaying.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask hesitantly, he shakes his head in dismissal, "What is it then?" your brows crease in question.

"Well, to be honest... I never really believe I would meet my soulmate," your palm caresses his cheek in a try at comforting the man, "Then you came along, and I just knew too, I guess, because I started stressing over not being good enough for you..."

You silence him with a kiss so passionate that you pour every feeling into it, hoping that he can pick up on at least one procent of it all.

"You are good enough for me. Isn't that the whole theme of soulmates? That we complete each other and make the other better?" Pietro smiles down at you, fingers brushing away hair from your face.

"Yeah, I guess so..."

A/N: My second ask! I really like this idea a lot, but right now I am slightly sleep deprived so it might have turned out shit. I really hope it was up to your standards, though, because it was fun to write!

Want to join my TAGLIST? Follow the link, please!

[volleychumps]

can u make another iwaizumi angst with happy ending pls? where iwaizumi has been going through some shit and s/o tries to take care of him but being the clusmy ass, s/o ends up pissing him off big time and it turn to a huge fight? make me cryyyyyy and then mend me with a fluffy ending! thanks!

Phattest of the bets- here we go Hajime>:)

Outburst. (Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader)

Warning(s): angst to fluff kinda fic, slight cursing, oop if you’re heart hurted I hope I mended it :), timeskip! Iwaizumi, slight blood due to light injury 

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

“Y/N.”

“Hey.” 

You let out a breathy laugh when Iwaizumi stumbles through the front door, bag brimmed with important papers hitting the floor with a slight thud before he collapses on top of you, arms wrapping around your waist tightly. More laughs bubble out of your throat as you struggle to support him, ignoring the heavy weight of the boy before lifting a hand to stroke his hair lightly. 

“Tough day at the university?” 

“You have no idea.” The spiker huffs against the juncture between your shoulder and neck, and you hum, pushing him slightly to examine Iwaizumi’s sharp features, smile growing when he leans into your touch. 

“Can we just go straight to bed?” 

“You have to eat first.” You reply softly, helping him shrug his jacket off before kissing him on the cheek, frowning when you see just how dark the circles under his eyes were. “Are you sleeping okay?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Iwaizumi’s reply is short as he brushes past you, voice strained as your frown deepens with worry. “Let’s just get dinner over with so I can get the hell to sleep.” 

You blink at his tone, contrasting from before you told him he couldn’t have what he wanted. Almost like a child, in this situation. 

“I can bring it to you-?” 

“Y/N. I said let’s get it over with.” 

Your eyes widen a fraction, retort almost slipping off your tongue like venom before you bite it. Like your loving boyfriend, you had a slight temper- but today you decided to make an exception, seeing how exhausted he was after working the overtime shift. Pressing your lips together, you nod before entering the kitchen with him on your tail. 

“I made agedashi tofu!” You try to lighten your voice, glancing behind you to see his reaction to his favorite food, hoping to see that same grateful smile pass his face-

but it doesn’t.

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi’s tone is dismissive as he continues to scroll on his phone through emails for school, and you wilt slightly-wishing he could see the flash of hurt that passed your face. 

Wordlessly, you prepare the dish on a plate before walking over to him and begin to set it in front of him, catching a glimpse of his phone screen in the process. 

“Is that for the sports science exam coming up-?” 

“Jesus, fuck-” 

Iwaizumi flinches away from you, annoyance filling his features at the fact that you were looking at his phone screen,

not noticing that he wasn’t the only one startled in the process. 

Your jaw slackens when Iwaizumi’s broad shoulder collides with your arm holding the platter, the food falling onto his thigh as you lift a hand to your mouth-

the dish was still piping hot.

 Your breath gets caugh in your throat as you rush around to soak a towel, filling a glass with ice as soon as it happens to aid the redness growing on Iwa’s thigh- your boyfriend falling scarily quiet. 

Iwaizumi stares at the burning food on his thigh, something in him finally snapping. 

“Here-!”

“Why the fuck can’t you do anything right?” 

Huh?

Your grip loosens on both items as you freeze with a doe-eyed expression on your features. Iwa’s voice was scarily soft as he chuckled humorlessly, dark eyes looking at you with a piercing look that read danger.

And then his voice rises, the coil inside of him lit. 

“Are you usually this goddamn clumsy?! Jesus fucking christ, Y/N! Do I need to give you a visual example of how to place a shitty plate on the table?! Because here-!” You flinch when Iwaizumi grabs the glass from your hand, slamming it on the table afterwards as the glass breaks into shards, a gasp slipping your throat. 

“Did you get it through that pretty, empty little head of yours?!” 

Iwa softly gasps when a choked sob leaves your throat, the burning on his thigh and his now-bloodied hand suddenly unnoticeable as he realizes how far he had escalated a small situation. You swallow back the lump in your throat, slowly falling to your knees to try and pick up some of the shards. 

“Ow-!” 

“Y/N don’t-” Iwa reaches out for the fingers you had pricked, tone suddenly soft. 

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss, eyes blurring with unshed heat as you retract your hand back in a flinching motion, Iwa’s eyes widening a fraction as you slowly raise to your feet, blood trickling down your fingers as you let the venom slip. 

“I go to school too. I get home half an hour earlier than you do, and I’m tired as hell- but I still went out of my way to make you your favorite food because I know you had exams today!” 

Iwaizumi flinches as your tone raises, wanting you to yell some more because he deserved it- 

but you don’t. 

“I do it because I love you, you dickhead.” Your voice cracks, Iwa’s chest brimming with guilt as he looks at all the prepared food behind you, ready to pack his lunches for the next week. “But you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend like you’re the only one who’s tired and has shitty days and use it as an excuse to treat me like that. Get over yourself because I’m pretty damn tired too, and I don’t deserve this shit.” 

The tears are streaming freely now, Iwa going to stroke some away- heart sinking when you flinch back as if you were afraid of him. 

“I-I’m sorry I burned you.” 

Iwaizumi’s expression remains stoic as you rush past him into your shared bedroom, hearing the slam of the door echo throughout the apartment. Only when he hears the lock turn is when he covers his mouth tightly with his palm, his own set of tears dribbling over his knuckles as he muffles his sobs into his hand. 

You were afraid of him. 

Iwa takes in deep breaths through the nose, hope sparking in his heart when he hears the door open only to shut tightly a few seconds after. Stepping over the shards, he goes to investigate with a heavy heart-

only for more drops to fall off his knuckles and onto the floor as he picks up the burn ointment, bandages, and disinfectant. Slowly, regret and guilt brimmed in his chest, he slides his back against the door until he’s sitting, hanging his head between his knees as one hand loosely holds the bottle of burn ointment. 

Even in a fight, you cared about him. 

The one good thing in his life right now, and he let his temper win.

“Y/N.” His voice croaks, grip tightening on the ointment. “God, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I’m an idiot. I don’t care about the burn or my cuts anymore, what about your hand?” 

Iwaizumi feels a small sense of relief when he hears your own back against the door, sliding until you’re on the floor with your knees tucked into your chest. His voice softens even more, wanting to selfishly see you. 

“Y/N? Tell me you’re okay.” 

You stay silent, examining the scarlet on your finger as a few more stray tears slip your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hold him. 

