#meanwhile sam kind of stares at him because how is this a real actual problem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinyyoungblood · 4 years ago

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hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” ��yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fluff #avengers x you #avenger x reader #avengers headcanon #tony stark headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #natasha romanoff headcanon #thor headcanon #loki headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #sam wilson headcanon #avengers crack #peter parker concept #peter parker x y/n #avengers x y/n

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wearywinchester · 3 years ago

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Regrets

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight leaves you both having some regrets, a little space brings some clarity.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: angsts, injury, mentions of death, guilt, comfort, fluff

The tension swirling around in the car was nearly unbearable, thick and heavy as you sat pressed to the passenger side door. You’d been doing it out of spite for the older Winchester, feeding off each other’s anger, each other’s huffs and puffs. He’d noticed just how far away you were sitting and it had him tensing his jaw because he knew exactly what you were doing and it was working.

It was working and he absolutely wouldn’t admit it.

The hunt had gone all kinds of wrong, couldn’t have gone worse apart from one of you dying. Actually, you almost did and that was the problem. That was every bit Dean’s problem and the very thought of it sent his anger from a simmer to a boil in the pit of his stomach every time it crossed his mind. To be more specific, it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about this whole time. But in true Dean Winchester fashion, the fear and concern eating away at him didn’t come out so clearly.

His vulnerability was mostly expressed through anger. Yelling and shutting down, mumbling strings of curses— it was anger in its truest form just to hide how scared he really is.

It was quiet, no radio no nothing save for the occasional clear of his throat or a heavy exhale coming from either one of you. It was quiet and you couldn’t wait to get out of that car, couldn’t wait to be back at the and take up residence in your room, maybe even one of the spares just to be farther from him. You have plenty of them to choose from. You felt like you’d scream if you spent even so much as another ten minutes with him.

You’d gotten hurt that day, gotten hurt and it wasn’t unlike other times. It wasn’t ideal how the hunt should have gone, ideally you wouldn’t have been a ghost’s kebab as she stuck her hand right through you and around your heart. Ideally you wouldn’t have been thrown against a wall without care for where you landed by Casper the unfriendly ghost. You almost sealed your fate that day all for the sake of getting the job done. All for the sake of saving lives.

That was his problem.

But, his problem wasn’t expressed in the best of ways. It was expressed in shouts and running his hand through his hair, in telling you he never wants you hunting again and a tightly clenched jaw. You argued back and forth for the better part of half the trip home, that lump still sitting heavy in your throat as you suppress your tears.

You were dying to be back home, in fact, you weren’t waiting another minute.

“Let me out,” you said, tone angry as you spoke.

His brows furrowed, looking at you for a moment. “What?”

“Pull over and let me out.”

“Not a chance, it’s ten at night and it’s about to freakin’ rain, Y/n. Who knows what’s out there,” he says, his voice raising.

“I know what’s out there, Dean, we hunt it for a living. Let me out. I’d rather walk than spend another minute listening to you huff and puff.”

“No.”

He pretended that it didn’t sting as much as it did, he pretended it didn’t make him swallow thickly and hid it with a little more tension in his jaw. They were just words. Just words spoken out of anger much like all of the things the two of you had spoken in the last half hour.

You could hear the frustration in his voice, in the single word, could see the tension in his jaw and just how tightly he gripped the wheel. That crease between his brows was deeper than ever and it showed each time a car passed you by.

“Dean.”

“Do you like throwing yourself in danger, Y/n? Is that what it is?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, breathing out a huff that’s more than dramatic as the anger you feel only gets worse, both your anger is. You’re both feeding off of your own frustrations at this point and you can bear another second of it.

“Pull the damn car over or I’ll jump out myself,” you grit out, because if you talk any louder your voice just might fail you.

In a matter of seconds he veers off to pull over as you insisted, braking with a little more force than necessary as he stared ahead at the road. You were blind to the incoming storm, and Dean definitely wasn’t, couldn’t have been. But he pulled over anyway just like you wanted him to.

“You hate me so much, fine, you’re free to go.”

You pause for a moment, gaze narrowed at him before you grabbed your bag. “Yeah, well, maybe I do.”

Without another word from either of you, you got out, missing the way he looked at you as you did and the way he bit the inside of his cheek. And you missed the look on his face when you slammed the door shut, slinging your bag over your shoulder. After a beat of silence he pulls away, tires screeching against the pavement as he sped off down the road with the rev of his engine muffling the farther he gets.

You swallow thickly as you tighten your jacket around yourself, gaze narrowed as you watch the red of the tail lights disappear. Your anger still simmered as your heart raced, but that lump in your throat became near impossible to suppress as you walked along the gravelly side of the road by yourself. But that’s just it—you were by yourself. Those tears you fought so hard to hide glossed over your eyes now, spilling over your cheeks now. All of that built up frustration was seeping it’s way out.

You didn’t have to be so stubborn now that you were all alone, didn’t have to keep that front you put up for the sake of looking strong in front of green eyes.

Gravel and fallen leaves crunched under your feet as you walked along, the noises almost uncomfortably loud in contrast to your surroundings. You felt like an easy target for whatever is out there, felt like all eyes were on you despite the very real fact that you were all by yourself. But a part of you didn’t care at this point.

That adrenaline from the hunt still coursed through you, fueled by dwindling frustration that came and went in waves. It was seeping out in the form of tears, in the form of you kicking rocks in your path and throwing caution to the wind as you walked with heavier footsteps.

You weren’t that far from the bunker, not really. You had your knife tucked in your boot, you could handle yourself. You’re not as weak as you felt in that moment, and the emotions running wild through you was enough to have you putting up a good fight should you need to.

But you needed space. Needed space to keep any more words of regret from spilling past your lips. Needed space before you felt like your heart would burst right out of your chest.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets as you sniffed, tears running hot down cold cheeks as you watched the way your breath puffed out against the cold air. You tried to ignore the drizzle of the rain, tried to ignore it as you put your hood up, only for the wind to blow it right back down once more and after a few hasty battles with Mother Nature you decided to give it up. Decided to toss away your comfort as the icy droplets fell down on you heavier and heavier as the seconds passed.

You settle for picking up your pace as you walk down the road, the one that’s never been ideally lit for as long as you can remember. You weren’t that far, not really, you could make it back.

You tried not to think about your wavering anger, and the way it wavered more and more each time you thought about your conversation in the car. You tried not to think about how comforting one of his flannels would be, or the warmth of his arms. You shook it from your mind because you had yourself convinced you had to be angry at him.

What happened that day wasn’t just some run of the mill incident on a hunt. It wasn’t scraped knees or busted lips, it was sprained ankles or bloody noses. You almost bit the bullet and hunted your last hunt that day. You still felt that pain in your chest despite the threat of that ghost being long gone and put to rest. You still felt that jarring fear, that shake in your hands, and you still felt that urge to cry over it despite your overwhelming need to feel like you’ve got to be tough even when you don’t.

It was all still there, and now you’ve gone and had a screaming match with the older Winchester. Now you’ve both gone and spewed more than enough things you regret.

You didn’t know what was worse, the regretful anger sitting heavy in your stomach, or your overwhelming desire to get out of this awful weather so you could sulk in the warmth of the bunker. To get rid of that heavy sense of feeling vulnerable walking by yourself even though you’d insisted on doing so. You insisted and you got what you wanted.

But you picked up the pace once you reached that familiar stretch of road, once you spotted home tucked in that hillside. You picked up the pace despite the fatigue you felt telling you to slow it down.

You were cold, you were wet, you were miserable.

Meanwhile, Dean was back at the bunker stewing in his own regret unbeknownst to you. He’d debated a million and one times on turning back and going to get you. He could’ve handled you arguing with him, could’ve handled you hating him. Well, you’d gone and said that you did and he doesn’t know if he really could handle it as much as he’d like to act like it. But you were angry, you were angry and so was he and nothing good ever came out of arguing.

You snagged the key from where the three of you kept it hidden and sniffled once more before you pushed the door open, shutting out the terrible weather behind you in favor of the sheltered warmth of the bunker.

The place seemed empty despite the fact that you knew it wasn’t. Sam should be back after a hunt with Eileen, and surely Dean was around here somewhere. You knew he was judging by the fresh tire tracks in the gravel but you tried not to think about it. You tried to think about going unnoticed until you could get a change of clothes. He didn’t need to see how miserable you looked, how right he was about the rain, how right he was about how scared you truly were after that day.

If he knew that, then that tough guy act you put up after all this time would crumble to pieces in an instant.

You may have been able to snag a dry change of clothes without being seen, may have been able to sneak off to the bathroom without it either. But he knew you were here, and he knew you had to have been worse for wear and it had his guilt and regret simmering in a frenzy.

He saw the wet and slightly muddy footprints in the hall, he saw your rain soaking jacket on the coat rack, heavy with the accumulated rainfall. He saw the way those footprints first went to your shared room, tracked them all the way down the hall to a room that’s farthest from his own. And in there were more wet clothes, cold and heavy as he gathered them to toss in the hamper, in there were soaked leather boots with mud caked on the edges.

You were stubborn as hell and so was he.

But that anger was beginning to wash away with the cold as you cleaned yourself up, as you tried your hardest to have the day roll off your shoulders. But that pain in your chest was only a dreadful reminder of its events. You wanted to be angry, and a part of you still was, because being angry was better than facing Dean Winchester in that moment.

You swiped that dampened wash rag over your face once more, too tired to go so far as to take a shower. Too tired to do much more than sulk and stew in a heap of emotions as you changed your clothes into dryer, warmer ones. They only comforted you so much with the feelings you’ve got weighing you down.

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you exchanged some less than desirable words with him, didn’t know where he was as you walked down the hall and slipped into the room you’d claimed that night. You didn’t notice the pile of wet clothes that’d gone missing, but you saw the extra blanket on the bed. It could’ve been Sam, could’ve been, but deep down you knew it wasn’t.

There were plenty of things you would’ve noticed had you come home a little bit earlier. But you didn’t.

He cleaned up the books he’d swept off one of the tables in the library out of his own frustration. He’d righted the chair he kicked, cleaned up the mess of anger and frustration he’d made in his room. He picked up the pieces of his regret for letting you get out of that car at the dead of night.

You got in bed, you switched off the lights and climbed under the covers as you let out a sigh, one that was just as shaky as ever as your tears decided they were quite done with you. As you lay there on your side you fail to see the shadows of the boots on the other side of your door, standing there for a moment before they’d disappeared once more.

You were tired as ever, physically fatigued and emotionally exhausted as you lay there in a bed that’s worse for wear as the springs dig into your side. The room didn’t feel quite so welcoming, didn’t feel quite so comfortable as yours did because a certain green eyed hunter wasn’t on the other side of the wall. He wasn’t on the other side of the mattress.

That anger and that hurt still coursed through you, but it wasn’t scorching and hot, it wasn’t singing your actions like they had been a while ago. You tried to push it out of your mind, trying your hardest to convince yourself that a good night’s sleep would be the best answer to all of this, that it would keep you from saying anything else you surely would regret saying as soon as they’re spoken.

But you know you’re far past doing that.

You try anyway, try to tuck yourself further under the blankets and close your eyes. You were beyond tired, the day robbing you of any energy, stripping you of a good mood for a good long while. You tried your hardest to fall asleep and put the day behind you like you know you probably should. Things were said and done and there was no changing it, so the most you could do was sleep and restart the next day. But you couldn’t.

You tossed and turned on that mattress for a good half hour, riddled with discomfort and your mind plagued with just one thing, just one person. You knew he’d be awake, that was something you were certain of even if he pretends to be asleep like he sometimes does.

Indecision weighs you down as you sit on the edge of the bed, feet pressed to the cold concrete floor. It tugs you in every direction as you walk to the door with reluctance and ultimately step into the dimmed hallway. It was quiet as ever as you walked, footsteps much quieter than the squeak of your rain soaked boots.

It took some walking before you saw the light in the kitchen streaming into the hall, heard the clatter of a few dishes. You made it to the doorway, made it all the way there before you froze. You paused and waited, waited to work up the nerve. It could have been Sam, it very well could have been him but the thud of his boots answered that for you, a sound that drew closer and had you turning and walking away.

You didn’t get very far.

“Y/n?” You froze once more and paused, waiting a moment before you turned around. His gaze was on you as you looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “It’s raining, isn’t it?”

You sigh, shifting on your feet. “No, not really.”

“You’re wet, Y/n.”

“I took a shower,” you counter, too fast for your words to be true. It’s quiet as he nods, completely unconvinced by your words and he hears the edge to your tone.

His mouth opens and closes a few times with words he doesn’t even know are on the tip of his tongue. There’s too many things he wants to say at once, namely the bang up job you did at cleaning that scrape on your cheek. Or the way you look like you’re chilled to the bone. Or maybe a spew of words of how much he regrets listening to you, how he hates himself for listening and letting you go like that.

But he finds he doesn’t have the opportunity when you find yourself doing the same, only you do find words to say.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you say, looking at him for a moment before turning away and walking back down the hall.

You don’t see the way his hand reaches out, or the way it drops back to his side because you’re too busy rushing back to that miserable spare bedroom with another regret to add the the hefty and ever growing pile. It grows heavier when you hear that door close down the hall. It grows more and more as the seconds pass, as the minutes pass in that less than comfortable stupid spare room.

It’s laughable for you to think you’d make it a night on your own in there, not with the way you’re wiping angry tears away. It didn’t feel good to be at odds with him, not when it’s fueled by nothing more than stupidity and stubbornness at this point. There was no good reason to avoid him, no good reason to leave him standing there like you did.

You couldn’t take another minute.

You were quiet as you slipped out of that room with the intention of never returning to it, quiet as you padded back down that dimly lit hall towards your true home, rather the one that resides in that room. You’re timid as you twist the knob and open the door, finding green eyes laying on his side of the bed, the lamp switched off.

You swallow thickly as you stand there timidly, your lip between your teeth in a nervous habit. You let the moments pass as you stand there unsure of yourself, waiting a moment more before you close the door behind you. You circle the bed and climb in quietly, under the blankets before you turn and lay on your side too, your back to him.

It’s tense at first, tense for a good long few minutes with nothing other than the sound of the two of you breathing and the sound of the blankets rustling when one of you moves. But that tense quiet is melted as you feel his arm draped over you, tugging you closer and closer until you’re pressed to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your skin, soft but enough for you to hear.

You can hear the regret in his hushed tone, can hear the guilt weighing the two words down. At first you’re quiet, staring ahead as your lip wobbles under your emotions. You don’t say anything but after a little while you turn around, face to face with the expression that matched the words.

You look at him for a moment, gaze bouncing over every inch of his face. You swallow as you look at him, quietly mulling everything over that you wish you hadn’t said that day. But there’s one thing that keeps coming back, one thing that weighs heavy.

“I could never hate you,” you murmur, soft and embarrassed.

You see the way he nods softly, see the way the corner of his mouth quirks upwards in a half smile as he reaches up and traces the tips of his fingers across your cheek, along the curve of your ear. He nods until he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping.

“What do you say we take a break from hunting for a little while,” he says softly, eyes falling closed as his breath puffs warmly against your lips. “Just for a little while.”

He’s sick of the close calls, doesn’t want to think about that day for a while even though he knows he won’t ever stop dwelling on it. This was too much and he desperately wants to have a break from the fear of losing you for a little while.

You take a breath and nod, you nod and you kiss him softly and it settles the nerves rumbling around within him.

“Yeah, yeah I’d like that, De,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose down to his lips in a lingering kiss.

That tension of regret still hangs heavy in his shoulders, still hangs heavy in your heart no matter how many times the two of you apologize. He knows you’ll never blame him for pulling over like that, you insisted after all. He knows he’ll never let himself off the hook either. But he doesn’t want to bring it up, not now that you’re safe in his arms once more.

He doesn’t want to bring up just how much he wishes you wouldn’t play tough guy after hunts like these, just how much that day bothered him. And you feel like you could tell him a million times over just how much you love him but he knows, even if you’re beating yourself up for what you said in the heat of the moment he knows it’s just that.

You were home, he was your home. Past the arguments and huffs and puffs and words spoken out of anger. None of that mattered in that moment.

You could apologize all you want another time and surely you would, but you keep yourself in that moment.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho @lyarr24 @happyt0exist

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic

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petersasteria · 4 years ago

Text

Sperm Donor - BFF!CEO!Tom Holland

Pairing: BFF!Tom x Reader (platonic), Pre-School Teacher!Haz x Reader

Requested? Nah.

This is inspired by a movie that I watched a month or so ago x

They're older in this one lmao

* * * *

Life is weird. It starts slow during your childhood and when you turn twenty, you get old really fast. Panic sets in and we all suddenly become aware that we haven't done anything significant or life-changing. That's the reason why people make weird and quick decisions like: dyeing their hair a crazy color or finally quitting the job they had since they were younger. Tom wasn't panicking, though. He felt like he's done everything and he's just relaxing while managing a company he inherited. You, on the other hand, were panicking. You're already twenty-seven and you haven't done the most basic shit in life.

You already traveled around, partied, made out with strangers, having one night stands and never seeing them again, dyed your hair, etc. But after your check up from the doctor, you realized that it was time for the next step; the more serious and mature part of life. Your best friend, Tom, was still stuck in the immature part of life and you didn't want that.

Both of you were really different. At this day and age, he still wanted to do all the things both of you did when you were eighteen. Meanwhile, you've been thinking about settling down. The only problem was, you weren't dating anyone. It was totally your choice to be single, but now you wanted that to change.

You invited Tom for lunch after your check up and he happily agreed. He hasn't seen you for a long time due to him being busy. He really missed you. You went straight to yours and Tom's favorite restaurant after the check up and ordered for the both of you while waiting for him. He was a little late, because he arrived when the food arrived.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, love." He leaned in a pressed a light kiss on your cheek before sitting across from you. He loosened his tie and smiled when he saw his favorite food. He glanced at you, "Thanks for ordering."

"No problem, Tom." You playfully rolled your eyes. You took a bite of your food and cleared your throat, "So, how've you been?"

Tom looked at you as he chewed his food and shrugged, "Busy as always, but I'll always make time for you, darling."

"What are your plans?" You asked.

"Plans? For what?" Tom furrowed his eyebrows. You took a sip of your drink and said, "You know, life plans. Are you planning on settling down soon or something? Are you going on dates?"

Tom scrunched his face and quickly shook his head, "Darling, you of all people should know that I don't go on dates. I prefer sleeping around with no strings attached."

"But surely you'd want to settle down, right? Like, get married and have kids?" You trailed off. Tom just looked at you and put down his utensils, "Alright, what's going on? What's with the questions?"

You pursed your lips and stayed quiet.

"Oh, you won't say anything? Then I won't stop staring at you." Tom challenged and Tom doesn't back down at any challenge. You just shrugged and ate your food. Tom gave you a sly smile and continued to eat his food too, his gaze not leaving you.

After a few minutes, you felt creeped out and groaned, "Fine! You win!"

Tom grinned in victory, "So tell me what's wrong."

"I want to settle down." You said sternly as you looked at Tom with a serious look on your face. Tom's jaw dropped in shock.

"Are you serious??" Tom asked.

You nodded.

He chuckled, "Y/N, darling, you're a teacher for kids and it surprisingly pays well, but aren't you sick of seeing kids everyday? Besides, if you settle down, I have no one to go to parties with!"

"But we're getting old, Tom!" You whined. "And kids are actually cute!"

"You despised kids when we were twenty." Tom pointed at you.

"That was seven years ago! People change, Tom." You sighed. "Why are you so against it, anyway?"

"Because you're my ride or die! You're basically my soulmate at this point." Tom said and you nodded.

"I don't see why that has to change."

"It will change, because you won't have time for me. Then when we finally hang out, you'll talk about your baby and shit." Tom frowned. "How can we attend that party in Prague next week, if you're settling down?"

"I mean, w-we can still go." You told him.

"How will you even settle down?? You're not dating anyone." Tom challenged again.

"Sperm donor." You told him boldly and he gasped. He was surprised, because he didn't exactly imagine you having babies that way. Heck, he didn't even imagine you having babies at all. He still thought that both of you wouldn't be settling down.

"Are you for real?" Tom whispered after a moment of silence.

"Yup." You breathed.

"Oh dear god, Y/N." Tom rubbed his face. "Are you out of your mind? Just get a boyfriend."

"No fucking way. I want kids now."

"Do you even have anyone in mind??"

"I originally thought it to be you-"

"No way! I hate kids." Tom glared.

"I know, that's why I changed my mind. I've decided that my sperm donor would be Harrison." You proudly claimed with a smile. Tom stared at you and laughed, "As in your colleague? Isn't that against rules or something?"

"There are no rules, Thomas." You rolled your eyes. "I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

Tom put his hands up in surrender, "I won't stop you. It's your body; your incredibly hot body. Are you sure you want to ruin that by having kids?"

"Tom." You glared.

"Alright, I'll stop. 'M sorry, darling." Tom snickered and continued to eat his food.

"Can you believe that she actually wants kids? It's so weird, Sam! You should've seen her." Tom said as he took a sip of his beer.

He was visiting Sam to confide in, because Sam was the first one to have a child. Sam looked at him and chuckled, "Kids aren't that bad."

"They're whiny and needy." Tom pouted.

"And so were you when you were a baby. All babies are like that." Sam said as he looked at his one year old son who was playing with building blocks on the living room floor.

"I don't like them. That's final." Tom huffed.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you saying you don't like your nephew?"

"Okay, he's different. He's family and-"

"Yeah and your future kids will be family too!" Sam laughed.

"I just don't want kids, okay?! Why does everyone pressure someone to have kids anyway? I'll just be your son's undeniably rich and handsome uncle who's super cool and spoils him." Tom said.

Sam laughed so hard at his claim. Tom frowned as he looked at Sam. He meant every word he said. Sam wiped away the tears in his eyes and calmed down, "I laughed, because you thought you were handsome. Everyone knows I'm arguably the best looking Holland."

Tom snickered, "Calm down, Sammy boy. You're not mum."

"Touche."

"Tom! I'm so glad you could make it!" You smiled when you saw him through the crowd. Tom smiled and kissed your cheek, "You know for someone who's trying to get pregnant, you're not boring at all."

You playfully slapped his arm and pointed at the paper bag he was holding, "What's that?"

"A gift for you." Tom handed it to you. "It's weird how you're having a pregnancy party thing when you're not pregnant; not yet, at least."

You took the paper bag and put it on the gift table, "Well, it's not wrong to celebrate."

"That's true and we both no I love alcohol." Tom smiled and grabbed a bottle of beer.

"I'm surprised you're not an alcoholic."

"Same here, darling."

A few moments later, Tom was already drunk and he saw Harrison. He decided it would be best to formally meet the father of your soon to be child.

"Hey mate." Tom greeted with a big grin. Harrison looked at him and nodded.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harrison chuckled, "I do. It's just that I can't believe this is happening."

"How'd she get you to do it?" Tom asked. "I'm curious, because if I'm being honest with you, even if she flashes her boobs at me, I'd still say no."

"Well, she and I really like kids. Then she brought up the idea and I thought it was cool. She then asked me if I wanted to do it. In my head, I said no, but the more I thought about it, the more I started to agree."

"And you agreed? Just like that?" Tom asked in surprise.

Harrison nodded, "Yeah. We even talked about the visitation arrangement and stuff and that she'd live with me when she's on maternity leave so I could help her around and stuff."

"Holy shit. You guys are prepared." Tom chuckled. "I'm actually impressed. Why don't you start dating and be an official family?" Tom joked.

"I would be lying if I told you that I haven't thought about it before." Harrison confessed. "But I thought she was dating you and I backed off for a while until I dated someone."

"Dated? As in like you're not with this person anymore?" Tom asked. Harrison just nodded. "Then you're more than welcome to date, Y/N! As her bestest friend in the whole wide world, you have my permission." Tom slurred.

"My ex and I kinda just broke up a week ago and it's still fresh and I don't want Y/N to think that she'd be a rebound." Harrison looked down.

"Oh." Tom said. "Well, thanks for not dating her, I guess. At least she wouldn't feel that she was a rebound.

"Yeah." Harrison smiled a small smile.

"Well, I'll go to the restroom, yeah? I'll talk to you later. As her best friend, I feel like I should get to know you more." Tom hiccuped as he stumbled away to go to the restroom in your apartment.

Tom finally made it to the bathroom and did his business. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands with soap and water thrice. No one knew why, but he's been doing that ever since he was old enough to go to the bathroom on his own. It kind of annoyed you, because whenever he was at your place, the hand soap you just bought is already half empty (or half full, depending on how you look at it). You had to get him his own hand soap whenever he was in your place. You even put a label on it.

