#because the teacher was like. actually fucking unbearable. we really should have reported her or smth

[heckling-hydrena]

I used to wonder why I came off so much more outgoing and enetgetic online than I do irl because I never related to those "talking online makes me more confident!" stories and I came to the conclusion that it's because I only post when I have something to say. Like you guys only really see the side of me that just came up with a good joke or wants to complain about something or just remembered a fun story to share. Meanwhile irl 80% of the time I just sit around like this -> 😐 (thinking about blorbos and ocs)

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst. Feelings. Yeah, definitely feelings.

WC: 2822

A/N: Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean paces around in his office. 

He’s restless and fucking agitated, muttering curses under his breath. Dean has had an awful sleep, if he has had any sleep at all, he doesn't really know. He remembered going to bed and then it was morning and there was still no fucking message. It’s like he’s in his teens or early twenties again, only that it was the other way around back then. He was the one who ghosted all those girls and he can’t lie, it’s a fucking awful feeling. Dean would go back and right his wrongs if he could. He’d be frank with them from the start instead of giving them hope. 

Karma has its own fucking way, apparently.

They should have met yesterday. She should have come around. He waited way too long and was grumpy all fucking night about it. Was grumpy because she didn’t send him a text to tell him that she can’t make it. Which, in hindsight, he thinks was so unlike her, but what does he know? Maybe she changed after all. Maybe she likes fucking with his head. He didn’t want to be like, all over her, so he didn’t call or text either.

Now, it’s close to opening time to a new day, and she still hasn’t contacted him. What’s the fucking etiquette about texting or calling someone? He doesn’t know, and it’s driving him fucking nuts!

He sits himself onto the couch in his office and rubs a hand over his face when his phone vibrates in his pockets. Dean takes it out, looks at the caller ID, hoping that it was her but he doesn't recognize the number. Maybe it’s her? Maybe she lost her phone and has a new number? But if she lost her phone she would have lost his number too, wouldn’t she? He doesn’t know, alright? Dean groans out of frustration before sliding his thumb over the screen to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello. Is that Dean Winchester?” It’s a male voice.

“Who’s asking?” He hopes it’s not a fucking marketing call because Dean has zero patience for that and he would give the guy hell.

“This is Rufus Turner, I’m Y/N’s supervisor. I believe she’s been to your club and she reported in three nights ago, but we haven't heard anything from her since and she hasn’t picked up the phone when we have called. It goes straight to voicemail. It’s a long shot to be asking you this, but maybe you’ve heard from her? You were supposed to meet again yesterday, no?” Mr Turner pauses before he adds, “Look, I wouldn't normally do this, but she told me after the first meeting that she knew you from high school and that she was excited to meet you again, so I thought it would be okay to contact you. I’m sorry if I’m out of line.”

She’s really a good girl, isn’t she? Dean should have known that her boss would be aware of their meetings. She had always been a teacher’s pet back in high school.

But now they say that they haven’t heard from her and he hadn’t either. What if something had happened? He doesn’t even want to think about it as it makes his head spin. All of a sudden, Dean’s heart sinks to his balls. 

He clears his throat, “Don’t worry about it, alright? I haven’t heard from her either. She was supposed to show up yesterday, but she didn’t. Have you tried her apartment?”

“I have sent someone around but nobody answered.”

“Right. You mind giving me the address? I’ll follow up on it if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Mr. Turner said. Dean couldn’t hang up fast enough after he had been given her address. 

Dean floors the Impala, abandoning his work for the night. 

*

She doesn’t live in the safest part of the city but she’s probably used to it. Dean is, too. They grew up not too far from each other after all. The difference between him and her, though, is that he could leave his life behind while she is still stuck here. And that doesn’t really sit right with him. He hoped that she would have gotten out as well. Hoped that she had gone on to be a best selling novelist or a successful journalist. He knew that it was her dream and honestly, if someone deserved to get out, it was her. More so than him. She always worked so hard while he just floated through the shitty educational system.

He takes the stairs, three steps at once. The staircase smells like fucking piss and he has to hold his breath.

