#here's what i HOPED it was gonna be: how to question statistics and have some healthy scepsis in your life

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[shakirawastaken]

dsmp if... they were teachers!

they are all high school teachers 

dream: stats - gives his class random stats facts about each exam they take - “the median was 25.8% and the mean was 50% and the mode was 72% andt he t-test showed the results were statistically significant” - wears a green button up formal shirt . every day. with different shades of green  - tries to tame his hair every morning but we’ve all seen that shit. its a mess its so fluffy - you try to fix it in the morning but by the time he gets to school its fucked - “whats the probability mr wastaken’s hair is gonna be tamed today? i bet 5 dollars on 13.2%” “...i hear you guys you know” - is always 20 minutes early - never more than that tho - speedruns grading tests  - if a kid is slacking in class, he makes sure that reflects on his grade - he has this big project each year where he asks all the kids to make a project that relates stats to their real life - his favorite thing ever - he’ll come home and be like “dear, tubbo had this amazing idea, the kids are so innovative”  - tearing up cause his students - best friends with sapnap - u make him a lunch every day and he just trades it with sapnap - everyone thinks hes in an affair with george but he tells them everytime that he has a lovely s/o at home  - one of the teachers everyone has a crush on  - is always standing at his desk like in front of it and leaning back - does not use the whiteboard he just has slideshows  - the room is sparsely decorated - its mainly old projects that people did - has a wall with all the cards and stuff kids gave him, its behind his desk 

sapnap: pe/ basketball + football coach - bro - he’s the type of coach/teacher that when he has one of his atheletes in his class he’s RUTHLESS - “pick it up tommy!! is this how you’re gonna be in the game on friday!!! i hope not!!” - jokingly ofc - if ur not one of his athletes he’s nice dw  - still makes everyone call him coach tho - how on earth do u spell athletes i think that’s right - will let you sit out if he can tell ur hurting - knows when a kid is faking it - BUT if you use the “im on my period” trick he doesn’t even question it - “coach im on my period” “okay ur good sit out for today” - likes giving romance advice for some reason - “coach :((( jared blh blah [insert problem]” “omg okay here’s what u do” - pretends he’s in a relationship with karl (u know about it ofc) - so when u show up to one of his games and kiss him all the players are like - “YOURE NOT DATING MR JACOBS” and he just laughs and kisses you again - wears shorts or sweats with a tshirt no matter what - “im a pe teacher fuck professional”  - makes fun of dream for like no reason  - his favorite unit is the flag football unit and his least favorite is the line dance one - but uses it as an opportunity to play country music and visit his roots amen - just imagine sapnap teaching u line dancing HAAHAH okay im done here 

george: comp sci - doesnt give a shit about lesson planning - shows up, glances at the syllabus and just jumps into it - it ends up working in the end - believes in a work to learn method - he doesnt teach, he assigns projects and helps the kids out - so if the kid is like comp sci EXPERT they can just pop off and george doesnt have to worry - but if the kid struggles a bit heres there to help :] - the whole room is blue cause thats all he can see - he looks so uncomfortable when he wears like long sleeve button ups so you unbutton the first one every morning before he leaves  - refuses to wear casual clothing to school ever  - unless its pajama day ayeeee - once he was teaching the whole class how to download something or some shit and forgot to stop sharing his screen  - so he went to text you he was like “doing good love? see you later :]” - and everyone was like - “MR NOTFOUND??” and he was like “wot.” “YOURE NOT DATING MR WASTAKEN??” “no ofc not mr wastaken is ugly” - cue the sounds of breaking glass from mr wastaken’s room  - he has a tv on display outside his classroom where he showcases his student’s work - for his final he just gives them a theme and says “go off” - they could make a video, a game, a simulator - whatever they want - 1) its less work for george 2) its more entertaining - once made them all code valentine’s day gifts for you - you teared up ngl  - seems like he doesnt care but wants all his kids to succeed - is REALLY good at being patient and helping a kid out but loses all that patience when it comes to other teachers (sapnap, quackity)

karl: chem - absolutely loves the science goggles look. has them on his head always - also lab coats with sweater vest period ahh period uhh  - only doesnt give a second shit about any other science but chemistry - loves lab days like on GOD - the man lives for the one lab where u put sticks w diff elements in the fire and watch the fire change color - guys i swear im a stem major - sapnap comes to watch that lab everytime. every period. even if he has a class - knows sapnap pretends to date him and reciprocates it all through the year - but theres that one kid who remembers his “get to know me” slideshow at the beginning of the year where he had a picture of you two - “mr jacobs..i dont believe ur dating coach sapanp” “whaaaat, pshhh, u lying” - makes so many chemistry jokes with you - “hey baby i think we got chemistry” *giggles manically* “why did you say that” “its literally my job”  - cue a thumbs up from u and an eye roll from him - genuinely loves being a teacher tho - the interaction he gets with students >>>  - he loves the feeling when a student comes up to him after class or even after theyre finished with his classes and go “hey what you taught me really helped” - loves it when a student keeps in contact with him, making him tear up and shi

quackity: spanish - this one was quite..obvious - chaotic teaching style, it doesnt work for everyone - but ITS FUN - lives on teaching through games - kahoots, quiz, scavenger hunt, anything to get out of a slideshow he’ll do - and he figures it out - his quizzes and tests are generally harder than what the games cover but hes a fair grader like he gets that he made it harder - LMFAO HAS A UNIT WHERE HE TEACHES FLIRTS AND SHIT IN SPANISH - brings u in to teach - LMFAOOO “hola amor” “hi?” “what does that mean class” “hi love” “wtf” - laughs maniacally  - also this scenario - “hey mr q can i get extra credit for this” “for what” “ *student swears agressively in spanish*”  “....yeah ill give u some points dont tell principal phil” - jokingly pines over both coach sapnap and mr jacobs - “guys coach sapnap *heart eyes* and mr jacobs *heart eyes*” “please just teach us spanish” - but everyone knows its a joke and ur it for him - he LOVES the food unit - he borrows the kitchens from the home ec room to teach people how to make traditional spanish foods - but GODDAMN he cant cook  - so it ends badly - also he has a thing on his wall for the fifa world cup where its like an elimination thing - face painted his face the mexican flag when the game happened - was this close to cancelling class when mexico was out

wilbur: theater  - i wish he was MY theater teacher in high school - one of the only non-toxic teachers - wears a long ass coat i forgot the name - TRENCHCOAT. for dramatics. its giving severus snape  - always wants to put on musicals but phil said  “you can only do one musical per year” - does that tik tok trend where he has a wall of musicals and rips one off each day and the last one standing is the one they put on - tries so so so hard to get the rights to hamilton, doesnt obviously - so he does stuff like in the heights, dear evan hansen, etc - IF A KID WRITES A MUSICAL AND APPROACHES HIM YOU BEST KNOW HES ALREADY SAYING YES TO PUTTING IT ON WITHOUT A SECOND *THOUGHT* - he loves supporting his students in stuff theyre passionate about even if it isnt music/theater related - once went to the schools water polo game cause one his student mentioned offhandedly in class that they didnt have anyone coming - tommy is his teacher’s assistant person  - he runs the improv lessons while wil observes him teaching - “okay kids youre all aliens and ur abducting mr soot” “tommy..” - its so funny when theyre together  - rumor has it theyre brothers along with mr blade and phil is their dad - “class please, philza minecraft is not my father.” “okay son” “PHIL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE” - brings u in one day with the excuse of teaching them how to be in love - in reality just has a whole class sing a long to disney love songs while u sit there like why am i here - you pressure him to put on shows YOU want to see - “wil put on high school musical” “nO! WHAT AM I in high school thats so basic” “yes. you are in high school. technically” - puts on high school musical - HES THE TEACHER WHO SHIPS KIDS TOGETHER in the form of making them play love interests  - its giving mrs darbus from high school musical - i was in high school musical i played sharpay 

lmk if u want to see more members as teachers!! :D and what else u want to see period sorry it was so long okay BYEEE

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Soulmate AUs

If your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don't forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

thank you to @wolfiemcwolferson for the request. 🤍 there are a selection of pairings here - I hope some of these will hit the spot for you!

Mark/Sebastian

Treading Softly in My Head by @antimonyandthyme | M | 9k After the events of Multi21, Sebastian and Mark develop an unwilling soul-bond. Beautiful characterisation and pacing - this is a world you can really get lost in.

Sebastian leans in despite himself. In school, the teachers had talked about how special these things were. Words like love and compatibility thrown around like in a song. And here they are, two people who can barely tolerate each other. Mark and him sitting in this office, having this conversation, can’t be anything but a statistical anomaly.

Lewis/Sebastian

nsfw: A Thousand Shades of You by tianvette | E | 8k Lewis and Sebastian meet on a hike. Sebastian saves Roscoe. What follows is some of the sweetest, hottest, and most beautifully characterised Sewis that I have ever read. I loved this

'Skin pressed to skin, shadow and light. Lewis has a look in his eyes that’s almost reverence. Seb can’t believe Lewis is real. He wants to give him everything, to take everything in return.'

Charles/Sebastian

an evolutionary theory of the soul by @blimeycrikeygeorge | M | 28.4k Soulmates can hear each other's thoughts. Some of the most delightful Charles I think I have ever read - Anney truly is a master at capturing him! I love everything by this author.

'He wishes he could offer more than vague, meaningless words, but he doesn’t know how to ease his soulmate’s despair. He hesitates, torn between leaving and giving in to the urge to make his soulmate feel better, a need so deeply rooted in his bones that it feels vital to his own survival.'

Carlos/Lando

nsfw: Twin Flame by @phebess | E | 13.7k Beautiful soulmate slowburn. Everything Phebes writes is a joy, and this is no exception. Gorgeous pace and charactersation. Really funny banter. Love!

'A wave of grief, of betrayal, of loneliness. It rolls through him, so strong that he curls in on himself in bed. It's not his pain, but something about it feels... familiar.'

Carlos/Charles

nsfw: i feel so much, i feel so numb by @f1-stuff | E | 23k Charles has the name Carlos on his wrist - things get trickier as they become teammates. Gorgeous exploration of soul-mateism, familial pressures, and the relationship between teammates. Just lovely!

'Being teammates means they will have to toe the line between friend and foe, ally and enemy. Soulmate and stranger.'

Charles/Max

nsfw: carry me in your heart (you know you're never gonna leave mine) by @pgaslys | E | 30.1k Charles can, on occasion, see through his soulmate's eyes. This is such a beautiful story that tracks their developing relationships over the years. It was such a privilege to Beta this one - I still remember the first time I read it in full. I didn't stop once. Lovely.

Charles is aware that Max is the type of driver who can recognize his own talent without any bullshit. Takes one to know one. It’s often mistaken for arrogance but it’s not about that and they both know it.

Charles/Pierre

Tumblr Ficlet by @effervescentdragon | No Rating | 2.2k A world where you can feel your soulmate's heart beating alongside your own in your chest. This is, simply put - stunning. Everything Akira writes is stunning. I wish I could read this again for the first time.

'He smells so good, and Singapore is warm and wet, and Pierre is close and radiating contentment and heat, and Charles knows his heart skips a beat, and another. Before he knows, the picture is taken, and Pierre is looking at him strangely.'

counting stars in the sky by @river-ocean | T | 14k Pierre worries that he will never find his true soulmate. Just the most beautiful worldbuilding here - I could read thousands of words set in this world, it is so rich and well thought out.

'Adults around him often said that it was clear that he was an old soul -- that he had been through many lifetimes before this, and that the wisdom of those lifetimes was ingrained in him.'

it's not like I chose you, not like I tried by @wolfiemcwolferson & @duquesademiel | M | 16.7k Soulmates only begin aging past twenty-five once they've found their soulmate. I loved the concept of this one, and it was executed beautifully. Two gorgeous writing styles, together - what's not to love?

'But at the end of the day, they are Charles and Pierre, Pierre and Charles, and it doesn’t really matter what they say, because they just inherently trust each other.'

whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same) by @luisjuanmilton | No Rating | 17.5k Pierre and Charles are cursed to lose each other throughout time. A stunning star-crossed-lovers tale that explores devotion, friendship, and true love. I adored this!

'Realizing he was in love with Charles felt as natural as breathing, like something that had been bound to happen no matter what.'

[necroromantics]

You talk alot about BD, i hope its not disrespectful to ask what differentiates BD from BPD? I do some research for my character too and stuff and i still couldnt grab the difference sowwy

Also, what happens when you have both?

Its never disrespectful to want to learn man, no worries at all :] Bipolar Disorder (BD) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) get mixed up all the time, even by doctors who are real old-fashioned or otherwise uneducated

The best way to approach this question is to take a look at what the DSM-5 describes them each as. (For those unfamiliar, the "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th Edition" aka DSM-5, is the guideline doctors in the field of psychology use to diagnose someone with a specific disorder. Not all countries use this, some use the ICD. I live in North America where they use the DSM so Im going off of that. All in all, theyre pretty similar though.)

First off, Bipolar Disorder is classified as a mood disorder, while Borderline Personality Disorder is a personality disorder. They fall under two separate categories of classification.

Im not gonna get into all the different types of BD and whatever cuz I have another post on that, but type1 BD is the most commonly known. Its the "manic depressive" type. You see here that the hallmark feature of bipolar disorder is the presence of mania, which is described in the page from the DSM-5 above. You see how the manic episode is required to last at least a week? That period of elevated energy and mood is called a manic episode. This is the "mood swing" that is experienced in bipolar disorder. It is severe, extreme highs and lows, that last quite awhile. Manic episodes are a bipolar-only experience. If you experience at least one manic episode, you are bipolar. These episodes are all there is to the disorder. Bipolar is about experiencing certain distinct periods of time where you're in a manic state, or a depressive state.

Now if we look at BPD, you see how it has NOTHING to do with manic episodes? BPD is actually also known as "emotionally unstable personality disorder". So the classic volatile emotions, switching up quick, going from happy to sad to angry, being moody, all of that is associated with being BORDERLINE. It has nothing much to do with Bipolar disorder.