“Tell me you’re okay, Y/N. Please-”

“To be honest, I’m kind of scared.” Your voice falls to a whisper as Iwaizumi clenches his fist in anger at himself, hanging his head even lower as he wonders if what was done was the slightest bit reparable. 

“I get it if you don’t want to be with me. Just say the word and I’ll-” 

Your legs are moving before you can think, and suddenly your hand is on the lock twisting it and throwing the door open. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen as his jaw slacks, tackling him into a hug from behind, standing on your knees as you hug him tightly in his sitting position. Iwa curses, loving the feel of you holding him as heat begins to flood his eyes again, the fear of losing you becoming too much to bear. 

“Don’t say even more idiotic things.” You whisper, hugging him even tighter as you feel Iwaizumi- solid, strong, stone-hard Iwaizumi- quiver as he wonders what he did to deserve someone like you. 

He sniffs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve harshly and turning to you with puffy eyes before handling you with a gentleness that you rarely got to see, sitting in front of you silently as he fiddles with the bandages and disinfectant. 

“Let me see.” 

“Hajime, yours are worse-” 

“Don’t care.” He mutters, gently taking your wrist as if you were porcelain, before opening some disinfectant and eyeing you. 

“Hold on to my arm. It’s gonna sting.” 

You bite your lip, clenching Iwa’s muscle as the sting of the disinfectant seems less painful than usual, not being able to hold back your soft smile when he takes the utmost care in wrapping the kitten bandage around your finger. 

“You next.” You go to grab the disinfectant, frowning when Iwa shakes his head. 

“I don’t deserve it.” 

“Why so sad?” You attempt a joke, pulling Iwa’s hand back and beginning to give him the same treatment as Iwa tries to keep a straight face, eyeing you as if you were some beautiful discovery before pulling you tightly into his embrace as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“Hajime I’m not done-” 

“I love you.” 

You smile into his shoulder, pretending not to notice the tears that were wetting the back of your shirt. 

“Don’t be afraid of me. Don’t flinch away from me. I’m so goddamn sorry-” 

“Hajime.” 

“What?” He furrows his brows as if you were challenging him when you pull back, wondering if you would tease him for his heartfelt words before you kiss him fully, smiling into it when Iwa sighs as if he was releasing pent up emotion. His hand holds you there for a minute before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, thumb stroking your cheek distractedly. 

“We’ll get through this.” 

Iwa’s lips quirk up in a half smile before he kisses your temple, using both hands to cup your face. 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“You’re right, you don’t.” 

Iwa rolls his eyes at your cheeky grin, still finding you perfect despite the red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. 

“Brat.” 

“Dickhead.” 

“Can we...go eat dinner after we clean up?” Iwa looks off to the side, suddenly embarrassed as you gape at how unbelievably cute he was being, before holding his hand out to you.

You smile softly, eyes suddenly dry before standing and wrapping your bandage-wrapped finger around his. 

“Yeah. I made your favorite.”

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb @yams046

[artisiumstudios]

Holy shit this is so beautifully written

LIKE-

YES?!

Holy-

It’s like you read my mind.

Stanley calling ford dad definitely throws him for a loop because this is his BABY TWIN BROTHER calling him DAD. It’s such a big realization for ford to think how much the dynamic between Stan and ford is going to change. Now instead of Stan acting as ford’s protector, companion, best friend, and brother it’s ford who has to be the protector; the caregiver and the responsible adult in Stan’s life. He to raise his brother and hope he does a good job because he can’t imagine putting this Stan throw filbricks teachings. Not again.

Not after he already lost his brother once because of where those teachings lead them.

And to be honest, he actually enjoys taking care of Stanley. He enjoys seeing his baby (because sure Stan is still his brother but that’s also his baby now, that’s his son) growing up and discovering his interests, his personality, and just the world around him.

It makes Ford reflect back to his childhood and seeing how even in a different environment with a different upbringing Stan still seems to love the sea, still loves marine life, and still dreams of sailing one day. Except the difference is that unlike before it isn’t to escape a home or society, it’s to explore with his dad. (And if that doesn’t bring ford to tears I don’t know what does). Not to mention it makes Ford come to the understanding that while maybe their father had (semi) good intentions, the way he acted as a father was abusive. It makes him basically have to sneak into the library (he’s banned) just to read through every parenting book possible, it makes him suck up his misogyny (you can’t tell me he wasn’t even a little bit) and join their parenting group filled with women just to be the best father figure for Stan.

And yes he planned on telling Stan his origins, his purpose, how do you tell your son that? How do you tell him that the only reason he’s even here is because this universe’s version of him is dead because their father kicked him out and he ended up suffocating in the trunk of a car? How do you tell him that you lead your brother on because you were scared of his reaction about not wanting to sail the world with him? How do you tell him that the reason he was kicked out was because he broke your science project? How do you tell him that not once after being kicked out did you try to reach out, because you were angry and because you were scared?

How do you tell him that he’s meant to save the world and that you fear that you’re going to lose him again?

Ford can’t. He can’t do it no matter how many times his mind supplies that it’s the right thing to do and that Stanley deserves to know.

All he can do is be the parent his brother deserved to have. One that doesn’t link love with monetary value. One that isn’t afraid of affection and can hug, kiss, and be gentle with their child. One who can discipline without raising a hand, and one who listens and tries to be better everyday for their son.

And it works out, because now Stanley has a diagnosis (I love audhd Stan) and ford can adequately handle Stan’s behavior and learning process without their fathers ideals (Stanley was never stupid or a knucklehead, he was just wired differently). He knows how to help Stan with homework and he can speak with his teachers to get him the best education possible. He never once belittles Stan’s interests, but rather lets him indulge and even makes sure that Stan has everything he could possibly want (another flaw in his parenting style) but he can’t help it. Not when he sees Stan’s face light up every time they head to the beach for summer vacation, not when he pays to have a swim session with the sharks that costs a pretty penny (something else Filbrick would never do, especially if they hadn’t earned that penny), not when Stan filled sketchbooks upon sketchbooks of anomalies because he wants to mimic his dad.

Not when he knows their time is limited.

But that mixed with his overprotectiveness definitely causes a bit of conflict with Stan’s want for adventure and independence. (And if he sneaks out every once in a while, we’ll thank the gods Ford is a deep sleeper)

Stanley has an important role in the grand scheme of things, specifically saving the universe. His role is so crucial that if anything were to happen to him it could lead to not only the destruction of his universe, but also lead the destruction of others. So what would happen if Ford had lost Stanley somewhere during the ten years they spent apart, only for Ford to be met face to face with the time police and what appears to be 2 years old Stanley.

His ears feel muffled as he’s handed the toddler.

Death by asphyxiation

Trunk of the car

Far too late

Paradox

The child’s timeline was already gone

The fate of the universe

His hands

The baby coos in his arms babbling as he grabs Ford’s pinky.

[landothemuppet]

Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this ! 

N/A:  First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp​ - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of ​​the last two weeks of August.

 This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

 There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

 "Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

 You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

 “My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

 You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

 And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

 So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

 "Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

 Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

 May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

 "What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

 Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

 "What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

 You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

 "You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

 And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

 The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

 But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

 Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

 From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

 "Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

 You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

 “I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

  A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

 "Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

 He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

 "Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

 You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

 "Do you want to bet, knothead?"