After he was done washing his hands thrice with soap and water, he saw a little container with Harrison's name on it. He chuckled when he realized it was Harrison's... you know.

"So, these are his best swimmers." Tom drunkenly chuckled to himself. He clumsily took the container and opened it. "Did he fill it up or something?" Tom curiously asked as he took a peek. Due to being really drunk, he was unable to stand still and because of that, the container fell in the sink and Harrison's 'best swimmers' went down the drain.

Tom's eyes widened in horror and he panicked, "Holy shit! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh my fucking god! Y/N's going to fucking kill me."

He paced back and forth in the bathroom until he came up with a plan. A stupid plan at that. He could've made up some shitty excuse that the container fell on its own, but he didn't. Instead, he cleaned the container and sighed to himself. He sat on the toilet and took out his phone to look at something to jerk off to. When he found something, he did his business.

Once Tom was done with everything (including his thing of washing his hands thrice), he finally exited the bathroom.

"Tom, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!" You smiled at him and dragged him to the living room. Everyone was gathered around and Tom started to feel like he was in a cult and you were the leader.

"Okay so, I'd like to say a few words." You started. "Thank you all so much for coming to this party! I appreciate all the gifts already. It's like a baby shower, but at the same time it isn't, y'know?"

Everyone chuckled except Tom. He was already kind of sober and he couldn't comprehend what just happened in the bathroom. You were saying something, but he couldn't understand it, because he wasn't focused. He finally snapped out of it when he heard Harrison's name.

"Thank you so much, Harrison. If it weren't for you, my dream wouldn't come true." You smiled as Harrison chuckled.

'Oh god. I'm so sorry, Harrison.' Tom thought.

"Lastly, I'd like to thank Tom." You looked at him with a bright smile. He couldn't help but return it. "Thank you for being supportive about this. You're the best. I love you." You added.

Tom chuckled nervously, "I love you too, darling. I want you to be happy and if having a baby makes you happy, then who am I to go against it?"

You grinned and pulled him in for a hug. Everyone around you clapped. Tom hugged back, but his thoughts were running wild.

'Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I ruined it.' Tom thought.

The next day, he didn't go to work. He went back to Sam's place which was weird, because it was early in the morning. Sam was awake anyway, because he was cooking breakfast for his fiance and son.

As soon as Sam opened the door, Tom went straight in. "Um, sure. Come in and make yourself at home." Sam said sarcastically as he closed the door. He followed Tom to the kitchen and asked why he was there,

"I fucked up." Tom said.

"You always do, but what did you fuck up this time?" Sam asked as he fried the bacon.

"Y/N's pregnancy." Tom bit his lip.

"What do you mean by that?" Sam questioned as he glanced at his older brother for a second before turning back to the bacon.

"I, uh, fuck. Um, I don't know how to say it."

"Just spit it out, man!"

"I'm going to be the father of her baby." Tom spat.

Sam quickly turned off the stove and fully gave his attention to Tom, "What? How? Why? I thought that guy Harvey-"

"Harrison." Tom corrected.

"I thought that guy, Harrison, was the dad?" Sam asked in confusion and slight panic.

Tom groaned and rubbed his face and crossed his arms, "I may or may not have accidentally opened it and it fell in the sink and his sperm is most likely swimming through the pipes as we speak."

Sam's jaw dropped, "Holy fucking shit. Did you tell her?"

"Um, no? Was I supposed to?"

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT. Of fucking course you were supposed to tell her!" Sam gasped. "Sometimes I even wonder why you got the company."

Tom glared at him and Sam shrugged, "You need to tell Y/N or she'll murder you."

"She'll get mad." Tom whined.

"She'll get even more mad if she finds out after the baby comes out and it looks like you!!" Sam pointed out. "Harrison's fucking blonde, mate."

"How'd you know?" Tom asked.

"Y/N showed me his picture after you told me she was getting a sperm donor." Sam explained but shook his head. "Wait, we're getting off-track. She'll be fucking shocked and confused if the baby won't look like Harrison."

"Oh my god. I never thought of that!" Tom bit his nails in panic.

"You idiot!" Sam shrieked. He still couldn't believe it. The two brothers stood there in silence until Sam decided to break it.

"So, um, welcome to fatherhood?" Sam said but it ended up like a question. "You know, what if it doesn't work the first try?"

"That could happen?" Tom asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Sam nodded, "Yeah. It's normal. She could ask Harrison again if it doesn't work and then you're back to your bachelor life! For now, it's time for the waiting game."

"Alright. Let the waiting game begin." Tom sighed. It was selfish of him, but he really hoped it wouldn't work.

"Tom!" You smiled through the phone.

"What? I'm kinda busy at the moment." Tom said as he typed away on his laptop and put you on speaker. "You're on speaker. Just tell me the thing you have to tell me."

"I'm pregnant!" You squealed.

"Oh shit!" Tom said loudly and put his head in his hands. His life was officially over.

"Tom?" You said. Tom's eyes widened in realization that he said it out loud, "I meant- oh shit! It actually worked the first time! That's- that's cool! Because you know, sometimes it doesn't work... the first time."

He quickly put you off speaker and pressed the phone to his ear. "So, what's your next move?"

"I'm telling the dad, of course! He'd be so thrilled!" You swooned.

"Y-Yeah! T-That's... yeah, you go do that. I'm really happy for you! It's all working out." Tom said, hoping that he masked his nervousness well. Thankfully, you were too happy to notice and he was glad.

"How-How will you tell him?" Tom asked.

"I'll buy him a mug that says 'best dad in the world!' or something." You giggled. "Both of us have been wanting this."

"Well, why aren't you dating?" Tom questioned. "I mean, he seems like a great guy. I approve of him. He's better than all of your exes."

Tom really meant that. He liked Harrison for you. He thought that both of you would be a great pair. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have romantic feelings for you before, but he realized that it was just strong infatuation. Nothing else. What both of you have was simply platonic.

"He's not ready to date." You explained. "But that's okay, because I'll be having his gorgeous baby! AAAAHHHHH I'M PREGNANT!!!!" You excitedly screamed.

Tom had to put his phone away from his ear so that you wouldn't break his eardrums. He was really happy that you were happy, but he couldn't help but feel scared when you find out that the baby was his.

He put the phone to his ear and said, "Well, good luck on telling him." He smiled, because you finally got what you wanted.

"Thanks, Tommy. Love you!"

"Love you too!" He hung up and quickly texted Sam about the news. Sam replied and texted: "Oh shit lmao good luck, daddy-o!"

Tom sighed deeply at his brother's response before drowning himself in work.

The whole time during your pregnancy, Tom found himself constantly checking on you. Despite the fact that you're carrying his baby, he still didn't like the idea of kids. It was a personal reason and he didn't know why. He was confused.

He remembered the phone call he got from you when you found out the gender of the baby. You were so happy and every time he thought about it, he smiled.

"I'm having a boy." You said happily.

Tom looked at you in shock for a few seconds until his face broke into a smile, "That's great! Wow. A boy."

A son. You're carrying his son and he doesn't know how to feel about it. As your best friend, you kept sending him pictures of the ultrasounds and you told him everything you were feeling during the pregnancy.

Tom did everything to support you, but in a subtle way, of course. You still thought that Harrison was the father of your baby and Tom didn't want to outshine that. He knew that Harrison would be a better father than him, but Tom wanted to be a father to his son too. It was then that he realized he wasn't opposed to the idea of having babies. He was just scared of having them and not being a good father.

But now, he has a son on the way and his son was in his best friend's womb. The person he loved and cared about was carrying his son. He thought it was amazing and for once in his life, he was genuinely happy and excited.

As much as Tom wanted to stay in London and check up on you and the baby, he had to go to New York for business. He doesn't know how long he'll be gone, but he knew it'd be awhile. When he gets back, his son would probably be walking already.

You, Tom and Harrison were at the airport and you were bidding him goodbye. Tom hugged you tight, but not too much, because he didn't want to hurt you.

"I'll miss you!" You cried.

"I'll miss you too! In fact, I already miss you." Tom said, chuckling. He pulled away and wiped your tears away. "Don't cry or the baby will look ugly."

"That's not a thing. You're just saying that." You lightly chuckled.

"Yeah so that you wouldn't cry and it worked." Tom smiled. He turned to Harrison and pulled him in for a hug as well, "Take care of my best friend, yeah?"

Tom was kind of scared to leave you, but he trusted Harrison.

Harrison surprisingly hugged back and said, "I will. You can trust me, mate. I'll call you when I don't know what to do."

Tom chuckled and pulled away, "Feel free to call anytime, then."

Tom didn't have time to say anything else, because his flight was being called. You frowned and said goodbye to him one last time. He waved at both of you and left.

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

It's been five years since Tom left and you haven't seen him since. During those five years, you managed to do a lot of things. You gave birth, you started officially dating Harrison, you moved in with him, nailing motherhood, talking to Tom from time to time, etc.

Tom was doing well. He was really happy with all the photos you sent him. He would smile at the photos, but the fact that he was the father of your son was still at the back of his mind. It's been five years and he still hasn't told you. He didn't know what to do, so he called Sam. Only Sam knew his secret, anyway.

"Hey Sam!" Tom greeted with a smile through the screen. Sam smiled at him and waved back. Tom squinted and asked, "Is that Harry?"

"Yeah! Harry's back!" Sam grinned.

"Hey Tom! I missed you!" Harry shouted in glee. Harry has been traveling the world for photography and he decided it was time to go back and slow down, because he was already twenty-nine years old.

"I missed you too, man!" Tom grinned.

"So, Tom... why'd you call?" Sam asked as he fixed his hair and moved a bit so Harry could fit in the frame.

"First of all, I'm coming back home tomorrow." Tom said.

"That's great!"

"We could finally hang out again!"

"Yeah and that's not all." Tom gulped.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"Um, I still haven't told Y/N." Tom bit his lip.

Sam's eyes widened, already knowing what he was talking about, "WHAT?? IT'S BEEN FIVE YEARS, THOMAS."

"Tell Y/N what? What'd I miss?" Harry asked in confusion.

Sam sighed, "Tom's the father of Y/N's baby and Y/N doesn't know that because she knows that the father this whole time was Harrison. I'm sure she's confused after the baby came out, because guess what, Harry!"

"What?"

"Harrison's fucking blonde! And I've seen her son... he fucking looks like you, Tom." Sam said and Tom winced because it was true. He saw the pictures after all.

"Oh my fucking god, Tom. Tell her." Harry said in shock. "If I were Y/N, I'd be pissed you didn't tell me before."

"Yeah, that's what I said five years ago." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Calm down, will you? I'll tell her when I get back. I'll tell both of them." Tom said, mentally preparing himself and his speech.

You and Harrison invited Tom for dinner when he got back and Tom was nervous. He hasn't seen both of year for five years and he just randomly tells you that you and him have a child together.

You opened the door and squealed when you saw him. You hugged him and let him in yours and Harrison lovely home. It was just right for raising a family and Tom mentally cringed when he remembered his speech that he prepared.

"I missed you, Tom!"

"I missed you too, darling." Tom smiled softly as he took a good look at you. "Oh my god. Please don't murder me, but are you pregnant, by any chance? You're glowing."

You giggled and nodded, "Surprise! I'm two months pregnant now and I'm engaged too. Harrison and I decided we wanted the little guy to have a sibling."

Tom nodded, "That's great!"

"Thank you!" You grinned as you led him to the dining area.

All three of you sat on the dining table and all three of you were happily eating. Or maybe just you and Harrison. Tom was just poking his food around.

"I have something to say." Tom finally said.

"Oh, okay." Harrison said.

"What's up?" You asked. "You look like you have a major problem."

"It's about your son." Tom said.

"Caiden? What about Caiden?" Harrison asked.

Tom took a deep breath and took a sip of water before clearing his throat. He looked at both of you, "Please don't be mad, but I've been keeping a secret from you for years now."

"What?" You were confused. Harrison was confused too.

"I'm Caiden's father." Tom said.

"What?" Harrison asked as he looked at you. You looked at Harrison and shrugged, "Thomas, what are you talking about?"

"That night. Your pregnancy shit party. My drunk self did something stupid and-"

"What did you do?" You asked. Tom couldn't read the look on your face.

"I took the container where Harrison's sperm was and I took a peek, because I was- I was curious if he filled the whole container up and-"

"Dude, that's fucking sick." Harrison looked at him in horror.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry!" Tom panicked. "And then I guess I couldn't stand straight because the container fell in the sink and Harrison's thing fell in the drain."

Harrison's jaw dropped and so did yours. Tom bit his lip and sighed before continuing, "And so I cleaned the container and- and I replaced his sperm with mine, thinking it would help."

All three of you sat in silence after that. It was some news. It wasn't good news and it wasn't bad news. It was just... news.

Harrison cleared his throat and said, "I thought Caiden didn't look like me, because of weird genetics or something science related. Because it happens, you know? I heard that there's a really really small percentage that a baby would look different from its parents. Like, being ginger or something like that. So I thought it was that, but now that you said it, it makes sense."

You didn't say anything, because it was hard to process and it was hard to think that he probably kept it for so long.

"Caiden even got your hand washing trait. He has his own hand soap in the bathroom too." Harrison added and pursed his lips.

"Wait. Really?" Tom asked.

Harrison nodded. He looked tensed and you didn't blame him. Harrison wiped his mouth with the table napkin and gave you both a tight-lipped smile, "I'll just, uh, I need- I need some air."

You nodded and Tom closed his eyes and let his head hang low. Harrison stood up from his seat and quickly left to go to the backyard. You looked at Tom and frowned, "I wish you could've told me that same night, y'know? Before I did anything."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry." Tom opened his eyes and looked at you. "You were just so happy and then you had that speech and- I didn't want to ruin that."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Tom said sadly.

"You know, Harrison was upset because Caiden didn't have ANYTHING that resembled him. But he convinced himself that it was okay and it was this science shit that he mentioned. He probably feels like shit right now and I'll just clear my head, okay? I'll talk to you; we'll talk to you." You sighed as you stood up. Tom did the same. He didn't feel welcome. If he were being honest, it didn't feel right for him to sit there after he told you both.

"Thank you for telling us, Thomas. If you'll excuse me, my fiance needs me." You said softly and gave him a small smile before going to the backyard.

Tom looked down and escorted himself out of your house.

Harrison was obviously upset. The son he thought was his turned out to be someone else's. He felt really dumb, but he realized that Caiden didn't have to be related to him by blood for him to treat Caiden like his own son. He didn't see why that had to change. He loved Caiden with all his heart from the second he found out you were pregnant until now. Caiden was still the same Caiden he knew and loved. The only difference was, he wasn't the biological father after all. It was Tom.

Harrison knew you were kind of upset that Tom told you years later, but Harrison knew you didn't regret anything. Harrison didn't regret anything either. He loved taking care of you especially now that you're carrying HIS child this time. Both of you were very sure of that, because you two actually did it.

You still haven't spoken to Tom and Harrison kind of figured out that both of you were stubborn. So, he took it upon himself to reach out to Tom. He asked for Tom to meet up with him and Tom agreed. What Tom didn't know was that Harrison was bringing Caiden with him.

Harrison asked Tom to meet up with him at the park. He asked Tom if they could go for a morning run and Tom said yes. On the other hand, he told you that he was taking Caiden to the park for him to play with other kids. Of course, you agreed.

Tom wasn't there yet when Harrison arrived and he let Caiden join the other kids at the playground. Three minutes later, Tom arrived and asked, "Are we here so that you could punch me in the face or something? Because I think I deserve that."

Harrison smiled and shook his head, "No. My love for Caiden will never change whether I'm his biological father or not. And even if the world turns upside down, Caiden will still know me as his father."

Tom nodded, "I understand and I'm not trying to take him away from you if that's what you're thinking."

"That's good to know, because I don't know what I'd do without him." Harrison smiled and offered Tom to sit next to him. Tom sat down and waited for Harrison's next words.

"I just want to know what your plans are, because he's yours." Harrison said.

Tom shook his head, "Caiden's yours more than he's mine. I'm just a sperm donor if you think about it. But I do want to be part of his life. Maybe when he grows up, he'll understand. I want to help both of you in raising him and I want to thank you both for raising him well. He wouldn't be who he is without both of you and I appreciate that."

"I guess I just want him to acknowledge me as his dad too? Is that wrong? Because I can back off right now and pretend we didn't have this conversation." Tom added.

"No, it's not wrong. You have every right to say that, because you're his real dad." Harrison assured.

"But I can't take care of kids. Heck, I can't even take care of my own nephew before. I've always been the bachelor or the playboy or whatever everyone calls me and I've grown to like it? Like, I genuinely love it and wouldn't change anything else in the world. Caiden's just the cherry on top of it. I hope you don't mind, but uh, since he's kind of my son too..." Tom trailed off and Harrison nodded for him to continue.

"I fixed some papers and signed them. All I need are yours and Y/N's signatures... I want Caiden to inherit my company." Tom said. "No one else will have that but him and I'll teach him the ropes when he's of age and- it would be really nice to have an heir and Caiden's my only heir. I hope you understand."

"I do." Harrison said. "As much as I want Caiden to acknowledge you as his dad, I don't want him to forget about me and to start comparing." He chuckled.

"I won't do that to you or Y/N. I'll follow anything you guys say. So how will-"

"Daddy! Daddy! I found a snail near the slide!" a tiny voice called. Harrison glanced at Tom and grinned before looking at the child. Tom looked at where Harrison was looking at and his jaw dropped. Caiden was a spitting image of him and it warmed his heart.

"Caiden, buddy, I want you to meet uncle Tom." Harrison pulled the four year old to sit on his lap and ran his fingers through the child's hair.

Tom looked at him and smiled and he teared up a bit, "Hey buddy."

"Hi! I like your shirt." Caiden gave him a toothy grin. Tom looked down at his shirt before looking at Caiden, "You can have it when you're older."

Caiden's eyes widened and looked at Harrison who chuckled, "What'll you say, Caiden?"

"Thank you!" Caiden giggled. "I'll play again. Bye!" With that, Caiden got off from Harrison's lap and went back to play with his new friends.

Tom couldn't believe what just happened. Harrison said, "He knows we don't look alike, by the way. He doesn't seem to mind, though. But I know we should tell him as early as now that you're his real dad."

"I'm not opposed with that idea." Tom admitted. The two of them watched Caiden as they changed the topic and talked about life.

𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

You and Harrison finally told Caiden the truth. Tom was present, of course. He wanted to see how Caiden will react. Caiden didn't see anything bad about it, though. He loved it even more.

"So, uncle Tom is my real daddy?" Caiden asked one more time and all three of you nodded. Caiden grinned and said, "I have two daddies?"

"Well... yeah." You said with a shrug.

"That's cool!" Caiden giggled. He looked at Tom and pointed at Harrison as he did so, "I call my daddy already. What will I call you?"

"Anything you want." Tom said, not really bothered if he still calls him 'uncle Tom' or not.

"I'll call you papa." Caiden smiled and hugged him. Tom looked at you and Harrison in surprise and both of you just urged him to return the gesture because he wasn't sure.

Tom hugged back and it felt nice. He felt great. He then made a mental note to himself to hug his nieces and nephews.

From then on, all three of you agreed that Tom would have Caiden during Friday until Sunday and on some occasions when you and Harrison were busy. All three of you also agreed that there would be days when all four of you would go out to really bond.

You didn't really wish to have a family like this, but you did and if you were being honest, you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

* * * *

this is the longest fic I've written here so far omg but i hope y'all liked it

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @poguesholland @superheroesaremytea @marshxx @ella-whyte

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shots #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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themculibrary · 3 years ago

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(TW) Presumed Dead Masterlist

Links Last Checked: September 4th, 2024

After (ao3) - smol_bird steve/tony T, 11k

Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?”

Natasha’s voice sounded tired.

Steve didn’t even look at her, although he probably should have. She was his teammate, after all, she returned from a dangerous mission, she…

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything beyond hollow.

“Since they showed… well, you know what on the news,” Sam answered, just as tiredly.

A Simple Breeze, A Single Spark (ao3) - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) steve/tony T, 36k

Summary: Like he'd been waiting for his cue, a tall, dark-haired man appeared behind the jailer. He wore a fighter's leathers, all in black, with a long sword peeking over one shoulder. His eyes were a complicated grey, flecks of blue giving them richness, but they were…empty.

Steve fought not to recoil from the blankness, letting his gaze flick to the bird perched on his other shoulder. It was some kind of hunting bird, maybe a falcon or a hawk, no hood or jesses, and it mantled, staring down at Steve like he was a mouse it was considering for dinner.

They were something from a legend or a nightmare and they were here for Steve.

Compass Heading (ao3) - antigrav_vector bucky/steve/tony E, 13k

Summary: So… It's complicated. Steve went and got himself killed on a mission, and, somehow, in the aftermath, Tony ended up getting together with Barnes. He's still not entirely sure how that happened, really, but he's not about to question it too hard. He's enjoying it too much.

Then, because the universe loves turning his life upside down, they find Steve. It's been two years, and things have changed, but Tony still cares about the asshole, and that, right there, is a problem.

Five Times Peter Parker Pretended to Be Asleep (ao3) - blondsak G, 16k

Summary: …and the one time he actually was.

Or: sometimes, faking sleep can work to your advantage. When it comes to trying to fool a certain genius, overprotective, superhero mentor, Peter finds this to be doubly true.

Hold It Against Your Bones (ao3) - sahiya steve/tony M, 92k

Summary: Bruce Banner shows up unannounced on Peter Parker's doorstep one hot afternoon in July. Peter knows exactly what that means.

i'm here, i'm sorry, i love you (ao3) - searchingforstars pepper/tony G, 10k

Summary: Tony struggles to remember that not everything is his fault when Peter’s brought home after being missing for three weeks.

Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey) (ao3) - flash0flight steve/tony T,

Summary: Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

missing, presumed dead (ao3) - hailingstars G, 3k

Summary: They hadn’t had a funeral for Peter.

There hadn’t been a casket or a service inside a church.

There had been, before Tony decided in his heart that Peter was gone, candlelight vigils and pleas on the media for whoever had taken him to bring him home. Neither of those did any good. Neither of those brought Peter home.

Tony Stark’s son gets kidnapped when he’s two. Twelve years later he comes back.

press zero to speak to a long lost relative (ao3) - ciaconnaa G, 2k

Summary: Morgan and Peter's rescue depends on convincing the newbie working the phones over at the Stark Industries customer service line that they're the real deal.

spider-man is dead (ao3) - bstarship T, 6k

Summary: One morning, Peter wakes up to find that he's gone viral. And he’s dead.

Spidey’s First Death Hoax (ao3) - Captain_Marvelous N/R, 3k

Summary: When Peter is injured during a patrol and goes missing without his phone or a functioning suit, he’s presumed dead. False news reports don’t help his case much either.

The Future is Yet in Your Power (ao3) - FestiveFerret steve/tony T, 14k

Summary: "Now." Wong leaned back in his chair. "What would you do to save this world from Thanos' attack? What would you sacrifice?"

"Anything," Steve said. "Anything at all."

Wong considered him for a moment, expression unreadable. "There's one thing, maybe."

Ties that Bind (ao3) - msraven clint/phil T, 14k

Summary: As with all things, it starts with Phil Coulson.

How Clint finds love, family, and everything he told himself to stop looking for.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) (ao3) - madasthesea G, 4k

Summary: But he knows.

He knows.

He can feel it.

Peter’s dead.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #angst #death tw #masterlists #presumed dead #presumed dead masterlist #tw

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #230: THE LAST FAREWELL!

April, 1983

“Yellowjacket no more!”

Aw, dang! Hank got raptured!

Captain America, Thor, and Hawkeye is a weird collection of characters to be staring forlornly at the empty Yellowjacket uniform.

Thor hasn’t really expressed much about the Yellowjacket situation in comparison. You think they could squeeze Wasp into the shot. Just her ex-husband is all. She’s just the team leader is all.

Put Wasp on the cover, you cowards.

So last times on Avengers: Hank Pym got himself kicked out of the Avengers and out of his marriage and pretty much deserved it. He was tricked into committing treason by his arch-nemesis Egghead and sent to jail. He sat in jail for, like, a really long time. The wheels really spun on the arc.

He was kicked out of the Avengers/walked before he could be kicked out in #213. He was arrested at the end of issue #217. His trial was in issue #228.

He was kidnapped from his trial by the Masters of Evil. Then in #229, he turned the tables on them all in quite a satisfying manner and slugged Egghead in the egg head.