And while someone with BD may experience emotional instability during a manic or depressive episode, the difference is that it is episodic, while the emotional instability in BPD is near constant and all encompassing.

Here is what the DSM-5 has to say about differential diagnosis for Bipolar. Symptoms do overlap, but a person experiencing a bipolar episode shouldnt be evaluated for BPD cuz those symptoms would better be explained by the bipolar episode, not by having borderline PD. Make sense?

Someone can be diagnosed with both BD and BPD, since the two are different and distinct disorders. The BPD symptoms would just be constant while the BD symptoms would only come up during episodes.

If you just have BPD, you wont experience manic episodes.

If you just have bipolar, you wont necessarily experience things like intense fear of abandonment and the constant intense emotional instability that defines BPD.

[cowgurrrl]

United in Grief

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (except this is all backstory)

Author’s note: I’m sorry

Summary: “My mom honks her car horn every time she drives past the cemetery her friend is buried in. This is what I think love is: everlasting. Deathless.” [1.8k]

Warnings: if you’ve been reading this far, you know what to expect

April 7th, 1998

You're trying to figure out how you got here. You think the nurses are trying to figure out the same thing. You answer their questions in between contractions, your body shaking and overheating all at the same time. Your water broke at home while you were getting ready for school. You probably shouldn't have even thought about going when your Braxton-Hicks contractions were so bad. Still, you needed to finish school somehow. You were sitting down in the bathroom when it happened.

"Is there anyone we can call for you?" A nurse asks, snapping you out of your head as she checks your and the baby's heart rate. "Boyfriend? Parents? Friend?"

"There's no boyfriend, and I don't think any of my friends care enough to come," you sigh, rubbing your belly. "Besides, everyone's still at school."

"What about your mom? I'm sure she'd want to be here with you." She says gently, but the words feel like sandpaper rubbing over your skin. The baby kicks, and you press your hand back, letting her know you feel her.

"If you can get her to answer the phone, it'd be a low-level miracle."

"She's not supportive?"

"Having a pregnant sixteen-year-old was never on the bucket list. She hasn't spoken to me since I told her about the baby. Neither has the father, and I… I understand what it looks like." you say. You've read the statistics about teen moms and how they are less likely to finish high school. You're determined not to be a part of that statistic. You will make life perfect for this baby. No matter the cost. "But I got emancipated when I was three months pregnant, and I'm living in an apartment owned by one of my classmate's dads, and he's giving me reduced rent. And I work part-time at a restaurant. People love to tip the pregnant girl, right? So, we'll be okay. I'll be okay."

"It's okay if you're not." The nurse says, but you shake your head.

"I need to be okay for her."

"You're having a girl?" She asks, and you hum. She smiles and glances at the different machines you're hooked up to, making sure everything is in order. "Well, it sounds like she's very lucky to have you as her mama."

"Thank you." You mumble. It's the nicest thing anyone's said to you in months.

The nurse stays with you as your contractions get closer together and more painful. She rubs your back when you throw up and keeps you upright when they administer your epidural. Eventually, in your drugged-up, sleep-deprived state, you ask her to, at least, try to call some people for you. You give her Matt, your mom's, and a few friends' phone numbers. If anyone answers, she doesn't tell you. She doesn't have to. She just returns and perches on the edge of your bed, her hand resting on your knee.

"Y'know, I have a daughter about your age," she says. "She's super smart. Motivated. Beautiful, too, and don't get me wrong. She's made some mistakes. Some really big ones. But I'd hope that if she were ever in this position, I'd be able to find the courage to be as brave as you are right now," she squeezes your knee, and you wipe at your eyes, unexpected tears leaking from your eyes. "We're gonna help you have this little girl, okay?"

She doesn't leave your side, even when you're yelling loud obscenities, and the room devolves into controlled chaos. She coaches you through every contraction and even braids your hair so it's out of your sweaty face. Your doctor and two other nurses come in once you're fully dilated to help support you and the doctor. The rain outside pounds harder on the windows as you try to push and breathe when you're supposed to, but it's so hard, and you're so tired. You've been working too hard. You haven't been sleeping enough. You definitely haven't been drinking enough water. What if you've already fucked up as a mom? What if there's no coming back from this?

Your doctor says something about needing to push harder; otherwise, you'll have to have an emergency c-section, and you start sobbing— full-bodied, earth-shattering sobs. The nurse who braided your hair shushes you gently and dabs a damp rag against your forehead. You look at her and cry harder.

"I'm scared." You admit.

"I know you are, baby, but you're so close. Can I tell you something I tell my daughter?" She asks, and you nod through your tears. "Whenever you're feeling scared, just squeeze my hand as hard as you can, and I'll take all your fear from you, alright? Show me what you got." She takes your hand in yours, and you squeeze as the next contraction takes your attention. A few minutes later, in a room full of women, you deliver your daughter with a scream loud enough to shake the entire floor, but she's silent. You look at the nurse holding your hand worriedly.

"She's not crying. Why isn't she crying?"

"Sometimes, babies have a hard time adjusting to being outside the womb. We'll get her crying, don't worry." Time seems to freeze as you watch the doctor rub your daughter's back until she rears her head back and wails. You let out a big breath, and a moment later, she's placed on your chest. You don't realize you're still holding the nurse's hand, but she doesn't let go. She lets you squeeze her until you stop shaking long enough to put your other hand on the back of your daughter's head.

She's so small and has so much hair. You stare down at her like she's the most precious jewel anyone could've ever discovered as she cries and cries. You kiss her forehead and vaguely tune into something the doctor is trying to tell you about recovery. You nod, but you're not listening. You're focusing on how your daughter's lungs expand and contract and how her heart beats against yours like it was always meant to be. Like it was forever and always supposed to be you and her.

You let the nurse holding your hand take the baby to get cleaned up as the rest of the nurses and the doctor run around to ensure you have everything you need. Once things settle and your daughter is back in your arms, people gradually leave the room for you to bask in her beauty. Now that she's here, everything seems so real, so important. The weight on your shoulders doesn't feel as heavy with her next to you, but it's still there. You're sure you'll cry later about not knowing what the fuck you're doing, but it's okay. It has to be. You're a mom now.

"I'm gonna go get some paperwork done, okay? If you need anything, even if it's just a friend, you press this button." The nurse says, putting the call button next to you in bed, and you nod.

"Thank you…" you trail off, realizing the nurse never told you her name, and she smiles, looking between you and the baby.

"Jane."

June 2nd, 2008

You're trying to figure out how you got here, outside the walls but in the opposite direction of the Shell station. You told Lee you didn't want to do any more drops so close to when Jane gets out of school. Still, the promised payout was enough of an incentive. You and Mrs. Carmichael have gotten closer since Adam died. She told you about her husband, who died long before the outbreak, and how she never changed her name back. You told her about Adam and what he meant to you. It felt like soldiers passing war stories back and forth to figure out why they were thrust onto battlefields, trying to find out what they did wrong to get drafted into a war they never imagined. She's kind. You trust her. It made sense to ask her to pick Jane up today.

Jane's been having a hard time in the past few months. A few weeks after Adam died, she asked you if he was her father. She admitted she doesn't remember much from before the outbreak and told you she vaguely remembers Outbreak Day. She's never really known a world without Adam until now. You wanted to lie and say yes. You wanted to tell her that, of course, she was a product of this beautiful, kind, amazing man. You wanted her never to know or claim Matt. You still don't know why you said no.

She barely wanted to celebrate her birthday two months ago but plastered on a smile when you surprised her with new notebooks and pencils for her to write with. These days, she's locking herself in her room with Adam's radio and her words. You remind her you love her and are there to talk, but she just nods and disappears. She's getting older. You can't shield her from the world forever, but goddammit, if you can't try for as long as you can.

You've connected with two guys on the radio who have a safe house in a safe, abandoned neighborhood in Boston. They've been giving you tips on how to find and keep a safe place outside of the QZ. With all the smugglers, weapons dealers, and survival skills you know, for the first time, it's feasible. It's possible. You could take her out of the QZ and build her that home in the forest where she could actually be a kid. You just need a few months. You can do it. You will do it for her.

Catherine's group shows up right on time, a desperate attempt to show how sorry they are for what happened the last time they were late. You don't make eye contact with her as you trade for the shit you need to. She's about to open her mouth to say something, and your fists ball up at whatever she could have to say when an ear-splitting sound emerges from the QZ. The ground shakes with the force, and you reach for your gun like you're waiting for it to happen again.

"Probably some Fireflies and FEDRA playing hot potato again," one of Catherine's guys says. "They've been throwing bombs at each other for the past month in our QZ." And just like that night you first saw fighter jets circling your city, you get an unmistakable sinking feeling in your stomach.

You start running back, praying to whatever god will still take pity on you after every sin you've committed to keep your little girl safe.

You wish you knew your prayers were landing on deaf ears. You would've run faster.

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

hater moment alert

Cannot stand the girl autism is more acceptable than boy autism bc masking take….i can abide by shitty takes on fictional shit but i cannot let shallow analysis of real issues slide. What the hell is boy autism and girl autism!!! The neat splitting of the complex process of socialization, the ways healthcare works as a system of control that often disregards symptoms of women, the complex way ppl punish the ways ppl diverge from gender roles esp for women, and how diverse of a disease autism is. I know this is a complicated discussion in healthcare bc how we view behaviors differently w gender but dare I say a big reason women (just like poc in america) are underdiagnosed is medical neglect LMAO.

This is like an actual pet peeve of mine. Theres so many stupid long held medical myths in the field like the symptoms of heart attacks are different for women vs men w no statistical bearing or were borne out of statistical malpractice (nuanced topic im not gonna fully get into abt how health data is analyzed). We (i hope) are moving away from this stupid biological determinism ohhh diseases present differently in different genders/races/whatevers bc of (biological differences/genetics/epigenetics and ooo this doesnt have anything to do w the long standing beliefs eugenics still has on how we view health ooooo bc eugenics was #cancelled and theres no troubling inheritances from it ) and acknowledging the reason why mortality differences exist are overwhelmingly bc of health inequities. I know behavioral issues are different. But they are often medicalized similarly and demographics are often homogenized when within groups ppls experiences are incredibly diverse. Anyways.

edit: this is not a dont trust the medical system go to a naturopath instead thing. Naturopaths are scammers. I generally think its a good thing medicine has moved to having evidence behind it, but our ways of collecting and executing it can be deeply flawed.

edit: its in bad form to make medical claims without sources and i dont aim to spread medical disinformation. Here are mine and you can draw your own conclusions:

the most commonly cited study on difference on presentation based on gender for heart attacks is the framingham heart study. A more recent cohort is the GRACE (the global reg of acute coronary events). U may look at these stats and go hey some of these proportions in initial disease presentation do look different between the sexes and even is statistically significant. Which is true. But it must be noted that atypical symptoms are common in both men and women (1/4 roughly vs 1/3) which means when assessing for a heart attack, you should be checking for atypical symptoms in both men and women because it occurs often. I dont believe these ratios are clinically actionable, tho some ppl disagree. Now the fact women get advanced heart treatments, get put on standard medications less often than men etc, I think thats much more actionable.

There is also something to be said abt what statistics measure. Which in population studies is: are the prevalence or outcomes of the disease different between these two populations? Which if you theoretically rounded up every man and every women in the US that has had a heart attack (which the populations in these studies are a proxy for) the answer would be: yes. But also if you rounded up everyone in the state of Minnesota vs everyone in the state of Montana, you would also have differences between manifestation of disease in these two states. The question is how large and why—the why is a question stats have a harder time elucidating.

Another question is what is the utility of dividing the groups to compare each other when there are infinite ways you could split groups up. You probably would not argue that there are inherent biological differences between people who live in Minnesota and people who live in Montana, but if you found enough difference, perhaps you could make an argument that there may be a difference in health infrastructure or policy thats driving that gap. But then youd have to further investigate. There is no approach in statistics where you can avoid the responsibility of interpretation. Now how does that get into how sex and or gender is traditionally interpreted in health studies. Well stay tuned to if i still feel like talking abt this. Bc this is complicated.

[alex-is-weird-666]

Dee x Fem!Reader (Metal Family)

♥️Chapter 4♥️

Authors Note: Extra long chapter this time! Hope you Enjoy :)

• • •

  A boy with curly hair climbed up the window sill and looked both ways before jumping down to the school courtyard and making his way to a bench.

  "Your late..."

  A blonde boy who already sat on the bench remarked as he continue to read his book.

  "The teacher wouldn't let us go on break...or even let us use the bathroom...man, I'm fucked!"

  "Yeah, you're fucked...if you don't give me what I need." The blonde boy smirked.

  "Uuh...yeah yeah!"

  He began to hand over something before the blonde boy interrupted, "Not so obvious."

  The brown-haired boy quickly sneaks money toward the blonde.

  "Listen Dee...will this work out? It's an oral exam."

  "Statistically speaking the chances well if you passing the test on your own is completely null. So you got in touch with me. Just stick this in your ear."

  Dee spoke as he handed an earbud to the boy and allowed him to stick it in his ear.

  "But-but how does it work?"

  Dee grabbed his mic and spoke, "do you hear me? Let's say it's question 7. the definition of energy repeats after me energy is the physical quantity that characterizes the ability of a body to perform specific tasks".

  The brown hair boy tried sneaking a glance at the book Dee was holding, " the lord of the rings" dee said unamused. "Oooh"

  "Next" the boy copied again what dee said.

  "Hehehe it's working! I feel so intelligent..."

  Suddenly their meeting was interrupted by a commotion in front of them.

  "Check out this idiot over here." The brown-haired boy pointed out. But Dee recognized that idiot.

  "Yeah that idiot is my brother," he stood up and walked towards the commotion. Suddenly the bell rang, "bell oh damn the test is starting."

  "Well then hurry along, I'll be in touch."

  Dee calmly approached the tall boy currently beating his brother to a pulp.

  "What's up chipmunk."