 He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

 But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

 "Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

 But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

 "Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

 After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

 Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

 Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

 But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

 And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

 And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

 The first one: He was Spider-Man.

 It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

 You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

 "What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

 You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

 "What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

 For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

 "But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

 Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

 "Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

  And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

 "Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

 You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

 "Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

 You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

 “Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

 Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

 Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

 "You..you should rest ..."

 You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

 Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

 But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

 When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

 To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

 Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

 Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

  It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

 You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

 "Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

 Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

 "But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

 You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

 "Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

 You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

 "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

 He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

 "Y/N?"

 You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

 "I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

 Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

 “There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

 You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

 "I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

 He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

 "Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

 You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

 This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

[raebayhc]

Girls Night Out

PART TWO!!!

warnings: smut, oral sex (f), fingering, public sex acts, car sex, use of alcohol, manipulation

word count: 2070

summary: you along with your groups of friends decide to have a girls' night for the first time in a while, things get heated and your friends end up taking turns using your body.

series: part 1 (more parts to come)

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

Finally making your way through the crowd you make it back to the group of girls who had already begun to drink. Mikasa’s hand finds purchase on your waist as she pulls you closer to hand you a drink “it’s fruity, you’ll like it” Mikasa knew you weren’t a heavy drinker but when you did drink you preferred fruitier things, you giggled at the thought of her ordering something so girly with the sole intent on giving it to you. You happily took the drink from her hand giving her a warm smile, taking a sip she watches your reaction as your face lights up “holy shit mik- this is awesome” she takes a sip of her rich colored drink “let me taste” you obliged as you held your glass up for her, she goes to hand you her drink but you decline “no thanks, that stuff tastes like rat poison.. I’m better off with my drink from paradise” you laugh, she lets out a small chuckle at your cuteness “just try it y/n I promise it’s not that bad”.. “Ughhhhhh fiiiiiine only because it’s you mik” you reply hesitantly. You both lift your drinks to the mouth of the other, not breaking eye contact you take a sip, and as does she, almost as if it was planned yall both swallow squint grunt then let out a small cough a visual representation of how yall felt about each other’s drinks “how do you drink this shit?? Bleh” Mikasa spits out “it’s better than the jet fuel you have in this glass” you shiver out.

The night goes on and all of the ladies are around the bar talking, yall somehow landed on your childhood and how yall used to run around outside all day and play in the woods behind your neighborhood. Mikasa continues to tell the story of how yall have matching scars on the same place at the top of your inner thigh from when yall collided bikes one time as if she needed proof she lifted your skirt to look at the scar, a reminder maybe, “see! Told yall it really happened and I have the same exact one too!” she lets your skirt back down and the girls disperse throughout the building, some dancing, some talking to guys for potential hookups. You and mik still at the bar talking. She cuts your sentence short “wait actually let me see your scar again I think it shrunk” without getting confirmation from you she lifts your skirt and underestimating the length it would take for her to reach the scar she overshot and instead of rubbing the scar she rubs the thigh right against one of your folds, a small whimper falls out of your throat, you didn’t mean to let it out it just kind of happened. Your stomach drops, her eyes dart up to your face, a deep blush forming that you can’t control. She cocks an eyebrow at you and slowly begins to move her hand up closer and closer to your sex, your grip on the bar counter becoming tighter “mik what the fuck are you doing” you spit out through gritted teeth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about earlier… yah know when we basically kissed in the theatre, I haven’t gotten you out of my mind since.” her words lit a flame in you, not only because of how seductive they were but because you were definitely attracted to her, you always have been but you would never dare to speak on it.

“I’ve kept this to myself for far too long don’t you think?” she asks, not able to push out any words fearing you would instead release a moan you nod, your eyebrows scrunched on your forehead, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, eyes glossy, nipples erect and visible through your thin shirt….. She couldn’t help herself. Slipping a finger into your underwear she groans at how wet you already are “all this… for me baby?” she purrs into your ear. “Mik…. we’re at a bar, there are people everywhere… please..” you whine out, she replies with a simple “trust me”, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to face her she grabs her drink opens your mouth and pours it in “spit it out or swallow it and you’ll regret it” you wince and nod your head obediently “good girl” she purrs.

Now basically crumbling under her touch your thighs are shaky, breathing erratic as you can only breath through your nose due to the rich liquid sheltered in your mouth. She positions her fingers to shape a gun, she then points her ‘hand gun’ at you and ‘pulls the trigger’ taking that same position she pushes into you, knowing you would react to this she lets out a loud cough to cover your moan, thank goodness she did. You’re vocal she likes that. Now pushing in and out of you she takes her left hand and grabs your neck then pulls you to kiss, her tongue prodding at your lips signaling you to open for her, the deep liquid flows into her mouth dripping down your chins, she swallows the liquid but remains in contact with your face against her occasionally biting or sucking on your lip. You knew there were definitely going to be marks later but you didn’t care, this was pure bliss and just the thought of Mikasa getting aroused by this was enough to send you over the edge, your vision gone blurry, your body shaking, reaching your climax. You droop your head down breathing heavy, worried she had crossed a line Mikasa lifted your head only to see a blissful fucked out expression, eyes hazy, drool falling down your chin, your mouth in a slight smirk, tears threatening to fall. “Oh, shit” she mumbles now fully aware of the effect you have on her.

Removing her fingers from under your skirt she dips her fingers in your drinks and encourages you to take them in your mouth which you do without a fight, a low groan escapes your lips as you taste the sweet and salty mixture of your juices, her sweat, and your ‘drink from paradise’ on her digits. Pulling her fingers out with a loud ‘pop’ she pulls a napkin from under her drink and wipes them off. Still recovering from the previous climax you sit there catching your breath, Mikasa’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, she leans into your neck giving you small pecks then comes up to your ear and nibbles on it a bit “.... y’know… there’s so much more I want to do to you.. Bee.” your skin shivers at the name she had given you when yall were in the sixth grade after you got chased by a bee into a creek, you hadn’t heard it in years… she really was something.

You only had one drink so you were nowhere near tipsy, sober as can be….. Unfortunately that cant be said for some of the other ladies. Ymir, Sasha, and Hitch were all out of it fortunately enough you, mikasa, and historia were all sober so yall could drive, you decide to take responsibility for hitch and drive her to the barn. You put her arm around your shoulder “shit. Why the fuck are you so heavy hitch, youre tiny” you spit out struggling to support her weight on you as you walk her to the car “h- hey-*hiccup* hey. Im not heavy I just had done a cartwheel sometimes earlier when she asked me to”. Yup. she’s out of if you think, you’re on the road and on the way to Sasha’s family barn when hitch yells at you to pull into an empty parking lot so she can get air a possibly throw up. Y’know the basic drunk shenanigans. You pull over to what seems to be a deserted parking lot with a raccoon and some dead bushes “okay hitch hurry up” “yeah yeah I’m going I’m going” she seems to have sobered up a bit.. *click* the passenger door opens and the car lights come on “hurry up they’re wai-” you’re cut off by the image in front of you. Wearing nothing but her underwear hitch had removed all of her clothing including her bra revealing her numerous piercings including a belly button and nipple piercings, not only that but she had one hand down her panties moving around doing what you assume is masturbating and her other hand squeezing her nipple “mmph please..please.. Help me will you pretty girl?” butterflies filled your stomach “what’re you-”