Then Hawkeye manslaughtered him. He’s dead.

Hawkeye arrowed the science gun to stop Egghead from shooting Hank in the back and then the science gun backfired and microwaved that egg.

This makes Hank’s victory a little bittersweet for him.

Hank Pym: “I defeated the Masters of Evil single-handed... but more than anything, I wanted to bring Egghead to justice. He was a thorn in my side for so many years. I was never able to defeat him for long, not when I was Ant-Man... and not even after I became Giant-Man! He bedeviled me in every identity I assumed. He did me the greatest wrong when I was Yellowjacket. I’d already ruined my Avengers career, when he tricked me into committing a federal crime!”

Hawkeye too is set to thinking by what happened. Maybe humming a bit of Bohemian Rhapsody to himself too.

Hawkeye: “This is unreal! I’ve never killed a man before! I never planned on anything like this happening! Yeah, but I can’t feel sorry for Egghead! If anyone deserved this, he did! My brother Barney bought the farm, stopping Egghead from killing the Avengers. And if I hadn’t acted when I did, Hank Pym would be dead! If I had to do it again... I would!”

Hawkeye: ‘Eh, fuck ‘em!’

hah.

But Hank laments that with Egghead dead, so goes his chance of proving his innocence by turning him over to the law.

Hank Pym: “Egghead was always getting away from me, Hawkeye. It’s almost as if he’s pulled the ultimate escape!”

Fun fact: There doesn’t seem to be an Ultimate Egghead! Why would there need to be? Even more than in the 616, Ultimate Hank Pym is by far his own worst enemy.

Hawkeye basically tells Hank to buck up and that there’s basically incriminating evidence lying all over the place.

He doesn’t say it but even Egghead’s dead deceased corpse is kind of like evidence. Evidence that he wasn’t dead until recently.

Captain Marvel shows up because someone finally came looking for Hawkeye.

Hank is surprised, much like others have been that this is Captain Marvel. He knew the old guy, the super saiyan. And I guess he didn’t hear there was a new one.

Hawkeye: “We’ve had a few changes since you went in the slammer, Hank. C.M. is an Avenger in training.”

Huh. Captain Marvel doesn’t even react to the dead body. Then again, there’s a lot of bodies lying all around the place.

And while Hawkeye is introducing the new Captain Marvel to Hank, one of those bodies stirs.

Moonstone has regained consciousness and assesses the situation. She could blast Hank, Captain Marvel, and Hawkeye with her coherent light pew pew but that’d just weaken her.

Like in the previous issue, Moonstone is one of the few supervillains who knows when to fold ‘em.

So she decides to skeedaddle while the getting is good but whoops.

Getting wasn’t good.

The rest of the Avengers have shown up and cornered her while she was pondering.

So Moonstone decides ‘eh fuck it’ and promises to spill all the beans if it gets her a lighter sentence.

So days later, the mostly off-screen trial of Hank Pym finally ends.

A loooot of new evidence suddenly popping up led the prosecution to withdraw all charges.

The lead prosecution witness, Trish Starr, suddenly reversing her testimony after putting on Tony Stark’s magical mental-scan helmet kind of tanked the case, really.

Wait, they really did just admit the use of the helmet in the trial when its new, unsubstantiated technology whose inventor disappeared?

Damn, I knew the Marvel legal system was wild (considering comic books as legal documents as explored in Dan Slott’s run on the character) but still!

Although it makes sense. Egghead got Trish to incriminate Hank by using the bionic arm to alter her memories. The helmet Tony invented undoes that kind of alteration. This connects the dots quite reasonably. Glad Stern was paying attention when preparing to finish this arc.

Moonstone and Beetle confirming that Egghead was using Hank as a tool also helps.

In fact, not only did the prosecution drop all their charges, the judge also dismissed all the charges. Which feels redundant? I dunno much about law, really. Just the She-Hulk version of law. Which, again, uses comic books as legal documents.

Apparently happening at around the same time, Hawkeye also had his day in court.

Literally a day.

It wasn’t a trial, just a hearing to investigate whether he was guilty of wrong-doing in the death of Egghead.

Newsman with a newsplan: “Though he was threatened with contempt-of-court charges a number of times -- Hawkeye was found innocent of any wrong-doing in the death of Dr. Elihas Starr -- the self-styled Egghead.”

Yeah, I bet Hawkeye was threatened with contempt-of-court a bunch. And I bet you anything that at least one of the times he rejoined with “No, you’re out of order! This whole damn courtroom is out of order!”

And then the judge probably just sighed.

I mean, look at that unbelievable Hawkeye in the bottom left panel.

Anyway, I think Stern must have felt a little pent up having to start his Avengers run finishing off someone else’s story, especially having to devote a recap issue to it since the plot had been interspersed with fill-ins.

Because in the middle of concluding this arc, he throws in two plot beats that I have to assume are to set up stuff of his own.

A day after the trial, the Beetle is being escorted to a cell in a Western Pennsylvanian federal maximum security prison when he bumps into another prisoner.

What neither the Beetle or the guard notices is that the bump to “Sam Smithers” has peeled off some skin on his arm and revealed THAT HE IS ACTUALLY MADE OF WOOD!

Suspect possibly a living puppet.

And elsewhere but samewhen, IN SPACE, specifically on Saturn’s moon Titan, Thanos’ brother Eros is basically complaining about being bored.

When Captain Mar-vell died of having a lot of cancer, he asked Eros to look after Mar-vell’s... uh... -google- robot girlfriend?? Elysius.

Eventual mom to Genis and Phyla-Vells.

Soooooo, Eros has done as Mar-vell’s deathbed wish was and spent an agonizing several consecutive months hanging out in Titan’s beautiful inside forests and just having a real hard time caring about one thing for such a long period of time.

I’m not even being unfair to him.

Eros: “This is the first time in ages that I’ve spent so many consecutive months on Titan! I have ever been a wanderer! I’ve sought out adventure across the wide cosmos. Frankly, I have known romance on more worlds than most sentient beings could imagine. That’s part of the problem. Our friendship has been wonderful, but I’m having a hard time adjusting to it. My previous relationships have all been of a fleeting nature.”

‘Look its not you, its me’ except for attempting to dump someone as a friend, instead of romantically.

Not dump, even. He just kind of wants to ditch her and is asking in a roundabout way if she’s emotionally stable enough to ditch.

She goes, yeah sure, go off and have fun. And maybe she’s getting tired of his company too.

Elysius: “Look... you’ve been a great comfort to me these last few months, but now I need to be alone for a while with my thoughts.”

Geez, how clingy has he been this whole time while desperately wanting to be anywhere else?

Anyway, since she’s fine with him fucking off, he does fuck off. Right to the Hall of Science.

Where Eros’ dad is like ‘oh ffs’ when Eros tells him that he needs to use the LIVING COMPUTER Isaac to look up planets with the highest adventure potential.

Mentor of Titan is a man deeply disappointed in both of his sons for very different reasons.

Anyway, would you really be surprised if I told you that Earth was in the Top 3 planets in known space for adventure?

You wouldn’t, right?

Meanwhile, back at the plot, Hank Pym is on a boat with Trish Starr.

She wants to apologize for that time she incriminated him but Hank isn’t going to blame her for being as much a pawn in Egghead’s scheme as he was.

Trish: “Yes, uncle was like that all of his life. I think he really enjoyed using people.”

And she remembers the first time they met in Marvel Feature #5, where Egghead tried to drain her mind to power his machines. Because. Batteries hadn’t been invented? Because he’s just not happy unless he’s screwing over someone else?

Second one sounds likeliest.

She also remembers the time he car bombed her car but siphoned out most of the gas first.

Trish: “He didn’t want to kill me... only maim me. Nice guy, my uncle.”

Yeah. Its stories like that why its only Trish and Hank also Fred Sloan on a boat at Egghead’s funeral. Yeah, by the way, this is basically Egghead’s funeral.

Fred is only here for Trish.

Hank reacts to Fred so I wondered if he’s important in some way or if Hank recognized him but I checked the wiki and his main importance seems to be... this issue? So I don’t know why Hank reacts to the guy.

So Fred is just here for Trish. Trish is here out of duty, since she was Egghead’s only known family. And Hank is also only here out of duty but more archnemesis ‘can’t believe that asshole is dead and I don’t even get to feel good about it’ duty. I assume.

Hank even gets the honor (?) of laying Egghead to rest. By dumping his ashes into New York harbor.

Mostly because it doesn’t seem like Trish wants to?

So Hank quotes some Mark Twain and dumps the ashes.

Hank Pym: “‘Death... the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all -- the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.’ Farewell, Egghead.”

Trish: “It’s awful to say this -- but I can’t find it in myself to be sorry. I think I’m glad he’s dead.”

And that’s Egghead’s legacy. Mourned by no one. And his death is only not cheered because the only people that cared feel shitty about feeling glad he’s dead.

ANYWAY, there’s some other loose ends to tie up.

So Hank takes a taxi to the Avengers Mansion and I guess finally explicitly explains why the mansion has seemed to change positions over time?

Hank Pym: “I never thought I’d be coming here again. The place has certainly changed since the day Jan and I met here with Iron Man, Thor, and the Hulk to draft the Avengers charter and by-laws. And I still recall the time Iron Man and Thor moved the mansion back from the street to give us more privacy. What a project that was!”

Sounds like a heck of a noodle incident, Hank.

... Why just Thor and Iron Man? Did they... did they literally just shove the mansion back from the street? ... There’s... basements and caves under there. How does that work? That seems like a massive architectural project.

Hank, pls, I need to know more details. You can’t just drop that information and casually stroll away. HANK!

Captain Marvel meets Hank at the door and escorts him inside, captain marveling at how calm Hank is despite everything he’s been through.

Hank shows up to the Avengers meeting and-

Oh god, She-Hulk looks like she wants to punch the suppressed emotions right out of Jan. She-Hulk, pls.

So, Wasp is super formal, calling Hank Dr. Pym and telling him that they want to use the mento-scan helmet to see if he was under outside influence when he did all the very bad things he did.

All of the Avengers are harboring their own concerns.

She-Hulk: “I’ve read legal briefs that were more informal! She’s cool on the surface, but inside -- ! Jannie, why are you doing this to yourself?!”

Are you guys already at the cute nickname stage of your friendship or is that just the way She-Hulk be?

Cap is worried that this is rough on Jan but that she’s doing what she needs to do as the Avengers chairwoman. But he’s more worried about the absence of Iron Man who is still missing and who ignored three calls to assemble.

Thor is just internally like ‘just do the helmet, my dude.’

Hawkeye is literally biting his lip at the tension.

Hawkeye: “Jan divorced Hank after his last breakdown. If we find out that he wasn’t to blame, what’s it gonna do to the both of ‘em? I hate this! That stupid court hearing was a breeze in comparison.”

Huh, Hawkeye has a point. Even if outside influence is proven, its not as straightforward as Jan and Hank instantly getting back together, no harm no foul. There was harm. And the problems with their relationship were deeper than one incident. But it would also create this possible expectation that they should get back together because the specific incident wasn’t Hank’s fault.

And Captain Marvel is still looking at this from an outsiders’ perspective.

Captain Marvel: “They’re really hurting over this... all of them! They all care so very, very much. If I ever become a fully active Avenger, I pray that I can live up to their example.”

So Hank very calmly agrees to use the helmet. But...

Hank Pym: “Sorry... no outside influences. It would have changed a lot of things if there had been, wouldn’t it? But no, I made my own mistakes... and I have to live with them.”

Thiiiiis was the best decision for the story arc. It may seem, in retrospect, the worst decision in the long run, but I can respect the story for standing by what it has done and standing by the growth Hank has had as a result of everything that happened.

I think a lot of more modern marvel comics have gone a little wild with letting the heroes do all kinds of dubious things and also die because it can be easily undone. It was a Skrull, they were being mind-controlled, it was an AU Nazi version of them created by a cosmic cube child. Or by giving the hero some big redemptive moment like Iron Man wiping his mind to make up for doing Civil War. Or Iron Man dying to make up for Civil War 2. You can explore whatever scenarios you want without worrying about dealing with the consequences long-term.

But in this era of Marvel, they were concerned with the long-term. Not to say that there weren’t cop-outs back in this day too. But since books were expected to keep going indefinitely instead of being cancelled and relaunched, there’s less of a sense of ‘this thing is only here to play with for a little while.’ If you wrote a thing, another writer was expected to follow up on it.

And I miss that a little.

So not giving a cop-out bullshit thing that undoes Hank’s actions was bad in the long run for his image as a character. But that’s a long way from now problem, exacerbated by writers like Chuck Austin and Mark Millar who wanted to wallow in it.

For an arc where Hank fell from grace and proved himself again, taking ownership of what a garbage fire his life can be was necessary.

One among many reasons I probably won’t like the Crossing when I get to it, haha.

With Hank’s actions proven as being Hank’s actions, Hank says there’s one more loose end that he wants to help tie off.

He wants to participate as witness when the Avengers hold a court of inquiry for Hawkeye killing Egghead.

This comes as an absolute surprise to Hawkeye, who I guess never read the bylaws. Which honestly, is very in-character for him.

But it being brought up, he insists that all he has to do is enter the findings of the state judge and be done with it.

Hank insists he participate though.

Hank Pym: “Hawkeye is faced with charges because he acted in my defense. It’s only right that I act in his.”

So, the Avengers go to the first floor library, which is apparently the court of inquiry room. I feel like we’re suddenly getting a lot of details about the layout of the Avengers Mansion in recent issues.

So Wasp convenes the court all formal style, so formal style that Hawkeye thinks that stickler Cap(tain America) couldn’t have done a better job. The purpose of the court of inquiry is to determine the validity of the charge of “unreasonable use of deadly force” and determine what if any proper disciplinary action should be taken.

I think Hawkeye is annoyed at having to go through with this (read the bylaws, my dude) because when Wasp asks if he has anything to add to his claim of innocence of the charge, he says he already gave the court copies of the court transcript that cleared him of the same charge, but also decides to speechify a little, because he wasn’t accused of contempt of court enough today.

Hawkeye: “I have already given the chair copies of the transcript of a hearing of the state courts... a hearing which found me not guilty of the same charge. And I have something else to say as well!”

“I don’t deny that my actions caused the death of Egghead. But in no way did I use undue force! I found Hank Pym in mortal danger, and I used the necessary means to save him... period. After all, we are supposed to be the Avengers, right?”

Luckily for Hawkeye, the Avengers are more willing to put up with him than a state court so Jan just goes ‘ok, noted.’

Captain Marvel also has a minor change of heart on Hawkeye. I don’t think we’ve gotten her in-depth feelings on him before (although he did get pissy about her joining the team, we didn’t see her response to that) but she’s impressed because she thought he had more wind than conviction but is seeing that isn’t so. And she’s also impressed by Serious Mode Jan who she thought was kind of flighty.

Captain Monica Marvel seeing all kinds of new sides of the Avengers lately.

Also, this isn’t important and you won’t be able to see what I mean unless I included more caps than I wanted to, but in the panel establishing the court of inquiry, Monica is just standing off to the side. But in the next panel she appears in, she’s moved over to sit on a couch instead.

I think its a framing thing but its still kind of funny to imagine her going ‘wait why am I standing up’ and heading for the comfy couch.

With Hawkeye’s statement given, Wasp invites Hank Pym to speak his piece.

And Hank gets up and gives an entirely unnecessary but probably appreciated defense of Hawkeye.

Hank Pym: “Ladies and gentlemen... I have not always been on the friendliest of terms with Hawkeye. Point of fact, we nearly came to blows a number of times... back in the days when I was an Avenger. But in all the time I’ve known him, Hawkeye has never used undue force.”

“I realize that this inquiry is little more than a formality. I have no doubt that you will find in his behalf. He did, as he said, act only in my defense. Unlike my own recent case before you, there is not the slightest hint of misconduct or negligence. The only thing Hawkeye is guilty of is being a good Avenger.”

“When I last spoke before this body, at my court-martial, I was not in a rational state of mind. I was unfit to be an Avenger. You wisely expelled me. I never expected to speak before you again. And now, I can think of no finer final statement than this... It has been my sincere honor to have known Hawkeye’s fellowship... as it has to have known yours.”

Okay. So. Half a defense of Hawkeye. And half... just a general good-bye and a demonstration that he actually does know how to deliver a defense at a court-martial. Cool.

I imagine if he had a mic, he would have dropped it.

Probably not, actually. Hank isn’t that exact blend of cool and inconsiderate for a mic drop.

Jarvis intercepts Hank on his way out and asks that he come with him to the second floor study. Jarvis has taken the liberty of gathering up the personal items Hank just kind of left in the mansion and packing them for him.

One suitcase has a bunch of Hank’s clothes that he had stashed in the mansion over the years. Including some wacky ties for wacky tie Fridays and a shirt that Hank had just plumb lost.

The other suitcase is a spare Yellowjacket outfit. In case Hank ever needs it.

Then Hank and Jarvis shake hands, Hank thanking Jarvis for everything that he’s done for him and the Avengers. He asks Jarvis to take care of himself because he knows he doesn’t have to ask him to take care of the Avengers.

This is a very touching scene. Its so touching that Jarvis excuses himself to go get misty eyed.

This is a Jarvis appreciation blog because I appreciate Jarvis as well.

Then, as Hank heads back down the staircase, he is intercepted by Thor, Captain America, and Hawkeye.

Yeah, the court of inquiry resolved off-screen because of how forgone a conclusion it was.

The three Avengers basically fall all over themselves to pat Hank on the back. Hank actually looks somewhat panicked by the positive affirmation.

That’s some mixture of funny and sad that I can’t identify.

Hawkeye tells Hank how much he appreciated his unnecessary defense. Thor clasps Hank’s shoulder and tells him he’s a class act, but in Thor-y words. And Cap extends an offer for whatever the Avengers can do to help Hank get back on his feet.

Hank thanks him for the offer but he’s already received an offer from a small research foundation in the Midwest.

Seems like getting exonerated of a treason charge is the best resume of all. That and Hank’s actual impressive resume.

But Cap has some stuff to work out re: Hank because he starts off on the stuff he put on the back burner back in that Ghost Rider issue.

Cap(tain America): “Hank... I know Iron Man would agree, if he were here, that we’re all sorry about the way things worked out. We should have realized the pressures you’d been under, prior to your breakdown. I was group leader at the time! I should have -- !”

Hank Pym: “Hold it right there, Cap! What I did, I did to myself! If I could have admitted that my problems existed... If I’d been willing to open up to you folks... Well, ‘if’ can be a big word sometimes. The fact of the matter is, I screwed up. And you did the only thing you could do! I don’t blame any of you.”

Hank has boarded the personal responsibility train and goddammit he’s riding it to the end of the line!

Good for him. Good clarity for the arc to have in its last issue.

But having started to slightly shout at the Avengers that he’s taking responsibility dammit! (he looks a bit pissed when he’s responding to Cap) Hank awkwardly excuses himself.

Cap tries to stop Hank from leaving because he has reached the bargaining stage of grief, I guess.

Cap: “Hank, wait! It doesn’t have to end like this! We could make a special amendment to the by-laws! We could reinstate you as an Avenger! You could be a special reservist -- !”

Hank: “Thanks, Cap. But no thanks. Trying to play super hero was the biggest mistake I ever made with my life! I was only fooling myself in ever thinking otherwise. But if you ever really think you might need a Yellowjacket again some day...”

He hands Cap the Yellowjacket suitcase.

Hank: “... Here! All you need is a good man and what’s in this case!”

I would hope, anyway. It’s going to be awkward if he opens it up later and its full of wacky ties.

The funny thing, although not really funny ha ha, is that Yellowjacket is the one codename of Hank’s that never really catches on outside of him.

You have multiple Ant-Men, a couple Goliaths, at least one other Giant-Man. There was a second Yellowjacket, eventually. But she didn’t make a big splash.

Despite Hank’s attempt here to pass the torch, Yellowjacket is a codename that remains inextricably tied to him. Which might be the problem. If there were another, more successful or at least more endearing Yellowjacket, Hank’s infamy in the role would not stand out so much.

Alas.

She-Hulk and Captain Marvel try next to intercept Hank. They don’t know him very well but they wanted to say their goodbyes too, despite not really knowing him that well.

Its the thought that definitely counts, probably.

But Hawkeye has some social awareness for a change and draws their attention to Wasp who is hanging back, but who clearly wants to talk to Hank.

So the rest of the Avengers quickly vacate to let Hank and Jan finally have closure. Or re-closure. “I want a divorce and to never see you again” is a kind of closure.

The situation has changed, however.

They both try to apologize to each other and then laugh at the awkwardness.

Hank: “Janet van Dyne, you are one in a million! After all that I put you through, you want to tell me that you’re sorry?”

Wasp: “I think we both made some mistakes along the way, but there were some good times... weren’t there?”

Hank: “Yes. But you can’t base a marriage on just a few good times. I fell for the young lady who reminded me of my first wife... and you thought you’d found the strong, silent hero. But I was never that strong, Jan. You know that now.”

Wasp: “Uh-huh.”

Damn, his prison time really did bring Hank a lot of clarity. That or the pile of therapists Tony kept throwing at him.

Hank also kind of talks over Jan here. Or at least steers the conversation. I don’t know what Jan would have said because Hank tells her that they both have other lives to lead and tells her to take care of herself.

Maybe its for the best, if, like Cap, she was going to try to shoulder all the blame for Hank’s bad decisions.

Hank walks out the door and finds Trish and Fred from the boat waiting to give him a ride to the airport. And then he is gone.

Like in the final image of the COURT-MARTIAL issue, Jan watches at the window.

“The last time Henry Pym left these walls, Janet felt like crying... but couldn’t find any tears. Today, at last, she has found the tears... for her former husband... for her team... for herself. Today, there is pain and remorse and release. There will be time enough for joy and hope tomorrow.”

Emotional catharsis can be like that.

In that the book kept going ‘Jan is really holding her emotions in and that’s probably not overall great for her’ its good that she can let it out now.

Kind of laughing at Captain Marvel and She-Hulk who only recently just met Jan being the ones going there there while the men she has known for years are just awkwardly standing in the background.

And that’s the fall and rise of Hank Pym. Apparently collected in trade as The Trial of Yellowjacket, which is a decent enough name too.

Overall, a good arc. That is kind of hampered by the need for filler and a writer change near the end. But honestly, Stern catches the ball and runs with it. He concludes the arc just as good as Shooter would’ve.

This arc is all kinds of iconic for Hank, although, unfortunately, most people are only aware of the beginning and maybe have a hazy understanding of what the ending does.

Although. This is a really good send-off for Hank. A really, really good send-off that would have worked best if he did like he said and quit superheroing forever.

That’s not to be, obviously, not in a perpetual narrative machine like Marvel. But it feels like it could have been and maybe should have been the last word on his character.

I enjoy Hank in Busiek’s Avengers and in Avengers Academy. And also, conceptually, Hank telling Reed “it’s on, bitch.” I very don’t enjoy Ultimate Hank Pym. So its a balancing act. The perfect exit for the character vs but I like some stuff when they brought him back.

Anyway.

After this, Stern gets to move on to his own material. Which he already planted the seeds for in this issue.

That’s a pun.

Follow @essential-avengers because of my bad puns. Also like and reblog, if you like to reblog.

#Avengers #Egghead #Masters of Evil #Hank Pym #Hawkeye #the Wasp #Captain America #Thor #She Hulk #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #i did a lot of quoting because the comic has some good quotables here #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

Text

The Suit

Here we go with a new cute little thing!! It is the last one-shot for my celebration, for the next two days, I will be updating two series you have voted for. I do hope I have managed throughout these 5 fics to bring a little bit of fluff and softness into your week. In case I had not succeeded so far, maybe this one will do the trick ;)

I have 0 respect for Canon in many fandoms (okay, all fandoms, to some extent) but especially when it comes to the MCU. Everybody lives, everybody is happy, the Avengers live together and the sky is full of rainbows! So… cute things ahead for Steve Rogers :)

I hope you like this, tell me what you thought about it!

Gif not mine (enjoy the eyelashes… argh, why is he like this?)

Word Count : 3941

When people picture the interior of the Avengers headquarters, they imagine some kind of large hangar filled with training rooms. Advanced weaponry on display in some of these rooms too, target practice, and large spaces where the Avengers can train and learn new fighting moves. Some might also imagine the Avengers' personal quarters, a kitchen, a large living room where all can gather and eat some Chinese food, maybe a room where they all can watch a good movie together too, a large bedroom for each of them and offices too were they can work on the intel sent to them.