  "The hell you want!?"

  "Nothing really. You done with him?"

  Dee glanced at his brother who was laying hurt on the ground.

  "Nah yo I'm about to make him eat his shirt for saying rap is shit!"

  "Man it is shit" the hurt boy spotted back.

  The bully raised his fist, "Go fuck yourself-"

  Dee managed to stop him and tried to reason with him. As Dee got his point across something struck his face sending him tumbling to the ground. As dee felt his lip numb and a weird taste of metallic hit his taste buds, a girl shouted from the tree.

  "Hey what the hell do you think your doing!?"

  Dee couldn't register who had spoken until she was in front of him—stepping in to take on the fight.

  "The hell you want little girl!?"

  "Nothing I just wanna know why the hell you're picking on these boys."

  "None of your business!"

  "Well, I'm gonna make it my business." The girl said putting her fist in front of her.

  "Is she crazy?" Heavy whispered under his breath. Dee didn't respond.

  "Fine, I usually don't hit little girls but you're asking for it!"

  Y/n grinned but in reality, was panicking on the inside. What the hell do I do? What the hell do I do? Okay, Y/n...I just have to remember what uncle Jack taught me!

  The bigger male went for a sloppy hit, resulting in Y/n getting the upper hand and punching him in the gut. That didn't hurt the male as much as she had hoped. And so he went in to try striking her but she manages to quickly dodge and kicked him on the side.

  That seemed to anger the bully as he shouted a bunch of curses before managing to land a hit on her. Her lips swelled up and her gums felt numb as she spat out some blood. She momentarily stared at her bloody saliva dripping out of her mouth before focusing her attention back on the bully.

  This time she stood still in her stance as she stared down at the male.

  "Giving up so quickly little girl"

  He went in for what he thought was the final punch but the girl hadn't given up yet. At the last second, she grabbed his wrist and with all her strength managed to pull him towards her before using her palm to strike his jaw. This technique is very painful to the receiver, especially when it's a bully who would cry like a baby once they're hurt enough.

  "Woah..." Heavy whispered as he felt a sense of admiration for her.

  Dee kept quiet trying to reason whether what she did was brave or just plain stupid.

  The bully fell backward as he tried to dodge the attack but not only did he still get struck but he as well lost his balance and fell on his back.

  He lay there before Y/n pressed her foot against his crotch earning a groan out of him.

  "Now would you please be kind enough to leave these boys alone?"

  The male slowly nodded as Y/n smiled.

  A little dazed she walked back towards the boys and offered her hand to the curly blonde boy who frowned at her. "No, thank you." He muttered.

  "Holy shit dude there's a lot of blood in your mouth!" Heavy shouted as he saw the blood all over Dee's mouth. Y/n frowned "You should probably get that checked out" Dee just ignored her which really annoyed Y/n.

  "Just ignore him," Heavy said as he tried to stand before quickly falling back down.

  "Hang on," Y/n said as she dug into a pouch she carried. She pulled out what looked like a medkit before treating Heavy's wounds.

  "Your pretty good at this for being a girl"

  "...And what does being a girl have to do with this...?"

  "Ah! Nothing" Heavy quickly said as he felt Y/n's glare pierce him.

  She finished bandaging Heavy's bloodied fist as she turned to treat the other boy's wounds.

  "I don't need it" He adamantly said.

  "Don't worry about him he's just upset he couldn't win over chipmunk...aw man I hope mom doesn't find out a girl saved our asses"

  "Why?"

  "Because we will never hear the end of it. Holy shit dude your cheeks are swelling." Heavy pointed out as he stared at Dee. By then Y/n noticed Dee seemed to be talking through a mic as he tried ignoring the pain he was in.

  Staring idly at Dee she suddenly remembered some stuff she had to do at that second. She quickly stood up bringing the attention of both boys before quickly dusting herself off and handing the medkit to Heavy, "I Have to go!"

  And with that, she ran off leaving the boys as fast as she met them.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER SEVEN

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentions of underage sex work

Words in this chapter: 3,100

Author’s notes: Allegedly, the Dean v. Dean scene from “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” was supposed to be John v. Dean but JDM couldn’t make the schedule work. That got me thinking about how else I could use that pivotal scene in this AU. You’ll see that scene sort of sprinkled throughout this chapter.

Thanks for your patience as I adjust to my new work schedule. I have the next two chapters as well — they just need some marinating and beta-ing.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I do hope he makes it.” Rowena waves as she, Gabe, Dean, and Meg watch Crowley make his way to the exit.

Crowley turns before walking out the door, tossing Rowena a nod before flipping two backward Peace signs to either side of her, effectively telling Dean, Gabe, and Meg to fuck themselves.

“Rude,” Meg murmurs into her coffee as Gabe wraps an arm around Rowena’s slight shoulders.

“Ya know, Ro, statistically, only three-tenths of us make it,” Gabe says. “So it’s better for us if he doesn’t.” 

Meg does a spit take of coffee while Dean barely keeps his own in his mouth to swallow. “Fuckin’ savage, Gabe,” Dean chuckles, slapping Meg on the back. “Breathe through it, sweetheart.”

“That smarmy dick — affectionate,” Gabe pretends to assure Rowena that the insult is meant with the best of intentions, “deserves the very best.” 

Rowena turns and sniffles into Gabe’s embrace.

There’s a lot of affection within their small group. Dean’s stopped questioning the fraternizing rule, though, because Meg does wonders for the tension in his neck and shoulders with her tiny little hands.

“I’m gonna hit the gym. Anybody wanna join? Dean-o?” Meg tosses her empty cup in the garbage before arching and stretching to make her spine pop and crack.

Part of his recovery from addiction and his injuries is structured and supervised exercises. It’s done nothing for his persistent hard-on, but it helps with boredom, anger, and the satisfaction of succeeding at something, even if it’s not much.

Dean turns his back on Gabe and Rowena’s canoodling. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Ten?” Meg claps her hands together enthusiastically. 

“Yep,” Dean answers, dumping his cup into the trash before they go their separate ways — Meg to the women’s sleeping quarters and Dean to the men’s.

It’s been 10 days since the fire. It feels like weeks to Dean. He read once that it takes 21 days to create a habit and 90 to make it stick. He always thought that seemed arbitrary, but he’s starting to believe it because his day-to-day here is quickly becoming routine.  

When he gets to his room, he finds Jack in bed with Red Hood Arsenal Vol. 1, covered in candy wrappers.

Dean arches a brow as he yanks his drawer open. “You ever get outta bed this mornin’?”

“Not really feeling social today,” Jack murmurs, gnawing on a piece of chocolate and nougat. 

Dean digs around for a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt for the gym. “Well, ya should eat somethin’ real before they close the kitchen.”

He shoves the drawer closed before turning to face his roommate.

Jack keeps his eyes on his comic as he replies. “You’ve only been wearing that sign for a day. Have you already forgotten my eating habits are none of your business?”

Dean drops his eyes to the sign around his neck as he tongues the back of his teeth before roughly grinding them.

“Nope. Haven’t forgotten.” His stomach tightens and flips, and his face starts to heat. “Ya know... I just-”

“Still none of your business.”

Jack’s tone, assertive nature, and blunt words make Dean tense. He wants to yell. Yelling relieves tension for him. Punching things also relieves tension, so Dean decides to keep his mouth shut and get dressed to work out, even if he can only punch with one fist right now.

He passes Billie’s office on his way to the gym. Her door’s open, so he pokes his head inside. “Hey.”

She silently and expectantly looks up from her desk, pen frozen in her hand.

“Just...” Dean juts a thumb over his shoulder as he steps fully into the doorway. “Headed to the gym. Thought I’d say hi.”

Billie raises her eyebrows and chin before nodding. “Well, hi.”

Her less-than-enthused response further agitates him. “Man, I’m just pissin’ everybody off today,” he mutters.

“You’re not pissing me off.” Billie carefully sets her pen aside before pushing her chair away from her desk. “Come in, Dean.”

Dean walks inside, feeling rejected. It’s uncomplicated when he thinks about the reality of the last 15 minutes. These people are practically strangers, Jack’s a 17-year-old kid, and Billie’s a fucking shrink so he shouldn’t give a shit what they think. Yet these perceived slights would’ve sent him straight to a bottle of pills or whiskey and searching for pussy outside these walls.

“Your door was open. I just thought I’d say hi instead of just walkin’ by like you don’t exist.” He walks over to her designated visiting area and takes a seat.

“And that’s very kind of you.” Billie settles in one of her chairs across from him.

“So then why’re you just like ‘hi???’ like I’m annoying you,” he asks.

He fully realizes that he sounds like he’s trying to start a fight, but he does nothing to dial it back.

“You’re not annoying me. I wanted to be sure you didn’t need something first.” She pauses. “Did something happen with Jack or Meg?”

Dean shrugs. “Jack acted like I tried to set his stuffed dragon on fire when I reminded him the kitchen was about to close.”

She isn’t making notes right now, which relieves Dean. “Can you expand on that?” 

“Well, he brought up my stupid-ass sign.” He flicks the sign making it flop against his chest ineffectually.

Billie nods, appearing to also curb a smile of amusement, which lightens his shit mood for some reason. “That’s what the sign’s for, Dean.”

He scoffs. “To repeatedly remind me that I’m a pain in the ass?”

Billie narrows her eyes and sighs. “No. The signs serve many purposes, none of which are to remind you that you’re a pain in the ass. They help maintain boundaries and remind everyone to focus on themselves and their own recovery.”

Dean chews the inside of his cheek. “So, if the 17-year-old kid I’m rooming with starves to death, I’m just supposed to keep my eyes on my own prize.”

He’s being dramatic. He knows he’s being dramatic. It’s a great outlet, though, with the absence of his other sorely missed vices.

“First of all,” Billie begins to count her retorts on her fingers, “Jack isn’t going to starve to death-”

“I’ve never seen him eat anything but candy!” Dean cuts her off with exasperation.

“Dean.” Billie drops her hands in her lap.

“Sorry.”

Expressing his frustrations and regrets isn’t something he’s comfortable doing because he never learned to do it any other way than physically fighting, fucking, or getting wasted. That’s not BIllie’s fault; it’s just facts.

Billie calmly begins again. “He will not starve. Nor will he learn to feed and care for himself adequately if we don’t let him figure that out on his own.”

Dean sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Can’t save everybody,” he mutters.

“Correct,” Billie answers. “What else?”

“I need to focus on my own recovery.”

“Yes.”

He brings his gaze back to hers. “Sorry for...” He waves his hand in the air as an explanation. “Barging in, whining...”

“No apologies necessary. You aren’t whining, you have questions. Bucking the system demonstrates healthy curiosity.” Billie peers at him above the tent of her fingers. “You know, some might assume, as a Marine Corps veteran raised by a Marine Corps veteran that you’d follow orders without a second thought. But you don’t.” 

Dean stares back quietly. He and Billie have made progress. He trusts her to do what she says she’s there to do. The problem right now is she’s probing a scab he isn’t willing to expose.

“Well, I got people who look to me for answers — my team, my kid.”

Billie nods. “Yes. And you’ve amassed a group of people here who also see you as a leader, and as a natural leader, it’s important to be mindful of your intentions and of the impression you leave on others.”

“When you say it like that, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

Billie shakes her head. “You’re not an asshole. Go to the gym.” She motions to his outfit as she stands. “During our scheduled session this afternoon, we can talk more about that.”

As he gets up and walks to the door, Dean’s chest feels heavy even as his heart spits and sputters.

The gym doesn’t help clear his mind or calm his anxiety. He’s stuck in the spiral of memories from his last argument with John. 

“I’ve been back for five days, Dad, can I just get my bearings before you start-”

“Your brother is leaving, and you won’t lift a finger to stop it. All you’ve done is whine about how you’re gonna miss him when he leaves!”

“He got a full ride.”

“And you’re gonna what, help him pack?! Came back from that war as mindless and obedient as an attack dog — good soldier and nothin’ else.”

That’s fucking rich, coming from John, who only ever treated Dean like a soldier. Dean learned so much more about life and relationships over there than John ever taught him.

“That’s not true.”

“No? What else ya got, then, kid? Your car? That’s mine. Your favorite leather jacket? Mine. Your music? Mine.”

John’s ever-panning searchlight of fury has all but lost Sam and is fully focused on Dean. While Dean doesn’t love being under his dad’s scrutiny, he hopes that his presence buys Sam a few more minutes to get his shit together and get out.

“Your entire fuckin’ personality is me and that kid brother of yours.”

Dean’s slumped against the living room wall with his dad looming over him, red-faced, sweating, and spitting rage.

“You’re fuckin’ obsessed with keeping us here. Sam was built for somethin’ better-”

“I’m obsessed?” John rapidly blinks, clutching his left arm. “How the fuck did you handle not havin’ little Sammy on your heels in Afghanistan? You got nothin’ outside of this family, and you know it.”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk and high.” Dean shakes his head and pushes away from the wall. “You need to sit down.”

“Listen here, you ungrateful little shit-”

“Yell all you want, I’m still leaving!” Sam strides into the living room, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

Dean takes a step forward, and John takes a step back.

“All that shit you dumped on me about protecting Sam? That was your shit.” He pokes a finger into John’s chest. “You’re the one who couldn’t protect your family, and now that we’re adults with our own fucking lives, you can’t handle it.”

“Keep talkin’, asshole.” John is panting heavily, and his face is turning darker red. “You think you know what it’s like to raise a kid-”

“Yeah! I do!” Dean walks John right back to the couch where John drops to sit. “You were never fucking here for Sam, I always was. All you ever did was train me, boss me around — Daddy’s blunt little instrument — I was never your kid.” 

“Oh, please...” John groans, his words slurring as he squeezes his arm harder and he drops his chin to his chest.

“But Sam... Sam you doted on. And now he’s leaving. Talk about what’re you gonna do now, huh? What’re you gonna do, John?”

“Dean...” Sam’s voice is hollow.

“Geez, what happened to you between finally gettin’ rid of that cranky old queen and now?” Meg asks.