Hitch climbs halfway in with her hand on the middle console and one of her knees on the passenger seat, grabbing the collar of your shirt she pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, your grip on the wheel loosens as you lose yourself in the kiss, not only that but you notice she doesn’t taste of alcohol, not even the slightest bit. In fact, you remember about a month ago when she said she was gonna stop drinking and when yall were in the club you only saw her with cans of soda when you did happen to catch a peek of her.. Was she- “faking?” your thoughts cut off by her sudden comment “you know you’re really easy to read y/n, I can tell what’s going on in that pretty little brain of yours honey.” “so were you? Faking I mean.” you say in a confused tone as if you were trying to piece it all together yourself “yeahhhhh sorry but I had to get you alone somehow, don’t think I didn’t notice how Mikasa and historia were all over you tonight, it wasn’t rocket science to figure out they probably fucked you..and to be honest I’ve thought about us together. So please… have me?” she takes your hand and shoves it down her panties, black and lacey, you retract your hand and look at her without saying anything. Worried she might have done something wrong she begins “oh my god I got the wrong idea y/n I’m so so sor-” “get in the back” you cut her off.

Climbing in the back she waits on instructions from you, you join her in the back. You position yourself on top of her laying her head on the back door, you scan over her helpless body so small and fragile under your touch, starting by kissing her breasts leaving marks on the sides of them you move down to her torso. Giving sweet and soft kisses occasionally leaving a hickey or two, you make it down to her covered pussy, kissing above the lacey garment you tease her. “Please y/n please please please I can’t” she begs “I got it I got it” you pull her underwear to the side she releases a sigh of relief not long after followed a scream of pleasure as you plunge your face into her sex, lapping up whatever juices are flowing and gently sucking on the bundle of nerves at the top. “N-not so.. fast y/n... I won’t… I won’t last!!” she manages out through broken whimpers and cries, which only encourages you to break her even more, make her cry out an orgasm, make her the best little pet you could ask for. You stick a ring and middle finger inside of her while your mouth focuses on her clit, not that pushes her over the edge. Her mind blanks and all she can see is white, you speed up to enhance her orgasm, you’re then met with the strong bursts of fluid that fall from her. “She’s a squirter huh” you think to yourself hungrily lapping up as many juices as possible, “mmhmm y/n y/n y/n ahh please you’re so-” her body twitches “you’re so amazing mmm”. You remove your fingers and place her panties back where they belong, sitting up adoring her aroused figure you spit out “you think you’d top me huh?” followed by a cheeky grin and a condescending giggle.

The car lights up and a ring echoes “Ymir” flashes on the dashboard “incoming call”...

THE EEENNNDDD pt.2

AHHHHHH IM SO OVERWHELMED BY THE POSITIVITY AND LOVELY FEEDBACK I LOVE YALL AWHHHH!!! I will continue to write and upload for this series!! Thank you for the patience *muah*

[mazuwii]

Hello! I just found your blog and loved the headcanons you write for aot. So I thought maybe I should request something. Umm... my favorite au is where Levi saves Mikasa instead of Eren and he takes care of her like a sister. Maybe they are cousins or distant relatives. I like to think Erwin like a father/uncle to her and Hanji like a sister/aunt. You may add -or not- other characters as you wish. So yes I would really love to hear your ideas on this in canonverse. Thank you, have a nice day 🤍

This is such an adorable idea! By the way, I’ve never really written an AU like this, I put it into headcannons but I hope you enjoy it either way, if you didn’t then you can reply to the post requesting me to put more in\leave more suggestions in the ask box

•Mikasa, at first, didn’t trust Levi. I mean, after witnessing random older men, why would she trust another random old man.

•When he noticed little Mikasa hiding in the corner in both anger and fear, it reminds him of his younger self. So in a way. Levi becomes a figure that he needed when he was younger.

•He crouches down to her height, whispering things in such a calming manner compared to the yells and violent kicks he was throwing towards the now dead men.

•Mika felt like she could trust him, so she took his extended hand and limply followed him out of the house.

•Now, either I don’t remember or perhaps it wasn’t shown in the anime, but I have no idea how people adopt in Paradis. It seems like Grisha just took Mikasa home and called it a day 😭

•So let’s pretend that Levi did adopt her after a long while of thinking (thinking of how Kenny left him, why would he ever put a younger Ackerman through that)

•The next day there wasn’t a expedition or anything so he took her to the scout region (he wanted some input on how to take care of kids but was too prideful, knowing Hange, he knows she’ll start yapping on about something useful and that’s the main reason he took her)

•When they both arrived, the captains and commanders were in awe of this little girl that had Levi’s face plastered straight onto her. People even asked if it was his daughter. He scoffed but once he looked at her he did see the resemblance. (Still he tells them they’re blind)

•Hange has Mikasa on her hip and as she takes her for a tour in her science lab (Levi warned her of great consequences if he took young Mika to the Titans 😭😭) and Moblit was on edge the entire time, at some point, he had to take Mikasa from Hange because the scientist was getting a little bit too giddy and he worried she may drop her.

•Mikasa didn’t speak the entire time, she only nodded and added back her input. This is only because she’s shy, Mikasa does have her moments of being jumpy and basically the opposite of Levi when they’re around each other.

•Levi isn’t against the idea of her becoming a scout, to him, Mikasa is like a bird, there will come a time where she’ll leave the nest and she may face dangers outside the nest. He won’t stop her, he’ll just help when she needs it.

•So when she grows up, she follows Levi’s footsteps and joins the scouts. I like to think that in this verse, she’d be friends with Jean, Sasha and Connie rather than Eren and Armin. Though she’s cool with them too.

•Also this is just a thought, that even I contradict myself- I feel like if Levi found her instead then the affect from that change in the past would make her grow a liking more to Jean than Eren. And that she may just view Eren as a funny hothead.

•Thought I reject that thought by also thinking she’d have funny reactions to him trying to ask her out. Which means she totally jokingly rejects him multiple times after his dumb attempts. It usually ends in Sasha and Connie laughing their ass off at him.

•In a way, Eren would have a crush on her but hide it perfectly- though I doubt anything goes unnoticed by Levi, whom always glares daggers at the brunet.

•Overall, in my opinion, I doubt she’d have romantic feelings for anyone- and if she did it would be healthier.

•back to the Levi and Mikasa duo!!!

•Levi has had his moments where he has embarrassed Mikasa, where she’s volunteering for a dangerous job and he tells her to go clean something up because she missed a duty. She didn’t really, he just doesn’t want her facing anything that bad during her first year.

[ask-beta-anders]

incorrect quotes part 2! if you still like them...

Beta: Hey, no, you stay out of this, this is between me and Ella!

Josh: So Ella knows about this?

Beta, walking away: No, this is between me and me!

-

Ella: Hey Guys!

The squad:

Ella: You are probably wondering why I am duct taped to the wall.

-

Ella: Can I offer you a nice stick in this trying time? --

Beta: Am I right, Ella?

Ella: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

-

Josh : *is throwing stones at Beta's window*

Beta: You have a phone for a reason, Josh !

*THUD*

Beta: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

---

Beta: *out cold on the ground*

Ella: Oh my god, do you think they’re okay?!