And to this entire description, although one would gather a vague image instead of a real glimpse at the inside of the most secret building in the world (or at least one of the most secret buildings, for sure, although we must all admit that many labs in Wakanda are even more wrapped in shadows), this person listing the inside of this fortress would be right. At one major detail… or well, three, actually.

This enlightened person would have forgotten the library, for one, large and composed of an eclectic collection of novels, thesis about nuclear physics and comic books, was right between the movie room as the Avengers called it, and the offices.

Also, there is a miniature hospital in the base of the Avengers. They call it the infirmary, but it contains everything needed to heal any kind of wound they could sustain on the battle-field, and some of the most recent pieces of equipment would make even Dr Strange blush out of envy.

But the most important set of rooms that one would have forgotten are the labs. Scattered throughout the buildings, and yet vital for the heroes. Who makes the suits? The weapons? Who collects the intel? Who improves their defensive accessories? Who analyses the clues the Avengers find throughout their missions?

Obviously, the busy team of researchers and engineers working at the base.

And while you could hear the characteristic detonations of Natasha, Bucky, Sam and Clint training at firing, you were yourself stuck with a very hard problem to solve.

On your desk, what was left of Captain America's suit laid splayed so you could examine the damages the explosion had caused. He was okay, thanks to luck, his super-soldier organism and a little bit of patching up. A week after he was back from his mission, he was apparently completely healed already.

His suit, however, was still just as damaged as it was at its return from the field.

You heaved a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. If one had told you, back at University, that your PhD in chemistry would be put to use to help a bunch of super-heroes, you would have laughed at their faces. And yet…

You heard a knock on the door of your office, but you didn't need to look up to know it was Peter Parker. You had recognized the knock already.

"Hi, Dr. Y/L/N!" He beams at you as he steps into your office and closes the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes at the teenager.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Y/N. I’m not that old! Besides, everyone does."

"Captain Rogers doesn’t."

"Yeah, but that’s because he’s old fashioned on a few things."

Peter grinned.

"You know, Natasha has another theory, and it’s a very different one."

"And what could that theory be?"

"Better let her explain it to you," he eluded the question. "What’s that?" he added, nodding at the pile of burnt and torn fabric on your desk that really didn’t look much like a uniform anymore.

"It’s Captain Rogers’s suit. I’m supposed to make an improved one for him."

"Cool! Your suits are always comfortable and efficient. Do you have any ideas yet?"

"None whatsoever."

"I guess he won’t need a new suit before the party. I hope nothing calls for it, at least. So you have a couple of weeks."

"What party?"

"There’s a big party in a couple of weeks. Everyone working here will be invited, I guess Pepper simply hasn’t sent the invitations yet. You’re gonna come, right? That would be awesome!"

"Well… if we’re all invited, then I guess…"

"Nice!"

You exchanged a smile. Something told Peter, and not his Peter tingles, another sense, a sense that was growing sharper and sharper ever since he and MJ were together, that Steve Rogers would be happy to learn that you would attend the party…

"But I doubt that you were coming here to talk about suits and parties, now, were you?"

His smile was back on his face.

"I have a new idea for my web fluid. But I need your expertise. Can you help?"

You let out a chuckle as you stood up and walked towards the door with a pen and your notebook.

"Of course. Come on, tell me all about it."

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

After a few sleepless nights for you and your team, the new suit was finally ready. The tests showed a major improvement in terms of heat responses, you hoped it would protect Captain Rogers efficiently for his next mission.

The advantage of being the head of a scientific team in the Avengers HQ was that you could go to their part of the buildings and give them their new suits, weapons and other gadgets yourself. You had grown quite fond of most of the team along the years too, which made the trip out of your lab particularly enjoyable.

You wandered off from room to room, passing before the fighters training in various methods of combat. You also came across Tony and Peter watching Morgan’s favourite Disney movie with her, and you asked them about the Captain's whereabouts.

"I think he went to the gym with Sam and Bucky," Peter answered, his voice distorted by the handful of popcorn he had shoved in his mouth.

"Because obviously gym is useful to him," Tony added in his usual teasing and yet casual tone over the loud music of Be A Man. "I’ve always thought he was short in muscles."

Meanwhile, Morgan was shouting the lyrics and was now standing on the sofa, mimicking the fighting moves of Mulan.

"BE A MAN!"

"What are you looking for him for, anyway?" Tony went on over the loud singing of his daughter. "You need a coach for the gym?"

You laughed in response.

"No, we’ve finished a new suit for him, so I’m bringing it to him."

"YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER!"

"You guys even do the delivery part for free? Amazon might have reasons to worry."

Peter had now joined the little girl for the rest of the chorus, and he and Morgan were both singing at the top of their lungs.

"WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON!!"

"Well as I said, he’s at the gym," Tony went on, still focusing on you instead of the two kids by his side. "Lifting heavy things and stuff. He’ll be happy to see you."

"What do you mean?" you asked back with a frown.

"WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF A RAGING FIRE."

Tony merely chuckled and gave you a knowing look. Although you didn’t know what the knowing in the look was about, you oblivious little thing…

"He’s always happy to see you, Y/N."

"MYSTERIOUS AS THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOOOOOOON!!!"

Tony’s gaze finally drifted back towards the two kids on the sofa, a tender smile soothing his features.

"I think she has a chance to become a superstar," he told you, pointing at Morgan. "That’s pure talent we have here. It’s not the same for the other guy over there of course, but everyone can’t be gifted."

"Hey! I don’t sing that badly!" Peter protested from his end of the couch, making both you and Tony laugh.

You thanked Tony for his help, and he waved at you in response, along with giving you a wink that seemed to carry a silent message, but you failed to understand it. Instead, you continued your journey through the HQ (but not without Morgan giving you some popcorn in support for your noble quest first, of course), and walked to the gym with a light trot and humming the tune of Mulan’s songs.

Indeed, you found Steve right where Tony had told you he would be. At the gym. Sam and Bucky were there too, but the three friends seemed on their way out. Sam and Bucky were talking (or well, bickering was a better word to describe any of their interactions, really) near the door while Steve was picking up his stuff…

… and for some reason he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or a T-shirt. Or any piece of fabric whatsoever that would cover his torso, the skin glistening slightly with a thin layer of sweat.

No matter how uncomfortable you felt, you couldn’t help but stare.

The three of them turned to you as the door loudly closed behind you, and you all remained motionless for a moment. And for a short moment, time seemed to stop as the four of you each reacted differently to the scene unfolding around you.

You were standing, frozen, in front of the door, your package still safely in your arms as your lips parted without you noticing, and you wondered about the ratio between his biceps and your thighs…

Bucky and Sam were motionless as well, simply because they were trying not to laugh as they watched the silent scene playing between you and Steve.

Steve was still, stopped mid-movement, holding his towel in one hand and a bag in the other. And his mind was currently wondering how it would feel to touch your cheek…

He was the first to shake himself out of his thoughts, and you were rather grateful for it, as you reckoned that you wouldn’t have been able to break free on your own.

“Dr. Y/L/N. What can we do for you?”

You forced your brain to work again and your stare to leave his torso to rest on his intense blue eyes instead. How could he have such long eyelashes?

"Actually, I… hmm… I’m the one who can do something for you. I’ve finished your suit," you added, handing him the suit although you were unable to cross the room to give him the package. You didn’t trust your legs enough, they felt like they were made of soft cotton instead of bones and muscles.

"Oh, thank you," he gave you a bright smile, throwing his towel on his large shoulder and striding to you.

You reckoned that it was rather rare to see a genuine, bright smile on his features. Little smiles, yes. But large ones? Not so much. You guessed that he was very happy to get a new suit. Or perhaps the source for such happiness blooming in him was the person who brought the suit… but you didn't know that, by then.

He took the suit wrapped in kraft paper, his smile still on his lips. You noticed how flushed he was, you guessed it was because of the gym session he had just finished. You couldn’t know that your assumption was only partly true. There was another reason for him to blush up to the tip of his ears. That reason was standing right before him.

"Are you coming tomorrow night? At the big party?" he softly asked.

"Yes, I am. All the lab was invited, and most of us are coming."

"Have you found your plus one yet?" Sam jumped in the conversation.

"Oh, no. I’m coming alone. I mean, it’s not like I need support, I’m going to see my friends there so… no need to pretend."

Sam gave Steve a pointy look. Which his friend ignored.

"Are you bringing someone?" you inquired in a friendly tone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. He doesn’t though," he added, nodding towards Steve.

You turned to Steve again. He tightened his grip on the suit, and shrugged, a shy smile on his lips.

"As you said, no need to pretend tomorrow."

You stared at each other for a couple of seconds, that seemed to stretch into minutes. And the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you hoped to see him the next evening, how wonderful you thought he was and… Gosh, he had gorgeous eyes…

But you couldn't do that.

"Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Have a nice day," you hurried the words out of your mouth so you could stride out of the room before your reason would yield in favour of your heart, and you would spoil everything.

The second the door had closed behind you, Sam was chuckling.

"You know, it ain't that hard to ask her out. You had the perfect opportunity. You just had to ask ‘Y/N, would you like to come with me to the party tomorrow’."

"Sam…" Steve heaved a heavy sigh.

"He’s too romantic for that. He’ll make a move tomorrow night. In the moonlight and all," Bucky mocked, making Steve roll his eyes.

"I hate both of you."

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

The large room was filled with a crowd. Low lights kept an intimate atmosphere throughout the floor. At the top of the Stark Tower, the view on New York City was stunning, an intricated labyrinth of shining lights matching the paler ones hung on the sky. You felt a little tipsy after drinking a couple of tequila shots with Natasha and Wanda. You reckoned that you needed some air, and stepped outside the busy room decorated with perfect taste. The music was still loud coming through the windowpanes as you walked on the large balcony. You hadn't seen Steve yet, but reckoned it was for the best. People had dressed up for the occasion, and you did not plan on dying of a heart attack because of the sight of him in a tuxedo.

The fresh air cleared your thoughts a little and you took a deep intake of breath. You leaned against the bannister, shivering a little as the breeze brushed your naked arms. You took in the view, the sparkling lights shimmering against the darkness of the night, the busy streets and wandering forms drifting back and forth into the maze spreading below your feet.

"Hey! Y/N! Bring your arse back inside, Thor and Nat are trying to see who holds their liquor best!" you heard one of your colleagues call for you, but you shook your head with a chuckle.

"We all know Nat will win."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You spun on your heels as you recognized Steve's voice. He was standing there, a few steps away from you, his silhouette wrapped in the lights coming out of the busy room giving him a surreal halo, a hand in the pocket of his trousers and a shy smile on his perfectly shaven face. And yes, he was wearing a classic tuxedo. And God, did the man know how to wear a bowtie…

"After all, he is an alien," he went on.

Your colleague had disappeared, you guessed she had judged wiser to leave the two of you alone on the balcony.

How could there be only the two of you out there anyway? Where were people gone to?

"Yes, but she knows too many tricks to lose this kind of bet," you argue.

He let out a chuckle, his eyes flickering to the tip of his black shoes and back up to your gaze, capturing it for good.

"I guess you're right. It's always unwise to underestimate her."

"Exactly."

"Aren't you cold out here?"

"No, I… I needed a little bit of fresh air."

"These parties can be a little too intense," he nodded.

"So can be the tequila."

You both laughed, and fell in a comfortable silence. Steve was too busy staring at you to think of anything else, let alone about words to say.

He hadn't felt that way in what seemed to be an eternity. The nervous tremor through his body, the stumbling of his heart, the freezing of his thoughts… he knew the symptoms and had no doubt about the disease causing them.

Love was an easy thing to spot when it was true, after all.

But if his feelings for you were clear to him, he didn't know about your feelings for him, that was a completely different story. Everyone kept on telling him that you liked him, and he reckoned that he should trust his friends' judgment. The doubt was still there though, a little frozen cube buried in the depth of his heart that burnt through now and then. And it was burning now.

Because as he stared at you, such an accomplished, clever, independent, strong, fierce, graceful woman, he wondered if you could really feel the same way he did.

He had been feeling this way for you for so long though… years, really. And he reckoned now that it was more than time to speak his mind. In the worst case, he would get his heart broken. But in the best case…

"Are you enjoying your evening so far? Would you like something to drink?"

You gave him an amused smile. He seemed nervous…

… maybe your friends were right about him after all.

"I am enjoying my evening so far," you answered. "And no, thank you. I already feel tipsy enough for tonight."

He walked to join you against the bannister, a dreamy smile on both of your faces.

Inside, the music had changed from some energetic pop to a slower and intimate tune. It seemed that time had slowed around the two of you as well, as you stared at each other, your frames lightened by the light inside the tower but also by the stars above and the streets below. Steve's blue eyes reflected the distant lights in an almost impossible way that lit your heart on fire.

There were a thousand things that he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you how he thought about you first thing in the morning and last as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. How you made him feel like he belonged in this world that wasn't his. You were amongst the few people who did not see the old soldier in him, but the man behind the shield. You had never made a snarky remark about his lack of knowledge to a reference, and he was grateful for it. You loved sharing the things you loved and that's what drove you when you showed him things he had missed during his time in the ice. It wasn't in a will to change him and make him fit better into a world he had been pushed into, it was in a desire to show him something you were passionate about, simply because you liked talking about it. It wasn't about changing him, it was about sharing. And the majority of people he had met since he had been awakened did not share that state of mind, but the opposite.

He longed to tell you how much he loved hearing you laugh, and thought you had the most adorable smile, and how he admired your smart mind, and how he respected you and your opinion about everyone else's…

There were a million words to be spoken and a thousand thoughts to articulate, but all that passed his lips when he finally mustered the strength to talk was a mere invitation, although it still sounded like a declaration.

"Would you like to dance, Y/N?"

Your heart skipped a beat or two as he called you by your first name, and dear God, did your name sounded wonderful rolling on his tongue. His hand rose as he offered you his open palm, fingers trembling slightly, blue eyes drenched in reflected lights still capturing your gaze and your entire life too. You were vaguely aware of people inside, and maybe some were staring at the two of you, but you couldn't find a way to care, nor even to check if your assumption was correct. Instead, you could not look away from Steve.

There were so many words you meant to speak and thoughts to express and confessions to free from the safety of your heart. How you adored how kind he was, and selfless. How you respected how driven he was and always right to his beliefs. And an infinity of other tiny things that had made you slowly and yet irrevocably fall in love with him.

Instead, you smiled up at him, and spoke only an answer, that still sounded like a promise.

"I would love to."

You thought he would bring you back inside, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer in a soft gesture. You slipped your hand in his and he gave your fingers a tender squeeze.

You started to sway with the gentle tune, but could barely acknowledge the movements of your feet. You were so close to him, he was so close to you… how could you survive this?

Calloused fingers held yours in a gentle hold, his other hand resting in the small of your back, drawing you closer and closer in an embrace that grew tighter every second and yet of which you knew you could free yourself of if you wanted. It felt safe. Warm. Peaceful. And safe, yes, so safe, so comfortable, you could lay your life in his hands blindly and wouldn't even worry about it. You couldn't remember when was the last time you felt like this, like this man before you could never make anything to hurt you, like not in a million years would he let anything bad happen to you. It felt like a lifetime ago that you trusted a man so thoroughly as you trusted Steve now.

There was warmth spreading from your body to his, reassuring, soothing. A calming glow oozing from your soul conquering his last lines of defence. He couldn't fight against you. He loved you too much for it. All he could do before you was to lay down his arms and offer you his heart on a plate. It was dangerous, and yet he was not afraid. He trusted you too blindly to worry about what you could do with his most precious offering. You would do with it what you pleased. He would accept it all no matter what. It could either bring him back to life or break him for good, but in any case, he would not regret giving you his heart. He knew so much, at least.

He leaned down, your bodies too close to be moved closer to each other by then, resting his jaw against your temple. He remained quiet and so did you, although your two pounding hearts spoke better than your tongues at this moment.

There were no words needing to be spoken, you both knew that this feeling coursing through your bodies now was the feeling of coming home.

Inside the busy crowd, Sam was finishing his third glass of bourbon, while Bucky drank the last drop of his third beer. They exchanged a glance, and Bucky extended his hand. Sam could only chuckle before reaching for his wallet and slipping a twenty dollar bill in Bucky's hand. He had lost his wager, but learnt an important lesson.

One should never underestimate the sense of romance of Captain America, especially if he is wearing that kind of suit.

*****************************************************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi

@madamrogers

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years ago

Text

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Fifteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 15: Avoidance

Chapter Summary: The thing about avoiding your problems is that you always have to face them sooner than you think.

Chapter Word Count: 2611

A/N: Slight warnings for a little bit of angsting, and it’s a little light on Steve content (though he eventually appears from afar). Anywho. I wish I could say something cool like ‘enjoy the pining!’ but I have no idea how long I can actually keep them apart considering I have been mushing two dolls together in my head and going ‘now kiss!’ since I started posting. There will be a little pining though. Like, maybe a car air freshener, at least. Enjoy!

I avoided Steve for the rest of the long weekend. It was easier than it might have been had he not been called in for something. Though we still had texting, he was busy and I didn’t instigate. Even when we did communicate, my responses were short and didn’t leave much for follow up. He probably assumed I needed time to de-socialize, because that was the kind of guy he was, sweet and caring and all good things. Meanwhile, I knew exactly why I was trying not to talk to him, and it stressed me the hell out.

I didn’t want to think about any of it and found my perfect excuse on Monday morning, when a work project made me skip lunch and go into overtime. I immediately texted Steve telling him I’d be busy for a few days and threw myself into work. Unfortunately the project was too time-sensitive and it was done before I even clocked out Tuesday afternoon.

“Okay, this definitely isn’t about money anymore,” my boss said that evening, just when he was packing up. “Do you have a spouse you’re having a fight with?”

“I’m just…looking for stuff to do. To keep me busy.” I didn’t back down when he stared at me. “Just for this week?”

He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Okay. Lunches and up to one hour after if you spend it working on organizing the junk drive. Make real progress on cleaning that out and I’ll approve the overtime.”

That was two hours of mindless-but-incredibly-draining work that would put me at a worse commute time and make me crawl into bed at the end of the day, and hopefully completely wipe me out on the weekend.

Perfect.

“Thank you!” I said and started to bound out to get started on the one job everybody in my department passed around like it was a beach ball on fire.

“Seriously,” he said and I stopped. He stood there with his bag over his shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”

I almost smiled, but remembered that would be out of character. “I’m fine,” I said and shrugged one shoulder. “Holidays, you know?”

It worked. For the most part. I at least had a plausible excuse to keep Steve off my back, and my boss didn’t press any further, and I made progress on the most mind-numbing task ever embarked upon by an actual human with an actual brain.

The only problem was that it wasn’t numbing enough. As much as I tried to avoid thinking about Steve at all, he was still in my phone, as was Sam, and even Clint and Natasha now too. Pepper wasn’t a very social texter, thankfully, but I kept getting pulled back to Steve in other ways. In the course of three days I: saw a tuft of blonde hair that made me do a double-take, heard his recorded laugh as I passed by someone who didn’t understand the concept of using headphones, and had to listen to a few older ladies gossip about ‘what a man’ he was in unfiltered detail. I even had a dream about some of the things they said because the universe hated me, apparently.

And then there was Steve himself, not texting that much, but always taking the time to send me a little photo every day that was obviously meant to make me laugh. He even sent me the ‘Hang in there’ kitten poster (which made me snort way too loudly in public) along with ‘I dare you to use this for your lockscreen for a month.’

I texted back, ‘What do I get for it?’ before I realized I was breaking my own goddamn rules and smashed my face into my desk.

Steve: Something good ;)

Oh god. Did he know what he was doing? If he did I wished he would have just put me out of my fucking misery already.

Steve: How’s work?

Fuck.

Me: Busy. Me: How’s work? Steve: Almost done Steve: I hope your job lets up this weekend Steve: Sam is coming back with me and we’re hoping you can come out with us

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Me: We’ll see

Work did let up. Unfortunately. I made good progress on organizing the long-forgotten junk drive and my boss repaid me and betrayed me in the same breath.

“I’ll approve the overtime,” he said. “But that’s it for now. You look exhausted and I need you to take the weekend to rest up, okay?”

It was the one and only time I had ever wished to have a bastard boss again. But I was tired, and I didn’t have any excuses. “Okay,” I said and left his office feeling miserable. I got home pretty quick for a Friday night, which just left me more time to think about things I really didn’t want to think about. And there was only one cure for that.

The club was busier than I was used to, busier than it had any right to be with the night just really beginning, but as soon as I got in I made a beeline for the bar and snaked in the first opening I could find. It was loud, and too crowded, and I really wasn’t up for this, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I started drinking.

That was a bad idea. Aside from the ‘using alcohol to try and drown your emotions’ being a baseline fucking awful idea, it also didn’t fucking work.

Couples. They were everywhere. Leaning next to each others’ ears, making out along the wall, dancing together like it was foreplay; they were so all over the place that even the fake ID crowd seemed less obnoxious by comparison.

Except for when a gaggle of party girls yelled right next to me for no real reason and reminded me they really weren't. The music thumped and I winced and turned away from watching the floor to sip my drink at the bar like the true lonely miser I was.

And wasn’t that just the thing.

Loneliness, as a thing in my life, had stopped bothering me after a while– or maybe I had just stopped noticing it– either way, it wasn’t generally a thing I dwelled on. I took for granted that I wasn’t the type anyone would settle in with; I was too…whatever. So for the longest time I had just assumed I’d be on my own and I was okay with it. I knew I could handle it, and figured I and everyone else was better off for it. People came and went, and no one ever stuck around before– not that I ever gave them a real reason to. And if I couldn’t make friendships work, I had no business getting into a relationship. It truly didn’t bother me. Most of the time.

So it figured I would fall for the first person I’d had qualify as ‘friend’ in a while. That thought was slightly concerning, but as long as I didn’t make these feelings Steve’s problem, I could sleep easy at night. For the most part. The question was how to deal with it. Did I continue as normal and bottle this up for the rest of time, hoping it would fade out? Did I continue as normal but let him know, and let him decide if he wanted to stick around?

Or did I just…let go. Did I stop putting in the time to keep this friendship going. Did I stop responding, start avoiding him, and just fade out of his life even easier than I had faded in. That seemed like a real option. I was so naturally good at it, had done it so much by accident, he wouldn’t even miss me. After a while I doubt he would remember I existed.

My mouth tasted sour and bitter and I tossed back my drink. It didn’t help.

An hour later I was home, sitting at my kitchen counter and hanging my face over a cup of tea that got colder by the minute. My head still pulsed in time with the beat that had driven me out of the club, but it had become less and less over time.

My phone buzzed. “Shh,” I said softly, but it ignored me and I looked over only to hurt my neck when I did a double-take. Steve had sent three texts. Shit. I sat up and opened my phone directly to my messages. If Steve had gotten injured again I was really going to hurt him.

Fortunately the first message was a simple ‘Hey’ sent soon after I had set out on my ill-advised adventure. The next was ‘Are you busy?’ and then simply my name.

I hesitated. I had the terrible thought that here was where I could start ghosting on out of his life. Fade away like the nonentity I was.

I swallowed and sent back, ‘Sry. Went out’

Steve: Oh Steve: Good :) Steve: How are you? Me: Okay Me: You? Steve: I’m okay

The conversation stalled and I realized why I had even considered ghosting– it was easy to not respond when you didn’t know what to say.

Me: Good Steve: Can I ask you Steve: Are you really okay?

His texts came too fast after mine to be responding to the silence. Fuck.

Me: Yes Me: Why?

I shouldn’t have asked, but I had a bad feeling about this. I tapped my fingers on the table while I waited for a response.

Steve: You haven’t been talking to me much lately Steve: I’m just Steve: worried Steve: Was it Thanksgiving? Steve: Was I inappropriate?

Shit, shit, shit. I hit my forehead on the table which, fucking ow, but I deserved it. I had never intended for him to feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault, nor was it ever supposed to be his problem. It wasn’t right for him to be upset because of my bullshit. So I decided to be honest.

Me: No Me: It’s not you Me: It’s very definitely me Me: I’m mis Me: miserable Me: And awful Steve: You’re not Me: Am too Me: It’s not you tho Me: I’m having a hard time Me: That’s all

Honest to a point, at least.

Steve: I’m sorry Steve: Can I help? Me: No Me: Gotta Me: Push through Steve: Okay Steve: I’m your friend though Steve: You can always come to me Steve: And hey Steve: Sam and I are going out tomorrow for dinner Steve: I’ll text you the details just in case you’re up to it Steve: But I won’t expect anything Steve: Is that okay?