Dean breathes and grits his teeth as he mentally counts his wall push-ups. “It’s a whole thing.”

He doesn’t want to get into John with Meg. Not right now. The thought of getting into his history with his dad at all makes him feel like jumping out the window.

Meg furrows her brow and nods. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dean shoots her a look, thinking she’s teasing him. What he finds when he really takes her in, though, is so raw and delicate that he can barely stand to look at her. 

“Yeah, I’m my own worst nightmare.” He completes his wall exercises and eases to the floor for the rest.

“Don’t do that,” Meg says. She stands over him with her hands on her hips.

Dean tosses his hands in the air in surrender. “I’m kidding. OK?” He starts his hip stretches and the pain carries a signal of satisfaction and success to his brain.

“No, you aren’t.”

Dean groans at the stretch. “What’s with you? This is our thing. The self-deprecation thing.”

Meg sighs and drops to the floor beside him to do some of her own exercises. “Dean, you’re one of our 2.1.”

Dean shakes his head. “What?”

“I did the math; three-tenths of seven is 2.1.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes so hard they take his whole body with them. “Are we including Crowley in that seven?” He goes back to carefully lifting and stretching his hips.

“Yeah... better odds for the rest of us that way.” Meg twists her spine so she’s facing Dean with her knees pointing in the opposite direction.

Dean snorts, and Meg chuckles as they watch each other try to get better.

Then her face softens as well as her voice. “You’re gonna make it, Dean. Because you’re a fuckin’ badass.” 

Dean swallows back a lump from trying to form in his throat. 

“You’re here because of a blip.” She rolls her watery eyes. “You are better than this. You’ll come out on the other side stronger because you’re already so strong.”

Dean draws a shallow, shaking breath. “And what about you?” He’s almost afraid to ask, but she doesn’t disappoint.

Meg smirks. “I figured out one thing about this world — just one.” She twists back to lie flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling as she pulls each knee into her chest. “You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life.”

Dean nods, rolling to his side. “Sex work and heroin didn’t give you the kinda order you wanted?”

Meg chuckles and switches knees. “At one time, my pimp’s mission was it for me. But things change, right? We learn, we grow... Now?” She turns her head to look at him again. “My cause is getting sober.”

Dean purses his lips. “So you and I’re the lucky two?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He wishes her insistence that he’s so strong made him feel that way. Instead, he feels like there’s a light shining on his weaknesses. If there was a way for him to be all the good things people claim to know about him and nothing else, maybe he could finally stop hearing his dead dad’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he’s worthless. 

“We’ve been here for over an hour.” Meg sighs then rolls away from him, to her side, and up onto her hands and knees. “Let’s go eat and chain-smoke before group.”

She hops to her feet before reaching out a hand to help Dean up. He smiles softly before accepting her offer.

“Do you feel akin to Jack?” Billie asks.

It’s their scheduled session in the afternoon. Dean is exhausted. There’s so much talking and listening and correcting — yourself and others.

“I’m old enough to be the kid’s dad, so I guess? Things’re different than they used to be.” Dean shrugs.

“For who?”

Dean drops his head to the back of the chair and sighs. 

“You’ve had a long day, I know,” Billie says, and Dean rolls his head to the side and peeks at her with one eye. 

“Therapy and recovery aren’t quick and easy.” Billie shakes her head. “If they were, everybody’d do it. Right?”

Dean snorts. “I guess.” He sighs again, this time much less dramatically, then sits up straight in his chair. He clears his throat before moving forward with what he knows he has to talk about.

“Sometimes… we didn’t have what we needed— Sam and I— because Dad was... whatever and wherever, and I did things. For people.”

Billie nods.

Dean is surprised to find her unsurprised by his confession. He thought his juvenile records would be sealed no matter what. Maybe she just knows because she’s a brain doctor.

“I wasn’t a hooker.” 

“OK.”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“I understand.”

“Like the time I stole bread and peanut butter from the 7-Eleven and got thrown into a boys’ home.”

Billie nods.

“And the time I let the PTA president suck my dick for dinner five nights a week for Sam and me.”

Billie narrows her eyes slightly, still listening, still not taking notes.

“Or an extra hundred in cash for clothes for the kid who grew outta mine the second he turned 16 just to let the guy on the corner watch me eat out his wife.”

Dean wipes at his nose and then looks out Billie’s windows. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dean.”

Dean nods and swings his gaze back to Billie. “It’s just... Meg says I’m this badass, gonna pass outta here with flying colors, and Jack... thinks I’m a nag.”

Billie bobs and shakes her head. “No one’s just one thing.”

“Are we having the ‘not everyone is thinking about you all the time’ conversation?”

Billie smiles. “While you were your little brother’s hero, you were someone else’s prey.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, and he looks out the windows again. 

“While your daughter sat broken-hearted on one side of town, you single-handedly carried Cyrus Styne to safety.”

Dean closes his eyes and lets a tear roll down his cheek. “So what’s in between?”

“It’s not about other people’s perceptions.”

Before looking back at her, Dean drags his hand over his face. “Then what’s it about?”

“You had to eat and care for your brother, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“What about Emma?”

Dean flicks his gaze up to Billie’s. 

“Do you see a likeness between Emma and the teenage boy you saved from her high school?”

Dean smirks. “Besides the fact that was her high school?”

Billie smiles and nods. “Besides that.”

“You think I’m avoiding her.”

Billie tilts her head. “Are you?”

“Dean. Hi. How are you?”

“Hey, Lydia. I’m... OK. Is Em around? She blocked me on her phone. I really need to talk to her.”

Lydia is quiet on the other end of the line for a beat. “Just a minute, OK?”

Dean watches the clock on the wall above the phone tick by almost a full 60 seconds before Lydia’s phone is unmuted. There’s a bit of muffled shuffling at first, then...

“Hi, Daddy.”

Chapter 8 

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

[btower3689]

You Are Sheol . 8

As she walks back towards the front of the station, Detective Lewis comes to find that the two men who accompanied Abraham are now parked outside, back from their trip to Mcdonalds, and waiting for Abraham to emerge.

She watches them make light conversation. The man in the passenger seat appears to be middle eastern, bearded, with shoulder length black hair. He scrolls mindlessly on his phone while he eats fries. The man in the driver’s seat is an older white man with black and silver hair that is short and close to his head. He is speaking, peering at the station and saying something to his comrade. He looks anxious, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and shifting his eyes about; biting at the skin on his fingers and sipping shallowly from his drink. 

“There’s no real reason why they’d detain him, right?” Mark asks as he takes another sip of his water. The man sitting beside him, a 26 year old Arab named Ali, lifts his eyes from his phone screen and gives him a slightly annoyed expression. 

“Not if the kid doesn’t say shit. Abraham is just the concerned father looking for his kidnapped son,” he replies flatly. 

“Yeah…” Mark says as he shuffles in his seat, “ yeah… it’s a good thing I made him call in… or else it would have looked even more suspicious… right…?”

Ali leans against the car window and looks back at his phone. “Sure, bro. I just want them to hurry up so I can go home. I don’t know why he’s making all this fuss over one kid anyways.”

Mark nods and looks back towards the station distantly. 

“Alright, I’m gonna see what’s going on,” he says as he grabs Abraham’s iced tea. He takes a deep, self soothing breath, before exiting the car and heading towards the station. 

Detective Lewis watches Mark enter the station and approach the admin desk. She hears him ask when Abraham King will be released. 

“Excuse me,” Lewis says as she steps to Mark. She gives him a fake smile. “Hi, I’m Detective Lewis, I’m overseeing the investigation around Sheol and Abraham today. I was just hoping you’d be willing to answer a few questions for me, we’re just trying to work through some details, and we’d appreciate-,”

“Investigation?” Mark interrupts, “criminal investigation? On Abraham? Why? Is everything okay?” 

Detective Lewis takes a breath before taking a sip of her coffee. Why would Mark assume that Abraham is a suspect in the kidnapping of his own child? She thinks carefully about how to respond. 

“Mm- no, not against Abraham!” she chuckles lightheartedly, “we just want to get the best idea of when Sheol went missing and when you and Abraham started looking for him. Sheol is not documented in the vital statistics records of British Collumbia, so we need as many witnesses as possible to help us verify Sheol’s identity, piece together the timeline of events, as well as to… support any claims made by Abraham.”

Mark scratches his head and looks back towards his car, uncertainty murmuring “um..” as he debates what to do. “Do you live with Abraham and Sheol, sir?” Lewis asks, probing him deeper into conversation. 

“Live?” Mark echoes, “no, no, I just come by every now and then. I’m, uh… not related.”

“Would you be able to provide me with a home address for Abraham?” Lewis edges on.

“I actually can’t-,” Mark starts in a flustered hurry.

“We’re just really dry on details, sir-, what is it-?” she extends her hand for Mark to shake, prompting him to give his name. 

“Mark,” he answers. 

“Mark. Nice to meet you, Mark,” Lewis smiles. “Sheol is very tired and everyone is very confused and frustrated. If you can offer me a little bit of your time, you, Abraham, and Sheol can be out of here by nightfall. But the longer we have to scrape for information, the longer-”

“Alright,” Mark says, finally agreeing. “I just-, I got work in the morning so I don’t want to be here all night.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, Mark, we’ll make this quick. I’ll just get you to come with me,” Lewis answers as she leads him down a hall to the left. The loud clacking of Detective Lewis’ heels echo off the walls. Together, they venture down another hall into a small, quiet office. 

Mark sits in the brown office chair adjacent to the desk that Detective Lewis sits at. Before her is a large desktop computer and a black lamp. She flicks on the lamp and sets her coffee and binder down on the desk. 

“So, how do you know Abraham?” she asks. 

Mark scratches his chin. “We’re friends,” he answers simply, “we… y’know… drink and watch games together.”

Detective Lewis raises her eyebrows. “Oh. I was under the impression that Abraham was sober based on the whole… religious thing.”

“Oh no,” Mark smiles, “he drinks.”

“And when did Abraham make you aware that… Sheol was missing?” Lewis asks as she looks down at her notes. “Says here that Abraham called the police at… 3:00pm. Seems a little late, huh?”

Mark shuffles in his seat, “yeah,” he mutters, “he called me at around uh… I think 10… 10:20ish… am… he said he needed help searching the area for Sheol. He’s real… squirmish about police so he didn’t wanna get you guys involved… but then uh…” Mark goes quiet for a moment, “we searched for a few hours and… I convinced him to call the police.”

“You did?” Lewis questions.

“Yes, I… I had to talk to him. He doesn’t think straight when he’s high- high uh-, stress,” Mark fumbles.

“Mhm, understandable,” Lewis says as she writes in her notes. “How did he seem when you were with him, freaked out?”

“Freaked, yeah. Freaked for Sheol, yeah,” Mark nods. 

“And do you know the name of his mother?” Lewis continues on. 

Mark hesitates. “No.”

Detective Lewis eyes him carefully, “Then can you tell me the address of-”

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The door to the room swings open without waiting for a response. A male officer enters the room and informs Detective Lewis that an officer in Lumby is requesting she speak on the phone. Lewis glances over at Mark before taking a breath and excusing herself from the room. 

She heads back towards the front of the station and receives the phone from reception. 

“Lewis speaking.”

“Hello, this is Officer Terry from Lumby. We’re just uncovering a bit of information here we think you should be aware of in regards to this situation with Abraham and Sheol.”

“Yes, please go ahead,” Lewis responds eagerly.

“Well, I’m sure by now you’ve seen Abraham’s record, he has a history down here in Lumby with his little religious group. We actually got a complaint against him for harassment from a guy, a David Melsborne, about 3 weeks ago, but that’s all still trying to be dealt with. I’m sure you’ve also heard about the mess we’ve been dealing with- with these indigenous uh- kidnappings-,”

Lewis wrinkles her eyebrow, “I’m sorry I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.”

“These young indigenous girls from all around Lumby have been going missing, they’re all around 13 years old… one a month, since October. So far there’s been 13 girls taken. There’s been a big fucking stink over it on Instagram, have you seen #SEARCHTHELANDFILLS ?”

Detective Lewis closes her eyes with a disturbed sigh as she recalls the news articles and social media posts she’s seen in passing. “Yes, I’ve seen the hashtag,” she answers.

“So, whoever it is that’s taking these girls, for the last girl, Chenoa, they were really sloppy. There’s doorbell cam footage of a man in a face mask, crossing the front lawn and moving to the side of the house. After a while you can see Chenoa running down the street, you can see she’s limping… and bleeding… and then the man is seen chasing her and dragging her back towards what looks to be the headlights of a truck. But in all the tussle, she was able to actually rip the face covering off of the man, and we can see that he’s definitely an older black male… slim figure..-”

“Are you sending us the footage?” Lewis asks eagerly. 

“Yes, so you should have received an email, and… right off the bat… you can see… It looks like him. Right, the facial structure… is the same…”

Lewis frantically searches through her phone to find the email containing screenshots of the footage. In one particular frame, the attacker's full face is exposed to the camera, and while it is extremely blurry and poorly lit, the resemblance to Abraham is unmistakable. 

“What’s even more suspicious about this guy is… on paper, he’s homeless. He doesn’t own any assets, he doesn’t pay insurance. He’s not employed. His last recorded residential address is with his mother at… 14 301 Kingston Drive Toronto. Those were the details he gave police when he was most recently arrested in 2016 for driving without insurance and plates out here in Lumby… so obviously he’s not staying there, that was the only address he ever provided. When he called us about Sheol today, he said his place was “somewhere’ in the woods in the south east, but he refused to give a real address multiple times… we’re hoping that if we can figure out where he’s staying, we can get more info as to what the fuck is going on here.”

“You’re a diamond, Terry.” Detective Lewis says as she continues to inspect the evidence. 

“You guys have him detained right now, right?” Terry asks. 

“He’s not in cuffs but he’s in the interrogation room right now,” Lewis answers. “I’m talking to his buddy Mike right now, he seems very squeamish. I’ll keep you updated.” 