Josh , holding a bucket of ice water: Who cares?! *dumps all of the water on Beta’s face*

-

Ella: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down. (Note: Ella did mention being non-binary(more specifically Demigender) and an affiliation with fire in a few posts so that’s why I put this here)

---

Ben: Where are my fucking keys?

Beta: Ben, Ella is around, can you say it a little nicer?

Ben: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?!

-

Josh : No, I don't want to talk about physics! I don't know anything about the laws of physics because they are hard and boring. I simply would like them to behave in a way that is most convenient to ME and MY LIFE! Is that really asking too much?

Ella: Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!

Josh : Well, guess what? Science is stupid bullshit!!

Ella: You take that back!!!

Josh : No. Magic is awesome. Science blows. The end.

-

Beta: What is love?

Ben: An emotional minefield.

Ella: A neurochemical reaction.

Josh : Baby don't hurt me.

-

Beta: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk?

Josh : The final boss.

Ella: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right?

Beta: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

----

Beta: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them?

Ella: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them.

Beta: Okay yeah thanks Ella, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

-

Ella: Do you know that we are made out of atoms?

Ella: And atoms never touch each other.

Ella: So in my defense, officer. I did not punch this kid.

-

Beta: How stupid do you think I am?!

Ben: You really want an honest answer to that?

--

Beta : Ella, do you love me?

Ella: Of course I do!

Beta: Would you still love me if I did something bad?

Ella: Well, of course I… would…

Beta : I mean something really, really—

Ella: Beta, what did you do?

---

—-

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent.

Beta: I choose to waive that right!

Beta: *screaming*

—-----

Beta: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Ben: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

----

Beta: What’s it like being tall?

Josh : Is it nice?

Ella: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Ben: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

---

Beta: Don’t worry, I have a permit.

Ben: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

----

Ella: So... what’s goin’ on?

Ben: You want the long version or the short version?

Ella, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Ben: Sh*t’s fucked.

Ella: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

-

Beta: I'm going to get myself some soup.

Ella: Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot.

Beta: Pfft, I won't burn myself.

*30 seconds later*

Beta, entering the room: I burned myself.

-

Ben: Do you want a drink?

Beta: I could go for some appy slices right now.

Ben, mockingly: With a little peanut butter to dip them in?

Beta: OF COURSE I WANT PEANUT BUTTER, BEN!

-

Josh, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

Ben: Gray.

Ella: Grey.

Josh, turning to Ben: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Beta: Dark white.

-

Beta: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

Ella: When someone burns alive their eyeballs will melt while they are still conscious. (note: I changed this line from what it said from the OG generator because Ella mentioned this being her favorite dark fact to tell people in one reblogged post)

Beta: Stop.

---

Ben: You spent all your time on THIS??

Ella putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

—

Ella: I can't believe there's a cat somewhere in my house. Amazing feeling. Love cats. And he's here, in my house! Somewhere! And I may encounter him! What a treat.

—

Beta: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight.

Ella: Actually, Beta, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.

—

Beta: *is visibly upset*

Ella: Beta, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

—

Ella: Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit.

Ella: Fruits that do live up to their names?

Ella: Orange.

—

Ben: So, what is Ella to you?

Beta: The reason I wake up every morning.

Ben: ...That’s adorable.

Ella earlier that morning, barging into Beta′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

—

Beta: Ella, you love me, right?

Ella: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

----

Ben: sorry I’m a little late, I was “doing things”

Josh: *panting* HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE STAIRS

Ben: I wouldn’t call it a push, I prefer giving you a little nudge

Josh: I’ll show you a little nudge when I put my foot up your ass!

Ella: HEY!

Ella, points to Beta: Watch your f*cking mouth around the president!

---

Beta: *holding a salt packet* It’s just a little sodium chloride.

Ella: Actually Beta, it’s salt.

Beta: That’s what I said, sodium chloride.

Ella: Uh Beta, that would be salt.

Ella: *takes salt packer from Beta* This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So, not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

---

Beta: Any questions?

Ella: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Beta: Uh, a plan, duh...

Josh: Ella, chill, I know it’s weird, but Beta has a point.

Ella: ...

Ella: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

---

Beta: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you.

Beta: Ask me to kill for you.

Ella: ...First of all, calm down-

---

Ella: I’m telling you, my team is competent.

Ben, rushing in: Ella! Beta tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

---

Ben: sorry I’m a little late, I was “doing things”

Josh: *panting* HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE STAIRS

Ben: I wouldn’t call it a push, I prefer giving you a little nudge

Josh: I’ll show you a little nudge when I put my foot up your ass!

Beta: HEY!

Beta, points to Ella: Watch your f*cking mouth around the president!

----

Ben: Would you take a bullet for me?

Beta: ...yes?

*Josh angrily burst into the room*

Ben: *running away* Great, thanks!

—

Ella: I'm a nice person, but I'm about to start throwing rocks at people.

—

Beta: Hey, wanna hear a funny joke?

Ben: I only like dark humor.

Beta, turning the lights off: What do you call a fake noodle?

Ben:

Beta: An IMPASTA!

—

Josh: I don't know, it's not my cup of tea.

Beta: Well then whose is it?

Josh, staring at a cup of tea: I don't know!

—

Ben: Hey Beta.

Beta: *punches Ben in the stomach*

Ben: What the fuck?

Beta: You are one of my very best friends. And I cannot stand by and watch you throw away your life like this. You're too young....YOU'RE TOO BEAUTIFUL!

Ben: What the fuck are you talking about?

Beta: I'm talking about the baby that's growing inside of your belly right now.

Ella: See ya! *leaves*

Ben: I'm not pregnant!

Beta: Well, not after that punch you're not. I've been taking muay thai classes.

Ben: I was never pregnant, Beta!

Beta: Are... you sure?

Ben: Yes, I'm fucking sure!

Josh: I'm sorry, but why the fuck is everybody yelling over here?

Beta: Oh, I found this positive pregnancy test and—

Josh: *punches Ben in the stomach*

Ben: AW, MOTHERFU--

---

*Josh is speaking on the phone*

Josh: Yeah, I'm with Ben.

Ben: Im fucking dying-

Josh: Yep, they're okay.

Ben: I have a knife in my chest!

Josh: No, they can't talk right now. They're sleeping, sorry.

Ben: IM BLEEDING OUT-

—

Beta: Damn, the power went out.

Ella: Don’t worry, I got this.

Ella: *stomps foot*

Beta: What-?

Ella: *Sketchers light up*

I'm starting to love these ones, I'll say what would happen in reality:

1. Yep if it happens everything that is my business is between me and me.

2.i would have probably been really silent if I saw one of them duct taped in the wall.

3.Ella isn't that ignorant.

4.yep...josh would do that.

5.Ella isn't violent,and I can confirm she's demigender

6.Ben wouldn't swear and he's smart, he'll figure it out.

7.We would believe in science, but we often see magical stuff, like if I am God of chaos, Ben's a angel,Josh is a devil and Ella is human with a void instead of face, I guess we can say magic is cooler.

8.Josh would understand me ;w;

9.this because TEDious.

10.i'm losing stuff..I have a golden fish memory.

11.ella would 100% say that

12.i am not stupid!

13.I did worse and Ella still forgave me but would say that I'm silly and dummy

14.Phh no police shall take me,I can run fast, remember, I'll run from the police in no time.