Why did he have to be so fucking thoughtful all the time. Why did he have to be someone so out of my league in every single way.

Me: Fine Me: Can’t promise Steve: That’s okay <3

I was going to straight up murder whoever taught him fucking heart symbols. Preferably by taking their heart.

Steve: Have you eaten yet? Me: Don’t wanna Steve: How about dessert?

‘Only if you’re here to share it,’ I thought. The worst part was that it wasn’t even sexual– I just wanted him here. With me. All of the time. Okay, maybe not all of the time, but most of the time. And that was new. That was different. That scared the hell out of me.

Then there was a knock at my door and I froze up. Nobody had buzzed for me and while my building wasn’t exactly Fort Knox, I also didn’t expect company I didn’t explicitly invite over. I gave it a few seconds but kept my connection to Steve in hand (just in case) and went to the peephole.

Me: Someone knocked. If I don’t respond maybe send help Steve: It’s safe :)

I squinted at the message and then peered out again. I didn’t see him at all and it wasn’t like him to hide. I cautiously opened the door and looked around but there was no one– but there was something.

A bakery box sat in front of my door, with a note scrawled on receipt paper that had my name followed with very flowery bubble letters telling me to “Feel Better!” from a hand-scrawled smiling sunflower.

I stared at it, picked up the box, brought it in, set it on the counter, and stared at it some more.

Steve: Okay now you’ve put that thought into my head I’m a little worried Steve: Are you okay? Me: brb Me: crying into cake Steve: Don’t cry Steve: Or cry if you need to I guess Steve: But eat something too Steve: I’ll say good night here Steve: And text you again with dinner info Steve: Again, only if you want to. Sam and I will NOT be slighted Steve: I promise Me: Good night Steve Steve: Good night <3

“Just fucking end me,” I muttered and stared at the screen while I dug into the cake with a fork. (It was small; I felt no shame.) It was also so unbelievably good that I actually stopped and checked out the box.

Me: Wait, how did you get a cake this late??? Steve: Asking the real questions

I laughed. That surprised me, but I couldn’t help it.

Me: It’s really good Me: Thank you Steve: Anytime

I forced myself to think about this whole…situation…while I ate. Phasing out of his life was, apparently, not much of an option if he was just randomly thinking of me like this. And I knew now very firmly that even accidentally hurting him was not an option. Love was an easy word for complicated emotion, but it was the best way I knew how to classify how deeply I cared for him. And I cared, to the point where if anybody was going to get hurt, I’d rather it be me.

The more I thought about it though, the more I had real hope that maybe nobody would get hurt at all. Steve was a really good guy. So even if he accidentally found out (I knocked on wood at the thought) it wouldn’t be the end of everything. He wouldn’t let it be the end of everything; he would be flattered, reject me politely, and we could move on. I hoped.

And for once, the best-case scenario didn’t seem the least likely. I trusted Steve that much. That was something I didn’t want to look into too much, but to be fair, he also trusted…me. He would know I wasn’t infatuated with some aspect of him and we might even work past this together. If not, he would give me the chance to work past it on my own, and I wasn’t about to let him down.

The box topped off my trash so I pulled the bag together and got ready to make the trek to take it out. Coming out the door I almost ran right into my neighbor, Robert, who was apparently doing the same thing.

“Hey,” he said. I was polite like a real human being and asked after his wife and kids. We made some more small talk on the way, and he even waited to hold the chute open for me. When I lifted the bag, his eyes zeroed in on the box stuffed half in the top. “Oh, that place is nice. You celebrating something?”

“No,” I said and shoved it in. “I…wasn’t feeling so great. So a friend sent it to me.”

“That must be a pretty good friend,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about Steve and finally feeling hopeful. “A really good friend.”

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years ago

Text

Ectober Day 5: Radiation - Septicemia

Ectoplasm isn’t exactly known for being safe to handle. But Danny handles that problem like he does everything else, with a dose of humour and ignoring it.

"Goddammit”, Danny looks down at his vertically sliced open arm, bone slightly visible. Speaking thick with annoyance, "why, out of all ghosts, did it have to be the Box Ghost to give me my first serious injury?". Coming to float just slightly above the ground in an alleyway, pinching closed the wound, as Sam and Tucker come running towards him. Tucker sidestepping and gagging at the little splashes and one large puddle of Danny's ectoplasm. While Sam just steps over it, not really giving a shit.

Danny looks up at the two as they plop down on the ground next to him, giving the two of them a loose smile, "took long enough huh?". While both of them frown at him, clearly unimpressed.

Sam digs in her backpack, pulling out the mini-medi kit they had all decided all three of them should carry around. Handing Tucker a cloth and little water bottle to clean off the wound while she sets up a needle with ectoline.

Danny gives his arm to Tucker while Tucker responds, “would have preferred it never happening, dude”, smirking slightly as he wipes off the wound, “but with your terrible dodging of course it did”.

Danny flips him off with his other hand, “hey fuck you Tuck. It was going to happen eventually because I am constantly getting into fights. It would be weird if I constantly came out of getting thrown around, sliced, bitten and whatnot, with nothing more than bruising, small cuts and scrapes”.

Tucker rolls his eyes as he goes to ball up the cloth only to yelp and drop it. Green steam coming off his hand slightly, making everyone look at him worriedly.

Danny squints at him, “what’d you get on you? Obviously ghostly, but don’t think we’ve seen that before”.

Sam just grabs Tucker’s hand, grumbling all the while, “gimme that”, before inspecting his hand. Nodding mostly to herself, “it’s an ecto-burn”.

Danny looks around for a source, “but from what?”.

Tucker just frowns and looks back to the cloth and scrunches it up in the same hand, only to drop it; having been burned by the contact again.

All three mutter, “weird”.

Danny clears his throat, hoping his guess is right, “well it is one of my parents specially made cloths, so maybe it has some weird reaction with ectoplasm”.

Sam snorts, “well here’s what we get for thinking your parents crap would be better to use than regular shit”. While both Danny and Tucker laugh, before Tucker goes about treating his ecto-burns.

Sam motions for Danny’s arm, and grabs his wrist. Resting her forearm on his elbow to begin. Only to jerk away from him after getting some of his ectoplasm on her forearm, the ecto-burn visible. All three stare at it, before Tucker mutters, “dude, it’s you. it’s your ectoplasm”.

Danny clears his throat, pushing down the mild horror and grasping for another reason, “well, I mean, it could be from wiping my arm with the cloth?”. Sam grabs his other hand and pricks his finger crudely enough to get him to bleed. Touching the bubbling droplet only to hiss and cringe. Wiping her finger off on the ground and inspecting the ecto-burn. Looking at Danny and shaking her head.

Danny groans, ruffles his hair with the same hand, “great, that’s just great. So my folks are right on ectoplasm not being safe to have skin contact with. Wonderful. I’m fucking corrosive or some shit”. Meanwhile, Danny is really really damn glad that he’s not hurt by his own ectoplasm.

Sam digs in her bag, looking for gloves, but frowns. Looking back up to Danny, “no gloves. No way I can fix you up then”. All three groan and Danny motions for her to give him the needle with a sigh, which she does.

Danny grunts, “has to be done though”, as he clenches his teeth and gets to work. Sam and Tucker patting his shoulders in comfort and support. Though Tucker occasionally cringes and can’t watch. Tucker talks while looking at a wall, “guess spandex gloves are something we need to carry from here on out”, poking Danny, “too bad we can’t just borrow yours. Being attached to your suit and all”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “pretty sure ghost clothing is made of ectoplasm, Danny’s suit included”. All three pauses and Danny looks from his arm to where his friends are touching his suit. They exchange confused glances before collectively shrugging.

Danny grumbles as he gets back to work, “the stuff inside me must be more concentrated”.

Danny hands back the needle after wiping it off on his leg and Sam wraps his arm, maintaining a safe distance to avoid getting any ectoplasm on her. Tucker gets up and starts mopping up the spilled ectoplasm on the ground with his foot, none of them wanting anyone to get burnt by it or for his parents to find and collect it. Frequently having to change what part of the cloth he’s touching with his shoe, as it steams from the ectoplasm contact. But after a while he starts feeling rather nauseous, the acidic lemon-lime scent starting to feel overpowering. Coughing and gagging before having to walk to the other side of the alleyway. Putting his hands on the wall and dry heaving. Pointing towards Sam and Danny, who are staring at him with concern from their spot on the ground, “dude, ugh, I think it might be more than-”, heaving again, “-just unsafe to touch”.

Sam pauses in her wrapping and leans over Danny’s arm to sniff at it. Getting hit by a wave of nausea after a bit. Sitting back and giving Danny an apologetic frown. Clearing her throat and shoving down the desire to gag, “he’s right. It’s probably because ghost ectoplasm sheds off free-floating ectoplasm”.

Danny nods with a frown, it made sense, “so inhaling that is bad”, speaking with sarcasm, “gReAt. I JuSt LoVe ThIs. PeRfEcT”. Both of them send him sympathetic smiles while Sam goes back to wrapping and Tucker continues cleaning up, just with his arm sleeve over his mouth and nose. Which just serves to make Danny feel guilty. His ectoplasm was basically toxic and corrosive for everyone in town. There was no way he wasn’t going to wind up getting his ectoplasm spilled on things, or get hurt badly again. He was actually going to have to make sure to clean his bed sheets more often now. He knew for a fact there was ectoplasm smeared on them.

Sam clips the end of the bandaging before the two get up, bags repacked, and Danny wraps his arms around his friends. Looking at Tucker, who has Danny’s injured arm around him, “you good? Not burning you?”.

Tucker smirks, “you’re good dude”. Making Danny smile as he floats up and takes the three invisibly to his house.

Flopping down on his bed after transforming back. Tucker lays across his legs and pokes him, “bleed again”.

“Um, what?”.

Tucker snorts, “dude, don’t you always have a little ectoplasm running through your veins? That shit’s in your blood too”.

Danny blinks into a blanket, “oh fuck”, before sticking his hand out towards where he can smell Sam, sitting in his desk chair. Who pokes him with a pin he had lying on his desk, smearing his blood on her wrist. Nothing happens for a bit but then she cringes and wipes it off with a Kleenex. Glance at Tucker while Danny grunts, “you’re being awfully quiet”.

Sam glances down at the mild ecto-burn, it took longer and was much more minor but it was an ecto-burn all the same, “sorry Danny”.

Danny can tell by her tone that she’s not apologising but instead feeling slightly bad for him. Which obviously means she was ecto-burned. Lovely. Danny groans into the blanket, before turning his head to actually look at her, “goddammit. So my blood’s an issue too”, Danny snorts, “Ancients fuck, it’s like everyone’s allergic to me”.

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance, Tucker poking him again, “you probably should pass it off as that actually. If anyone notices that Danny Fenton’s blood burns people”.

Danny squints at Tucker, give him his best ‘are you fucking shitting me?’ look, “and how would that even make sense Tuck? No one's allergic to just one cat or just one bee...or just one human. That’s not logical”.

Sam sighs as she sits down next to him, “blame ecto-contamination, it’s covered all the other general ghostliness. Wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say it poisoned your blood”.

Tuck smirks and gives him a pat, “or made it a poison”, shrugging, “just make a habit of not bleeding”.

Both Sam and Danny stare at him incredulously before all three start laughing. Because as if that would ever happen!

Tucker pats Danny again, “but for real, just don’t bleed on people. It’s not like people make a habit of touching other people's blood, in-fact people emphatically avoid doing that. And it’s only the ghosts who are actively out for Fenton’s blood”.

Danny pushes himself up slightly, going a bit wide-eyed, “guys, Dash”.

“Oh shit”.

Tucker shrugs awkwardly after a while, “well, at least he doesn’t make folks bleed. When he does it’s usually on locks and shit, not on himself”.

Danny sits up fully and slices his wrist, smearing the blood on the wooden side table. Sam grunting, “that’s one way to do gothic home decorating”.

Danny points at her, “also would have scared the crap out of anyone if they had happened to walk in”, pausing and turning his head back to the table as it starts faintly smoking. Danny groans and tilts his head back, “goddamnit”.

Tucker pats his shoulder, “well, that’s a check on you having to clean up any bloody messes with the level of haste that’ll make you seem like you’re some kind of clean freak”.

All three look around Danny’s horribly messy room and start laughing. Danny parting Tucker as they laugh, letting the guy know Danny’s thankful for the little cheer up.

Sam hops over to the bed, “though really, it’s more like you’re radioactive than just corrosive or toxic. Cause you seem to affect everything, with or without direct contact”.

Danny hits her with a pillow while Tucker doddles a little radioactive symbol on Danny’s neck, earning him a hit from the pillow as well. Even if it’s more humoured than genuinely bothered.

——Cut to tomorrow at Casperhigh——

Danny closes his locker with a slight smile before turning to his friends, “guess what son of a corpse actually got to sleep the night away?”. Both of them give him high fives with Tucker near shouting, “fuck yeah dude!”.

“What the Hell do the losers three have to be happy about?!?”. All three groan at the sound of Dash’s voice. As they turn to look at him slowly.

“What do you want Dash?”.

Dash shrugs before smirking, “my brother’s visiting the school today, gotta impress”, digging in his pocket, “and since you’re so cheery”, Dash menacingly flicks out a switchblade knife, “you get to be my target”.

Danny just looks at Tucker, highly unamused, “I hate you, I really really hate you”, before booking it. Sam and Tucker quickly following after him. Tucker grumbling, “I fucking jinxed it”.

However, in a rare show of intellect, Dash had planned for the fleeing and really was going to target Danny anyway. But it wasn’t any fun if he just jumped, didn’t instigate the chase. Scaring the crap out of people was half the fun, which is why Danny pisses him off. Dash damn well knew what fake fear looked like, and faked fear was the only kind he ever got from Danny. The ghosts didn’t even seem to scare the loser, and they absolutely did scare Dash. And that was an insult that Fentailbone wasn’t getting away with. Dash smirks devilishly as Kwan, Dale and Todd corner the three pathetic losers.

Danny makes a point of covering his friends with his arm and body, as the three jocks smirk and stare down at them. Danny turns his head slightly behind him, seeing Dash walking up slowly with a smirk and flipping around the blade. Danny grumbles, “asshole”, before trio back up against the lockers, Danny in front.

And really, that just annoys Dash more. The weak loser acting all protective, like he’s really capable of anything. HA. It doesn’t take much for Kwan and Dale to get the goth and geek pulled away, while Todd basically holds Danny against the lockers. Dash doesn’t even have to look around to know James is watching in one of the small doorways, smoking out of sight from any teachers.

Danny glares at Dash, not even bothering to pay attention to the knife. It was a small thing and Danny had accidentally stabbed himself with larger things. Hell, the thanksgiving turkey attacked him with bigger knives. Plus, stab wounds weren’t all that bad so long as the blade wasn’t jagged. It was Dash who was the actual threat, obviously looking to do some real damage for a change. Instead of just generalised aggression and trying to humiliate.

Dash waves the knife in Danny’s face, “now to skin the rabbit”.

Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, “wow, you actually made a somewhat intelligent joke for once”. Todd squeezes Danny’s shoulder, hard, for that. But again, Danny’s gotten worse from his own house. So he ignores it entirely.

Dash meanwhile frowns, this is exactly what he’s talking about. The clear ‘go ahead and hit me, I don’t give a damn’ attitude, even if the little loser covered it up with fake fear half the time. “If you want to play it so tough then maybe I need to give you a mark to show who you and this school belong to”.

Danny snorts, “kinky”. Which Dash instantly punches him in the gut for, before slice his cheek and stabbing him in the shoulder. Grabbing that shoulder and squeezing the wound, as he slams Danny back upright and into the lockers.

Danny coughs, completely ignoring the injuries but forcing them not to heal, “wow fuck, you actually did it huh? Good for you Dash”, smirking up at Dash, “you proved you’re old enough to play with knives”. Dash punches the lockers next to Danny’s head while Danny forcibly rolls the injured shoulder, “missed the bone, try harder next time”.

Tucker grumbling, “I actually forgot how much more witty he is when he’s not sleep-deprived”.

Dash side-eyes the geek, “you think he’s witty huh?”, looking back at Danny, “well maybe he should cut that out”.

“Wow, two jokes, you’re on a ro-”, Dash shoves the knife into Danny’s mouth and makes a point to cut up his tongue before pulling it out. Making Danny cough again, he was going to spit at the ground but blinks, remembering last night's bullshit.

As if on cue, Dash jerks his hand off Danny’s shoulder, steaming green and with a forming ecto-burn. Danny, spotting the green steam on the knife, uses the jocks shock to snatch the knife and book it. Though unable to resist a joke as he does so, “yoink!”.

Sam, being more of a planner and ballsy enough to do said plans, maneuvers around Kwan, whose startled enough by everything to have pretty well lost his grip, and punches Dash in the face. The guy might be a bully but he’s one of those fuckers who ‘won’t hit a girl’, but also doesn’t expect a girl to be doing the hitting. Taking Dash’s furthered shock to wipe off his hands with her jacket, “the only person you can impress by trying to beat up Danny, is Danny”, before elbow him in the back of the head and running off. Catching Danny running backwards and waving the, cleaned off, knife at the jocks, “thanks for the knife! Pleasure doing business with ya!”.

Which only pulls Dash out of his shock, “FENTON!!!”, and gets him chasing after them.

Now what Dash didn’t know was that Danny liked the chase and hunt just as much as Dash did. Expect Danny got far more fun out of the ‘getting away’ part. Danny chuckles from their hiding spot inside the stairs, “getting out from under the wolves teeth and taking a tooth as a trophy prize”.

Sam uses a medical cloth from her bag to wipe off her jacket before it gets burnt, while Tucker elbows Danny, “maybe you should sleep less”.

“Fuck you Tuck”.

“Dude, you were treating him kind of like a ghost”.

Danny rolls his eyes and huffs, “well excuse me. Normally ghosts stab me, not humans”, shrugging, “besides, wit’s kind of my knee jerk reaction”.

Sam sighs as she starts wiping off Danny’s t-shirt, which is noticeably smoking and has a patch of the shoulder slowly burning away, “you can’t be fighting back against Dash, Danny. It’s too risky. Mocking him is practically the same thing”.

Danny waves her off as he takes the cloth and wipes off his cheek. Choosing to just swallow whatever’s in his mouth and letting those wounds heal up. Course he can’t do that with the cheek or shoulder. Y’know, in case Dash checks. Plus other people saw the cheek shit.

Tucker holds up a bandaging kit, “what ones you want? Space for your face?”.

Danny snorts but shakes his head, “it’s not deep and I’ve already cut off the bleeding. Having a bandaid on my face would just make Dash happy”.

Sam grabs one of the large square ones, “well regardless, your shoulder’s getting this”, before motioning for Danny to take off his shirt; which he does.

Sam seals the bandage around to stab wound, which normally would have been healed up in half an hour or so, while Tucker sticks a bandaid on Danny’s face; reading ‘Thy wit’s as thick as Tewksbury mustard’.

Danny glares at him and pulls out his phone to see what one Tucker put on while Tucker speaks, “we can see muscle in the wound dude, it should logically be bleeding”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “well I can’t let it, now can I”, point at the bandaid, “and really? That one?”.

Tucker smirks, “you deserved it”.

Danny snorts as he pulls back on his t-shirt, glaring at the obvious burn hole, before digging in his bag and pulling out a patterned dress shirt and throwing it on; leaving it unbuttoned though.

The three get up and Danny makes them intangible and invisible, before flying them out and into an empty hallway.

Dash, meanwhile, gave up on chasing the weird loser. Instead going to the bathroom with a huff and staring down at his burnt? hand. Seriously wondering how and when that happened. There’s no way the little loser had done that, was there? Hugging and glaring at the mirror, “maybe Fenton’s more of a freak than a loser. A freak loser, even worse than the rest of those pathetic weaklings”. Before leaving the bathroom.

Danny can’t help but give Dash a shit-eating grin as the trio spot him while leaving the school. Pausing all three’s walking and tossing up the knife a few times. Grinning even more shit-eatingly when Dash clearly notices the knife.

At first Dash smirks at seeing the noticeable bandaid, talk about embarrassing, until -due to wanting his damn knife back- he gets close enough to read it; which Fenton obviously wanted. “Why you little freak!”, chasing after the three as they all run off. Only to lose them near instantly. It was really starting to piss him off how good the little freak loser was getting at escaping him.

Danny laughs in the alleyway, patting Tucker’s shoulder, “Tuck, you do realise I was insulting his ‘wit’ earlier and you put on a bandage that insults a persons wit!”.

Tucker smirks, knowing full well he’s about to be an asshole, “well you know what I realised? You could kill or destroy everything just by bleeding everywhere”.

Danny smacks him over the head as he stops laughing, “fuck you, you’re right and that’s horrifying, but fuck you”.

Sam smirks, “maybe you should get dePhantomed again so I can add a radioactive symbol to your back as a warning”.

Danny blinks and tilts his head at her, “you know...that would actually look kind of cool”.

“...I was joking”.

Danny just gives a shit-eating grin.

“Danny no”.

Danny gives the most shit-eating smug smile he can possibly manage. Effectively making it clear he won’t actually do something like that while also being a Jack ass.

Over the next few days, Danny wore an assortment of different insulting bandages and wound up getting a mild amount of respect for getting cut and stabbed but seemingly shrugging it off. While Danny just made a point to clean up after himself more and his two friends always had industrial-strength gloves on hand.

End.

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friday-ocean · 6 years ago

Photo

Summary: Happy Birthday Captain America! 101 years is a very special number. How better to celebrate than with a wonderful old tradition?

Pairing: Steve Rogers & Female! Reader

Warnings: alcohol, smut (handjob), some strange tradition

Words: 3722

A/N: More details about this tradition can be found at the end of this text.