Terry and Lewis bid each other farewell and hang up the phone. 

Lewis stands outside the office where she left Mark for a moment as she ponders how best to proceed. 

...

[starafterdeath]

The Jägermeister Dilemma

Okay, I guess I do have to talk about this in depth.

Good artists who support palestine/putin or bad causes in general constitute what I dub the Jägermeister Dilemma. Why Jägermeister in particular? I don't know, just a personal preference, I guess. It is a fitting example, most in foremost.

Is Jägermeister good? Sure it is!

Was it invented by nazis? Also true.

The question is: what do we do with this information from the ethical point of view?

Well, here are some additional points that make today's situation a little bit different.

First, Germany now is not what it used to be back in the 1940-s, and the only nazi party that exists at the moment (AFD) is openly financed by russua, is universally frowned upon by the majority of Germans, and is constantly on the verge of getting kicked out of the parliament and banned completely.

Second, people who parade for palestine the most are two/thirds my age (at best!), don't know jack about world politics, don't know jack about activism, never been detained on unconstitutional grounds, searched on unconstitutional grounds, threatened with being sent to a mental institution against their will for having an inconvenient opinion - in other words, don't have any experience of growing up in an authoritarian country where the entire population isn't viewed as living, breathing creatures but soulless husks who exist only to serve the dictator's goals. So, theoretically, they can be given a small benefit of a doubt as in they still have a lot of room to grow and understand things (though, realistically, given the statistical fact that the majority of the population in every country does not exactly possess Stephen Hawking's level of intelligence, the chance of that is not very grand).

Third, people who support Palestine and, by extension, russia (I'm highlighting it 'cause it is important - EVERY PROPALESTINIAN is putin's oblivious friend right now), do not understand this logical progression even if they are my age or older, and, therefore, might be slower on the uptake that they're doing something irrevocably wrong (I'm gonna leave out the whole "helping the FSB pose a bigger threat to my and my husband's lives" part for now) in general when inevitably history marches on and we're left to deal with the consequences of the current horrid times.

All of this leaves me with a very slim hope that, in 20 or 30 years, people will look back at what's going on in the world today and think: "How did we ever let this happen?" The answer is, of course, by being fucking stupid, but nobody who makes their input now into the unforgiving process of strengthening the dictatorships around the world and weakening the democracies will ever hold him/herself accountable for what they've done in 20-30 years. And then something else will happen. Something always happens.

Let's at least hope we all survive long enough to see what it is.

[galaxydrcaming]

@hxlcycnx

“no,  i  don’t  rehearse  anything.  i  just…feel  it,  all  the  time.  i’m  always  around  people,  my  theatre  troupe  is  my  family,  i  feel  love  for  them  all  of  the  time.  i…i  love  more  than  i’ve  been  loved,  but  that  doesn’t  make  love  any  less  real.  the  fact  that  i  always  feel  it  is  proof  enough.  and  when  i  find  the  right  person,  it’ll  just  mean  they  believe  in  it  as  much  as  i  do.”  he  shrugged,  unwilling  to  be  so  dissuaded.  he  knew  how  he  felt,  and  his  beliefs  had  carried  him  a  long  way  through  life.  even  if  he  lost  this  bet,  he  didn’t  think  he’d  ever  stop  believing  in  it.

“you  think  i’m  cute?!”  christain  asked,  genuinely  surprised  and  delighted.  he  wasn’t  boastful  or  anything  about  it,  he  asked  more  so  to  make  sure  he  heard  her  correctly.  “well…that’s  high  praise  coming  from  the  prettiest  girl  in  this  bar.”  he  wasn’t  even  being  flirtatious,  he  said  it  so  matter-of-factly  that  it  would  have  been  easy  for  her  to  dismiss  if  she  really  wanted  to.

“you’re  beautiful.  finding  you  someone  will  be  easy  as  long  as  you  open  yourself  up  to  the  possibility  of  loving  someone.  you’d  have  to  honestly  give  it  a  shot,  otherwise  nothing  will  come  of  this.”  he  explained,  hoping  she  understood  that  condition.  if  she  hated  everyone  as  much  as  she  hated  him  even  christain  knew  there  would  be  no  hope  of  him  winning  the  bet  or  helping  her  find  love.

“when  i  help  you  find  a  partner,  i’ll  ask  for  their  consent  as  well.  and  besides,  it  won’t  be  an  exact  account  of  this  bet,  just  a  story  based  on  this  idea.  because  i’m  not  reading  a  tragedy.”  he  boasted  with  a  smirk.  tragedies  were  boring.  he  always  knew  both  of  the  lovers,  or  at  least  one  of  them  would  die,  so  what  was  the  point?  “but  sure,  on  the  off  chance  that  you  win  i’ll  read  any  book  you  give  me  and  write  a  report  on  it.  deal?”  he  asked,  offering  his  hand  to  her.

"I genuinely don't know what answer I was expecting to hear, but I don't think it was that one. Hold on-hold the fucking phone, are you essentially saying that you've never actually been in love with someone? Family love is a whole other conversation, it's platonic, it's..something else, but I meant romantic love and holy shit!" Bowie covers her mouth with her hand as she raises her eyebrows. "You're preaching about real love, but never experienced it? You would think having actually felt it would give you some more credit and experience." She points out with a shake of her head. "The people closest to you, the ones that should love you, can be the ones that hurt you the most so why believe in something that has only been shown to you as a lie?" She questions and furrows her eyebrows together in confusion, she gave him credit for the determination.

"I said that you're attractive, that doesn't automatically mean that I like you, I'm just..not an idiot who can't tell when someone they're looking at, or talking to in our instance, is attractive." She shrugs slightly as her eyes momentarily scan the area, resisting the urge to point out the many other people here who looked better, but she didn't want to go into that whole argument, or let him know too much about her. "..Right, uh, thanks." She mumbles and looks back down.

Tapping her hand on the bar, she narrows her eyes and sighs. "Nothing will come of this, letting someone in is about as easy as you accepting the fact that love is bullshit. I'll tell you what, I'll give it a shot, I'll meet you in the middle but while you stay optimistic about this, I'll keep being pessimistic because I can't exactly change my personality the minute I meet someone."

"Good, but you're still gonna read a tragedy because there's a higher chance statistically speaking that this won't work, but props to you." She leans forward and pats him on the shoulder, her eyes sliding down to his hand as she reaches out and shakes it. "Look at that, you've got me hopeful for something, it's a deal. Now I don't usually go and make deals with...anyone really, but what's your name?"

[bogkeep]

hey so i have this one viral text post where i talk about Internet Self Care, and i recently learnt about a new term which is relevant to some of the response i’ve gotten from it, and i wanted to share! gonna give a content warning for discussion of self harm on this one. basically, the thesis of my post is that there are ways to engage with the internet that can be considered self harm. (NOTE: i wrote the original post in 2019. one of the things i list as possible self harm is “exposing yourself to an endless stream of devastating news”, something i added more as an afterthought cause i know some people struggle with it - it was never intended as a direct response to anything happening in this year of 2020, or requesting anyone to avoid The News entirely. you should still give yourself some boundaries tho)

so, of course, some of the replies (surprisingly few, actually!) have been “that’s not fuckign self harm you absolute babies”. i haven’t bothered engaging with those replies, because if they don’t get it, they don’t get it, and i can’t really fault them for that. i wish i didn’t get it either, you know? i wish i didn’t have the compulsion to consistently throw myself at a stake of heartache, or keep picking at a metaphorical scab, but i do, and many others do too. so there’s two truths at play that i believe in: 1) there’s many forms of self harm. anything can be a tool or a weapon to harm yourself. there’s many ways to hurt. there’s varying levels of how aware you are of doing it to yourself. it’s a form of reclaiming control, or at least feel like you are in control of something. i didn’t realize self harm purists were a thing, but hey. you learn something new every day. 2) information can be such a tool, or a weapon. aren’t we constantly ascribing power to Information and Storytelling, the pen is mightier than the sword etc etc etc? if we didn’t believe that, would there be such outcries about censorship, calls for moderation of discussions? the internet, which is really just large amounts of Information of any and all kinds, true and false and everything inbetween, it’s not just a strange, shared mirage with zero effects on our lives.

so anyway! i just learned a new term! it’s called informational hazard which is pretty metal. i got it from this podcast episode about [redacted], which draws the term from this article. At This Point Of Writing i have only skimmed the article as my brain is mush, but i think it’s a very useful concept to categorize. i realize that it is slightly hypocritical of me to share a piece of information i haven’t thoroughly verified myself, especially in this context, but hey. you can salt it with your own grains, and judge me as you wish for it. so i guess i’ll just keep going with the Tool metaphor, like, information is a Knife, which is very useful and can be equally harmful, depending on its use. personally, i struggle to be around knifes in irl meatspace because of faulty wiring in my brain. it’s a trigger and also a metaphor for my other triggers (although i tend to think of them more as fish hooks. it’s worth noting i’m also scared of fish hooks). it’s important that we learn how to use a knife correctly, and also know that some people are not able to handle that particular knife for whatever reason. we can also relearn, but all in due time. anyway i think that was the main point i wanted to share. i can feel my brain slowly getting submerged in the bog of mentally logging off. i just missed talking about things on here, i think. twitter doesn’t always cut it.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! This is the anon with the ISWM egos and Y/N running into Y/Ns mean ex, and here to clarify! Yes the egos that made appearances!

(I hope this anon isn't taken but I'll shoot for the moon)

- SleepyBlu Anon

Oh okay! Just wanted that cleared up but ty!

Request: Hi I’m new to this, but could I request ISWM egos with their S/O and like running into S/O’s ex. S/O’s ex ain’t a nice person and S/O is uncomfortable, the boys to the rescue!

Engineer, Actor, Dark, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Jim, & Heehoo will be featured!

..............

Engineer Mark

Your ex so-happens to be USA receptionist.

They recognize you before you can state your inquiries and makes a subtle jab at both of you, especially upon learning you’re a captain.

“Wow, so you can keep a crew together but not a relationship?”

This pisses off Mark SO much. He can’t tolerate this disrespect to his captain and partner.

His anger becomes scary as he punches the table and demands they take your concerns more seriously.

After getting answers he leaves with you, still huffy but makes sure you’re alright.

“If they were in the crew, I’d eject them from the airlock myself..” He grumbles.

Actor

Oh boy.

If he so much as recognizes your ex he’s gonna flip out. Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or there’s only a few people around.

He’ll drag them away from you before they can utter a single word and have a “nice chat”.....which is really just him snapping at them and being like “you’re lucky I’m out on parole or else I’d KILL you right now!”

You don’t know what exactly he said but, they haven’t tried contacting you since then.

He spoils you afterwards to cheer you up <3

Dark

He doesn’t wanna cause a huge scene.

So he’ll just stare at your ex angrily while keeping you close to him, allowing the high-pitched ringing to fill their head.

He’s the best at intimidation so it doesn’t take long for them to be scared off.

After that he makes sure you’re okay, knowing very well what it’s like to be hurt by those he once trusted.

If they come back he definitely won’t hold back and resort to tormenting them in the void since they didn’t learn their lesson the first time.

Wilford

He takes shit from nobody.

Especially a stupid ex who questions your taste in men.

There’s a 75% chance you can stop him from shooting/stabbing them, but he’ll still find a way to screw with their mind.

Like getting inside their head and saying random bs or just teleporting around them to confuse them (like he does in WMLW).

Eventually they leave after calling him a freak, though he just rolls his eyes.

“Jeez, to think you dated that before me? Let’s get some drinks.”

Yancy

Will most definitely punch them if they say some rude shit about you.

“Lmao you’re so desperate for love you’ll take in a criminal-?”

*SMACK*

“At least I treat ‘em better than you any day!!!”

You literally cannot stop Yancy from leaving them with a bloody nose even if you tried and said “violence isn’t the answer”.

He may have given up the stabbing but there’s no way he’s ever gonna give up fighting for you tooth and nail <3

Illinois

Out of all the Ipliers he’s probably the most calm about it.

You honestly didn’t think he was so committed to your relationship until you saw the way he stood up to your ex.

Gentle yet firm so that they leave you alone.

Humorously enough, they barely have a defense bc wow--how did you manage to snag someone as fine as him???

So they finally do leave and it warms your heart, knowing he took this relationship seriously.

Jim

Honestly?

The whole Jim nation would be on your ex’s ass if they got within a five mile radius of you and don’t back off.

(Similar to Wilford) They think he’s a goddamn weirdo and you’ve lowered your standards to rock bottom.

Which leads to Jim interrogating them on what they knew about the statistics of relationships or...something like that.

Either way he gets them to leave with his eccentric ways being too much for them to handle.

Heehoo

After a lot of rehabilitation you both started dating again. Though he’s still drawn to the woods, so you’ll go on frequent walks together.

Unfortunately that’s where you meet your ex who’s on a hike.

“Wow you’ve chosen this hobo over me, huh?” They sneer.

Heehoo sees how upset they’re making you, so he just...growls and eventually scares them off after chasing them into the woods. 

Once he returns he makes sure you’re okay.

His actions made you laugh, confusing him, though you reassure him you appreciate what he did.

[lauras-collection]

i’ll find you | p.p.

peter parker x fem!reader soulmate au

part 1 of 2

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: This was not how you imagined finding out who your soulmate is.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings:  NO WAY HOME SPOILERS. this is basically a rewrite of no way home, angst, major character death, I tried my best to be as detailed as possible but I only saw nwh once so I had to summarise a lot of it. I hope you like it anyway!!

A/N: Here it is! My first ever full length Peter fic! I’m still a little overwhelmed at how much love the teaser got. I hope you like the whole fic just as much. before you shout at me, I’m planning on writing a part two! Enjoy!!

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️ 

“You know, statistically speaking, most people meet their soulmate at college.” Ned says as he scrolls through his phone. “Are you excited to meet your soulmates? I definitely am.”