15.And even if I get caught I can use my anarchy blast.

16.Ben is tallest,followed by me,then Josh,then Ella,so she would be asking.

17.God damn right.

18.yep,I understand everything. (*Shaking my to left and right*)

19.I'm not that clumsy

20.I'm allergic to peanuts butter.

21.correct

22.pretty useful

23.she would do cure things like this.

24.she would do that,she loves animals.

25.and have a good time

26.i'm still sad about it,but wait... isn't candyland a island?No?...ok :(

27.some doesn't work,I tried that

28.i would run jump from the window if someone's doing that to me, if it's Ella I would land in the front door saying good morning

29.she can't know that.

30.around the God of chaos, thank you very much.

31.we're still arguing about it

32.funny plan

33.true,but I'm not yandere

34.you can make pasta everywhere (just don't try this at home kids, I'm a professional)

35.we would be that crazy to do it

36.that's nice,I think?

37.classic me

38.We're still figuring out...

39.men can't be pregnant, right???.....right?

40.i would run to see what's going on,take care of Ben and bonk Josh.

41.my eyes can light up

Wow i did it again, they're so many,I may have lose order,messed up the order or jump over, but these are my answers

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Two

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff

Three weeks.

It’d been three weeks since you’d arrived back home in Kansas for an amount of time you don’t know if you’ve decided on yet. Three weeks of wondering the right way to tell Sam just how you felt about law school in actuality. Because since you’ve been back, you found it harder and harder to want to leave like you had planned to eventually.

Putting things off rapidly became your specialty when it came to this you’ve noticed, the very thoughts in your mind having revolved around this very subject yet you still can’t find it in yourself to pick up your textbook and study like you said you would. You’ve got a year left, you keep reminding yourself of that. A year before you finish and get your degree, a year before you can pack that up and put that chapter of your life behind you if you so pleased to do so.

But when you thought more about it, the worse it sounded as you mulled it over. Another year of doing something that didn’t make you as happy as it should. Studying law wasn’t something you believed to be thrilling even to the most eager student out there, even to Sam. You’ve caught him on more than one occasion throwing his textbook across his room. It was a complicated profession to study, one with a million endless words to read through and fully grasp should you want to be a success.

You wanted to be, but maybe you wanted to be a success in something else.

Your mind had been swimming with thought after thought on the matter, but apart from that things weren’t so bad. It hasn’t taken you long to settle back into your apartment, the place you’ve been missing ever since you left to go back to college a few months ago. It was a contrast to your place with Sam, housing quite a few more of your personal belongings. It was a place that’s all your own, and not that you didn’t love Sam’s company, but it was nice to come home to have time for yourself.

Even if you didn’t live an extraordinarily eventful life, you were content with your own company.

Things had fallen back into place at the garage over those last few weeks, some days far busier than others. Things were a bit different with Dean since that first day back. Not that he hasn’t been up to his usual tricks, not that the two of you hadn’t still bickered over trivial things like you’d done with each other for the better part of twenty-four years. That was still very much a part of your daily schedule and you don’t know if that’ll ever change.

But there was something different, something you couldn’t quite figure out.

The moment you saw the lack of cars in the parking lot when you’d pulled in you knew you were in for a day, could tell by the way the green eyed Winchester had leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest when you walked in the door with a squinting gaze.

“You’re late,” he says, head tilted and brow raised.

“No, you’re just always early,” you say.

He chuckles then, looking away from a moment before turning back to you, an expression on his face you knew all too well.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, tone cautious as you cross your own arms over your chest, keys jingling in the otherwise quiet garage.

The corner of his mouth quirks up at your words, something that only deepens the crease between your brows when you see it. You knew it meant nothing good, it had to, he doesn’t smile like that unless it’s something you don’t want to hear.

“Benny and Bobby went out to check out a new sign for the shop, ‘s just you and me today,” he says, his arms falling to his sides to slip his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes roll immediately, more so at the contentment filling his expression. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” he says, pushing himself off the counter. “You were the one complainin’ about the sign anyway.”

You purse your lips at his words, ones that were very true but it didn’t help your cause for him to be right this time. It was doing the exact opposite and the grin sitting smug on his lips was more than telling that he knew exactly that.

“And,” he started, your sigh immediate as you tip your head back. “It’s a slow day today, so you get to help me work on Baby.”

“I don’t think I ever offered to help,” you said, putting your keys on the hook and your bag under your desk.

“Lucky for you, you didn’t have to,” he says, nothing but teasing in his tone as he reaches over the counter and swipes the candy from your jar.

“It’s 9 o’clock in the morning and you’re already steaming my stuff,” you say, huffing as you sway his hand away before he can get any more.

“Be in the shop in five, sweetheart!” He calls over his shoulder, finger pointed in the air in the direction of the clock before he disappeared around the corner.

It was hot, hotter than you’d like as you worked that day. The garage doors were open and the fan was on high, but the summer heat was proving to be just a little more persistent than your efforts. The radio had been turned up just a little louder than it would have been if Bobby had been there that day, a little louder than it would be had it been busier. All of the good classics had been playing in a steady list of hits all morning, Dean’s humming accompanying it along with a string of lyrics every so often.

Your hand stayed pressed to the wheel as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, returning your focus to tightening the very last lug-nut on the wheel.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” Dean says, muffled before he leans out from under the hood to look at you for a moment.

You miss the way he looks at you, at the way it’s far too easy for him to become distracted with the way your tongue pokes out in concentration or the smudge of grease on your cheek. You miss the beginnings of a smile on his lips before he ducks back down to work under the hood of his car.

“I know more about cars than you think, Dean,” you say, standing to your feet and wiping your hands on your jeans. “‘Sides, rotating tires isn’t rocket science.”

The smile he had widened a fraction, his head shaking as he leaned over the front end. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard a series of metallic clatters, a string of curses leaving Dean’s lips that had him huffing in irritation. You walked over to him with a raised brow, watching as he fished around somewhere under the hood blindly, his nose scrunched and his lip curled up as he struggled to reach what he was looking for.

He pulled his arm back out, empty handed and his knuckles were scraped an angry red as grease smudged darkly around them.

“What is it?”

“I dropped my wrench and the freakin’ thing is stuck,” he huffs, running his hands over his face. “I’m gonna need you to reach in there and get it.”

Your brow remained raised, eyeing his hand before your gaze flickers back up to his.

“C’mon, Y/n. Your hands are smaller than mine.” You roll your eyes at his words, peering over into the spot he’d been rooting around in before he spoke up once more. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, shooing him away as you catch sight of the tool glimmering brightly amongst everything else.

A huff leaves your lips as you try and figure out how to maneuver around everything just so you could get to it, your other hand pressing to the edge of the car to steady your balance. You could see just a little better than him but not anything significant, and you find yourself patting around in hopes your fingertips land on what you’re hoping to grab. Your luck was rapidly becoming the same as Dean’s when you came up short, though you might just top his.

The moment you moved your hand down further was proving to be a mistake— you may have grabbed the tool you’d set out to look for but the feel of something you hadn’t seen ran sharp and unforgiving along the side of your hand. It sent a jolt of pain through you as you gasped, a soft yelp sounding as that same metallic clatter happened a second time.