When he arrives in front of her door, he needs a moment to compose himself before he knocks. When nobody answers, he tries again, louder this time, and lays his ear to the door. He could swear that he heard something shuffling inside. 

Dean quickly abandons the door and runs down the flight of stairs, almost stumbling out of the building. He runs to the back alley and climbs up the fire escape. It’s not like anyone even cares about him doing it around here. When he’s level with her apartment, he peaks in. The apartment is pitch black and he closes his eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness quicker to be able to see fucking something. 

Opening them again, he takes another look inside, and he thinks he feels his heart taking a leap. She’s in there, in her bed, blanket pulled up to her chin. She’s obviously asleep but he needs to wake her up anyway because he needs to make sure that she’s o-fucking-kay. 

He knocks at the window and waits.

Knocks again when she still didn’t move. 

Dean tries a third time, and he swears if she doesn’t fucking open her eyes right now, he’s going to break in. 

He exhales when he sees that he doesn’t have to go all Chuck Norris on the window, because he can see her slowly opening up her eyes. He knocks some more to get her attention, “Sweetheart, here, look at me!”

He can see her lazy eyes, can see the sticky hair when she turns her attention to him.

“Can you open up for me? I promise you can go straight back to bed.”

She nods, her eyes empty. But she gets out of bed, walks over to turn at the window knob. She doesn’t wait for him to open it up before she returns into the comfortable cocoon that she’d made.

Dean tries to squeeze his big form through the window, damn near dislocated his fucking shoulder while doing it, but he couldn’t care, his full attention is on her. 

The air is thick inside and Dean decides to leave the window open. 

He quickly walks around her bed to be by her side. He sits down and she curls herself up on her side, facing him.

Dean places his hand to her forehead and quickly withdraws out of shock, before doing it again, “Jesus, you’re burning up,”

“‘M cold,” She mumbles.

“Did you eat anything? Did you drink enough water?” 

Her head lolls around. She’s trying to shake her head, he realizes, “‘M not hungry,”

Dean strokes her hair, leaving his hand on the side of her face. Her heat is almost unbearable, “I know you aren't, come on, gotta get something in your belly, alright?”

“Mmh-huh,”

“Right, I’ll be right back, okay?” He says and gets up from the bed.

“‘K,” 

He walks into her living room, and goes straight for the fridge of the small kitchenette. He finds nothing edible in there but a bottle of water. This is just great. Who knows how long she’s been in this state?

Fishing out the phone from his pants, Dean calls her supervisor. Mr. Turner picks up at the third ring.

“Yeah, Mr. Turner. I found her in her apartment. She runs a high fever. Say, uh, is there anyone I can contact who could come take care of her?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Turner sighs, “I know that her mother is dead and I don’t recall her talking about any relatives,”

Yeah, Dean should have known, “Alright, thanks. I’ll take care of her. I’ll get her to contact you once she’s better,” 

They said their goodbyes and Dean takes a look around. Her phone’s still in the living room, but the battery is dead. Picking it up, he brings it with him when he walks back into her bedroom. He unscrews the bottle and lets her take a sip, propping her up so she can swallow better. 

“I’m taking you to mine, okay? I have plenty of food and water,”

It seems like the most logical thing. That way he can make sure that she’s alright and he can still be close should someone need him at the club. It’s the only thing he can come up with, really.

“‘K,” Her eyes are closing again. 

Dean stands up to close the window before he picks her up and walks her towards the front door. Her body shivers and she tries to bury herself deeper into him.

“‘S cold,”

“I know, sweetheart,” He whispers and picks up a key that’s hanging next to the apartment door. He tries to see if it fits and thankfully it does.

He closes the door and locks it before slipping the key into his pants pocket as well. 

Inside his car, he props her comfortably against the door and drives back to his apartment with a passed out Y/N. 

Dean gnaws on his bottom lip on the drive back, thinks it’s maybe fate that brought him to her. She does not have anyone else who she can turn to, and maybe it’s weird that he thinks that, but he’s actually kind of glad about it.

She’s still out of it when they arrive and Dean takes the back door and gets into the elevator to ride up to his loft.