You glance at Peter while you rub your forearm. With great power comes great responsibility. Those are the words tattooed on your skin. They have been since you were thirteen. You don’t exactly know what they mean. Only that they mean a lot to your soulmate. Whoever they are. You don’t even know if you’ve met them yet. There’s a chance your soulmate doesn’t even know the words that will have significant meaning to them. Heck, you don’t even know what your soulmate could possibly have written on their arm.

Sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about Peter being your soulmate. He’s your favourite person in the world, and you can’t imagine anyone ever meaning more to you. But if he really was your soulmate, wouldn’t you feel it? Wouldn’t you just know? 

You’ve tried to make the words on his arms make sense to you. Tried to give them meaning for you. But it never worked. I’ll find you. Those are his words. Or rather the words of his soulmate. 

You blink rapidly when Peter runs his hand over his tattoo. You hadn’t even realised you’d been staring at it.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckles, “I’m pretty excited. But who knows when I’ll find them. I just know that I will.” He smiles, and while it makes you happy —seeing him smile always does— it also stings a little, knowing he’ll someday meet someone who’s gonna be his world. But so will you, you have to keep reminding yourself.

“I still think your words are creepy.” Ned tilts his head, “What if your soulmate is actually part of the mob?”

“Ohh a proper enemies to lovers story, with you being Spider-Man and stuff.” You give Peter a playful nudge. “Love me some good tropes.” You force a smile. Peter is about to say something when Ned’s phone gives off a high pitched alert. 

“What the-?” Ned’s eyebrows vanish under his hair. “Dude, that’s not good.” He turns the phone around so both of you can read. 

Spider-Man’s identity revealed!

And right below it is Peter’s yearbook picture. You reach out for him without taking your eyes off Ned’s phone. It’s not just that Peter’s identity is revealed; he’s also being blamed for Mysterio’s death. “Please tell me this isn’t real.” 

“Oh it’s very real.” Peter gets up quickly, his suit wrapping around his body within seconds. “Ned, are you okay getting home alone? I’ll take Y/N home.” 

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” 

You don’t even have time to question Peter before he sweeps you off your feet and swings the two of you off the school’s roof. 

“Peter, what the fuck?” You cling onto him as tightly as you can. Peter has never swung with you before. He’s scared of anyone seeing a connection between Spider-Man and the people he cares about. And being swung around town on a regular basis would definitely count as that. 

You get dizzy and feel a little nauseous, so you decide to close your eyes. This was definitely worse than any roller coaster you’ve ever been on. 

It’s only when you hear the sound of helicopters that you carefully open one eye. “Peter?” 

“What is it?” 

“I think we’re being chased.” 

Peter curses when he notices the helicopters. “Change of plans.” And then your body is jolted in a different direction.

After several questionable manoeuvres from Peter, you climb into his room.

You’re still shaking from what just happened, but you don’t get a moment of rest as May and Happy burst into Peter’s room, alarmed by the commotion the two of you caused. You find yourself in the living room, unable to move as Peter frantically runs around closing the blinds and May and Happy are arguing about something. You’re not sure what, but also, you’re too overwhelmed to listen to them. 

Your eyes are fixed on the TV. The news is on, or maybe some ‘Peter Parker is a Murderer’ special. They must be showing a live feed from one of the helicopters because the picture on the screen is Peter’s apartment building.

“Peter?” You catch his attention, and when he looks at you, you can see the frustration on his face because May and Happy refuse to listen to him. You point at the TV, and that’s when the two adults finally pay attention.

“Is that here?” 

***

Everything that happens after is a whirlwind. You’re interrogated by the Department of Damage Control, but it never really leads to anything. Peter managed to hire a great lawyer to get his charges dropped, and now you, Ned and Peter are waiting to hear from MIT. It’s the only college that hasn’t rejected you yet. When the letter finally arrives, you’re anxiously waiting for Ned and Peter to show up at the bakery you work at. You try to be optimistic, but you’ve heard that acceptance letters are usually much bigger than the small envelope you received.

“Hey.” Peter’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Hi.” Both Peter and Ned look as nervous as you feel. “You got it?” As a reply, they both show their letters from MIT.

There are currently no other customers, so you pull your own letter out of the little pocket of your apron. “Let’s do this.” 

The three of you give each other encouraging nods before ripping the letters open.

You’re not surprised but still disappointed when you read yet another rejection. You lift your eyes to look at Peter and shake your head. He mimics your movement. He didn’t get in either. 

“Ned?” He, too, shakes his head. 

“Due to recent events we can’t consider your application at this time.” He sighs. 

“This is stupid.” Peter grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed. “You guys shouldn’t be punished for being friends with me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You put the letter back in your apron. “Who knows what it’s good for. MIT is just a college.” A college you have been dreaming of going to for as long as you can remember. The way Peter is looking at you shows that he knows you’re lying.

“I’ll make this right.”

***

Turns out making this right was going straight to Doctor Strange to have him do a spell that makes everyone forget that Peter is Spider-Man. But of course, it wasn’t that easy.

So now ‘visitors’ from other universes are out to get Peter. You can’t really wrap your head around it. Even though it shouldn’t surprise you after you turned into dust for five years, you were not expecting the multiverse to actually be real, let alone the possibility of people from other universes entering yours.

After Peter figured out that all of the people who came into your universe will die after they get back to theirs, he’s determined to do something about it. But Strange wasn’t really a fan of that plan. Now Peter and Strange are nowhere to be seen as you and Ned wait in the Sanctum with these villains still trapped in their cells. 

When Peter comes back, he hands Ned Doctor Strange’s sling ring. 

“Wow.” Ned puts it on and stares at it, fascinated. “You know my grandma always says magic runs in the family.”

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” You turn to Peter. You’re not sure if he’s biting off more than he can chew with this.  

“I think we can save them.” Peter insists. “Here,” He hands you the Machina, an intricate golden box that contains the unstable spell. “Keep this somewhere save. I’m going to try and help these guys. And if I can’t, we’ll push the button, okay?” 

“I don’t know, Peter. These people are dangerous.”

“But they’re gonna die, and it’s gonna be my fault.” 

“It isn’t though! It sounds to me like they already died in their universe.” 

“Do they look dead to you? Look, this is a second chance for them. And it’s my job to help them get their second chance in their universe as well.” 

You’ve always admired Peter’s determination when it comes to giving people a second chance and wanting to save everyone. But sometimes, it causes him to get hurt. He’d rather sacrifice himself than someone else, no matter what they’ve done in the past.

“Please?” He looks at you with his puppy dog eyes, knowing full well you can’t say no to him.

“Fine.” You grumble and take the box from him. “But if anything goes wrong you call me or Ned and we’ll push that button!” 

“Deal.” He smiles, then gives you a kiss on the cheek. You feel your face heat up but ignore it. This is not the time to feel flustered.

***

You end up at Ned’s grandma’s place while Peter takes all of the villains to Happy’s condo, where he’s staying with May at the moment. You don’t have a good feeling about this. You haven’t heard from him in hours. It would be nice if he checked in every now and then, but you know he’s busy.

You bounce your leg up and down and chew on the side of your thumb. You’re a mess. 

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” You turn to look at Ned, and he nods his head.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t he?” Ned tries to reassure you, but the way his voice shakes is indicator enough that he isn’t too sure himself. 

—

While you and Ned wait to hear from Peter, he’s busy fighting the Green Goblin. He should’ve been more careful. He was convinced Norman wanted to better himself. But he got tricked. Again. When would he stop trusting people whose only intention is to deceive him? He knows you’re always worried about him putting himself in danger through stuff like this. But that’s just who he is.

As long as it’s just him that’s getting hurt, he doesn’t care.

But then the Goblin is throwing a green thing in May’s direction, and Peter can’t get to it in time. May gets knocked over as the thing explodes, and Peter’s heart constricts with worry. She’s got to be fine. And when she gets up after the Goblin leaves, Peter is relieved. She’s still in shock, but she seems to be okay. 

“You have to do something Peter.” She says, supporting herself on his shoulder.

“I can’t. And I don’t want to. I don’t care anymore. I’m gonna send them back. It’s too dangerous.”

“You have a gift. You have power. And with great power, there must also come great responsibility.” At her words, a shiver runs down his spine. He’s heard those words before. Seen them written on his best friends forearm. How often had he wished that those words had meaning for him? And now here he is, and May just says them. A grin breaks out on his face despite the severity of the situation.

“What’s the grin for?” May tilts her head. Her voice is a little shaky, so Peter helps her sit down.

“I think I just realised who my soulmate is.” May smiles at the way Peter’s eyes twinkle, and Peter feels hopeful. With you by his side, he can do anything. He always knew that, but now that he knows that you’re each other’s soulmates, it gives him the confidence that everything will be fine. 

“Will you tell me who it is? I’m just gonna close my eyes for a second. Just need to catch my breath,” She closes her eyes, and Peter starts to panic again. That panic gets significantly worse when he finds that she’s bleeding from her side. The bomb must’ve hit her after all. 

“No, May, you need to stay awake. Look at me so I can tell you.” He forces a smile as her eyes flutter open. He takes her face in his hands, tears pooling in his eyes. “It’s Y/N.”

May smiles and whispers your name. 

“Isn’t that funny. All this time and we never knew.” Peter caresses May’s cheeks.

“She’s a lovely girl. I’ve always wanted someone like her to be your person.” Her eyes flutter shut again, and Peter shakes her lightly. 

“May you need to stay awake. We’re gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“Just need to catch my breath.” 

—

Your eyes are fixed on the screen as the news anchor talks about the fight that went down between Spider-Man and the villains. He talks about people being injured and that at least one person died. And if you were anxious before, it’s tenfold now. 

They didn’t say anything about Peter being hurt, but they don’t know where he is. It’s been a while, and you still haven’t heard from him. Something is definitely wrong. 

“I just wish we could see Peter.” Ned says, and suddenly there’s a spark in the air.

“Say that again.”

“I just wish we could see Peter.” 

There’s the spark again, and a portal opens. You shoot up from your chair when you see Peter standing in an alley. “Peter!” 

Both you and Ned walk up to the circle. “Peter, are you okay?” 

He walks up to you, but something’s not right. His suit looks different. He seems taller.

And then he pulls off his mask.

“You’re not Peter.” 

“I am, but I guess I’m not your Peter.” 

Your mouth drops open. “You’re Peter from another universe?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Prove it.” 

What follows is this alternate version of Peter proving that he is indeed Spider-Man. It takes your mind off your worry for your Peter for a little while. But you still haven’t heard from him.

“We need to find Peter. Can you try that portal thing again, Ned?” 

He does, and it works. Except the man stepping through the portal isn’t your Peter either.

***

With a little help from the two Peters, you get the idea that your Peter is on the school’s roof. It’s his place to think, to get a moment of quiet.

And you’re right. 

Hunched over, head hanging between his shoulders, he’s sitting on the roof where you’d sat not too long ago talking about college and your future. You wish you could go back in time and cherish those final moments of peace.

“Peter!” Both you and Ned run up to him, wrapping him up in a hug. Peter is shaking as he leans against you. You smooth your hand over his wet curls, hoping it’ll give him at least a little consolation.

“She’s gone.” Peter’s voice is barely over a whisper. “May’s gone and it’s my fault.” Your heart breaks at his words. You had a sneaking suspicion that something had happened to May. But you’d never expected her to just be gone. May has been such a fixture in your life. She wasn’t just your best friend’s aunt and guardian. She’s so much more than that. You could always go to her when you had a problem, no matter what it was. She was very much a parental figure for you, too. And now she’s gone. You can only imagine how much Peter is hurting right now. She was the only family he had left.

“It’s not your fault, Peter.” You whisper, tightening your grip on him, afraid he’s going to fall apart if you don’t. You don’t know what happened, but there’s no way it’s Peter’s fault.

“It is. It’s my fault these people are here. I couldn’t fix them. Couldn’t fix my own stupid fucking mistake. And it cost May her life.” He balls his hand into a fist.

“We can still fix it!” Ned says, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. 

“How? Happy’s apartment blew up, there are four villains on the loose that need to be cured or sent home. I can’t fight them alone. And there’s no way I’m letting you guys help me fight them.”

“Well, we’ve got a solution for that.” Ned smiles, and you force the corners of your mouth to lift as well.

“What do you mean?” 

And as if on cue, and to be honest, they probably heard you, the two other Peter’s show up on the roof.

Peter snaps into action immediately, ready to fight. But he visibly falters when he sees one of the Peters is wearing a Spider-Man suit. 

“Hey, Peter. I’m sorry about what happened. I know—“

“Don’t tell me you know how I feel. Because you don’t!” Peter spits out, and you rest your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. At first, he tenses up, but then his shoulders sack a little. He’s exhausted from all of this, and you wish you could lift some of the weight off his shoulders.

“She died for nothing, and it’s my fault. And I have to do something.” He turns to look at you for a second. “She told me that with great power–” 

“Comes great responsibility.” You almost don’t hear the other Peter completing the sentence. And you don’t hear them continue to talk. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your veins. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, and there’s a funny feeling in your stomach.  

Your grip on Peter’s shoulder tightens, causing him to look at you. The corner of his mouth kicks up into a small smile, and he nods his head almost imperceptibly. All you wanna do is throw your arms around him, give him a hug and celebrate the fact that your best friend is your soulmate. 

The person you’d always wished to be your soulmate. 

But now is not the time. There are more important things to do. You’ve got the rest of your life to spend with Peter. You can figure all of this out after curing the villains and sending them back to their respective universes. So you opt to reach for Peter’s hand and give it a squeeze. He reciprocates the action, causing you to be hopeful for what’s to come. You can do this. Together. 

***

Somehow all of you managed to make the remaining cures for the villains without losing your minds. It was weird to have three Peter Parkers around. Every time you or Ned wanted to get Peter’s attention, all of them lifted their head and replied in unison. If the situation wasn’t so serious, it’d be funny. 

Peter called into the daily bugle and made a public announcement that he’d be waiting for the villains at the statue of liberty. Now they just had to wait until they showed up. You and Ned are still at school, ready to hand the cures through the portal that Ned opened with the sling ring. You don’t know why Ned is such a natural at using that thing, but he did mention that his grandma says there’s magic running in the family. 

And for a little while, it seems like your plan is working perfectly. But then Ned is unable to close the portal again, and the two of you end up in the middle of the whole mess, running around the scaffolding of the statue of liberty, trying not to get killed. You never envied Peter for what he had to deal with regularly. But being with him in this situation made you worry for him even more. 

And then suddenly, there’s no ground beneath your feet, and you’re falling. You don’t know how he reacted so quickly, but Peter is there, reaching for your hand, and you’re so close to being saved when the Green Goblin comes out of nowhere and pushes Peter away. 

“Peter!” You call out, convinced that this is it. This is how you die. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But it doesn’t come.

When you’re not falling anymore, you slowly peel your eyes open and see one of the other Peters, the younger one, looking at you with tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He’s holding on to you tightly, one arm behind your back the other around your legs.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You whisper, still in shock at what happened. You expect Peter to let you down, but he’s just staring at you, trying his best not to cry. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes. Yes! I’m okay. Find somewhere safe. I need to get back to….” He points his thumb behind him. 

“Of course! Good luck.” 

You manage to find Ned and the two of you stay in a relatively safe spot away from the action. Only Norman is left to be cured, and he’s on the other side of the statue with the Peters. You have no idea what’s going on; you just hope everything will be fine in the end.

“Doctor Strange is here by the way.” Ned says, “I had to give the ring back.” 

“Aw, damn. But it’s probably for the best. Who knows what else you would’ve accidentally done with that thing.” 

Ned weighs his head from side to side. “You’re probably right. It was pretty badass though.” 

“Definitely.” You start chewing on the side of your thumb, needing an outlet for all the nervous energy.

“So… you and Peter, huh?” Ned raises his eyebrows, and you feel your face heat up.

You can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face. “Yeah.” 

“That’s really cool.” 

“I’m glad you think so. I can’t believe we’ve been friends for all this time and didn’t know. I always thought you’d feel it.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been harbouring feelings for Peter for years.” Ned tilts his head. “The way you two always look at each other… I honestly would’ve been surprised if someday you’d meet someone else who ended up being your soulmate.”

“Really?” Your eyes are wide. Maybe your feelings towards Peter hadn’t been one-sided like you always thought. It would make sense now that you know you’re each other’s person.

Ned nods, “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” You nudge his arm. “You’ll find yours, too.” 

You’re suddenly aware that it’s a lot quieter than before.

“Do you think it’s over?” Ned asks, speaking your thoughts. 

“I hope so. I wanna get out of here.” 

After what feels like an eternity but might have only been minutes, Peter, your Peter, lands in front of you. And you’re so relieved that he’s fine. Of course, he’s beaten and bruised, but he’s in one piece. Tears spring to your eyes when you see him looking at you with his soft eyes.

“Is it over?” You ask just in case, and Peter nods before stepping closer to you.

“Yeah.” He takes your face between his hands, the suit’s material rough on your skin, but you don’t care. And then he leans in and kisses you. You’re overwhelmed with all of the feelings that are rushing through you simultaneously. You’re nervous, excited, relieved, scared… but most of all, you’re happy. Happy to be in his arms, happy that he’s okay. Alive.

“We should’ve done that sooner.” Peter whispers after he pulls away just a fraction.

“Yeah, we should’ve. But we’ve got a lifetime to do more of this.” You smile, resting your hand against his cheek, trying not to touch any of his wounds. You expect him to smile brightly, agreeing with you. But instead, he leans into your touch before placing a kiss on your palm and then he smiles sadly, new tears shimmering in his eyes.

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face, licks his lips and sighs. “We won’t.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll forget about me.” He turns to look at Ned. “All of you.” 

“What? Why?” Ned, who’d been giving you some privacy, walks closer now. 

“In order to keep more people from different universes coming here everyone needs to forget who Peter Parker is. It’s going to be like I never existed.” 

“But you did! You do! Peter, this can’t be the only way! I can’t loose you! I just found you!” 

“You’ve always had me Y/N.” There’s that sad smile again, and you hate it. You were supposed to walk away from this with your soulmate, ready to start your future together. Not forget about him completely.

“I love you, Peter.” 

“I love you, too. So much.” A tear escapes his eye, and you catch it with your thumb. 

“Promise me you’ll find me and we’ll start over.”

“I’ll find you.” Both of you let out a little laugh. Finally, the words on his arm make sense. You just wish it didn’t have to be like this. “I promise.” He runs his thumb over your jaw before leaning in again to give you another kiss. A final kiss. You’re sure your face is covered in tears, but you don’t care. You bask in the feeling of his lips on yours; even if you won’t remember it in the morning, you have to savour this moment.

When Peter lets go of you to say his goodbye to Ned, you wrap your arms around yourself, already feeling his absence. This was not how today was supposed to end.

“I’ll find you.” 

Those are the last words he says to you before he swings away. 

***

“Hey Ned, you ready?”

This morning you had a letter from MIT waiting for you on the kitchen table, and after checking in with your best friend, you found out that he got one as well. You’re standing by his locker now, letter in hand, as he pulls his out of his backpack.

“Ready.” 

You both take a deep breath and, on the count of three, open your letters. It’s quiet for a couple of seconds while you read over the words, the hustle and bustle of the other students just white noise that moves into the background further with every word you read.

Dear Y/N,

On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to offer your admission to the MIT class of 2028!

Your eyes snap up to look at Ned, and he’s already looking at you. You can tell from the expression on his face that he got in, too. You’re going to MIT with your best friend! You grab each other’s shoulders and start shouting in excitement, other students looking at your weirdly. 

“We just got into MIT! Nothing to see here! Nothing out of the ordinary!” You laugh in excitement.

When you’ve calmed down, you slowly make your way to class.

“Did you know that, statistically speaking, most people meet their soulmate at college?” Ned asks as you round the corner that leads to the science classrooms.

“Yeah, I feel like you’ve mentioned that before.” You run your hand over the words on your forearms. You’re more than curious to find out what they mean.

TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: I hope you liked it!! I’d love to hear your thoughts!

besties tag: @spidermanlondon​ ☆ @duskholland​ ☆ @heyhihellowhatsup0​ ☆ @annathesillyfriend​ ☆ @hazofmyheart​ ☆ @emilykjh ☆ @alinastarkrovs​ ☆ @sinisterspidey​ ☆ @lovebittenbyevans​ ☆ @miraclesoflove​ ☆ @seasidetom​ ☆ @selfcarecap​ ☆ @missevrythingg​ ☆ @screamholland​ ☆ @softholand​  ☆ @hotforharrison​ ☆ @osterfield-holland-andcompany​ ☆ @thecodyexpress​ ☆ 

I’ll find you taglist:  @peternumber3​ // @isabella212 // @obiwanownsmyass // @katsukiswrld​ // @missdforever​ // @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ // @hijynx75​ // @lillytallis​ // @melagemo0263​ // @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ // @hopeless-romanticnamed-s​ // @namoreno​ // @asonofpeter​ // @captainamirica​ // @wheezyreads​ // @starksparker​ //

[mostlybarnes]

It’s My Party, You’re Not Invited (Part Two)

Summary: The morning after Bucky threw a party, you confront him but it doesn’t go according to plan.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: more angst, arguing, Bucky is an asshole, language, not proof read, mistakes are my own!

Words: 1,567

Author’s Notes: Wow. I absolutely can not believe the support on part one! I’m so happy you guys liked it, and of course I’m always happy to give people what they want and since so many of you asked for part two, here it is! Really hope you won’t be disappointed, please let me know what you think. And don’t worry, there WILL be a part three. This isn’t the end!!

As you had predicted, you got no sleep. Your night consisted of you tossing and turning and occasionally groaning loudly into your pillow.

Your pillow was your closest friend, it captured your falling tears, and provided you with comfort when you couldn’t rest. The morning sun was pouring through your parted drapes, a new day was beginning and you knew you definitely wouldn’t be getting any sleep now.

Lazily, you threw the blankets off of you and sat on the edge of your bed, your palms on either side of you, digging into the mattress. Bucky not inviting you to his party shouldn’t have bothered you, but for some reason, it did. It was the reason you got no sleep, and you were annoyed by how Nat and your friends treated you last night. They were laughing and you couldn’t help but feel like they were laughing at you, even if they weren’t. Today would be the day you would confront Bucky, no matter what. But first, you needed a hot shower to try and wash away the tension that was rolling off your shoulders.

The shower itself would have taken a good ten minutes on a good day, but you spent almost an hour on the shower floor with your knees tucked under your chin and fresh tears disappearing under the shower head. Pathetic, you told yourself. Crying over something that wasn’t even your fault. How dare he treat you this way and make you feel broken. Speak of the devil, through the sounds of your cries and the water cascading down around you, your thoughts snapped back to reality when you heard his laugh from the hallway again.

Enough was enough with his games, you needed to know why you didn’t get an invite, it was just a simple little question.

Standing up off the shower floor with shaky legs, you turned off the shower and stepped out to grab the towel off the rail and pat yourself dry. In your haste to get dressed, your clothes were mismatched and your sweater was turned inside out. You didn’t care about that though, you needed to speak with Bucky. You needed answers.

You left your room and followed the sounds of the chatter coming from the common room. Your feet quickly carried you there, stopping in the doorway and noticing the room was completely trashed from last night’s shenanigans.

Broken glass was scattered over the marble floors, there were literally hundreds of solo cups all over the tables, there was even a broken window.

What the hell happened here? You wondered, stepping into the room, being careful not to tread on glass.

“Watch your feet!” Bucky warned, holding his hands up to halt your footsteps. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“No shit.” You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest and rolling your eyes. You heard him click his tongue as he worked on sweeping up the glass. “I heard you had a party?”

“Uh yeah, just some close friends and stuff.” He shrugged, and ouch if that didn’t fucking hurt.

“Really? I didn’t know you were– were close friends with people from…. statistics?” Anger was rushing through your veins, his nonchalant attitude wasn’t making this any easier and neither was the lack of sleep. You wondered what had happened to the sweet guy you knew. The shy Bucky who couldn’t even make himself a sandwich because he was afraid of being mocked by the other avengers. Or the Bucky that loved to sip herbal tea at 3 in the morning. Where did that Bucky go? Who is this Bucky? It was like a switch flipped and he changed overnight.

“What is this about, Y/N? You walk in here with some kind of an attitude problem and I’m tired, it’s early and I’m not in the mood.” He snapped and that was it for you. If he was tired, you were something else.

You stepped into the room regardless of the broken glass still all over the floor, not caring if any shards cut your feet as you stand toe to toe with Bucky. You shove him, but not surprised when he doesn’t budge.

“Where was my invite? What did I do to you to make you forget about me? It shouldn’t even be a big deal but–”

“Then stop making it a big deal! Is that what this is really about huh? It was my party and I invited the people I wanted to be there!”

“Wha– but you invited everyone but me!” You cried, your voice breaking at the end.

“Then maybe that tells you something.” He offers no sympathy to your state of distress. At least not to your face, it’s when you turn your back and he hears you cry harder does his own heart break. He didn’t mean for this to happen and the Black Widow’s footsteps behind him is about to remind him of his mistakes.

“You’ve really messed this up Barnes. I’m not sure Y/N will ever forgive you.” Bucky turns to look at Nat. Guilt and anger written all over his face.

“You don’t think I know that?! I did it to protect Y/N!”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

////

The day away from the compound was exactly what you needed. The air was refreshing and cold, biting against your skin. It helped to clear your thoughts that were running in circles since you talked to Bucky. You still didn’t have a clear answer as to why he chose not to invite you, and that bothered you more than anything, but what he did say replayed in your mind. You suppose he had a point, it was his party and up to him who he chose to invite but it confused you because you thought you were on good terms with Bucky. Did you get it wrong? Where did it all go wrong?

Your fingers wrapped around the mug as you sat in the corner of the quiet coffee shop with a friend as they watched you watch the world go by.

“Okay, what’s going on?” They asked, blowing into the hot liquid before taking a quick sip.

A deep sigh fell from between your lips. Your body and mind felt exhausted, it was hard to concentrate.

“I don’t even know. I feel like I’m overreacting.” You shrugged, licking your lips and looking into your coffee as if seeking the answers to your unanswered questions.

“Overreacting? Did something happen on the mission you just got back from?”

“No, no. Something that happened after that. You know Bucky, right?”

“Bucky Barnes?” They asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. “What about him?”

“I just– I– would you be honest with me and tell me if I’m overreacting?” You bit your lip nervously and your friend nodded.

“Of course! Tell me everything.”

True to their word, your friend sat and listened to every single word without interruptions or sassy remarks. They didn’t stop to ask you questions, and they didn’t make you feel pathetic like you felt. Talking about it out loud made you feel stupid, maybe it was stupid to get angry over something so small. That maybe deep down Bucky had a good reason not to invite you. Maybe you just weren’t close to him after all.

“I’m so stupid, aren’t I?” You shrugged, the wooden table becoming more of an interest.

“You’re not stupid. He’s stupid but I think he likes you.” Your head snapped up and so did your eyebrows.

“You’re insane! Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Of course I did!” They defended with a smirk, “and here’s what we’re gonna try.”

///

Your friend’s idea was so stupid and this dress was far too tight for your liking. You felt like your your body was spilling out at the seams, a complete opposite to what you were used to wearing: comfortable clothing or pajamas.

Walking in heels was another problem for you. Any second now, you were sure you were gonna have to call Dr Cho because you had somehow broken your neck. However, after a few laps around your room, you felt confident enough to walk a few blocks in them. Grabbing a purse and a jacket from your closet, you staggered out of your room and into Bucky’s chest.

“Whoa there, you alright?” He asked, pushing you away from him. He eyed you up and down, making you feel naked under his gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I be? And what are you doing here? Outside my door?” You folded your arms across your chest, big mistake as it pushed your cleavage together and with the height difference, Bucky had a pretty good view. He was a gentleman though and kept (or tried) to keep his eyes glued to your face.

“I came to apologize. Where are you going dressed like that?”

“It’s a bit late for an apology. I got your message loud and clear from this morning.” You scoffed. “And I’m going out with my real friends, not that it’s any of your damn business.”

“A party?” He wondered, his jaw clenching at the thought of you dancing with other people that weren’t him.

“Yes, and you’re not invited.” You smirked, turning on your heels and walking towards the waiting elevator, ignoring his calls of your name.

Bucky watched as the metal doors closed, his hands tugged his hair so hard he was afraid he would rip it out. He’s fucked up, Natasha was right. There was no way of fixing this.

“Fuck!” He yelled, kicking a hole in the wall next to your door.

Taglist [50/50]: @w-wolfhxrd @kennedywxlsh @team-marvel13 @rosiahills22 @fallenoutofrose @sourpatchspinster @hazeljean2 @divergent-llamas-03 @jasminweasley @gearhead66 @loudbluepancake @pinkybee926 @furiouscopshepherduniversity @moonlacebeam @chipster-21 @rottenstyx @mundaytuesday @legacies-roserussell @gallifreyansass @supernaturalcat7 @osterfieldshollandgirl @daeguboysmykt @serendipityharry @shittyfuckinweeb @wanniiieeee @hopplessdreamer @wordacadabra @josis-teacup @barneschoco @the-nonsenseblog @angywritesstuff @cherrytop02 @spn-obession @dottirose @veroxloki @wildeausten @directorofmylife @unholyhazza @bababasti @mrslilyrogers-ficrecs @study-aesthetics01 @sophieisinlove @merlin-288 @cable-kenobi @beananacake @johnmurphys-sass @slytherdoravenger @thesnoweclipse @townwitchbadbitch @sxtansqueen

[another-stark-sub]

“Are you in love with him?” - Tony Stark Imagine

Notes: I wrote and editted this in two hours instead of going over my notes. Was gonna be spicy fluffy but it just turned into fluffy, and one of the lines/paragraphs (smth like that i dont remember how long that segment was) is based on/inspired by a fanfic on ao3 I bookmarked. I think it’s debt-free, but I could be wrong.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I’m so sorry im not on here more oftennnnn

- - -

“Of course I am. He’s Tony Stark.” You sighed, a weight finally lifted off your chest. “Who isn’t in love with him?”

Bruce blinked a few times, the confusion evident on his face. “Then, why don’t you tell him?”

You scoffed. These geniuses think they know everything, but they couldn’t see what was glaringly obvious to you. “He’s Tony Stark.”

The perplexed expression didn’t disappear from your friend’s expression. So, you explained further, “It’s already a privilege, beyond that really, to be talking to you, to any Avenger. To work with any of you is an honor, and to be friends with you” -you laughed- “it shouldn’t even be possible for someone like me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re amazing, too.” 

You tried to find any tick, any clue that he was lying. But Bruce seemed to really believe this. “I know I’m amazing.” You shrugged. “I’m great. I love and I care deeply, and I have a stable job. I have a place for myself, and I take care of myself.” You clicked your tongue. “However, you all, all  you Avengers… Forget out of my league, more like off planet.

“And Tony? He said it himself. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Add superhero, figurehead, public figure, ex-CEO, and savior of the universe. Bruce, I have confidence in myself, but Tony is something else entirely. No one is worthy of him or his affections unless they’re a god or another Avenger.”

It was hard to keep up with the statistical analysis you were trying to run. The literal one on your hologram and the one keeping your view of Tony in check. So, defeated, you sighed and leaned back in your chair. 

Bruce closed his own work and stood across the lab bench. “Weirdly enough, I’m sure none of us Avengers think that way.” After a few taps of his pen against his palm, he added, “Aren’t there fans making posts about you, too? Tony showed me the, uh, Instagram videos.”

You laughed. “Fan edits don’t make an Avenger. Saving the world does.”

He shrugged. “You help us save the world.”

“From inside Avengers Tower on a computer.” You took a deep breath. “Look, Bruce, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But, I’m not telling him.” You shrugged and brought your statistical analysis back up.

You knew your own worth. You were worthy of an amazing partner and person. Tony Stark, though, was easy beyond that. You had accepted it soon after you realized your own feelings, and while they haven’t dwindled, you knew it was for the best. 

~ - ~

Tony had never resorted to this before. It was never a question of his ability to code. In the past, it was because he didn’t need a program or an AI to do it for him. He could always tell if someone was into him. He knew when Pepper was into him. The moment Rhodey gazed at him back in their MIT days. Every single reporter and heiress and model he slept with, he knew when their thoughts turned sexual or romantic. 

You, though. With you, he couldn’t fucking tell, and he knew it was because of his own feelings. Tony felt intensely for people before. Pepper, Rhodey, that one reporter all those years ago. However, with you, it wasn’t just that fluttery feeling in his gut or the immediate smile he can’t seem to stop when he sees you. It was the comfort he felt when he heard your voice or the softness he could feel in his heart when he saw a picture of you. 

It was like his entire life was full of panic, never resting, never stopping. But when you entered his life with a gentle smile and a quick wit, it felt like he could finally breathe. 

It was addicting. 

“Sir, I have the calculations.”

“Hit me.”

“Speech diagnostics of you and of Ms. (Y/l/n) are similar. Whenever you speak of her, 79.4% is positive and 18.8% is neutral. Ms. (Y/l/n) has  78.9% positive and 17.2% neutral dialogue regarding you. When she speaks of you, her heartrate increases by 4.6%, and similarly, yours increases by 4.1%. When speaking to each other, heartrate initially increases by 7%.”

Tony nodded. “How does this compare to other Avengers? I gush about Banner like a teenager.”

“Well, sir, while you and Ms. (Y/l/n) have high positive dialogue about other Avengers, all of them have at least a 10% decrease compared to each other. And heartrate varies depending on the topic of conversation.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Am I excluding all non-super friends? Include any agents, co-workers. Pep isn’t an Avenger after all.”

Friday took two seconds and responded. “You and Ms. (Y/l/n) have a significant difference in speech diagnostics when talking about or to each other compared to any other Avenger, co-worker, and friend.”

When Tony remained quiet, Friday added, “Do you want me to repeat the results?”

“You don’t need to, Friday.”

“But you’re not doing anything with the new information. Would you like me to save these findings?”

“Friday,” Tony warned. 

There was silence as the love-wrecked scientist pressed his fist between his brows. Data and cold hard facts said yes, but was it right?

“Sir?”

“Yes, Fri?”

“Would you like me to play examples for you?”

He blinked. “Examples?”

“Yes. Of you and her talking about each other positively.”

It was an invasion of privacy. Tony shouldn’t. 

“Play examples.”

Before his rational mind could tell Friday no. 

“Are you in love with him?”

Tony’s eyes widened. This was too private. It might not even be about him.”Friday-”

“Of course I am.”

“-stop playback.”

“He’s Tony Sta-”

“Playback stopped.”

Tony scrambled. “What? No, wait, go back. Play it.” Screw rational. You knew he was a narcissist. You wouldn’t expect him to hear that and stop. 

“He’s Tony Stark. Who isn’t in love with him?”

“Then, why don’t you tell him?”

“... He’s Tony Stark.”

Tony started to fiddle with something on his desk. “What does that mean?”

Friday answered, “Dr. Banner asked her if she loved you, and she said yes. This means that she’s in love with you.”

Why did he program Friday like this? “I know that. I mean, those two lines. Why does me being Tony Stark stop her from saying something?” Was it the attention? Did you want some sort of normal life away from cameras and international gossip? Maybe it was the Avenging. Having a partner who was always out risking death wasn’t ideal. 

Sure, you could be in love with him. But you couldn’t be with him. 

“Maybe you should ask her.”

There were celebrities who were able to live normal lives. Some paid to have prosthetics for going outside of moved to a remote country to get out of the spotlight. He thrived off attention, but he could give that up. Avenging, he couldn’t give that up, but maybe he could cut back. Take a mission a month instead of one a week. Or maybe take more digital missions. He wasn’t just Iron Man after all. He was a genius, could hack into the Pentagon if he really wanted to. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I could talk to her.”

~ - ~

The moment you put your bag down on your lab table, Tony said, “You’re gonna be mad.”

You narrowed your brows. “What did you do?” You pressed your palm to your chest. “Oh my god, Peter overwrote my data, didn’t he? Ugh, I know he said he’s great at managing holograms, but really, Tone, you should’ve given him a tutorial before giving him access.” You brought up your holograms to check your data and analysis. 

“That’s not it.” Tony stood next to you as you looked through your files. “I did something that invaded your privacy.”

You tilted your head. Closing the holograms, you took a deep breath and slowly asked, “How?”

Tony flashed an embarrassed grin before sighing. “You’re gonna be shocked, too, so prepare yourself.”

You did not know where this was going at all. What horrible thing could Tony have done? Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath and nodded at him to continue. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Usually, I can tell when someone has feelings for me. People are obvious about it, but you? You aren’t. So, I had Friday do some analysis on our speech patterns. Me, being in love with you, was one of my controls. You and your dialogue regarding me was the main variable. 

“Long story short, I accessed some audio of you and Bruce talking, and you said that you loved me but could never tell me.” He glanced at you. “So that’s why I need to apologize.” 

Your expression didn’t change. No, that wasn’t it. You, at first, looked confused. Now, there was just nothing. No expression. No wrinkled brow in anger of flushed cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing. 

Tony blinked. “You can shout at me now. If you were confused about when to shout at me.”

You licked your lips before taking a deep breath. “Ok, that was a lot.” You pursed your lips then opened it. But, you couldn’t really think of anything to say. You didn’t even know how to feel. “So you know that I” -you pointed at yourself and then at him- “and that I didn’t wanna tell you.” You shook your head. “Wait, do you know why I didn’t want to tell you?”

A broken scoff left Tony’s lips. “Yeah. I’m a mess.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Wait, you’re a mess? That’s why you think I don’t want to tell you?”

“Among other reasons?”

Other reasons? 

You crossed your arms. “Ok, what other reasons?”

Tony looked offended. Still, he listed, “I’m surrounded by cameras, and everyone wants some privacy. Can’t get it if you’re with me. Then, there’s the Iron Man of it all. I went into a wormhole with a nuke. That was also all over the news. Then, there’s the whole daddy issues thing. I’m working on it, but it takes a while-”

He rambled on and on, listing reason after reason, and with each one, you felt tears well up in your eyes. It was a weird mix of heartbreaking, confusing, and enraging. The emotions built up slowly with each word that left his mouth, overwhelming you to the point that you couldn’t even say how it happened. 

But, as Tony paced and talked so horribly about himself, you somehow ended up in front of him with your hands on his cheeks. 

You only realized it when Tony stopped talking and when his breath touched your lips. “What?” he asked. 

You didn’t answer. You kissed him instead. 

It was a hard press of  your lips against his. It was short, and it wasn’t much. 

But by the way Tony gripped the back of your neck and pulled you back for another kiss, you’d think it was his first kiss. You knew it wasn’t. Not just because you knew he had kissed all sorts of people before you, but because he somehow knew how to make you gasp and melt into him. 

While one hand kept you steady, the other trailed down your back and pulled you closer to him. His lips moved fluidly against yours, pushing and pulling, and everytime he moved back, you chased his lips to continue the kiss, because the softness, the passion, the fact it was finally happening, was all too good. You didn’t want it to stop.

Your hands started to move. For someone so rich, his t-shirt was rough when you twisted it between your fingers and pulled it to you. Slowly, you trailed your fingers along the side of his neck. You rubbed your thumb along his pulse point, a reminder that this was indeed real. You were kissing Tony Stark, and- He was pulling away again.

Desperate, you leaned forward, reached around to hold onto his shoulder, and kissed the side of his neck. 

He let out a breathy laugh, and before you could suck on his skin, his stubble scratched your cheek. 

You looked up at him and giggled when his nose bumped into yours. When your giggles turned into a smile, he kissed you again, a soft and short kiss, before leaning his forehead against yours. 

His thumbs rubbed circles into your waist as you lightly scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he seemed busy gazing at you.

“Speechless, Stark?” you teased. 

He laughed. For a few seconds, he just gazed at you, seeming to prove your point. Tony’s hand began to wander, from stroking your cheek to pushing back your hair. “More confused.”

Remembering why you interrupted him, you brought your hands to his cheeks again and held him there so he couldn’t look away from you. “You are amazing, Tony. That’s the reason I didn’t want to tell you.” You shrugged. “You’re too good for me.”

His fidgeting stopped. “Well, that’s not true.”

“Tony, you’re an Avenger.”

“Technically, you are also an Avenger.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Who can’t cook scrambled eggs.”

“You literally saved the universe.”

“After producing weapons of mass destruction for decades.”

You glared at him. 

He glared back. Then, he fought back. “I don’t plan on retiring.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“I have severe PTSD, anxiety, maybe ADHD, all mixed with trauma galore.”

“And I will learn to help you.”

“I couldn’t give you a normal life.”

“I’d rather have you anyway.”

He opened his mouth, but you instead told him, “I’d rather have you than anything. As long as, well, for as long as  you’ll have me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Tony shook his head with a smile. “Cause, I’d rather have you for, well, how does til you get tired of me sound?”

You laughed. “Won’t happen. But, sure.” You kissed him again.You would’ve kept going, but there was something to settle first.  “By the way, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Friday recording right now?”

“Friday records everything. It’s in the contract.”

Friday added, “I record everything that happens in the tower.”

“Ok.” You could work with that. “I’ll forgive you for the invasion of privacy.”

Tony beamed, and you couldn’t help your own smile when he did. Still, you continued, “On one condition.” Your own smile turned devious. “I want evidence that Star Spangled Banner took my ice cream.”

Tony burst out laughing. He kissed you again, a deep kiss, and when he was done, he mumbled, “God, I love you,” against your lips.