Dean turned his head, the sight of your scrunched face having him cross the garage in a few bounding steps.

“Ouch!” You groan, pulling your hand out and groaning.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes bouncing from you to his car before returning to you.

“I scratched my hand on your car, Dean. What’s it look like?” You say, squeezing your hand in hopes that it’d make it hurt less, even if it was just a little bit better.

“Dammit!” Dean says the moment he sees your hand, the moment he sees the scarlet smudging around the scratch you refused to let him see to avoid this kind of reaction. “Y/n I told you to be careful!”

You could hear the frustration in his tone loud and clear, and if you hadn’t fed off of that very same frustration you’d be able to see that there was something different in the way that he looked at you. You didn’t know the way worry clouded his mind in that moment, or the flash of fear that ran through him when he’d first heard you gasp. But you didn’t, you did what you knew best when it came to Dean Winchester—you bickered.

“Okay, well that’s not helping me now!” You argue, your good hand wrapping around the other as you hold them to your chest. Your cheeks burned under his stare, narrowed and discontented. “And I was careful, by the way. Don’t worry, your pretty car is fine.”

“Y/n, you’re freakin’ bleeding, okay?” He says, voice still loud and still frustrated but the worry on his face was clear. “And don’t be ridiculous.”

“‘M fine,” you huff, turning away from him. You made it all but two steps before he spoke up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n wait,” he said, voice softer than before. When you turn back, you can see the dimples at the corners of his mouth and you can see the flare in his nostrils—you can see the softer look in his eyes. You could see the bit of hesitation he held onto in that moment. “Let me patch you up.”

You shifted on your feet, a quiet huff leaving your lips. “Dean, I can do it myself.”

He shook his head, a laugh leaving his lips as he brushed past you to head into the garage. “C’mon.”

You rolled your eyes when he walked ahead of you, hopping over the counter by your front desk, patting your seat with a smile on his lips. You sit down as he squats to rifle through the cabinets, grabbing the peroxide and blindly putting the bottle on the counter. He snagged a fresh towel and a few gauze, a wrap and a few bandages that was a bit more than necessary.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this thing stocked with first aid supplies before,” you say, a laugh in your words as you feign surprise.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, standing to his feet as he sets the other stuff down. “Benny just might be even more clumsy than you. I gotta be honest, I never thought that’d be possible.”

“Would it kill you to be nice just once, Winchester?” You ask, squinting up at him as you bite the inside of your cheek.

He pretends to ponder the question just to get on your nerves, just to see you frown the way you do because he knows it never lasts long. You know he’s got something to say, can see it by the way his smile returns. “I like to think I’m very nice. But for you, maybe it’ll kill me.”

You lips pursed and your jaw clenches, his head tilting as he flashes you his award winning mocking smile. You could feel that same frustration from just minutes ago bubbling in your stomach, the urge to grab the supplies from the counter and do it yourselves having grown almost too much. But the moment he looks at you, all teasing aside, his gaze just a little bit softer, a little bit more intense, that’s what has you changing your mind.

He sits down on the other chair, his thighs parted so he could scoot closer to you to make things all the more easier and much less cumbersome. “Let me see what you got goin’ on, butterfingers.”

You give him an exasperated look before you glance down at the hand you still held close to your chest, eyeing the crimson smeared on the fingers of your other hand. It throbbed and it burned, the grease on your hands surely doing you no favors. But, with all the hesitancy in the world you pulled your hand from your chest and extended it out towards him, cheeks burning at the sight of it because it looked much worse than you thought it did. Much more than you played it off as not more than five minutes prior.

His brows furrowed as he took your hand, turning it to get a better look.

“Baby really got you good, didn’t she?” He hummed, grabbing the towel he’d gotten before pushing himself up to his feet to go wet it at the sink.

Your gaze cast downward at the cut running jagged along the outer side of your hand, swiping your finger along it in an attempt to brush away some of the dirt still smudged on your skin.

“Don’t do that,” Dean says, sitting down in front of you once more.

You roll your eyes as you sigh, eyes bouncing up to catch the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he looked downwards and shook his head, green eyes flickering up just briefly in time to catch your gaze.

“Have you always been this bossy?” You ask, watching as he takes your hand in his, gentle as he turns it.

“Oh, shut up,” he says, but you don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks up, a smile he tries to hide as he swipes his tongue over his lips.

He takes the dampened towel in his other hand, careful as he blots and presses it over the wound, the once clean fabric now stained a crimson as he swiped it over your hand. His eyes look up at the way you tense, brief and wordless and he saw the way your lip sat between your teeth, at the way you’ve got your brows knit together. But he looked away before you could notice, lightening his touch before he cleaned away the dirt and blood on your other hand.

He set the towel on his lap, snagging the bottle of peroxide before flipping the cap open with his thumb.

“This is gonna hurt, sweetheart,” he mumbles, looking up when he hears the softness of your laughter. “What?”

You shrug your shoulders, your hand still enveloped in his own. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me that in a way that wasn’t sarcastic.”

Your tone was full of faux shock, near theatrical as you pressed your free hand to your heart, one that made him roll his eyes immediately.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but you can hear the lighthearted tone he held. You nudged his boot with your shoe, heaving a sigh.

He moved his hand to hold yours a little more comfortably, the cold metal of his ring brushing across your skin. It brought you back to the current moment, but not quite as much as the clear liquid pouring over your skin, stinging and burning as it bubbled white over your irritated wound. A gasp sounded then, your brows furrowing once more.

“A little heads up would’ve been nice!” You say, nearly pulling your hand from his grasp.

“I did,” he says, offering a teasing smile.

You slump back in your seat with a huff as he releases your hand for a moment, for the first time in what feels like ages, ripping open a bandage before returning his attention back to you and the task at hand. He pressed it over the length of the cut on your hand, the one that still burned from the peroxide just a mere minute before.

It was then that your gaze fell on him, at the crease between his brows as he tried his best to keep from causing any more pain unbeknownst to you. At the sweat beaded across his freckled cheeks and nose from the warm summer heat, a single drop of it having trailed down to the very tip of it. As if you’d shared the same thoughts, he’d paused his actions and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging it upwards to swipe across his face.

It was a matter of moments before he’d begun wrapping gauze around your hand, tearing it free from its roll with his teeth before tucking the loose end into itself.

“You’re good as new,” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You felt your cheeks burn at the fact that it became apparent to him that you’d already been looking, something you knew you should stop doing but for the life of you, you couldn’t.

Your eyes bounced over every inch of his face to avoid his gaze— at the slight raise of his brow, at the sweat accumulating on his cheeks once more, at the freckles smattering across his nose and more importantly, more distractingly, the freckle sitting pretty on his lips. You knew that the longer you averted his eyes the more foolish you looked, and right now you were batting a thousand at doing just that.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and words, whatever they may have, been sat on the very tip of your tongue and it became increasingly more obvious that your hand was still in his. The closeness of your proximity wasn’t far behind that either.

It was then that your phone rang, pulling your attention as your hand fell from his grasp. You sat for a moment longer, flustered, before you pushed your chair from him to reach it, the smile on your face evident.

He watched that smile grow as you pressed the phone to your ear, the rest of your attention rapidly becoming stolen for the time being.