I'm glad about every comment! Wish you all a lovely day!

~~~*~~~

Steve Rogers 101 - Birthday party should take place only in very small, private circle. Only the closest friends, good drinks and plenty of food.

To Steve's surprise Tony even followed his wish. Or more likely, Pepper had simply stopped any major organization. After all, Big Boss always had the last word.

With a whiskey in his hand, Steve lets his gaze glide over the small group. The mood is relaxed, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves and enjoying the company of the others. Natasha, Maria and Wanda get excited about the last escapade of Tony, who stands in between annoyed and tries to clarify his point of view. Obviously only Peter seems to be interested in his views... Pepper, Sam, Vision and Clint discussed the last "accident" in the training room, while Bruce and Bucky keep the birthday boy company at the bar.

Thoughtfully Steve pulls his eyebrown together. Did he miss you? At the beginning of the celebration you congratulated him like the others. For a hug you had to stand on your toes despite high heels to wrap your tender arms around his neck.

Steve couldn't tell if he had pressed you closer to his body or if you had snuggled up to him yourself. One thing, however, Steve had become aware of at that moment: under the red summer dress with the cheeky white dots, you definitely didn't have a bra on. Your curves pressed themselves warmly and softly against his firm upper body and your very own, distinctive scent of honey and sandalwood drew him directly into your spell.

Steve clears his throat and tries to concentrate on his friends again. In the last weeks he caught himself more and more often as his thoughts circled around you.

As if on cue, the door opens and you come into the living room with a broad grin. With you inside you bring a huge bouquet of white balloons floating in a funny mountain above your head.

"Surprise! Time for Steve's birthday present," you call and tie the balloons to the back of a chair.

The whole group curiously joins you as you stand next to Steve. From their amazed faces Steve can guess that you haven't initiated anyone into your whimsical plan.

"Dear Steve", you begin and grin at the man at your side with the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. "To become 101 years old is a rarity and we have to celebrate it today. Above all, we must celebrate you especially! An approving murmur goes through the room.

"So how could you do this better than at the same time honouring your person and worrying for a little fun?

Cheeky smiling you look up at Steve, who feels more and more uncomfortable in the center of all attention.

"So I came up with a game. It's based on an old tradition from my village. I only had to modify it a little so that it would suit your age," you winked and clopped him on his muscular upper arm. The sudden physical touch briefly stretches his muscles.

"In each of the balloons there is a piece of paper with a task or question. You must stab the balloons one after the other with a dart and complete the task or answer the question. The fun of the whole game is that if you fail you have to drink a schnapps. If, on the other hand, you complete the task, we'll have to drink a schnapps."

Laughing, Steve takes the dart you give him from your hand. "What kind of strange place are you from?"

You shrug your shoulders and position Steve about five meters away from the balloons. "I forgot one thing. If the balloon doesn't burst because you miss or the arrow bounces off, you'll have to drink one too, of course."

With a smile Steve raises his arm with the arrow. Normally, he wouldn't voluntarily take part in any drinking game. But you're so cute about the whole situation that he just can't say 'no'.

Steve throws the first arrow and hits one of the balloons, which bursts with a loud 'Peng'. Blue, silver and red glittering confetti trickles to the ground along with a small folded piece of paper.

"Hit!", you cheer and pick up the piece of paper.

"If you were a vampire, which one of us would you bite now?" you ask and point to the round.

"What a stupid question", Sam shouts.

An evil look on your part and Sam quickly pulls back. "I mean... The answer is clear! He would bite me. After all, my blood is as sweet as chocolate.

Dramatically you twist your eyes, but you can't hold back a grin. "Steve should answer!

The person addressed looks around the room. "I'd probably... Actually start with Sam and then suck each one of you... one after the other?"

"With your appetite we'd have to let the whole New York Yankees team come..." Tony laughs and Pepper agrees.

"Anyway - passed! Time for the booze," you're happy.

Quickly you run into the adjacent kitchen and open the large refrigerator. In the morning you secretly deposited several bottles of schnapps in the fridge and placed small glasses of schnapps on a tray. With the bottle under your arm and the tray in both hands, you return to the living room. Natascha takes great pleasure in filling every single glass with the clear liquid.

You squeeze a glass into the hands of everyone present, turn to Steve and solemnly say "Cheers!" before you put your head up your neck and drink the liquor to your ex. The cool liquid burns sharply in your throat, but it is not an unpleasant burning. To be honest, it's not the first alcohol of the day for you either. You were so nervous that you drank at least two glasses of prosecco and one whiskey at the beginning of the celebrations. A warm feeling of serenity crawls slowly from your belly up into your already glowing cheeks.

"Next arrow," Maria asks and Steve obeys. The next throw hits again, the balloon bursts and the note and confetti flutter to the ground.

This time Sam picks it up. "Oh. That's good. This will be fun!

Feixend he lifts the note up and announces: "Time for a date! Make-up for the man to your right!"

The whole group bursts into loud laughter, only Steve and his right neighbour don't. Clint has literally dropped every nasty comment from his face. How unfair! He just stood next to Steve two minutes ago!

"Well Clint... Unfortunately you have no choice..."

A chair is quickly pulled up and Clint is pressed onto the chair by Sam and Bucky with some physical effort. While Clint is still complaining, you get the hidden lipstick from the big bookshelf.

"The color is called 'Velvet Kiss' and promises to look good on everyone," you try to reassure Clint, more or less. Steve takes the lipstick, pulls off the cap and turns the coloured pencil a little. It's a warm, rich red shade. It's a real waste for him to now have to apply this gorgeous colour to his friend's lips. How gorgeous would that shade look to you? Full, red lips that invite you to caress, kiss and how irresistibly seductive they could take care of him...?

A grunt tears Steve out of his hypnosis. Sam and Bucky had still successfully pinned Clint to the chair.

"Clint... Really. I'm sorry," Steve tries to lenience his friend.

He grunts again: "Who cares? Make finally, so that I can drink the bottle liquor."

"You have to open your mouth a little to make it easier for Steve", Natasha stands right next to the two gentlemen and has her mobile phone in her hand. A shot for eternity. Slowly Clint opens his tightly squeezed lips and Steve takes a step towards him. To stabilize Clint's head a little he presses his flat hand on his forehead, whereupon Clint places his head a little bit in the back of his neck.

Steve timidly presses the pen against Clint's lower lip and leads him along it. He needs a little more pressure and the pen slides along the lower lip - his upper lip follows at the same time. Astonished, you stand close to Steve and admire his work: "Fuck... I could have imagined that an artist like you wouldn't have any problems with a colored pencil..."

The rest of the troops agree with you too. Steve's work is almost perfect: the paint is applied evenly and the contours are flawless. Clint now has a mouth that invites you to kiss.

"That means schnapps for all of us," you announce and go straight around with the tray. Clint, offended, takes two glasses directly and drinks them off immediately. Another schnapps for you, which you drink with relish - the distilling had meanwhile completely receded.

If Steve continues to play so well, you'll have to drink the whole bottle yourself...

Another arrow and Steve hits again, of course. You could have saved yourself the regulation in case of failure. Super Solider can simply shine everything - even in drinking games.

Bruce picks up the note, but before he reads it, he asks, "May I wish I had a task? I've always wanted to see Steve dance a thriller!"

Surprised, you stare at the otherwise quiet man. But before you can enthusiastically agree, the actual main character speaks up: "What is a thriller dance?

"Thriller! The song by Michael Jackson", you explain and Bruce nods enthusiastically.

"To everyone's surprise, Bruce raises his arms to a huge claw, first takes three steps to the right, then stamps on and takes three steps in the opposite direction again.

Bruce notices that Steve still doesn't understand what he is talking about: "Well. Never mind. It was just an idea..."

He suddenly finds his little dance interlude incredibly embarrassing. With a bright red head he finally unfolds the piece of paper and reads: "Luck in the game! If you roll the biggest number, you'll get seven minutes in heaven!"

Stunned laughter shakes the room.

"Seven minutes in heaven? Do you want to lock one of us in his room with him", Wanda asks and lets the gaze wander back and forth between you, Steve and Vision.

"Not in a room... In a closet," you explain to Wanda and wink at her.

"Somewhere I had also hidden a cube ... ", you say and run the large buffet searching off.

"Do you mean this one?? asks Pepper and holds the find in the height. "I wondered why there was a cube between the appetizers."

"I really should have thought of a better hiding place," you confess with a smile. "But then you can roll first, Pepper!"

"Wait a minute," Tony interrupts you immediately. "Exception for all those who are in a relationship! They won't join in!"

"Don't be a spoilsport," Sam shouts.

"We all have to pay our dues," Clint agrees, a little out of tune. In the meantime he had given up removing the red lipstick. The stuff was actually waterproof! Only Natasha seems to be happy about it. If only he could already know what his red lips can do to her...

"Exactly! Don't be a spoilsport, Tony!" With a very provocative look Pepper throws the dice. Clattering he remains lying on the tile and shows two black eyes.

Almost disappointed, Pepper looks down at the cube. But she really never has luck in the game...

Triumphantly, Tony takes the Cube.

"Don't rejoice too soon, Tony. Better make sure you don't throw the six," says Bucky with a laugh.

Only now does he really seem to be aware of the danger of having to spend seven minutes in heaven with the famous Captain America.

He throws, the dice rolls and to everyone's disappointment only a skinny three remains.

The rest of the team rolls the dice one after the other and it only gets exciting for a moment when Vision throws a five. The last one is you. The cube jumps on the ground three times before six black dots remain. The whole team rejoices enthusiastically and relieved.

Playfully moaning, you accept your defeat: "Great! And at the next round of poker I'll only draw rivets again!"

In Steve's face a slight blush slowly spreads. Will he actually spend seven minutes in heaven with you now?

Even before he can question the whole action, you grab his big hand and pull him behind you, accompanied by shouts from your friends.

Quickly you lead Steve to the end of the corridor to the small chamber where brooms, towels and all kinds of small stuff are stuffed. Without hesitating to pay attention to Steve, you push the big man into the small chamber. After you have also entered, you close the door and immediately it becomes pitch dark.

Heat crawls up Steve's neck as you press your body against his.

"Listen', he whispers, 'we don't have to do all this here. Let's just go out again and I'll drink the booze."

A giggle rises from your throat. "Of course you would lose voluntarily. But I love to win...", your voice is nothing more than a smoky whisper. To prove your determination you put your hands on his chest. Steve's instinctive reaction is to dodge backwards, but his back directly hits the closet wall no escape possible.

"Relax..." you breathe and your hands move further up until you can put them in his neck. Carefully you exert a little pressure and finally Steve gives way and lowers his head.

Slowly his eyes get used to the darkness. His gaze wanders from your glowing eyes, over your little nose down to your exciting lips. These wonderful lips...

Gently place your lips on his, open them and gently stroke the tip of your tongue over his. Steve's breath falters briefly before putting his big hands on your hips. Finally Steve also opens his lips, his tongue finds yours.

You stroke his neck with your hand, feel the short, shaved hair first, then the first longer strands.

Steve presses your body closer to himself, lets you feel the heat of his strong body. Should you dare?

You release your hand from his neck and let it wander down his long arm to his belt. Test your finger between his hip and the waistband. Steves draws in the air sharply and says against your lips: "Sweetness... What are you up to?

Instead of saying something, you just giggle at his lips.

Your other hand follows the first and with skillful fingers you open the belt. Steve could at that moment say what he wanted, protest or even ask you to stop, his body expresses the complete opposite.

While one hand of Steve remains on your back, his other glides down to your ass. To your disappointment, however, it just stays there quietly.

With both hands you pull down Steve's pants together with his boxer shorts. To your surprise, Steve's limb was already aroused, Präejakulat glittered on the top. Steve holds his breath as you put your warm hand on his shaft. Your thumb circles its tip, spreading its prejaculate along its length. Fascinated you can feel every protruding vein.

"Sweet..." Steve's voice breaks and you form a fist around his shaft.

Slowly and evenly you start to pump. As soon as you grasp Steve more strongly, he can't prevent moaning anymore. Smiling, you press your face to his neck - inhaling his very own scent of wood and chocolate, mixed with the heavy scent of his masculinity.

Steve puts his head back to the cupboard, his breath is heavy and fast. His big hand strokes over your buttocks, first over your dress, until he raises his skirt and slides his hand under it. He pays special attention to the depression between your two buttocks.

Goosebumps are spreading on your body, along with an undeniable heat between your own legs.

You pump faster and faster and Steve's best piece gets even harder. Steve is noticeably tightening his abdominal muscles, moaning again with his eyes closed.

"Baby, please, stop... I'm coming..."

Instead of answering him, you kiss his neck and grab it a little harder.

Pump it a few more times and Steve's tension will unload into your hand.

"Jesus..." Steve mumbles, his breath still fast and irregular.

A loud hammering at the door makes you both startle - Steve really jerks together.

"Don't worry, I've locked the door," you whisper to Steve and wink. He breathes a sigh of relief, a blissful smile on his lips.

"Time is up," Sam warbles.

"Come out, come out," Clint joins in the sing-song.

"Don't you want to give the birthday boy a few more minutes," you ask through the door. Your hand still lies on Steve's half erect limb. You don't just want to give Steve a few more minutes, you want to give yourself!

"No chance," Clint shouts.

"All right...", you give in. "Can Steve at least put his pants back on in peace?"

Shocked, Steve stares at you. Did you just have to tell that seriously?

"Of course... He can also take the time to do his hair and refresh his make-up..." Clint and Sam burst out laughing loudly.

"Should we give Steve a quick cold bath?" Clint and Sam seem to have a real pleasure raising Steve.

Apparently both guys assume that there can't have been much more between you two than a nice conversation in a small room.

Steve had meanwhile pulled up his boxer shorts and pants and closed his belt. But the pants are still tight and the boxer shorts fabric feels uncomfortably rough on his still sensitive best friend.

Meanwhile, you wiped your hands on a towel and then put the towel to dirty laundry.

When Steve opens the door, he's surprised to see that you're not even looking at the wild ride. Your lips were still glowing in a soft pink without looking smudged or worn. Probably your lipstick was just as waterproof as Clint's.

On the way back to the living room Steve notices for the first time that your gait is not as straight as usual. Slowly you start to notice the alcohol.

Why Steve notices it right now, he can't say for himself. Is it because this time you're walking a few steps in front of him, or because he's consistently looking at your perfect butt?

Grinning, the small group stands in the living room and greets you.

"Come to Daddy..." says Sam and puts his arm around your shoulder. "Now tell me what you've done to Steve that he follows you so obediently..."

With innocent eyes you look up at him.

"When I want to confess, get on your knees in front of someone else...", you ram towards him. Stiff as a stick, he takes his arm off your shoulder again and stifls any further comment.

Heavens, you had pepper stuck in your sweet ass today...

"Steve's done another job! Time for our schnapps," you're happy and take the schnapps bottle.

"Oh...", disappointed you have to realize, however, that only a small sediment is left. "No problem. I've cold-set another bottle."

You run straight towards the kitchen, but whether it's due to alcohol or speed, you suddenly break. But before you hit the ground roughly, Steve already stands behind you and wraps his strong arms around your hip.

"Not so fast, little one..." Steve's warm breath hits your ear and a shiver runs down your back.

Only able to nod, you try to squirm out of his arms and stand alone again. But your legs cannot be convinced to carry you further.

"How about taking a short break," Steve asks lovingly and pushes you a little closer.

You shake your head sulking: "No. Let's go on. That's your gift!

Another attempt on your part to free yourself from his arms. In vain.

"Come, I'll put you to bed..."

Before you can argue, Steve lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom.

Carefully Steve lays you down on your bed. But it doesn't look that cozy lying there in your summer dress and shoes. Steve just can't get your dress off without explicit consent. Instead he is content with your high heels. The red summer dress might have been innocent and cute, but not the black high heels.

Tentatively Steve sits down on your bed, next to your feet. Gently he takes your right foot in his hand. He gently strokes along the long side of the foot, admiring the high heel nestling against your foot. The long heel gives your foot this wonderful curved shape. He slowly strokes his thumb over the strap until he reaches the clasp. Sighing, he opens it and pulls the shoe off your foot. Lovingly he also turns to the second high heel. He must admit to himself that really every part of your body fascinates him almost to despair.

Steve takes the blanket from the foot of the bed and covers you with it. With a grunt in agreement you wrap yourself in the soft blanket, turn on your stomach and bury your face in the pillow.

Smiling, Steve looks at your sleeping face. After a felt eternity he can finally turn away from you.

But before he can get up from your bed, you suddenly whisper: "Steve?

"Yes?", carefully he strokes the confused hair from your face.

"Will you take me to heaven for another seven minutes?" you mumble into your pillow.

Steve briefly thinks about whether he really understood you correctly. Your drunken self seemed to have finally taken the upper hand.

But when Steve doesn't answer, you turn your head. Fearfully you fix the tall blonde on your bed. Have you gone too far in the closet? Have you finally confused him? Scared? Shaken?

Finally Steve notices your sad, anxious look. He quickly bends over your face. It cannot be denied that your breath smells of alcohol. But under the poisonous note he could recognize your own familiar smell.

With the tip of his nose he gently stroked your cheek - his warm breath tickled and goose bumps spread all over your body.

"Anytime again..."

~ Fin ~

Note: The tradition is based on an actual tradition from Germany. On the 25th birthday, unmarried people receive a wreath of boxes (women) or socks (men) from their friends. The rest is identical. Tasks, drinking, making a fool of oneself... I got my wreath almost exactly 2 years ago.

#steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x reader #smut #steve rogers smut #happy birthday #4th of july #marvel #marvel smut

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twodaysintojune · 6 years ago

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Sour Candy 3

Supernatural, Sastiel, Warnings-None Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Find me at AO3

Gabriel was leaning on the chair across him, feet over the table with a smug smile. He hadn’t moved for a while, waiting for the exact moment juuust right before Sam snapped to interrupt him.

-So.

-So? -Regarded Sam, annoyed that he had been beaten to the punch.

-You and Cas.

-What about us?

-There’s something going on between you. - Gabriel moved his eyebrows in a knowing manner.

Sam gruffed incredulously -What?

-Don’t play dumb, I’ve seen the glances you’ve been giving each other these past weeks.

Sam was floored for a second. He never imagined Gabriel to be the kind of guy who caught up subtleties.

-You’re insane.

-No, you’re in love.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh

-Ok now you’re not making any sense at all.

He was about to close the book he had in front of him when the archangel stood up.

-All I’m saying is, if there’s someone I don’t mind banging the bed’s headboard with my little brother, that one is you but for that to happen you’d better take that stick off your ass first, grow a pair and tell him how you feel.

Gabriel disappeared in front of his eyes leaving Sam incapacitated to sass him back, frustrated, he threw a ball of paper to nearest dustbin. Something about the conversation was bothering him thought. Did Gabriel just implied he was giving him his blessing?

Meanwhile, a similar conversation was taking place on the other side of the bunker.

-Dean, I told you already, I’m not “checking up” your brother.

-Alright buddy if you say so. All I’m saying here is, there’s a tv with Netflix at the Dean-cave and you still prefer to get into Sam’s bedsheets, to which he never complaints. So if you don’t want to tell me a thing it’s cool but you should at least consider telling Sam how you feel for real.

The hunter’s smug face was rubbing off on Cas in an annoying manner. The easier thing to do was to tell Dean the truth but he found himself unable to admit he had kissed Sam, leaving some grace on him and that although he was indeed checking him up it was mostly because he wanted to see whether it was having any effect on him. In the end he just rolled his eyes and sighed.

-I’ll think about it later.

Dean beamed his smile at Cas and left him to keep on with the coral reef documentary he had been looking at before the interruption but his thoughts kept steering towards Sam. Giving up to it, he went searching for Sam, who was still lingering at the library.

-Hey Cas, what’s up?

-Nothing, I just wanted to check on you.

Sam chuckled -Why would you need to check on me?

-I just... thought it would be good.

Sam turned around to see if there was no one close enough to hear.

-Is it about the grace you placed in me?

Cas nodded, he sat by Sam’s side and held his face between his hands, trying to peer with as little intrusion as possible into the hunter’s body to see if there was something odd.

-Have you felt any different?

-Nope, everything’s normal I guess.

Well it was to be expected, Cas thought, he assumed he had willed enough intention on turning Sam bisexual on the grace he had placed on him but he wasn’t pining for him like Gabriel had for Dean, maybe that was the reason Sam didn’t look nor act any different. He still remembered how Dean had behaved when that had happened to him, nervous and squirmy, obviously aware something odd had been going on while Sam was just hanging like normal. Maybe they should just put an end to the silly experiment. It was obvious Sam would not actually end up feeling any kind of attraction to men, even less to him, knowing that he was an angel. Dean was an idiot for even trying to convince him of that.

Cas had been staring at Sam long enough for the hunter to feel a bit uncomfortable with the way he was being held by the seraph.

-Uh, Cas?

Cas snapped from his thoughts and took his hands away from him in haste.

-Sorry… I spaced out.

-It’s ok

-I cannot see anything changing in you Sam. Maybe we should just end this experiment, it looks like a waste of time.

Sam didn’t know what to answer the seraph, he had asked Castiel for a kiss in the pretense that he could eventually be turned bisexual, the problem he just realised now was that he already was bisexual so, naturally, there was no way the experiment could have made any difference on him at all. He couldn’t tell Cas he had just wanted to kiss him now, right? What would Cas think of him, taking advantage like that of their friendship? But right now Cas felt like none of it had been worth it. How could he fix the mess he had made? Before he could keep himself worried about that he noticed how close Cas was from him. He intended to kiss him to take his grace back. So that was it? There would be no more kisses after that.

-Wait.

Castiel stopped an inch from his face. Sam pushed him softly away.

-There’s still a week left, maybe we should just wait until the month ends.

Castiel stiffened a little but pushed himself back from the chair to stand up.

-Of course, if that’s what you wish.

Before he could actually step away, Sam held his hand. Castiel turned again towards him, with those piercing blue eyes questioning Sam silently.

-It’s not… It’s not a waste of time Cas. Maybe something can happen.

Castiel only nodded at Sam to give him reason but deep inside he was a bit frustrated. If he was only allowed to have just another kiss then he’d rather have it sooner than later.

#Sastiel #Sam Winchester #Castiel #Gabriel #dean winchester #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic

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shirtlesssammy · 7 years ago

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13x09: The Bad Place

Then:

Mary is definitely not in the Good Place.

Now:

WAYWARD!!!!!

Oh, wait, first the cold open.

Artist man and his all-business girlfriend enjoy a little “down time” before she heads off to work. He’s got an interested buyer stopping by to take a look at his work, and who shows up just as the girlfriend is leaving? Jack! I guess he’s worked through his whole “son of the devil” angst period and he’s now a fully grown “time to hang real art on the walls” adult. And because I’m obsessed with doors this episode: We get a first one with Jack entering the art studio.

Jack quickly reveals why he’s really at the studio: Derek is a dreamwalker, a Native American who can see into other worlds. Jack pulls out a wad of cash and tells him he wants Derek to dreamwalk “there” --and then points to a painting of the AU!

Derek gets to dreamwalking, and Jack uses his gold nephilim powers to hitch a ride. Derek screams. Cut to his girlfriend coming home to find him dead on the floor, his eyes burned out. Oh, Jack, what did you do??

And we have our second door, as Dean walks the corridors of the bunker and calls Patience in the hopes that she can help them find Jack. Sam is in the war room and when Dean is done leaving a message for Patience, he asks him if he’s heard from Cas. I can’t decide if I should laugh or cry over this nonsense. CLEARLY, if Asmodeus talked to Dean anymore, Dean would put it together in a heartbeat. He already had suspicions after one brief call. But what is the show trying to say with this? Positive!Boris says it’s exactly that: Casmodeus needs to talk to Sam because the ruse wouldn’t work with Dean, and Asmodeus knows that. Awwwww. Cynic!Boris says this is just the show’s way of making us all just cool our heels after the intensely gay first 6 episodes. Boooo.

WAYWARD!

Jody calls to interrupt my stewing. She heard about Derek, and reports that Jack was seen at the scene of the crime.

MORE WAYWARD!

Patience is in her room studying, or really staring at the 6 missed calls from Dean. Her father comes to her room to talk about her failing grades.

Let’s get real, she’s a psychic...weren’t trying too hard at that test, were you Patience? That’s ok, you don’t need to go to any of those Ivy League schools, you have monsters to slay. In any event, she confesses to Dean’s calls, but tells her father she didn’t answer, and then (reluctantly) confirms that she hasn’t had any visions recently.

The boys head to Bismark, where they interview the girlfriend. Dean finds the AU painting. They decide to do a little research --with their Dad’s journal.

For Science:

Sam jumps right into the dreamwalking exposition, but Dean wants to talk about the painting. He surmises that Jack ditched them to track down Lucifer. Blarf. NO DEAN. (but I kinda get it). They have to be prepared to kill Jack. Sam wants to know more about Jack’s motivation. And I want to comment on the camera work. This was a really unique episode. The shots in the car are so tight, closed off. Each brother has their thoughts on the situation --they’re coming from different points of view. It’s like things are focused down to just their heads --just their one thought on finding Jack, and the result of that quest. The camera is filming them from behind though --they’re both looking forward, and at each other, and Sam is able to convince Dean to talk to another dreamwalker, a Kaia Nieves.

WAYWARD!

And we meet Kaia, who’s currently in group therapy with the world’s worst therapy leader. He makes her talk about why she’s in a recovery prison.

Apparently the court sent her here to clean up her act. She admits that she hates using drugs, but it’s the only way she can stay awake. She confesses that “it’s the only thing that keeps me from the bad place.” After the group meeting, she meets a new patient, Jack, a cocaine addict.

Oh my god, stop being so cute you nougat/cocaine loving son of Satan! How can we build emotional walls to protect us from your eventual turn to the darkside!? (What if he never goes Darkside? What if that’s the tension--our and the Winchester’s anticipation that’ll never happen. Just writing my own facfic with no dramatic payoff here...) Kaia isn’t as taken with this sweet child as we are. Jack tells Kaia that he knows she’s a dreamwalker, and that he needs her help. Jack tells Kaia that he can bust her out of the hospital and they take off, just as Sam and Dean pull up outside.

And we’re gifted with another door, this time with Jack blasting off the security to help Kaia escape. She decides to bolt once outside though, which doesn’t make Jack too happy, and he grabs her arm. Sam and Dean burst outside and distract Jack, allowing Kaia to kick his ass and punch him in the head before running off. Go Kaia. “She hit me.” Jack is stunned. “Yeah, good.” Dean is pissed. Jack wants to follow Kaia, but the brothers hold him back. Jack tells them that he’s doing all this for them. Dean tells Jack that Derek is dead, and Jack is honestly shocked. Once again, the camera work is spot on and right there --that slight zoom highlighting Jack’s instant emotion. The unsteady camerawork playing with the uncertainty of the situation. They brothers are nervous around Jack, and Jack is confused by their actions. AGH, they’re all uncommunicative Winchesters. Jack admits to the brothers, “I did the thing you wanted the most, I experimented opening doors to other worlds.” Jack’s flashback reveals his dreamwalk through the AU, Mary in the torture cage, and Derek alive.

Jack shows the brothers their mother. This scene! This moment! I already wrote a post on this, but it really got to me. This was such a wonderfully shot moment. Dean has a full-on panic attack after seeing his mother in the AU. To clarify my thoughts on the moment: We saw Dean picture Hell just last week --it’s something that he can readily remember. Seeing his mother tied up, in a world much like Hell? And he thought she was dead and did nothing to find her for weeks (months?). (He’s not flashing back to his own Hell, he’s not having selfish thoughts here.) He’s completely focused on panicking about his mother because he knows what she’s going through. And because he’s Dean, he needs to protect his family--and he needs to do it ASAP (thus the aggressive actions later towards, what he perceives as his only answer to the situation, Kaia).

Kaia, meanwhile, hitches a ride with some dick angels. Like, seriously? She was already willing to get in the car, why’d you have to knock her out? Dicks.

Patience, meanwhile, is most certainly NOT having psychic visions. She sees claws, a giant skull, a spear, Jody injured...

And Kaia wakes up tied to a chair in an abandoned room. The angels tell her that they tortured and killed Derek for news of Jack. Dicks. They tell her she’s bait to lure in the Winchesters and Jack. MEGA DICKS.

Back in the car, Dean admits that Sam was right and vows to find her no matter what. In the back seat Jack is awfully quiet. He tells them that he’s stewing on the fact that the Winchesters assumed he killed Derek. Once again he’s circling around his good/evil/who-am-I question. Yet he also tells them that he doesn’t consider Lucifer to be his family - he wouldn’t seek him out. The Winchesters and Castiel are his family. “Yes, we are,” says Dean. (Me: cries) “Finding Mom. You did a good thing, kid.” Suddenly Jack cries out in pain. It’s angel radio. He learns that the angels have Kaia. The trap is set.

Patience tells her father that she’s leaving to help a friend. She fully admits that she has visions and that they can’t be ignored. She’s accepting who she is. “You raised me to do what’s right. And this is what’s right.” Her father tells her that if she leaves, she isn’t welcome back. (heart breaks) (Boris: a small part of my read James’s lines as if she chooses the hunter’s life, there’s no coming back from that, not that she wouldn’t be welcome in his life anymore.) Patience heads off into the night, setting up Wayward. Yes, yes, I am on board. THANK YOU for not tragically killing off her father and making this about revenge, by the way.

Back with the angels, Kaia protests her value as a hostage. “They won’t come for me. You picked the wrong bait. I’m not the kind of girl folks come for. I’m not white. Rich. Blond.” This line, guys, was SO GOOD. It quietly addresses problems that we have in our actual, real society, while not slowing down the action at all. It makes us root for her, if we weren’t already. (I was.) We desperately want her to survive in part because she’s so certain that she won’t.

Dean, Sam, and Jack head in with an angel held at bay by a blade at his throat. Jack refuses their offer to join the angels’ side and when they move to attack, his power blasts one of them through the wall, then saves Dean from a deadly stabbing.

Jack makes one of the angels kill himself and Dean races off to take care of the presumably unconscious or weakened angel who was flung through the wall. Kaia learns that there are angels (some are bad) and that hunters kill things like them. And Jack’s the son of Satan. No biggie. Surprise! Welcome to the family!

They head outside but Kaia wants to get the fuck away from all of them. Sam begs her for help. They want her help to open a door to save Mary. It turns out that Derek told Jack about sacred sites where the walls between the worlds are thin. If they travel to the Wind Caves in South Dakota, then Kaia and Jack can team up to open a doorway to apocalypse world. Kaia is not on board with dreamwalking or even speaking to a dream travel agent. Her power is limited; she can’t go to any worlds but the “Bad Place.”

Dean tries to discount her dreamwalking as bad dreams that will haunt her but that she can shrug off. (That’s part of the Dean Winchester playbook, after all.) But Kaia reveals her physical scars and tells them that when she dreamwalks and gets hurt, she returns with all injuries intact. Dreams make her bleed. Sam starts to stumble over plans to find another way to find Mary when Dean whips out his gun. “Get in the car,” he tells her, his meaning clear. Sam’s horrified, Jack watches inscrutably, and Dean...clearly knows he’s doing the wrong thing, but does it anyway. He advances on her and points his gun at her head. She looks resigned, and heads to the car. They drive up the lonely highway.

Sam looks worried. He’s second guessing the plan but Dean tells him they’re getting their mom back no matter what. Dean’s stern and cold. Sam’s worried but not interfering. And Jack - precious nougat - is in the back seat telling Kaia that they both have powers and that powers aren’t inherently bad. Jack begs for five seconds to show Kaia what Derek showed him. There are possibilities beyond the Bad Place.

Kaia smiles for the first time this episode seeing what Jack showed her. “Our powers can be good,” Jack says. “We can do good in this world.” Jack! <3 The sweeter you get, the more I feel like you’ll be leaving this show in a body bag.

A car confronts the Impala with its headlights off, and tries to run them off the road. They retreat to an abandoned ship in a boatyard while Jack agonizes over the scream of angel radio.

AGAIN, fucking gorgeous camera work, my GOD.

Dean confronts the angel in the yard, angel blade at the ready. Unfortunately, more angels pull up to fight. Dean’s no dummy. He grabs their weapons bag and runs onto the ship. They paint sigils on the ship to ward off the angels and the angels spread out. The angels pull out their blades and start to drill power into the earth. It melts the warding sigil by sigil. This is a new power but I’m on board for it. Maybe they’ve never felt the need to expend the effort. Since it melts angel blades it might have been deemed too costly in the past but Jack’s worth it. Anyway, the Winchesters prepare to fight to the death but Kaia tells them she’ll try to help them all escape...by opening a doorway.

As the sigils melt Kaia and Jack work together to find apocalypse world. Kaia finds her way to the Bad Place where there are giant skulls and dark figures lurk in the shadows. Kaia saids she can’t escape it but Jack helps her navigate the other worlds.

It’s beautiful, ya’ll.

Anyway, Jack finds the apocalypse world and makes his way to Mary Winchester’s side where she is totally NOT (totally is) resembling Christ on the cross.

Kaia screams as she takes hold of the new world and Jack opens the doorway. The angels are blasted into wing-prints. The room empties of life. The dimensional door lingers quietly as a waterbird sings in the distance.

Cut to Jody, calling Sam to see if they’re alright. She opens her door to Patience, who tells her that something bad is coming. YES WAYWARD YAAAAAAAAS.

We see the quiet of the shipyard again, and then cut to the fates of all our other parties. Kaia is lying on the side of the road. Jack finds Mary in the apocalypse world. Definitely NOT Christ-like at all. Nope. Nope not at all.

Meanwhile, Dean wakes up in a forest, angel blade in hand. Sam wakes as well and they pull themselves up from their ferny bed. The lighting is blue-cast, the forest dim. Dean jumps into a hole and the camera pans up and away.

Somewhere in the background of my mind, the Jurassic Park theme plays. There’s a roar and then a thud of monstrous footprints as we fade to black.

INCOHERENT SCREAMING

Jurassic Quotes:

“We want Jack” “Cocaine boy?!”

I just think of him as a small businessman just trying to make it in Trump’s America.

“He’s insane.” “Yeah, the whole world’s insane. You get used to it.”

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn picspam #spn thoughts #spn 13x09 #the bad place #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #kaia nieves #jody mills #patience turner #supernatural season 13

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mittensmorgul · 7 years ago

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9.21: An angel walks into an ice cream parlor and detonates himself in Castiel’s name...

DEAN: What the hell was that? CASTIEL: I don't know. I didn't -- I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. I'm gonna be sick. [...] CASTIEL: You can't think I would allow something like this. DEAN: Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a a freakin' cult. CASTIEL: Dean. DEAN: And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time!

Granted, Dean is clearly being affected by the Mark, amplifying his anger and his feelings of betrayal... but he’s not wrong about Cas’s followers being cultishly devoted. Dean directly equates that devotion to the same sort of power Cas was hunting for in s6 when he took on the souls of Purgatory, which also drove him to horrifying things... the power “corrupted” Cas in ways Dean is currently feeling himself through the power of the Mark. Dean’s not just angry though, he’s worried.

Sam even points this out, albeit more gently than Dean had from his place of both hurt over how Cas had betrayed them in s6 and his current descent into the darkness of the Mark’s power, but he also does directly tie Dean’s Mark Issues with Cas’s current position:

CASTIEL: He does seem angry. I mean, he's always a little angry, but now it seems like...more. I think a part of him actually believed that I ordered those angels to, you know...Sam, you don't, do you? SAM: No, man. Cas, listen. You got a weird thing going on back there. Those other angels, the way they stare at you, I-it's like you're part rock star, part L. Ron. CASTIEL: They've put their faith in me. SAM: And maybe that's the problem. I mean, people have been doing messed up crap in the name of faith -- in the name of God -- since forever. CASTIEL: Well... I'm not trying to... play God. I'm just trying to get my people home.

Cas has good intentions. He just is desperate for a win. He needs to save what he’d been responsible for breaking... And yet everything surrounding his good intentions is actually a manipulation by Metatron. Angels who 100% believed they were killing themselves in Castiel’s name, because they were specially chosen by Cas to do so. They wholeheartedly believed and put their FAITH in Cas, when all the while it had been METATRON planting those ideas in their heads. All in the name of setting up Cas to fail, to be framed for these crimes so Metatron could sweep in and save the day, setting him up as the “hero” and the “new God” in the wake of Castiel being exposes as a fraud.

But Sam’s line there-- about how people have been doing messed up things in the name of faith and God-- is so on the nose I could cry.

FAITH is great... if it’s not BLIND faith, based on lies and deceptions.

And POWER has been linked directly to this sort of misguided and manipulated blind faith since s4.

And then Cas sees through the deception himself, when he and Sam are lured to the “portal to Heaven” only to find it was another dead end, and a deception and manipulation by Metatron meant to lure him to his death. And yet another angel took Cas’s “punishment” for him...

Cas had taken all these angels who put their faith in him and tried his best to do the right thing-- sent them to local hospitals to heal the sick and do good deeds. Metatron twisted all that faith, all that goodness that had motivated Cas, into unwittingly turning Cas into his tool.

CASTIEL: It's the door to heaven. SAM: Seriously? CASTIEL: What else would Metatron go to such great lengths to protect? I can hear it. It's calling to me, Sam. If we control this door, we can take the fight to Metatron. We may not even need to fight at all. SAM: Cas, wait. [CASTIEL opens the door and it is revealed to be a room with atrocious party decorations. SAM walks over to a table and reads from a card] SAM: "Welcome to your own personal heaven, Castiel. Good luck finding the real one." CASTIEL: but...Why?

[...]

CASTIEL: So, all of this -- it was a a lie. [JOSIAH jerks to consciousness and grabs CASTIEL's wrist. JOSIAH: Supposed to be here...Gate... He told me... After Ezra, he told me that I should come to him. Metatron told me that I could go home. I just wanted to go home. CASTIEL [going to heal him]: Here. Let me -- JOSIAH: No! I would rather die than owe my life to you, Castiel. You play at being noble. You play at being one of us. But I look into your eyes... And I don't see an angel staring back at me.

Meanwhile Dean has a very enlightening conversation with Tessa:

DEAN: No, forget Cas. Why are you doing this? What would make a person want to pop their top, huh? I mean, look, I've been in bad shape. I have. But I have never been that damn low. TESSA: I guess I just can't take the screaming. DEAN: Who's screaming? TESSA: All of them. The lost souls. The ones that can't get into heaven now that it's been boarded up. I hear them. They are so confused. They're in so much pain. All I want to do is help them. It's what I do. It's my job. But I can't. So I suffered... Until death, nothingness. Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad. It seemed quiet. DEAN: So, why don't you just jam an angel blade in your throat and call it a day? TESSA: I thought about it. But I was too weak. Till Castiel gave me a reason to die. DEAN: Yeah. See, that just doesn't sound like the Cas I know.

BECAUSE IT ISN’T THE CAS HE KNOWS. IT’S METATRON MANIPULATING AND DECEIVING EVERYONE, INCLUDING CAS. Metatron created the situation that drove Tessa to that length of desperation where she’d been willing to sacrifice herself in Castiel’s name, where she’d be willing to believe such horrible things.

Dean is the ONLY one who sees it. Well, Sam believes him too, but NONE of the angels believe. But the fact that Dean had brought the First Blade after telling Sam he wouldn’t begins to shake Sam’s faith and trust in Dean... CAS might believe that Dean didn’t intend to kill Tessa, but Sam is beginning to doubt...

Because power corrupts.

And Cas once again understands how he was used as a pawn in someone else’s game.

#spn 9.22 #s13 meta rewatch #the special agony of brainwashing #mark of cain #castiel winchester #i blame metadouche for everything including global warming and bee colony collapse

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dreamin-of-somewhere-else · 8 years ago

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To Become A Hunter

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sister!reader, John Winchester, Sam Winchester [mentioned]

Words: 3900+ (I’m really sorry about that, but there was no good place to split it)

Warnings: Can’t think of anything specific, really, maybe just that there’s going to be a verbal fight, I dunno. Maybe a bit of swearing, not too much.

A/N: This is the fic I was talking about! It’s a pre-series sister AU, that takes place in between around 2003. Dean is 24, Sam is 20 and at Stanford and you are 17 years old. It’ll also be a mini-series, so there’s more parts to come. It might be a bit all over the place, but I was trying to create a certain feeling. (I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I hope you like it!)

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Hunting is hard, and that’s no surprise, really. It’s physically challenging, you have to be smart, have technique, and it’s just hard emotionally as well. And, not only is it hard, but you hate it as well.

Okay, hate is a strong word, but things about it, you really do hate. You hate the way you have to sacrifice what feels like everything for it. You hate the way you feel like you miss out on life. You hate the pain and the constant fear. You hate the way it forces you to see the world more black and white instead of with all the shades of grey. You hate the way you get shut down every time you question this. You hate the way your dad responds with ’because you have to’ when you ask ’why?’.

John Winchester used to be in the military and it shows, you could testify to that. All your life he has been hard on you and your brothers. But, despite this, you are not afraid to stand up to him, question him, call him out. Although it often comes with consequences.

”Why didn’t you listen to my orders?” John roar, dark brown eyes furiously staring at you, and it almost makes you squirm. Only, you don’t show it.

”Because your orders were stupid! It would have never worked!” You retort, standing as tall as you can, staring back.

Dean’s keeping in the background, absentmindedly clutching his upper arm, as his gaze anxiously and a little annoyedly shift between you and John. It’s like with Sam and Dad all over again.

”Don’t you dare speak to me like that little girl.” Your father threaten you through gritted teeth.

He’s angry. Real angry. Despite the tone and expression, you can tell by the vein popping out on the side of his forehead.

”You are a piss poor excuse of a hunter! Pathetic, really. So don’t you come here and tell me what’s good and not. If you just had done what I told you, Dean wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” John gestures towards Dean as he plays that card.

And it has affect on you as your heart clutches in remorse. Meanwhile, Dean’s eyes widen as John uses him to guilt his little sister. He even tries to chime in.

”Wait, Dad—”

But he’s immediately cut off by John. ”Quiet, Dean. This is between your sister and I.”

You roll your eyes at the irony. It’s not about Dean, but still, your dad is of course allowed to use him to make a point.

You shouldn’t have done that, because John grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer, gaze nailing you and boring into your soul.

”You don’t get to use that attitude. You’re a worthless hunter. You can’t track down a monster on your own. You can’t shoot. You definitely proved that today. You ignore my orders like a little brat. Hell, you never freaking listen!” John hisses and you feel a shiver going down your spine as you try not to wince.

You want to talk back, but you struggle with coming up with words, any words at all. So, you open your mouth only to close it again. And now, honestly, you are scared. Scared because you know your dad. And that would make anyone feel nervous right now.

The tension is broken by hands wrapping around John’s shoulders. It’s Dean, you never saw him walking over, since he was hidden behind the towering statue of John, but now he’s here and pulling John away.

”Go easy on her, Dad, she’s doing the best she can.” Your big brother tries, but John shuts him down, forcedly shrugging off his grip.

”Back off, Dean.” He spits and you shiver.

Although Dean would deny it, you and Sam always had been sure that he was the oldest Winchester’s favorite. And for John to go off on him like that, he had to be mad.

”You’re part of the problem too,” Your dad continues, turned towards Dean now. ”You continue to baby her. You know very well that when you were her age, you could hit a target with your eyes closed. You were miles ahead. So, you need to stop going soft on her. She needs to learn in order to become a hunter.”

You feel Dad’s every word, like a blow. ’She needs to learn.’ That doesn’t sound good to you, and internal warning bells go off, and you start feeling anxious with your heartbeat picking up even more. You try your best to push it all away, the feelings and thoughts, and focus. Stay calm, (Y/N).

Before you can think, you open your mouth, because suddenly there’s something — a thought — that wants out, that wants to be said and heard.

”But I never wanted to become a hunter.” You don’t even realize that it’s your voice at first. Immediately, when you do, you realize it was a mistake.

Because your dad starts stalking closer like a panther sneaking up on its prey. Soon he’s only inches away from you. Dean nervously shifts, watching.

”Too bad that’s not your choice to make. You’re my daughter and I call the shots around here.”

His tone is cold. The whole of him is worse than ever. Because, this might be one of his scariest moments, except for that one time he hit Sam, bad.

That night changed the way you saw your dad, forever. It might seem like an exaggeration, but it was definitely on the list of horrible things you’ve seen and would never forget. A list that’s already too long for your age. When said night occurred, you were only 13. Sam was 16 and Dean 20. Sam and your dad got into a heated argument, one of the worst of its kind, and John ended up connecting a fist to his youngest son’s cheek.

That moment flashes before your eyes right now. This feels all too much like that time. The situation over all is quite alike that one, now that you think of it.

It’s been quiet for a moment now. John — furious with a heaving chest and clenched fists — looks from you to Dean. You, his kids, are both clenching your jaws, your eyes cautiously yet intently glaring at your dad, never once breaking the glance. You’re positioned on opposite sides of John, and you’re keeping quiet, although both of your heads are buzzing with noisy, angry thoughts directed to the man who was supposed to raise you, protect you and make sure you get through life well, safe and sound.

”Okay, this is how it’s going to be.” The older man breaks the silence. ”Tomorrow, Dean, you’re going to leave. Early in the morning. I’ll find you a hunt, and you’re going to take the Impala, and sort it out. And then you’re not going to come back for a month, and by that I mean a complete month, not a day before. That is orders. Do you hear me?”

Your eyes widen, it feels like the air has been knocked out of you, merely by the message. You almost can’t breath again, you unknowingly hold your breath. Your heart pounds in your chest. You had never, up until now, realized how intimidating the thought of being completely alone with the man who was your biological father but hardly a father figure. Without your brothers there to help you. Without their protection and support.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice speaks. ’Suck it up (Y/N). You can’t need their protection. You don’t get to rely on them all the damn time.’ You can’t tell whose voice it is, if it’s dark or light, if it’s feminine or masculine. If you could though, you weren’t too sure it would be yours, but instead, your dad’s.

Despite the thoughts clouding your senses, you still manage to meet Dean’s eyes. You briefly wondered if you had absentmindedly searched for his gaze, because of the connection you have, or if you simply happened to stare at him. Or maybe he was the one

searching for your eyes.

Dean looks sad. Apologetic. Worried.

An unwanted thought enters your mind. Maybe he doesn’t think you can handle yourself. Maybe he knows that you’re going to be lost without him?

John puts an end to your thinking. ”Do you understand me, son?”

Dean continues to look at you, until he finally draws his eyes away, to glance at John. Maybe he can’t take looking at you. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

”Yes, sir.”

The words are definite. Absolute. And now it’s real, Dean is leaving tomorrow, for sure.

”You, (Y/N).” He spits, whipping around to you, and you almost stagger back, by his sheer movement. ”You’re going to stay here with me. I’m going to train you. Turn you into a real hunter.”

You don’t dare asking what that means. But you probably deserved it. Not that you had done something wrong, you still think defying Dad’s orders tonight was the right call, and has been all the other times. But, you also know that he has been very hard on your brothers, in a way that he actually haven’t been on you. Training-wise. Otherwise, he might have been even harder, but that’s a story for another time.

”Now, do you understand?” Dad presses.

”Yes sir.” You say, quietly. Now, for the first time, you don’t look at him. You don’t want to give him the pleasure.

”One more time, louder. And look at me.”

You clench your jaw even harder, dreading it. But although you’re pissed, you do as he says.

”Yes sir.” You repeat yourself, eyes laid on his larger form.

He smiles ever so slightly, content. And you hate that. Absolutely despise it.

Turning around, you leave the joint kitchen and living room of the cabin you, Dad and Dean are renting, and walk off into the small, bare room you’re currently inhabiting as if it was your own. You close the door behind you — although you don’t slam it because that would only make your dad even angrier and who knows what would happen then. You lean against it, taking a deep breath as you stare up at the wooden ceiling, taking in the detailing in every piece of plank.

You stand there for a moment, feeling tired, defeated and empty. Soon enough you leave the door and air cooled off the area your body heat had warmed up, and you lie down on the bed. You don’t bother changing clothes, you’ve already taken off your jacket and shoes, and other than that, you didn’t get too dirty during this hunt. Besides, you just lied down on top of the covers and not under them. You don’t bother getting ready anymore than that either. You just want to fall asleep, escape from your thoughts. It doesn’t happen though, as you remain awake, looking out the window — situated on the wall opposite to the door as well as to the bed’s right — at the sun setting behind the trees. You succeed to keep your head fairly empty, keeping the difficult, dark thoughts away from your mind.

You lie there for a while, you would guess around an hour, but you can’t know for sure — until a knock tears through the thick silence. You hadn’t expected it, but it don’t startle you, and you don’t move one bit. Instead you continue lying on your side — arm tucked under the pillow and your head, knees slightly bent and drawn closer to your chest — inattentively staring out at the evening sky.

The door opens with a creak.

”Hi.” Dean’s voice reaches your ear.

You slightly lift up your head — that feels heavy — and look over your shoulder at him. As you do, the corners of Dean’s lips slightly curl upwards, but his eyes are round and sad. He almost looks like a puppy, or a young boy, and your stomach twists. He looks lost, tired, with messy hair, no leather jacket but only a black t-shirt on his upper body and a clean bandage wrapped around his upper arm, covering his wound.

Dean closes the door behind him. You lay down your head on your pillow again, but your sensitive ears hear Dean slither closer until the bed shifts as it dips down behind your back, the feathers squealing quietly.

You don’t even have to make room for him to lie down, because you’re already placed on the far edge closest to the window. He places his head on the other pillow — the bed has two, you found a spare one in the small closet of the cabin — and gives out a light groan, probably because of his arm and sore muscles. And then it’s quiet and still again.

He lies there, next to you, for a while. Without saying anything, just being there. For both your sakes, maybe even more for his than your own. But you can’t lie, it feels nice, comforting, reassuring. And soon enough, you roll over to your back, mimicking Dean’s position, staring up at the ceiling again.

Soon enough, you speak, words soft.

”I’ve screwed up.” It’s no whine, cry, or nervous claim. It’s only a statement, and you put no particular emotion behind your words.

It’s almost like it wasn’t you that had screwed up, but someone else. As if your worries only exist in someone else’s life. But that isn’t the truth is it?

Dean turns his face towards you, you can see it in the corner of your left eye. He inspects your face with his green eyes for a moment, until he ultimately turns his face towards the ceiling again and answers.

”Maybe. Judging by our life, our family situation. Our dad.” He pauses. ”But that’s only because it’s like this. If our lives were normal, apple-pie ones, you definitely would’ve done the right thing, standing up for yourself like you did.”

”He’s probably right, you know.” You state.

”What?

”That I need to become a real hunter. That I’m weak.” You explain further.

”Oh, come on, don’t say that.” Dean objects, but with less disagreement and emotion in his voice than you would’ve think. Maybe it’s because he’s subconsciously matching up his tone to fit better with your calm, quieter words.

”But it’s true.”

Although a few hours ago, you had been sure you were right, now you let your dad’s words get to you. You started believing them. Sure, sometimes you thought about yourself as weak and not a good hunter, but never as completely useless like you started to now.

”No, it’s not.” Dean retorts.

”It is.”

Dean’s following silence speaks for itself, but it gives off several possible messages. Maybe he’s just quiet because he knows he can’t win the argument. Maybe he knows it’s true and agrees with Dad.

You shake the last option off, although you know that you brought it up in the first place. It’s your fault.

”Sorry about your shoulder.” You switch topic, and this time you turn your head to look at Dean.

Dean dips his own head down and your eyes meet, though his face is partially hidden behind some of the pillows’ fluffiness. Dean looks up again.

”’Not your fault.”

You nod a little. Not that you agree, it is, but you know he will continue to think it wasn’t whatever you say, so you let it go.

It’s quiet for a while. The room progressively gets darker as the sun disappears completely from the sky, and it goes deep blue. You listen to Dean’s breathing as his chest heaves up and down, and you even close your eyes for a while. By now, the thoughts are almost completely gone and it feels great.

You could’ve fallen asleep right there and then; warm, on a fairly comfortable bed, beside one of the two people just love most in this world, but you don’t. Instead, you open your mouth one more time.

”I don’t want you to leave.” You whisper, because it feel so strange now to break the silence that’s been resting over the two of you for long now.

”I don’t want to leave,” comes the answer. You can’t see more of Dean than his silhouette in this lightening, but you can definitely feel his presence just as much as before.

It’s a sad excuse of a comfort, but it still feels a little bit better knowing that he feels the same way. And, somewhen after that, you do actually drift off to slumber, against all odds, tiredness from the hunt and fight enveloping you like a soft blanket.

You blink and instantly squint your newly awoken eyes against the white, bright light streaming in from the window — that does not have any blinds. Although, it has curtains, you just never pulled them close. You groggily take in the room, remembering that this is where you lived for now. A specific thought enter your mind and you immediately look over to your left, but the bed is empty. The only sign that someone ever lied there, is the slight crinkling of the white covers.

Piercing pain shoots through your body, starting from your heart as fear takes over. You almost cringe, turning into yourself. But then your trained ears catch something outside your closed bedroom door.

”No.” His voice is muffled, but there, and you feel yourself relax ever so slightly.

”You don’t want to?” It was Dad.

”No.”

”You have to, Dean.”

”Why?”

You rise your eyebrows. It’s unusual for your older brother to question John’s orders this much, that’s your job. He usually just accepted them and strode right into action. He must be really passionate about this, staying here. You feel a pull on your heartstrings as you exhaled softly. You may not have a lot in this life, but you have Dean. And that is more than enough.

”It’s orders, son.”

When Dean’s answer doesn’t come, you fly off your bed, heart in your throat. You run to the door, open it, and come to a stop in the doorway. There’s Dean, duffle bag in his hand, standing by the front door across the room from you. And there’s Dad, looking content up until he sees you.

”Go back to your room, (Y/N).”

You completely ignore him. Instead, you walk closer to Dean and Dad, almost reaching Dad who stands in the middle of the room.

”Your room, (Y/N).” He growls threateningly.

”Dean!” You call, trying to get him to look at you, but he just stares at the floor, clutching the handles of the bag harder.

You get sinking feeling in your stomach.

”Dean, please don’t go! Don’t leave me!” You try again, and you can’t seem to keep your voice stable, instead you sound desperate — which, well, you are.

You don’t actually know what Dad ’making you into a hunter’ meant, so you really don’t have a reason to be so scared. But, somehow, your instincts told you differently.

”Stay back!” Dad demands, as he puts out an arm and pushes you back, so hard that you stumble a few steps. ”Dead, you know what you have to do. It’s orders.”

”Dean!” You try calling again, feeling your eyes sting.

You watch how Dean looks at his shoes, nodding slowly as he clenches his jaw. Then, he turns around and grabs the door knob.

You instantly spin around, facing away from Dean and John, staring through the open door into your room. You can’t watch him leave, you can’t do it. Instead, you stare into nothing until you forcedly shut your eyes, mostly in reflex, as you hear the soft sound of the front door closing slowly.

You know Dean trusts Dad. He trusts him in a way you never can, and never have. So, you could only hope that’s the reason he now left you alone, and not the fact that he too thinks you’re weak and wants you to become a real hunter.

You hear shuffling behind you, and you know John turns to look at you.

”It’s just me and you now, princess.”

You hate that word. Princess. It’s deprecate, it’s like just because you’re a girl, you expect to be treated with kid gloves, like some royalty. Like you can’t handle it.

Although maybe you can’t.

”Let’s start right now, shall we?” You can hear your father’s smirk.

You take a deep breath, in and out. And, then you slowly turn around to face him. Because, you know he’s going to make you otherwise, and you’d rather do it with dignity.

So there you stand, tall and chin raised high, looking at him coldly. Tears have pricked in the corners of your eyes, but you ignore them, shoving your feelings around.

”Come here.” He instructs.

At first you don’t move, but when you see his expression, you cautiously make your way over. Your dad places his hand on your shoulder as you reach him, but you angrily shake it off.

Both of you walk outside, to the porch. There, John points at the opening of the forest.

”See that road?”

You ignore the urge to scoff. The gravel by the opening is hardly a road, more like a path. But, you nod anyway.

”I want you to run that track. 15 miles, maybe a bit more.”

You gulp.

You’ve always categorized yourself as more of the brain than the muscle. Sure, you constantly put your body under physical pressure, but, you and your family really didn’t have the best food habits. Burgers and canned food aren’t exactly healthy. What you did for a living compensated for this, since a hunt was surely a workout, but you could be in better shape. So, you are in pretty good shape, yes, but you’re no exceptional superhero who could just run 15 miles in the speed John wanted you to.

”Can I have breakfast?” You quietly ask. Surely you could, but you decide to not anger your dad by taking things for granted.

”No.”

Your eyes widen — I’m going to faint — but you give a single nod. Then, you turn around to walk inside, to your room, again.

John stops you by putting out an arm, blocking the entrance inside.

”Where do you think you’re going?” You look up at him, and see that his eyebrows are high on his forehead, questioning you.

”To switch clothes…” You innocently explain, before looking down at your t-shirt and jeans.

”I don’t think so.” John obeys, and you’re not even surprised. Of course you can’t.

What surprises you slightly is him forcedly grabbing your shoulders, turning your around, and giving you a hard shove across the porch, so that you almost trip and fall down the couple of stairs down to ground level. You stumble down them though, breath stuck in your throat, heart pounding.

While you regain your footing and then balance, John yells after you.

”Now, show me you’re not completely worthless, stupid girl!”

His words hurt, but once again you repress your feelings. Determination settles in on you, and you make a promise to yourself. I’m going to show him.

And then your start running.

A/N (again): And, as I said, there will be more parts to this! I haven’t written them yet but I know what I want to happen, so, yeah. There’s gonna be a bit more action in later parts to make up for this lol. This is kind of a teaser (hysterically long)/an opening for what’s to come.

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters @evyiione @samanddeanshotsis @darkestgrungeuniverse @fabulouslycassie @delessapeace-blog @mariairwin666 @1amluke @saveprettydays @cookee50 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @infamati–et–obliterati @stillcooli0 @sammysbeanie @jamric @deepbreathssammy @extreme-supernatural-lover

Because you showed interest (thanks for that! <3): @winchesters-favorite-girl, @straightasdeanwinchester, @soullessbabee, @derbypasta8811: I tried tagging you but it didn’t work :(

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creativeashproductions · 8 years ago

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Knives and Other Blades

Summary: Reader is well known in the female hockey division. She’s been a part of Team Canada for over a year, but she’s knows there’s more out there than just criminals. Monsters are real as her parents and grandparents explain but other than training, reader has never hunted in her life. What happens when two hunters find out her ‘normal’ life?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Words:1489

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Supernatural or the show. I do not own anything to do with Team Canada either. This is simply fiction and not real. Nor do I own any gifs or images.

Warnings: possible swearing, death (drowning), little bit of angst.

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: If you want to be tagged in anything to do with Marvel or Supernatural let me know!

A/N It’s been sitting in my computer for quite some time.

Masterlist

You were beyond tired. You were so sore you felt that your hair itself was crying. You were used to the hard work that came with being a hunter but this was a different kind of ache. The first memory you have is holding your father’s hockey stick awkwardly at age two; a blurry memory but also one close to your heart. You played it for the fun up until you’re father lost his ability to play when his health declined after a nasty car accident that left you with a catatonic mother, and a shell of the man you used to idolize. When you and your father sat in the doctors office at only age fifteen you decided right there to make him proud and play for the both of you. You dreamed of being part of Team Canada from that moment on knowing that with enough training you could use that hidden talent and succeed.

A year and a half later you accepted the offer of joining the team playing as hard as you could among the talented females. The first person you told was your father and he cried in joy of knowing his daughter would play a huge part in the history of women’s hockey. You were only seventeen when he drowned in a boating accident.

You had grown up knowing about the things underneath you bed, hell your grandparents hunted them until the day they took their last breath. It was a known fact in the hunting world that living to thirty was the average. You had training from the summers you spent at their home which greatly helped your stamina for hockey training. Your parents hadn’t liked the hunting world after getting married and having you but they understood the need for the training.

The only person left in the world that was your family was an aunt that was estranged from your mother, her sister, and an uncle that was grouchy and unbelievably rich. Needless to say you considered yourself to be an orphan due to your mother having walked out on your dad and you back when you were only two years old. She simply didn’t want to be a mother or wife yet.

Today you were on ice in America for a stupid practice before the gold medal game coming up in two days. The team was nervous and on edge but with enough practicing the feelings would decrease allowing a clear head for the big game coming up. The Winchesters were out on a salt and burn hunt that you had decided to take time away using the excuse of being too tired to be able to focus; you would have been killed if you had.

The only problem was that the caretaker of the arena was a relative to the ghost that was the monster of the hunt. You hadn’t expected to see the boys in the area but they were waiting for the caretaker to finish using the Zamboni but he was waiting for you to get off the ice. You were practicing your slaphots to gain more accuracy and less time to take the shot. You could see as you drank your water greedily that they were inspecting cautiously. The tapping on the glass from the caretaker pulled you from your thoughts and made you finally get off the ice.

“Holy shit.” Dean said when you pulled the helmet off your head, “What the fuck?”

“Hey.” You said slightly out of breath, “Something wrong?”

“God you smell like shit from other here!” Sam pretending to gag.

“Comes with the territory.” You grinned ignoring the smell wafted off your body.

“How long have you done with sport?” Dean asked leaning back against the wall, gaining a visual of all the room.

“I was around the age of three.” You frowned remembering, “I have a game coming up so we’re practicing a lot and I can’t exactly hunt.”

Sam and Dean stared at you not comprehending how you had managed to hide this from them, hell by the jersey displaying the Canadian flag they finally realized you had always been different from the people they had met over the years. Sam’s eyes widened as he realized that you were in fact not America but instead a Canadian.

“I’ll go shower while you talk with the caretaker. It’s best I don’t join you. He’s not impressed that I stay late which makes him have to stay late and miss family dinners.”

Before either could reply you had grabbed your gloves, stick and helmet and gracefully opened the change room door and stepped in. You smiled taking in the gross smell that no matter how much air freshener used could not get rid of. Every dressing room had this distinct smell that from the first day would smell and you freaking loved it.

Meanwhile outside Dean and Sam had slammed the caretaker against the wall inside his office. He was acting sketchy and Dean, using the alias of FBI agent Carter, did not like that at all. Sam, using his alias as FBI agent Barnes, had pointed out the books around the room, the symbols, and the trophy from his kill of the young girl. By the time they had stepped out of the room you were leaning against the wall now looking at your phone with the hockey bag at your feet.

“How did it go?” You questioned not even looking up.

“He’s the one that caused this problem. He killed her for wanting to tell his wife that they were having an affair and then he pulled spells out of his ass and kept her around.” Dean explained scoffing at the explanation.

“He kept the trophy in there and we all watched as it burnt.” Sam explained ignoring his brother’s distaste.

“Salt and burning the body didn’t work?” You asked pushing the phone into your pocket and quickly making your hair into a messy bun. Dean watched as a drop of water trailed down the side of your neck.

“Cremated.”

“Son of a bitch.” You cussed.

“Hey that’s Dean’s line.” Sam grinned at his brother. Dean rolled his eyes pulling the car keys from his pocket.

“Well now we can go home. Talk about your deception about your hobby and nationality.” Dean raised one eyebrow not allowing any other emotion on his face.

You groaned realizing that your sore body wouldn’t be able to soak in the tub than collapse in bed. You may have had a shower but you need to relax in warm water with a glass of wine beside you. You had been looking forward to it when the trainer had decided to use drills at the hardest level.

“Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

“Oh hell no.”

〰️〰️〰️

You had gotten into the bunker with the bag that Sam tried his hardest to take from you obviously sore body. You refused despite the aching need to let him take it. Dean was little help for he had taken up sulking throughout the drive and getting into the door. The first place he went? The fridge for a beer.

“So do you play on a team? Like a hobby?” Dean finally asked.

“Surree.” You cleared your throat. You didn’t feel happy about the way that he had called your dedication but really how could you say anything when they never even knew about it.

“Rec?” Sam asked sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Wha?” Dean questioned not expecting his brother to know anything about the sport.

“No actually. I play in a women’s league. I have a game in a few days, and it’s pretty big. I play for Team Canada.”

“WHAT?!” Sam exclaimed shocked, “Seriously? I had a girlfriend back in high school that was absolutely obsessed with the team.”

“Ooh learn about a chick’s favourite sport.” Dean winked.

“Seriously?” Sam asked looking at him, “Maybe I find the sport interesting? Maybe if we hadn’t grown up with this life I would be playing hockey?”

Dean simply stared at Sam imaging how their life would have been without the hunting and instead lived in a town living the naive life of a ‘normal’ family. He could see himself taking an interest in mechanics and not drinking so much. Hell maybe he would have played a sport himself.

“See that’s the thing Sam. You got the chance for normal and I didn’t. I don’t see the point of wanting something unattainable anymore.” Dean snapped storming out the room. He didn’t want to regret the life he was raised in because he might not have been as close to Sam as he is now.

You watched the fuming brunette wanting nothing more than to chase after him but you couldn’t. He wouldn’t appreciate looking weak nor letting you see a weak man. Little did he know that you craved being the one he would run to not from.

#supernatural imagines #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester imagines #hockey imagines #angst

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justasmallbloginabigklainefandom · 8 years ago

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The Great ATOG Reread; Grey part 4

Holy fuck I am on a roll

Chapter 9

"Don't call my costume stupid! I love my costume!"

Really, what kind of life must you be living in order to joke about these things?

Nothing much happens in this chapter (compared to the previous arc). Blaine has suffered a lot and now he has to recover. It was yet again another turning point in his life.

What happens to Hector's son after Troy falls? Jesus. He's thrown from the walls of the city. Jesus, they were above that bridge, Blaine can't even think about it. And - Andromache -

They have gone through way too much. Like I said, I’ve read the Illiad after rereading Grey for the first time, but it didn’t do much for me so I can’t remember how it ended. Well Blaine, thanks for reminding me.

Meanwhile, Kurt is dealing with problem 2. He’s held a child. He slowly starts to realise that fuck, he kind of really wants a family on his own, but they can’t. Sure, Phalanx looked like he was about to die and the Ghost was emotionally exhausted, but for a second, while holding that child, everything seemed right.

You know who else is on a roll?

I've got nothing, fandom, I just don't have the *energy* to care about your pathetic childish shitfuckery right now. You want to judge her, and them, go right ahead. I hope one of these days you grow up enough to learn how to start judging yourselves too, since you'll never be able to control what she does but fuck knows you really ought to know how to control your own actions, or else what the *fuck* chance does humanity have . . .

Ghostly.

And righfully so. Remember what I said about fans tearing down other people on behalf of their idols. Blaine obviously knows fandom is capable of this, but it hurts Kurt like a ton of bricks.

People are harassing this woman???

BECAUSE OF HIM???

WHEREAS HER REACTION HURT, IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE AND HUMAN???

FANDOM????

Jesus, how do Ghostly (and Blaine) keep up with this?

Kurt knows what he’s got to do.

"No." The thought of being near that baby - the thought of seeing that baby - has his guts like a snare; he can't. "I need you to. Please. And if you . . . you know, Detective, if you knew any, how shall I put this, sympathetic young female journalists who might be willing to put her side of the story out who you could introduce her to? Because . . . because I don't believe for one second that she's a bad person, she just needs . . . she just needs people to understand.

The fandom kind of calms down, but something else is happening. The fandom has always been the subplot: the craziness from the POV of three women. But things are changing. BB is no longer as active as she used to be, and Draxie has the feeling it’s got something to do with Ghostly.

Chapter 10

The team is back, and wow, they got a reality check. The moment iBorg got his head smashed against the helicopter, the others are dead silent. Even Incendiary. Sure, she’s impressed and amused, but fuck. The Ghost and Phalanx are not fucking around.

He doesn't like that she acts like she's better than everyone else, he doesn't like that she makes no effort to help the team bond - makes an active effort to stifle any attempts they make themselves to bond - he doesn't like the way she finds people's weaknesses and knows exactly how to push exactly there. She knows the Ghost is very unsure of how to interact with anyone here and while time could have made him more confident in that, she's gone out of her way to make him feel stupid and awkward and unwanted; she knows that Phalanx really does want to be friends with the other supers, so she makes sure to belittle his place among them - 'sidekick' - as often as she can. So they sit uneasily, the Ghost too tense and Phalanx already too angry, across from her.

This is exactly how I feel about Psyche.

But this is her redeeming herself. Sure, she didn’t want to do this to them, but for the first time, she realised that they are actual human beings and that she really hurt both of them. To her it was a joke, to them, it was bullying. In fact, it was bullying, but Psyche just didn’t realise it.

She’s the first super on the team to really open up to them. By now, we’ve gotten some hints from Sam and Puckzilla’s pasts, but that’s it. This is Psyche, or Quinn, telling the truth.

There's something weird between them now, something Phalanx doesn't understand. He tugs a question at the Ghost's hand, and gets a quick swooping stroke of his thumb to settle him, hush hush. Psyche says, low through her teeth and right to the Ghost's eyes, "They took us when we had nothing and no choice. If I had any say in it at all I wouldn't trust them an inch."

When I first read this story, I didn’t understand what has happened. Neither did Phalanx, but the Ghost sure as fuck did, because he’s observant like that. But I (and Phalanx) didn’t get that that small moment changed their lives forever.

What Psyche had done to them was her wake-up slap, but it also slapped the Ghost and Phalanx in the face. This team could work, but there’s one major problem:

THEY. SUCK.

Really, they know absolutely nothing about being a hero. They don’t know what it’s like in the real world. They don’t know what they do every night.

He shakes his head, taking a breath. "I'll try harder. Because she's right." His eyes meet Phalanx's, and Phalanx stares for that second dumb, because, yes, so much prettier, through the grey of the mask so bright. "They want their powers but they don't care about them. God knows they don't care about us. And if we're not looking out for each other - Phalanx they don't have a clue, you know they don't, do you think those supers could survive a week of your life . . . ?" "I -" He thinks about the squabbling and the bitching and the whining and the laziness and the chaos and the pettiness, and then he thinks about talking a man rescued from a mugging through an anxiety attack in the freezing rain, he thinks about skidding into the road shields flaring everywhere as the girl comes off her bike in front of a bus, he thinks about performing CPR which is not like it is on the TV until the ambulance gets there, he thinks about standing with his hand over his nose and mouth at the side of the alleyway while the Ghost keeps a hand on his arm, talking quietly with the cell in his hood and turned away from Phalanx so he doesn't have to listen, because the suspiciously abandoned car turned out to have a body in the trunk. He thinks about all the crying and how when the Ghost isn't there he has to make people trust him after the worst things have been done to them. He thinks about all the blood, all the bullets and the knives and the baseball bats and the blood. He thinks about not throwing up while he calls an ambulance and the Ghost kneels to help the man whose eye is hanging out after a bar fight and who won't stop screaming. He turns his head away a little, eyes squeezing shut. And he says, jaw too tight, "No. Okay." He remembers their blanking faces, What do you think happens when people jump out at me -? They have to get those guys up to speed. They need to know what the hell they're actually doing. They have to let them know they'll help them, not just the people on the street, when they're going to need it. Because they are going to need it. Becoming a superhero, what do you expect? Not what it is. Not what their lives are. How can you expect that? How can you expect the things people are capable of doing to each other, before Phalanx started this he didn't have a clue -

I think at this point, the team starts to grow, but mostly based on mutual mistrust. Psyche is the team’s HBIC.

And yet, she doesn’t trust them at all. She doesn’t trust this entire operation, the one she manages, at all. And she’s not the only one. While the Ghost is asking Mike for medical advice, Phalanx goes to Artie.

Artie bangs the helmet on the bench and looks right at it, like he's looking through its eyes, looking into its soul or something. "Power supply," he says to the helmet. "It's really expensive to run it, even for a short period of time. It's why I'm here. You never wondered why I was here?" "I just thought . . . I thought you volunteered. Like we did."

Phalanx is already on a rollercoaster of emotions AGAIN, so this comes as a shock to him. iBorg is the one who recuited them and told them to join, and now they found out iBorg didn’t even want to join in the first place.

Give me five years, he thinks, heading down the corridor. Give me another five years, I'll be just as good. (Yes, the voice murmurs inside him, you will. And he'll be five years even better.)

Goddamnit problem 1.

Chapter 11

He needs Blaine. He knows it. He knows it and he's terrified of him, sometimes. He needs him. No-one could destroy him like Blaine could. Whatever death he could face on the streets is only death; it's Blaine who would barely need words to ruin him worse than that, break him beyond mending, stamp his heart to mess with just a look if he ever looked at him like Kurt is . . .

Goddamnit problem 2.

Again, not much happens, because this time they’re actually on a break and most of their problems are quite small (compared to the ones I actually listed). They’re in the homophobic midwest, which is a problem. It kills you to read how trapped they feel in a place that they should call home.

Second, Blaine once again realises that his family doesn’t love each other- not really.

He doesn't know what to tell Blaine. Because honesty - being really honest with him, telling him exactly how much Kurt needs him and what it would do to him if Blaine left, telling him what future they can expect together and what the present will always be, telling him the truth would feel like blackmailing him. Blaine is a good person, and if Kurt tells him that he will never actually have the life he wants with Kurt but on the other hand Kurt's life will just disappear if Blaine leaves him, how is that fair? He doesn't want Blaine to stay with him because if he doesn't then Kurt will swim in the misery of the life he made for himself until he's got no strength left to keep his head above water. He doesn't want Blaine to stay with him because he feels guilty. He wants Blaine to love him. To actually want to stay with him. He wants this to be what Blaine wants, not just what he's settling for, for Kurt's sake.

Nevermind. Goddamnit problem 1.

Someone else is also having a problem. Ghostly has an anon, and in true Ghostly style, she finishes them off in an epic rant.

That little foot. He still sees it in the dark sometimes. That little foot, poking out of a trash bag, stiff and cold.

During their time away, they have the chance to take a fucking break and thinks things through. Especially after the bridge, everything’s been pretty rough. Kurt realises that he’s not as good with coping than that he originally thought.

I actually always skip the serial killer part. In writing, I can handle shit that usually triggers me much better, but not this. Oh god.

Chapter 12

Okay, meta roundup of the week! GeekingGreekly gave us a long meta post on Iliad-parallels in the Brooklyn Bridge fight, which for those of us who didn't have a clue was insanely interesting and informative. And that inspired in Paleandghostly a post on Modesty and the Ghost, from GeekingGreekly's thoughts on Andromache as good and modest classical Greek wife to the Ghost's costume's strange mixture of 'well that's a very fine ass you've put on show' figure-clinging suit and that cloak that covers him head to toe. Madalicelane gave her thoughts on the just kiss dammit debate, which sparked a lot of, uh, let's call it discussion, and Shieldbearingsoldier and Sociallyspooky are trying to work out the date of the superboyfriends' actual anniversary so they can throw a party for it, of course. We in fandom, our priorities, they are made of right <3

Fandom can actually be smart.

You know who isn’t smart?

RACHEL.

Fuck, at this point I kinda hate her more than Psyche. She’s so self-absorbed and she lets her stupidity blind her. She literally doesn’t understand what she’s doing. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything. She cares a lot about the safety of the Ghost and Phalanx, and she would never betray them, but she doesn’t understand her actions COULD betray them and put them in danger. Everytime Kurt tries to make that clear to her, her pettiness and selfishness (and fucking stupidity) make sure she won’t even listen to him.

She meets no other than Jesse St. James.

This is where the tricky shit starts. I always say that ATOG has a lot of pysical damage, whereas Grey handles mental damage. Sure, they will work on it, because they’re strong, but it’s seriously messed up.

Jesse is one of the first bigger signs of that. By now, as a reader you’ve been introduced to their main individual problems, but they’re there with a reason. Jesse messes them up, big time.

". . . I don't know," he says, and the words are difficult in his throat, too big for it. "I - doubt. About - everything."

(He’s nothing compared to what’s waiting for them, tho)

#lb 2017 #lb reading #atog grey #the great atog reread

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