There, he goes straight for his bed, strips the sheets from the duvets and covers her up with only the thin sheets. She’s still shivering but she’s going to get better. It’s not the first time he’s taken care of a sick person. He took care of Sammy more times than he can remember.

He leaves to call down for Cas, his club manager, to let him know that he won’t be in tonight, and plugs her phone into the charger. He is glad that they have the same phone. He also draws a bath, a little hotter than usual, because he will need time to feed her and the water will have time to go tepid. 

Dean changes into something comfortable and cooks up a soup he knows will help. When he finishes, he places all the things he needs onto a tray and carries it over to her.

Sitting down, he touches her forehead. She’s still burning up.

“Hey, Y/N,” He pulls her up into a sitting position.

“Hmm?”

“Open your eyes, come on, sweetheart, you gotta drink,” He places a straw to her mouth and watches her open up her eyes. Her lids probably feel heavy as hell because she’s fighting to keep them open. 

She takes sips of the water. At least there’s that. Dean tries the soup next. He has already mixed it with cold water so it won’t burn her tongue. The goal is to get something into her that has anti-inflammatory effects. 

He watches her suck at the straw and her eyes are half closed again. She swallows loudly and Dean grins for the first time this evening, “Good girl, that’s good, sweetheart,”

Her eyes are almost closing but the glass of soup is empty and she’s already shifting around in bed, trying to make herself comfortable. Dean has to pull her right up, “We gotta get you in a bath, Y/N.”

She frowns and pouts. He thinks it’s so cute it’s not really fair, “Why?” She whines a little.

“Gotta get you to cool down, baby—” Dean pauses. The word slipped out without thinking and he stared at her but she’s kind of out of it again already, so phew!

He scoops her up, carries her to the bathroom. Once in there, he strips her off her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra so her tits are bare to him but he tries to be good and not stare at them too long. Next, he rids her off her pj pants and pulls her panties down with them. He forgot to take some of her clothes with him and made a mental note to text Cas to get Claire to go buy some clothes for Y/N.

When he has her naked, he tries not to groan out loud, tries to keep his mouth shut and his dick in check because it’s already half hard. Dean places her into the tepid bath water and she whines, “‘S cold,” 

Dean kneels down next to the tub, braces his forearms on the ledge and rests his chin on it, “I know, just a little, okay? We gotta cool you down,”

She pouts with half closed eyelids. Dean thinks that he probably can’t leave her alone for too long because he’d hate if she would fall asleep and drown. So he just goes out quickly to grab his phone. He’s right by her side in a heartbeat and sits down to text Cas that he needs to send Claire out for a clothes run right now while the stores are still open. 

After the bath, he wraps her up in a towel to dry her off, sitting her down to brush her teeth with a new toothbrush he broke off a pack. He forgot a shirt so he runs out, comes in with a simple white t-shirt. He takes the toothbrush out of her mouth to rinse it, puts it back into the holder where his toothbrush already is and pulls the shirt over her head, helping her with her arms. He’s fucking hard by now, even if he tries not to look at her but she’s in his fucking shirt and she doesn’t wear panties. How is his dick supposed to be acting?

Dean carries her back to bed and she buries her face into the crook of his neck. It’s still hot, but it’s much better already. At least there’s that. 

“Dean, ‘m cold,” She mumbles into his skin and it makes all the hairs on his body stand up because it’s the first time that she calls him by name tonight. It makes him happy that she knows it’s him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get you to bed, okay?” 

“Mmh-hhm,”

She clings on to him and he has to pry her arms from around his neck. He covers her with the sheet, “I’ll be in the living room, you need to rest, Y/N,”

Her eyes are already closed, “Stay?”

Dean lets out a huff of air, his lips curve up into a smirk, “Okay,” He walks around and climbs in with her and she turns herself, curls up against his body in search of more warmth.

 *

 About an hour later, Cas knocks at his door and Dean drags himself up and returns with a bag full of clothes. He isn’t sure if they’ll fit nor is he sure if Claire was the right choice to let go clothes shopping for Y/N but he hopes that at least one of the things would not make her look like a rebellious teen.

Dean takes his laptop and props himself on the couch, thinks about going through some emails since she’s sleeping peacefully but he gets disturbed by a ringing of a phone.

Her phone.

It’s almost midnight, who would call her?

He gets up to look at her phone, sees the name and frowns. 

Jody Mills.

Dean picks up on instinct, forgetting for a second that it’s not his phone and regrets it immediately. 

“Hello,” He says, claps his hand over his face.

“Who’s there?”

“Dean,” He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“As in fucking Winchester?”

“Yeah,” He says, “that’s not what people call me but, yeah.”

“What are you doing with Y/N’s phone?” Jody can be so fucking loud, he has to hold the phone a little further away from his ear. 

“Listen, if you want to talk to her you might wanna try in a couple of days. She’s sick and has a high fever. I don’t think she’s coherent enough to listen to your whining about your daughter.”

“Oh, my god, you got her under your control too, don’t you?”

Dean groans, “Oh come on, you can’t possibly blame me for everything! I did nothing!”

Jody hangs up before he could. And boy, is Dean mad that he isn’t the one to hang up first.

Chapter 6

[nataliesnews]

Riots, demonstration in Kikar Zion, siren 12.5.2021

Netanyahu is no fool….he is very very clever and many of us had a suspicion of what he was leading up to. I would not be surprised if he calls a state of emergency and continues with his vicious policy of not caring for the county but doing his best to keep himself, his mentally ill wife and son out of jail. Sara Netanyahu once said she did not care if the country burned…and they have succeeded in bringing us to that pass. The first picture is a quote of hers from 2002…… “We will go overseas and the country can burn” and the second a cartoon saying “I said we would leave for overseas and then the country can burn….NOT BEFORE”

    This is a horrible morning. I am trying to put my thoughts into place. The whole country is burning. Tel Aviv. Suddenly after all the years of the south suffering and as they say, they were invisible it has become serious. I doubt that in Jerusalem there will be many more rockets. Maybe because of the holy places, Christian and Moslem, maybe because of the large Palestinian community. I feel guilty as I sit here quietly writing.

 Netanyahu has done a good job of seeing the Israel on fire. Closing the steps at the Damascus gate …so obvious it would lead to troubles. He knew that he only had to give a small push and with his friend the minister of police everything would develop as it suited him. The news media has also been given its instructions and except for Ha’aretz no other paper mentions what is happening on the other side. Today a comment was passed which many people probably did not hear or take in. That the army would target high rise buildings……in which many families live. The army gave messages for people to evacuate……where were they supposed to go and how many of them actually got the message as we have taken care to destroy much of their communication.

 Sunday I did not feel well and it was a furnace outside. Since the episode where I had memory loss and then straight after that had a cold ….many people here dafke in summer are also sick with colds….I feel a lack of desire to do anything.  So  I only went to the shiva for Cecelia in the evening.  My Spanish teacher. I doubt I will go on trying to learn Spanish. I feel as if something has gone out of me. I had a special relationship with her and she was also my friend. I cannot imagine another teacher or a group. And at the shiva it seems that many of her other students felt the same. And every day I hear from someone else who had studied with her.

 Monday I went out with Tag Maier to distribute flowers in the Old City to Palestinians. It was a difficult today because seldom do Ramadan and Jerusalem Day coincide.

 But this is no united city. So divided, Right and left, Palestians, Jews, Hareidi Jews, …united? And yesterday the schism was even clearer. The religious youth took over the city and their arrogance was unbearable. Some of our members gave flowers to them and when I asked one why she had done so, she said she had many interesting exchanges with some of them who did not even know what we were doing or why. But I saw some of them throwing the  flowers into the rubbish bins. No Palestinian refused us and accepted with a smile.

 In the evening I went to my Arabic lesson. I get a lift with Gershon and Edna Baskin and we had just sat down when we heard  a siren. It was faint at first and we looked at one another in bewilderment. Then we heard three loud bangs and realized it was serious. I wondered what was happening in Nofim. I wondered how all these people here, many of whom are less mobile and quick than I am even on the sticks would get down to a shelter. Later I saw the post that one should look for a safe place in your flat as there is very little time between the siren and the fall. So that question is where. My bedroom ….the glass door is next to the bed. The lounge….the windows again. The bathroom….the mirror and the tiles. The corridor is maybe the safest but there are all the painting and photographs in glass. I think the best place for me is next to my door and to put a blanket over myself. I am just sorry for the really old and incapacitated with their carers.  We spent the lesson learning all the words necessary for such an occasion. We came home to a quiet night and then all hell broke through.  Later: My cleaning lady said I should go and sit on the steps between one floor and another.

 Coming back there was an amusing incident. As I got out of the car I saw two girls putting coke tins next to the rubbish and I told them to give them to me. I explained to them what it was for and then the one girl said to me, “Are you from Balfour? Were you at Sheik Jarrar.” And again I know you have all been writing to me to stay home but when two teenagers tell me that they look up to me and for them it is important to see me at these places what can I say? Truly I don’t think I am in any danger. I keep to the sides or anything going on and I doubt that even our violent police would attack an old woman. But whom I am scared of is groups like Lahava or those yesterday on the march of the religious. I feel the hatred around us as I did last night with people calling us haters of Israel and traitors and bitches who fuck Arabs.

 Yesterday I went to the doctor as the time has come to deal with a hearing problem I have and then to the DCO which was very quiet. There is a young soldier there who has been very sympathetic towards us and is now being transferred. He brought his replacement out and this I do not put in my report. Nadav says that when he leave the army he will join Breaking the Silence. He said that his replacement is a good fellow so we are hoping that we will have the same relationship with him.

  I came home and then went to a play. “The Comedians.” It was very funny but I laughed looking at the audience as it was so appropriate for many of us. From a play by Neil Simon about two once famous comedians who are  now uber bottled. When I went out I asked three people to tell the organizer of the transport that I would not be joining them. Later she phoned in anger to ask why I was not on the bus!!! It was so appropriate. I had sat down to phone a friend and when I got up to leave the theatre which was by then pretty deserted I saw a really old lady with her carer sitting outside looking desperate. It turned out that the theatre had ordered a taxi for them and another couple had jumped in and taken it. Being the celebration of Id Il Fitir there were few Arab taxis and they are  a large part of the taxis in Jerusalem.  In the end I stayed with them until I managed to stop a taxi and put them on the way home. I gave them the number of Gett taxi which is more reliable.

 I walked down to the city and stopped at Balfour where some of the stalwarts were sitting. The demonstration at Kikar Zion started off with few people but soon grew. There was no talk of a march but then people did start walking down the main street and also on the tracks of the light train. I did not think that that was a good idea and walked along with them but on the pavement. The police arrived but did nothing. Then we came to Kikar Zion, to the square,  where we gathered and in no way were we disturbing pedestrians, the train or anything else. Then the police decided to attack. I think because where we were walking before there were passers by and wanted it to be where they had us to themselves. First of all they started pushing people back but then we saw that they had brought in the dogs and what dogs. Their trainers could hardly control them and the dogs also started fighting amongst themselves. You can understand how dangerous they were. They were real killers.  I have no photographs as everything was very volatile there and I did not want to put my sticks down. They also tried to sic them on to some people. Then they came with the horses….enormous . You have no idea. My question is why when we were obstructing traffic did they do nothing but attack us when we were not bothering anyone else.

 In the meantime Lahava and the other young fascists had started screaming at us…the police kept us separated but when the police managed to drive us off they left them celebrating in the square.

 I always stand to the back at such times but Eitemar who has stood with us at our demonstrations at Nofim refused to leave me and when one of the policemen seemed to be heading straight for us called to him and said that he was standing with me. He is one of those who is very watchful for me but I tell them to go and do their own thing as I do not want to be a drag on anyone. Last night I yelled at them and said that for 81 years I had been looking out for myself and I could still do so. But when the shunk came we were all away.

 Natalie

       .

[oceangl1tter]

I am 17  and .  actual ‘17

i wake up crying. the dream is: i am wreaking hell in the classroom and coach watches me make use of this newfound super strength. I am yelling every instance I held my tongue.

earlier this year, a sophomore at school disappears and there's a post on facebook from his older brother; the school doesn't comment.

----------

i would like to scream at him. coach calls me and says i should know better. what does that mean? i would like to scream at him for not knowing that my friend tried to kill himself and that no one seemed to care just as he said it wouldn't. i Am stuck while the world keeps turning.

my art teacher complains to him that i don't try enough in my paintings—evident through strokes that are supposed to blend but are more like violent gashes on paper. they're the same brutal mesh of red and blue and black even though black is the worst you can do to a painting. i'm five years old in front of a wall trying to mix green crayola and black crayola to somehow get yellow. i Am getting sick of harmony.

when we tell him, coach looks at his grades and tells us it might be the calculus and that he's talking to the academic counselor to see if he can change it for him. i can't believe it. i really can't. he doesn't either.

Angela hints that whenever she talks to me she feels like she's getting nowhere. That's the point. My counselor must feel the same way; this is what I don’t tell her:

 a year ago

---------- honestly feel like i’m losing interest in a lot of things that i used to enjoy. just feelin like a sack of cold ass rocks slowly tumbling its way down a cliff.

life is just moving on without me and idk if i’m ready to be left behind

i don’t know if i care about anything anymore. but i know i have to because there are deadlines and at this point i’m just picking and choosing which ones i can afford to miss like god damn cherry picking!! i hate cherries!!

my damn friend sent me a suicide letter and had his orig deadline set for last friday and that’s just shitty man, id on’t even know where he is anymore. my friends and i reported it to the principal/who then contacted the police and i don’t know when he’ll be back or if we did the right thing or if we just exiled him into the system.  i know he knows i tipped him off and also that he’s too smart and too stubborn for whatever help he’s getting. i just hope he’s okay even if i never talk to him again. i just feel like things could have been different. no one knows about this besides the three of us that reported it. it’s sad to see how little it mattered that he’s gone to some people that i thought would be more concerned but i guess that’s how it is. i mean there’s college apps and there’s a buncha shit like birthdays but idk.. how can you even focus or care abt that kind of stuff when a life is on the line. idk this kinda opened my eyes to how much no one cares which is ironic

i went to some birthday party, which i thought.. was tea party themed but it was an actual tea party and idk i just felt kind of rude because everyone was so enthusiastic about their teas and the different kinds of tea and the tinge of sweet cinnamon in the rose green tea and you should try it!!or something like that and man i think they could tell i did not give a fucc abt their type of tea i was just there trying to exist and drink tea and eat triangle shaped sandwiches.

i’m trying to continue on my regular routine but it’s hard. i need to care!!! i need to get to college!!!! i need to do shit with my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111111111 i can’t just throw everything away because i’m sad!!! fucc that!!!!!!!!!!111111

aaaa i know it’s serious when no one is freaking cute anymore!! aint no one catchin my eye :(

on a lighter note i got some c00l clothes off yesstyle for 11/11 singles day, but i checked again today and all of the clothes were the same price!!!!! finna lied to me!!!!!!! there was no sale!! just a markup!!!!!!111111111. but i think wearing something new will be a good change of pace.. that’s something to look forward to!111111111111111 college apps.. on the other hand……….. arenot………

------

 i don’t feel fine or good at all . i just want to go and be gone.

i’ve been thinking of           but not in like

an aggressive way but kind of like laying all the cards out on the table and being relieved that atleast there’s a final option if anything really tips the scales to being unbearable. i just don’t know how i’d go about doing it, like ? wouldn’t that be absurd to research and google how to properly 

-------

i don’t know what’s wrong with me i feel sad and i don’t know why a lot of the things i used to like doing now just make me sad i ate fucking gold fishes for a good 20 minutes and that shit made me sad cause i was just mindlessly eating god damn crackers without doing anything and that 20 minutes was better than doing anything else i dont even know what i like anymore they didn’t even taste that great