“Sam!” You say when you answer.

At first, you miss the way Dean swallowed thickly, still sitting in the same spot. But it’s the muffled squeak of the chair’s wheels rolling across the concrete floor that had you glancing over at him, seeing the familiar furrow of his brows that was more than just nothing, at the tension heavy in his jaw as he looked away from you. You watched him while you listened to Sam, at the way he swept off the trash and crinkled it in his fist, tossing it in the garbage before disappearing around the corner.

His change in mood wasn’t lost on you, but it was something you quickly pushed from your mind with mere confusion when Sam repeated your name what had to be two or three times.

—

It was much cooler that evening as the clouds started to accumulate, the sun dipping low enough to stave off the heat that hung heavy in the air. The sunshine that did peek through the windows, broken into stripes by your blinds had painted everything it landed on a deep orange, dimming the later it’d gotten.

You sighed as you rinsed off your dishes from dinner, loading everything in the dishwasher for the night. When the doorbell rings your brows furrow, gaze shifting to the clock on the microwave. 8:14 pm.

You dry your hands on a tea towel, trying your best to avoid your bandages as you smoothed down your clothes, heading to the front door in curiosity to who could have been at your door at this time of day.

When you unlock the door and open it a crack, the crease between your brows deepens, the door opening wider once you see who’s standing on the other side of it.

“Dean?”

He stood there, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He’s got a change of clothes on now, a pair of jeans on that have a rip in one of the knees and a t-shirt that’s free of black grease stains and sweat. And despite the summer weather he’s got a flannel on over top the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in true Dean Winchester fashion. But perhaps the most noticeable thing was the half-smile he wore as he looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You uh—you left this at work today,” he says, lifting his hand as your sweater dangled from the tip of his finger.

You laughed softly at the sight of it, eyes rolling at the sight of the sweater you never failed to show up with should you get cold at work or anywhere you are. Odds are, you didn’t need it most times but sometimes you do.

You tilt your head and raise your brow, knowing full well that he himself knew he could have just left it there overnight.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted an excuse to come and see me.” He rolls his eyes then, tossing the sweater at you as his lips purse. “Spit it out, Winchester.”

“Just wanted to see how your hand’s holdin’ up, that’s all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he glances down at the bandage still wrapped around your hand. It’s got a few dirt smudges on it from his hands earlier that day, but that was the least of your concerns.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

He nods, hands stuffed in his pockets before his brows furrow.

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks, and you follow his gaze to the suitcase and duffel bags still sitting where they’d been in the corner by the doorway. The same spot you’d left them the day you came back home.

You turn back to him, breathing out a sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a half smile.

“Is this your way of inviting yourself inside, Dean?”

“Is it working?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you squint up at him, a few moments passing before you let out a huff and step to the side as his grin widens.

“Nice place. Who would’ve thought you’ve got decent taste,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“That’s not exactly a compliment, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” He says, eyeing the records you’ve got stacked by the tv.

You shake your head as you make your way to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab two beers off the shelf. When you spin on your heel you find him leaning against the little kitchen table you’ve got, his gaze bouncing around the room as if to take everything in as his fingers tap against the hardwood.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” he says, taking it from your outstretched hand.

“I’ve tried to keep it that way,” you jest, catching the way he laughs at first, his expression falling neutral once he realizes your words before he follows you out to your back porch.

It’s quiet when you take a seat, the colors of the sunset becoming more muted the lower the sun dips into the horizon. It’s become routine for you to come out here in the evenings, taking a moment for yourself to unwind at the end of the day. Your apartment back with Sam doesn’t have a backyard, not even a balcony though you suppose it wasn’t quite so bad. But it wasn’t this.

He took a seat by you, cracking open his beer and taking a long swig or two as he looked out at the trees.

“I wasn’t worried about you ruining my car earlier, you know,” he says after a few beats of silence.

You laugh softly to yourself, nodding at his words. “Either you’ve gotten good at lying, or you really mean that.”

“What do you think?” He asks, amusement in his tone.

“With you, I can never tell.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he says, nudging your foot with his boot as he shakes his head and looks forward.

You knew he meant it, by the way he’d looked at you when he said it you knew he did. Dean Winchester might not outright say how he’s feeling unless it’s in the form of his teasing at you in particular, but his looks give it away every single time.

“So why did you come back,” he asks, tipping his head back and taking a sip from his beer. You chuckle at the question, soft and half of humor, half not. “Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

You tilt your head as you look at him, lips pursed for a moment as you shake your head. You were hesitant as you mulled it over in your head, but you found there was no use in playing it off. There was no way around it.

“It doesn’t exactly feel good being a twenty-four year old running away from college to come back home because they decide they don’t like the degree they’re studying a year before graduation. ‘Sides, I also ran back to a job where I’m stuck working with a green eyed dork,” you say, eyes glimmering with mischief as you hide your smile behind your beer bottle.

“Speak for yourself, I’m a joy to be around!” He scoffs into his own bottle, his smile in his voice. You sigh, resting your head against the back of your chair as your eyes fall closed for a moment. “It ain’t that bad. Can’t blame you for leaving if you didn’t like it.”

“Whatever you say, Winchester.”

It’s quiet save for his chuckle, the crickets singing and the lightning bugs flashing whenever they so pleased amongst the backyard.

“Have you told Sam?” He asks after a little while, watching as you pick at the label on the tinted bottle.

“No,” you say, softer as you exhale a sigh. “Not yet.”

“Wow,” he says, brows raised slightly in surprise as he nods. “I thought you told him everything.”

There’s a laugh in his words, quiet and it held something a little different than humor, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you didn’t question it too much as he looked at his feet.

“Yeah, well, not this,” you say, swiping your tongue over your lips as you thought about just how you were supposed to do it. You didn’t know. “Speaking of Sam, why’d you get all broody when he called earlier?”

“Broody?” He asks, brow raised slightly.

“Yeah. You had that pout goin’ on like you do when you sulk.”

He chuckles then, shaking his head as he fumbles and twists the bottle in his hands. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n/n.”

You only nod, eyeing that look on his face.

“He’s coming up here to visit in a couple weeks,” you say, your smile evident the more you talk about it. The more you think about you the more your face lights up. The more you beam.

That’s what it was.

The thing that had him all broody. He sees the way your face lights up when you talk about him, when you talk to him. He sees that smile, the one that makes him weak in the knees so much that he’d never ever admit it because there isn’t ever a reason to. Because you smile just like that over his brother. He doesn’t even have to be there for you to do it. He gets it though, he does.

He was excited to see his baby brother, there was no doubt in that, but he couldn’t help the feeling that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

His mouth opens and closes once, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. He clears his throat then, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

“I uh—I gotta head home. Wanna get an early start tomorrow,” he says, standing to his feet.

“Oh,” you say, watching as he flashes you a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding as he stands there and looks at you a moment more. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

You watch as he slips through the door and back into your apartment, setting his empty bottle in the sink before walking out of view. It wasn’t long before you heard the rumble of his car when he started it as you sat by yourself on your back porch, that familiar rumble heightening as he put it in drive before he drove off.

You bit the inside of your cheek then, resting your head against the back of your chair as you sighed. You sighed because as you sat there by yourself, you found yourself wishing maybe he’d have stayed a little bit longer.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath