#sam does not also fall into a life of drugs either | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #marvel

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babygirl-diaz · 4 years ago

Note

Doctor sam and very drugged up bucky nothing weird just Bucky being an absolute sweetheart and flirting with Sam I feel like it would be so funny

(Ha! I love this! I was gonna write this crack but it somehow turned a little angsty and weird 😬 Sorry about that)

***

"Will you relax?" Steve puts a hand over Sam's. "You're gonna be fine"

"Do you know when was the last time I went to a club?" Sam asks. "Because I don't."

Steve stroked Sam's hand with his thumb which helps calm him down a little, "Come on, doc. Sometimes you just gotta live a little."

"Hey, man, my idea of living a little is taking off my scrubs at the end of the day, kicking off my shoes, taking a nice warm shower, and then cooking while listening to Marvin Gaye."

Steve chuckles at that. "Yeah, I know. Look if you're not comfortable, we can go somewhere else. Maybe a quiet bar?"

Sam does not want to let his social anxiety take over and keep him from enjoying the little things in life. People often find it odd when Sam tells them about his social anxiety. He is an ER doctor after all. He is surrounded by people day in, day out. But that is different. Those people are either his colleagues or people he helps. Besides, Sam is a different person at work. He is more reserved outside of it.

"No, it's fine. We can stay. I'm gonna go get myself another beer. You want anything?"

Right then Steve's phone rings. He picks it up and sighs. "It's Tony. I swear if this guy makes another change to my storyboard, I will leave his movie."

"Yeah, yeah, so you say." Sam teases. Steve is an animator and currently working on a project for Stark Animations but he constantly clashes with the Producer. "What do you want, by the way?" Sam asks getting up.

"Just get me whatever you're having," Steve says and hurries away.

Sam sighs and goes to the bar waits for the bartender to get him. He suddenly feels a presence a little too close to him and looks over to find a young man standing next to him. Sam offers him a polite smile before moving away.

The man catches him by the elbow and leans in close to his ear. "Hi, I'm Bucky," he says with a slurred speech.

Alarm bells start to go off in Sam's head and he turns around to fully face the man, only to find him standing there looking dazed. His pupils are dilated and it seems like he was having a hard time controlling his eye movements.

"I'm Sam," Sam replies. "Are you okay?"

"Never better, sweetheart," the man smirks at him.

Sam knows when someone's drugged. He sees enough cases in his ER every day. He pulls Bucky aside and helps him sit at the nearest booth.

Sam crouches down in front of the young man and opens his eyes to look at his pupils before measuring his pulse. It is slowed.

"Buy me a drink first," Bucky says with a sweet smile and reaches out to touch Sam's face.

"Uh... excuse me? What are you doing?"

Sam looks up to find a blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman standing next to them and he gets up from the sticky floor.

"Is he with you?" He asks.

"Yeah, he's my friend. Why are you checking his pulse?"

"He's been drugged," Sam replies.

"What?" The woman asks, alarmed. "What do you mean he's been drugged?"

Bucky reaches out to touch nothing in particular and Sam points at him.

"See, I think he's having hallucinations," Sam tells her. "If I'm not mistaken, I think it's Ket."

"Why do you know all this?" The woman asks suspiciously

"I'm a doctor," Sam replies. "I'd take him to an ER if I were you."

Bucky grabs Sam's arm and pulls him down, making Sam stumble and fall in his lap.

"You're so gorgeous," says Bucky, looking at Sam in awe. "Can I take you home?"

Sam struggles to get up from his lap but Bucky holds him tight around the waist. The man was strong. "Hey, buddy, you wanna let me go?"

"Nooooo.... stay!" Bucky whines and nuzzles his arm like a damn cat.

The woman chuckles and Sam looks up to glare at her.

"You really need to get him to the ER," Sam tells her. "Also, maybe try to figure out who drugged him?"

"I know exactly who drugged him," the woman grits through her teeth. "Can you stay with him?" She doesn't wait for an answer before storming away, yelling, "HEY! WALKER!"

There's suddenly commotion on the other end of the club as the woman pins someone against the wall and threatens him.

"So Sammy..." Bucky trails off. "Can I call you Sammy?" He doesn't wait for an answer either before saying, "I'm gonna call you Sammy!"

"Please don't." Sam struggles once again to get off of him.

"Sammy, will you be my boyfriend?" Bucky blinks up at him

"And you'll forget all about me tomorrow morning," Sam tells him

"I'll never forget you," Bucky pouts at him. "You're the most beautiful guy I have ever seen."

"So, you like me for my beauty?" Sam can't help but tease him.

"No, I like you because I think you're awesome," Bucky replies.

"You don't even know me."

"Come home with me and I'll get to know you," Bucky smirks.

"Well, he's never coming anywhere near my best friend again," the woman says when she returns to the booth.

Sam absentmindedly rubs Bucky's arm. "Who is he?"

"His name's Walker. He and Bucky don't get along so he drugged him tonight to embarrass him."

"Oh..." Realization hits Sam. "Y'all are in college, aren't you?"

"Seniors," the woman admits. "I'm Sharon, by the way. Nice to meet you."

Sam goes to shake her proffered hand but Bucky pulls him back. "No. Mine!"

"I'm not yours, buddy," Sam sighs. "Now let me go."

"Sam?"

Sam lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Steve.

"Why are you sitting on some random guy's lap?" He asks, amused.

"Who's that?" Bucky frowns at Steve.

"That uh..." Sam trails off. "That's my boyfriend."

That loosens Bucky's grip around him and Sam immediately gets up and moves to stand beside Steve. He links his arm with Steve, who looks over at him confused.

"You have a boyfriend?" Bucky pouts at him and looks like he's on the verge of tears.

Sam feels bad, but he says, "Yeah, sorry, man. It was nice to meet you, though. Please take him to the ER." Sam tells Sharon before dragging Steve out of there.

"What was that?" Steve asks confused. "Why did you lie to them? And I think you broke that guy's heart."

Sam turns around to see Sharon hugging her friend who looks like he was crying. That tugs at Sam's heart but he tears his eyes away from them.

"He's young. He'll live."

#SamBucky #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Sharon Carter #tfawts #fanfic #aashnas drabble

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imgoingtocrash · 4 years ago

Text

my teen angst bullshit has a body count

by @imgoingtocrash for @hailxhydra

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Jim Morita, Hydra Agents

Summary:

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

Two years ago, Peter Parker escaped Hydra's control and was taken in by the Avengers. Traumatized from the experience but healing, Peter's starting to get a hang of this whole normal teenager thing. However, when Flash brings up a happily forgotten trigger from his past, Tony comes to give comfort and remind Peter that he's worth more to his loved ones than Hydra could have ever dreamed of.

Read on AO3

My fic for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! Hopefully you enjoy it @hailxhydra!!!

Full fic under the cut as requested by the exchange:

“—But I’m asking if it’s a good movie.”

“I’m telling you, it was either picking Selena for the third time or Rio, which is a stupid animated movie about birds.” Ned shakes his head dramatically. ��Everybody else will fall asleep, and if everybody falls asleep, then Misses Rodriguez will give us a pop quiz instead of letting us have a movie day.”

“But I like animated movies. We like them. We watched A Bug’s Life like last week!”

“Because you hadn’t seen it before! Your film under-education is criminal, and if I don’t help you fix it, who will?!”

Ned has a point. Being kidnapped and raised by Hydra after the age of six really limits a person’s entertainment consumption, as he’s learned more than ever now that he’s surrounded by other teenagers who grew up with movies and tv shows to watch at their fingertips.

“I mean, Steve does have a list…” Peter points out weakly.

Steve keeps it in his little notebook along with other things he doesn’t understand the references to yet. He tried to encourage Peter to start something like that in the beginning, but Peter’s never really considered himself a list person. He just sort of soaks up the world now, like a curious sponge. Sometimes it means he has to Google things he doesn’t really understand the meaning of, but it also means a lot of movie nights with both the other Avengers and Ned, which is actually sort of a bonus.

Ned stops them in the hall. “Yeah, but are they cool movies or are they movies for old people and war veterans who haven’t been alive for the last 100 years?”

“...You know that I don’t really know the difference.”

Ned gives a sad shake of his head. “You’re lucky you liked Star Wars, bro. Otherwise we’d be in a very different place right now, like, friendship-wise.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

Peter got to pick the movie for their classes’ Cinco de Mayo party. Peter’s not sure what either movie has to do with the Mexican Army’s historical defeat of the French, but he only picked Selena because Ned suggested it. Maybe he should be regretting that choice, if the other option was harmless little Spanish birds.

“You know, Parker, I have a question,” comes a very annoyingly musical voice from behind them.

Peter just barely resists to roll his eyes. Every time with this kid. Not that Peter is any less of a kid than Flash Thompson, technically, but he definitely feels more mature.

Ned, also more mature than some of their other classmates, completely ignores Flash.

“You’ll be humming the disco medleys for weeks, I promise.”

“Wait, wait, disco? I thought you said this was supposed to take place in the 80s and 90s?”

“Music endures, dude.”

“Hey, el idiots, I’m talking to you!” Flash interrupts again.

“That’s not even how you—” Peter starts to correct, only to realize he’s stepped directly in it when Ned groans.

Flash laughs obnoxiously to himself. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Penis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter grumbles. It doesn’t really matter what he says now. Flash has the attention that he wanted, which means he won’t bug off until the bell rings and until he has the last laugh. And that always happens, because he’s really the only one entertained by all of the poking and prodding at Peter.

Peter breathes in, steeling himself. He’s survived worse. So much worse. Bullies with electric prongs and steel cages and control over every other aspect of his life. This is just high school. Normal kids survive it all the time, even when there are bullies and bad test grades and cliquey subcultures. This is just one privileged asshole who thinks Peter’s an easy target.

In some way, Peter’s actually proud of that. No one has ever seen him as un-intimidating before. Even his Hydra captors knew that if they lost control of him as an asset, he could easily turn on them.

(Part of him always asks why he never did. If he wasn’t evil, if he wasn’t like them, then why didn’t he just fight back? But Sam says that’s just his mind trying to deal with trauma, and Peter is trying really, really hard to get better at ignoring those kinds of intrusive thoughts.)

Speaking of talking to himself, Flash snaps his fingers in Peter’s face to get his attention back.

“You’d think for such a genius, you’d be a lot quicker on the uptake.” Flash shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Please just get to the point already,” Ned begs, throwing his head back.

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

C’mere, Pet.

Stay down, Pet!

He was property, he was an animal, he was a weapon, their weapon, he was a mutant and he deserved it, needed it, he was the Spider, a mongrel, nothing, he was nothing and no one and Hydra was the only home a no-good runt like the Spider would ever have and he should be grateful—Kneel, Pet, be a good boy and kneel for your masters—but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t—

Foolish Pet, you wouldn’t survive out there.

You need us, Pet. You’ll always need us.

“Peter?”

He returns to the moment with one heaving breath, only to realize he can’t take in another.

His collar is too tight, they always put it on too tight and if he complains they hit him and if they hit him he bleeds and it gets on his clothes and he won’t get any more until his bath and he hates bath time because they water is cold and stings his skin and the soap is so harsh it burns his nostrils and they’re watching him he knows they’re watching because they never leave him alone because if they did he would try to escape, he would—

“Peter, what’s wrong, are you—?”

He did. He escaped and ran away but now they have him again and he can’t live like this, not when he knows about best friends and pizza and friendly ribbing and how warm he feels when Tony pulls Peter close on the couch and presses a kiss to his head and tells Peter that he’s proud. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he has to run.

“Peter, wait!”

Tony is, to say the least, nervous when he gets a call from Midtown Tech’s front office.

He trusts Peter by now. The kid has come a long, long way since he snuck onto the Avengers helicarrier during the chaos of a Hydra raid. Skinny as a rail, scared, brainwashed...abused.

The Spider.

Peter didn’t like being with Hydra since they were the ones that made him enhanced, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be locked in an enclosed space with a bunch of Avengers at the time either.

As was evident by the fight he put up until Steve knocked him out. Steve still feels bad about cold-clocking a kid when Peter jokingly brings it up now, but Tony’s never shamed Steve for the decision. It was that or some kind of drug injection with the way Peter fought back tooth and nail, confused and defensive. Practically feral, from the well-fitting clothing to his lack of speech.

It was all for the better, though, once they got him back to the compound.

Peter was a talkative kid once he let himself be. Funny, too. Almost normal, if you forgot the mutant spider genetics and years of torture from a bunch of descendant assholes that seemed to hate and resent the very thing they created.

That’s why Tony agreed to let Peter start school. Real, normal, human school just like every other teenager in America attended until they finished all twelve years of it.

Because he needed to be normal, sometimes. He needed movie nights, [other things], and most importantly, friends that were his own age rather than a bunch of adult superheroes that often acted like children.

But also because Peter wanted to go, and Tony had a really, really hard time denying anything that the kid wanted when he could so easily provide.

Peter had such a hard time wanting anything, in the beginning. What did Peter want to wear instead of the plain, grey, dirty sweatpants from Hydra? What did Peter want to eat now that he could have an adequate amount of calories for his enhanced, still growing body? What did he want to watch? Listen to?

All of these choices were suddenly available to Peter, but shaking years of being denied any kind of want, any kind of choice took a toll on him that took a lot of work to get through.

Peter had put in the work. Unsurprisingly well. He was smart—tactically from years of being trained for missions, academically from whatever education Hydra must have thrust upon him. Not so much socially, but they were doing better as Peter spent more time around people that actually cared about him and lobbed insults around to tease rather than to actually cause emotional harm.

But was that enough...training, of sorts, to be around a bunch of teenagers? Sure, Peter was technically also a teenager, but they’d found him at 14. Tony still looked at Peter and saw the wide-eyed little kid sitting in the corner of a containment cell, flinching every time Tony moved.

Two years later and a lot of growth physically and emotionally, but was it enough?

Tony was hesitant about it, wish-washing the entire summer with maybes and I’ll think about its until the deadline arrived and Tony had to actually make the call.

Peter had pleaded, citing an extensive, cheesy list of films that made him want the high school experience himself for some reason. He very genuinely enjoyed shopping for school supplies. He passed Midtown’s entrance exam with results that faked years progressing in homeschooling that Tony knew would have been true, if Peter had gotten the chance to grow up like he was supposed to.

So, Tony eventually said yes, knowing that one day this call might come and Tony would have to be prepared for whatever was on the other end of the line.

An “incident” of some kind. Whatever that meant. The secretary was entirely unclear, only insistent that Peter’s family should get down to the premises immediately to handle things.

That was Tony.

Part of Tony couldn’t fathom why Peter chose him out of everyone on the team to latch onto. Another part wasn’t exactly shocked. Trauma recognized trauma, after all, even if the context was entirely different.

Tony knew what it was like to be belittled. To be seen as something you weren’t. To be abused by someone you never really trusted in the first place.

He and Peter talked a lot in that little containment cell. Hours of Tony blabbering like he always did when he was uncomfortable and Peter just sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting for the strikes to start coming.

When he said his first words.

When he told Tony his name—not Spider, but Peter Parker, a little boy from Queens who lost his parents and his whole normal life in the same night, according to FRIDAY’s records.

When he touched Tony’s arm for the first time and got a smile instead of a reprimand.

He waited and Tony was patient and it was a rough road, but...Tony was kind of a parent, now. A parental figure, at least, among others of varying degrees of quality and influence on a scarred teenager.

He was Peter’s family, whether either of them was any good at it in a traditional way or not.

And also, you know. His money was paying Peter’s tuition. His time went into helping Peter study for the entrance exam. His name was technically on Peter’s manufactured birth certificate because he was the one forging it and it wasn’t like anyone else was offering when the subject came up.

And maybe, a little, because he cared about Peter. Loved him. Wanted to be what Peter needed, what he deserved, and what better way to do that than to write his name on a piece of paper that signified the job he sort of kind of wanted?

Tony slams the car door behind himself after pulling into Midtown’s parking lot, putting on his sunglasses for the brief trip into the early afternoon sun. He’s checking security cameras, exits, and also preparing a hefty sum of cash to go into Principal Jim Morita’s bank account as well as a handful of government officials, if that’s what it takes.

Again, not that Tony doesn’t trust Peter, it’s just...when you get this kind of call and your kid is a highly trained former assassin, you prepare exit strategies on multiple fronts.

It’s been two months and Peter has only made one friend at this place. The kids can’t all be angels like Peter proclaims Ned Leeds to be. If one of them touched Peter out of nowhere or said the wrong thing, maybe Peter lashed out. Maybe Peter forgot to hold his strength back like he’s been training to do. Maybe something was broken.

Maybe it’s something far worse.

Tony has to be ready for that. He has to be ready for whatever it takes to protect Peter.

At the very least, the police aren’t on site. That’s probably a good sign that they’re willing to leave this as an internal matter for now.

The unhelpful secretary of before leads Tony out of the office by the arm at a quick pace, not explaining the situation at all before they arrive at the scene. Whatever it is. Tony was definitely expecting more blood or yelling or...anything, really.

A small crowd stands outside of a door, marked by a golden plaque to be the janitor’s closet.

Leaning on the door itself with his arms resolutely crossed is a kid about Peter’s age. Short black hair, light brown skin, dressed so similarly to Peter that Tony’s starting to wonder if that’s where Peter’s new obsession with those geeky little t-shirts has come from.

“Mister Leeds—” An older Asian man pleads, dressed in a suit and standing up straight with all of the authority he can seem to muster against the stone wall that is the teen in front of him.

The kid shakes his head in response. So this is Ned, then.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not moving. If he wants to stay in there to calm down, he should be allowed to stay in there.”

“I’m sure his parents—”

“He doesn’t even have—you don’t even know what he’s gone through!”

“And you do?”

“Well...kinda? No. But—but he’s obviously freaking out and everyone crowding around him is only going to make it worse!”

The adult rubs a hand across his forehead, stressing at a fold of wrinkles that settles there from the stress.

“Ned, I recognize you’re just trying to be a good friend, but this is a problem for—”

Tony clears his throat, catching the attention of both parties.

The older man sighs. “Oh, good. Thank you, Theresa, you can go on back to the office. We’ll take it from here.”

The secretary nods, brusquely turning around and heading off, leaving Tony there to be examined by both Ned and what must be the principal.

“Mister Stark, I’m glad you could come down, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Principal Morita.”

“Obviously you know who I am,” Tony replies, shaking the man’s hand. “What did happen, exactly? Theresa was sparse on the details.”

“I told you, it’s Flash’s fault! He was being a dick and—” Ned shouts.

“Mister Leeds.” The principal interrupts, stern. “Another student apparently said something...unkind to Peter. He didn’t take it well and locked himself in the closet. I haven’t even been able to assess the situation properly yet. Normally I would start with asking Peter’s side of the story, but...”

He looks to the closet, where Ned still stands, defensive.

“The bouncer is a real stickler, got it,” Tony jokes, aiming a small smile at Ned. “Peter does seem to attract the protective type.”

“Oh,” Ned says, suddenly meeting Tony’s eyes and gaping like a fish. He seems to have finally realized exactly who he’s talking to. “Oh, wow. Mister Stark, it’s an honor. I’m a huge fan, like, so huge. Peter tells me to shut up about you at least three times a day. When he showed me a picture of you guys I was like, ‘Oh my god, your dad is Tony Stark!’ and he was like ‘Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know who he is, huh?’ like he totally didn’t get how awesome it is that you’re Iron Man. And I know you’re only kind of his dad, but still—”

“It’s suddenly become very clear to me why you two are friends,” Tony responds, keeping his smile on.

It’s actually kind of sweet to see that Peter’s found someone to confide in, even if he’s seemingly left out the more traumatic elements. But he also knows that Peter can hear them through the door, and he wants to get to the kid as fast as possible instead of dawdling for time.

If Peter wants to see him, that is.

He does, doesn’t he? Tony has been there for everything, so far. Every breakdown when the choices became too much, when the world outside of Peter’s little cell and all of the things he did that he wishes he could forget attack him at night. He hasn’t gotten old enough to not want Tony around when he’s upset, right?

“Sorry, Mister Stark. Sorry,” Ned apologizes. “I’m just nervous and worried about Peter and—”

“I get it, kid. You’re good.” He gives a reassuring grasp to Ned’s shoulder. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to see Peter now. You can ask him yourself, but I’m usually the exception to any rule about Peter wanting to be alone.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just—”

Ned turns to open the door, but gives Morita a shifty look, like he doesn’t trust the man not to dive bomb in if given the chance.

“Peter—”

“Let him in,” replies Peter’s strained voice. He’s definitely been crying. Poor kid.

Ned pulls back and nods at Tony, stepping aside to let him through.

“You did a good job protecting him, Leeds. Thank you,” he says to the teen before stepping into the dimly lit closet and shutting the door behind him.

The room smells musty and over-powerful at the same time thanks to the potent combination of cleaners and the mop cart sitting so close together. Out of anywhere Peter could have picked, this probably isn’t the kindest to his sense of smell if it’s making Tony already scrunch his nose.

It’s lit by a single pull-chain light bulb, and in the shadows of it sits Peter, curled into himself and leaning against a rusty metal shelf filled with paper towels, cleaning equipment, and a few bottles of product that have to be expired.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony frowns at the cracked floor tile, but settles himself next to Peter anyway. His back catches some kind of spray bottle sitting on the shelf that digs uncomfortably into his back.

Peter sniffs, not looking up from the cradle of his arms. “Hey.”

Tony heaves a sigh, for the drama. “So, I hear you got your first bully.”

Peter shrugs. “Guess so.”

“That Ted kid is pretty nice. He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. And his name is Ned.”

Tony stops beating around the bush. “What happened, Peter?”

“It was fine. It was good, you know? I got an A+ on my Spanish test, and Misses Rodriguez offered to let me choose the movie we were gonna watch for the Cinco de Mayo party as a reward. I didn’t even know any of the movies, but Ned said Selena was good because Jennifer Lopez is hot, so that’s what I picked. It was a good day, Tony!”

“...But?”

“But then Flash—”

“I meant to ask, is that his actual name? Like, legally?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Flash said…he said I was a…” Peter’s hesitant to let it out.

“Pete, a lot of kids at this age are testing boundaries. They’re going to say a lot of stupid, insensitive, offensive—”

“He said I was a teacher’s pet.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Tony blinks curiously a few times. He doesn’t want to belittle what Peter’s feeling, but he also doesn’t understand why it’s caused him so much stress.

“I know, I know it’s—but they used to—” Peter swallows hard, probably only delaying another wave of tears. “Sometimes, before, they would call me…”

“Pet.”

Peter nods, starting to shake next to him on the floor, their arms lightly touching at just Tony saying the nickname.

“They liked it. I think it made them feel better about themselves if they acted like I wanted it. Like—like being locked in the cages or collared or—or being muzzled was good for me.”

“You need to learn a lesson, little pet. Be a good pet and eat your dinner. Stop your crying, pet. No more of your barking, pet.” Peter quotes with venom flinging from every syllable. “But I didn’t want that, Mister Stark! I promise! They gave me these powers and I didn’t want to be their pet and they made me—”

“Peter, I know. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault, I know.”

Tony curls Peter into his side, rubbing his back consolingly.

“When Flash called me that I just—I felt the collar around my neck again and I couldn’t breathe though the muzzle and they kept kicking the cage even though it hurt my ears and I could never sleep in there because it was so small and—”

“Peter—” Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s panicking, Tony realizes. Probably just like he did initially. A flashback that triggered him into having a panic attack.

“And I know that’s not what Flash meant but I was back there and I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Peter breaks into sobs, burying his face into Tony’s shirt and clutching on tight.

“Oh, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tony soothes.

He presses a kiss to Peter’s hair, unsure when he became this tender. Probably the moment he realized this was the way he wanted someone to treat him in the midst of his worst, most vulnerable moments.

“Sometimes the bad memories come back unexpectedly, it’s alright.”

“But don’t wanna think about it anymore!” Peter cries childishly.

If it wouldn’t break Tony’s ribs, Peter would probably start banging at his chest in frustration.

“What if it gets bad and I don’t talk anymore and I can’t go to school like a normal kid and I lose everything and then you won’t want me anymore because I can’t get over this and stop being a stupid animal who needs its owners to—”

“Peter Parker, no. Absolutely not.”

Tony pushes Peter away so he can hold the boy’s face in his hands. So that he can fucking imbue into this kid how much he is loved and cherished and human.

“You’re not property, and you’re not an animal. What they did to you was wrong, and you know that now. I know that you do.”

Not just because Peter’s been to therapy since integrating with the Avengers, but also because he’s talked to all of him during his recovery from the horrors of his earlier childhood. About how his life felt before and how it feels better now. How he wouldn’t have left in the first place if he really wanted to be a part of Hydra like they raised him to want.

He’s not the child soldier they raised anymore. He’s so much more than they ever allowed him to be in that awful place.

He loosens his grip on Peter’s face only to bring him back again with an arm around his shoulder. Maybe if Peter feels him, touches him, the kid will remember all of the growth he’s made, the family he’s gained.

“Buddy, you are getting better. I know it. I’ve seen it. You know we’re all so proud of you and the progress you’ve made.”

Tony sighs. Part of him wants to sugarcoat it. That Peter has seen the worst of the world and now he’ll just be able to move on from it scott-free. It’s what he deserves, but Tony knows from experience that nothing in life is that sort of kind.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t have setbacks. I have had setbacks. Healing from the bad stuff is really, really hard, but it doesn’t make you anything that they said you were. You’re a wonderful, good kid who deserves everything he’s worked so hard for. And you’re going to get it because you have me and the team and your new best friend behind your back. You’re not alone, you’re not in a cage, you’re—you’re home, Pete. You understand?”

Peter sniffs, a sign that he’s worked himself up again, but his weak nod into Tony’s chest tells him that some of them at least might be happier tears.

“Listen to me, Pete. And I mean really, truly listen.” He looks down at the snot-covered, tear-stained teenager practically in his lap. He does love Peter. He wouldn’t have gone this far for any other kid in the world.

“It doesn’t matter what happens—hitches, mishaps, a dumb teenage mistake. You’re our kid now, Peter. You’re never going back to Hydra. Never. Not with me around.”

He knows it means something to say it out loud rather than leaving it to be assumed. He doesn’t have as much of a problem admitting it as he thought he might.

“I’m never giving you up, or letting you go, or treating you like anything other than a person. Do you understand me? That is something you never, ever have to worry about. Not from me.”

Peter sobs against him. This time it feels a lot more like relief. A release in the safety of Tony’s arms that Peter hasn’t really allowed himself, even after two years of being free of Hydra.

Peter didn’t tell the team everything. He may never even tell Tony everything. But this is one more thing Peter doesn’t have to carry alone, and Tony is happy to help their kid navigate the horrors it's brought back into his improving life.

They sit there for another minute, Peter’s whimpers muffled in Tony’s dress shirt. He’s sure the principal and Peter’s friend are getting antsy. But all the same it gives Peter another chance to calm down, and this time he seems a lot lighter when he picks his head up to look at Tony.

“Feel better?”

Peter gives a sniffle, but accompanies it with a nod and bright, attentive eyes.

“Look, I think school’s a bust for the day. Let’s go home. Whatever you wanna do, just you and me. Nobody else needs to hear about this unless you want to tell them, okay?”

“And if you wanted, I guess…”

Peter tilts his head, expectant.

“We could...nah, it’s probably offensive, right?”

“What?” Peter insists. Tony tried to warn him, but Tony also can’t resist an idea once it pops into his head.

“I just thought, you know, if you wanted—if you thought it would help, we could get you a—“ He almost ruins it, but catches himself. “An animal. Like a dog or something.”

Peter is silent. He bites at his lip, contemplative. Looks in the direction of a mop bucket in the corner.

“Is that bad? You don’t have to, I just thought it might make you associate that word with good things, but if not—“

Peter finally meets his eyes with a tentative grin on his face.

“What kind of dog?”

#irondad #spiderson #au #friendly neighborhood exchange 2021 #marvel #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #hailxhydra

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moshymosh · 4 years ago

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College Gemini Teaser

90′s!College!Marvel!AU

A/N: I’m Pissed at myself, I had this all typed up in my drafts so I could edit it later and I can’t tell if Tumblr ate it or I accidently deleted it, FML. Anywho, this is the teaser for my new fic. I would love some feedback on it, I also have a Shiny new Twitter for fic updates and polls about upcoming fics. There is currently a poll up now about who the pairings for this fic should be please go follow and vote. Here it is! Also if you know a good FREE video to gif converter for Ipad please hit me up, I need one like bad lol

!!Series Warnings!!: THIS IS AN 18+ CONTENT FIC, PLEASE BE OF AGE NO MINORS!! Smoking( Tabacco and Weed), Drug usage, Drinking (All characters in this fic are 21 or above 21, No underage drinking peeps!) Club scenes, Partying, SMUT!!, Violence and/or fighting. More tags to be added as the series continues

!!Teaser warnings!!: Tabacco usage!

IF THESE TW BOTHER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS TEASER AND THE FIC THAT WILL GO ALONG WITH THIS. I DO NOT CONTROL WHAT YOU (THE READER) CHOOSES TO READ, READER/ VEIWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

DO NOT! AND I REPEAT DO NOT! POST MY FICS ANYWHERE WITH OUT MY DOCUMENTED CONSENT, THIS IS MY WORK AND IM VERY PROUD OF IT, DO NOT TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS POSTED ANYWHERE THAT DOES NOT DOCUMENT THAT I HAVE GIVEN CONSENT PLEASE TELL ME IMMEDIATELY THANK YOU!

Teaser below the cut

Everyone on the campus of NYU called one group of friends, The Avengers, because they were known for helping everyone, didn't matter who or the reason. Need to get from point A to point B on campus? Call the Avenger's landline from a payphone. Need directions to the best restaurants and places to hang? Find any one of the Avengers and just ask. Need a pencil? Find any of the female Avengers, they have you covered. The girls have an arsenal of school supplies and are always willing to give you what you need. Can't afford the textbook you need? Find Tony Stark or his girlfriend Pepper Potts, they'll spot you the money you need to get your book. Creepy guy from math class won't take a hint that you will NOT go on a date with him next Tuesday? Say you're going on a date with either Steve Rogers, James 'Bucky' Barnes, or Sam Wilson, they really don't mind. They're just happy to help any way they can.

The Avengers sat in their usual spot under a large oak tree on the grassy part of the campus courtyard. The early fall breeze carried their laughter as they talked about their day.

"Oh! Guys this club we're going to on Saturday?" Natasha said after she took a sip from her glass coke bottle. "The girls and I's roommate is coming."

Sam laughed, knowing who they were talking about. "Gemini?" He asked with a raised eyebrow at the girl.

Nat smiled and nodded. "Yup." She said as she popped the 'p' "She decided to finally come back to the scene."

"Who's Gemini?" Steve asked as he sat up from leaning against the tree trunk.

Nat lit up and took a long drag from the cigarette she bummed from Bucky before she spoke, exhaling the smoke from her nostrils. "She's our, the girls, roommate. Gemini is her nickname. She prefers to keep her college career and her party life separated." Nat said before shrugging, taking another long drag from her cig. "Hence the name 'Gemini', a double-sided life if you will." She said as she flipped her wrist in a what-not motion.

"Do we know her from any of our classes?" Bucky asked before he broke out in laughter with everyone else at the redhead's surprised face.

"Natty, Baby..." Y/N whined as she flopped down on her back, tossing her head in Nat's lap, throwing her bookbag off to the side of her. "Stop stealing my smokes, here, bought you a carton. Stay out of mine you russian thief." Y/N joked as she handed said item to the girl in question.

Y/n lit up her own cigarette as she looked around at her friends and roommates. "Sorry I'm late Professor Fury was up my ass about my paper. What's we talking about?" She asked as she slipped her pack of smokes and lighter into the pocket of her bookbag.

"Talkin' about Gemini." Wanda said nudging Y/N's foot with her elbow.

Y/N nodded, taking a drag from her cig, sitting up beside Nat, and leaning her head on her shoulder. "What about her?" She asked as she exhaled smoke.

"Just wondering if we know her from any classes." Bucky said taking a swig from his coke bottle after he exhaled his own smoke.

"Oh, I'm sure you do Bucky." Nat said as she smirked at the girl leaning on her shoulder, who in turn was smirking behind the coke bottle Steve handed her, as she took a drink.

'You guys have classes with her alright,' Y/n thought, ‘They'll shit bricks if they knew I was Gemini.'

A/N 2.0: Hi you've reached the end of my Teaser, please go to the top and read the first authors note about my twitter if you would like to vote on who the ? X reader will be

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 5 years ago

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Not Perfect (JJ Maybank x reader) pt. 2

Summary: JJ Maybank is the one who makes sure your kook lawn is immaculate. Your family may look perfect just like the lawn from someone looking from the outside in, but it turns out you and JJ have more in common than you thought.

Previous Part: Part 1

!!warning: This story talks about abuse through out, so if that’s triggering please don’t read. This is strictly fiction.

A/N: Had not expected this to get as much attention as it did! I’m glad you all liked the first part :) Hope you enjoy the second xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

It was Thursday night, JJ’s night to work at the country club. He was clearing off a table when he saw your family walking in, dressed head to toe in fancy clothes. Multiple people greeted your father, shaking his hand. He was a well-known man around the island, just like the Cameron’s. Your family was up on the popular pole with the Cameron’s, fighting for the richest and best family on the island. He thought your two families were in a feud for power over the island, but he wasn’t sure.

He watched as your dad put his hand on your back, pulling you closer, so he could introduce you. Your body tensed up at the touch and he watched you force a smile and shake the other man’s hand. Your eyes darted around and met JJ’s. He blushed because you had caught him staring. You gave a genuine smile and a wave. He smiled and started to wave back but the look your dad gave him made him think otherwise. He hung his head and continued clearing off the table. Out of the corner of his eye he watched your dad grab your arm and pull you inside the club.

You weren’t sure if it was the shadow from the outside lights, but it looked like his eye was bruised. You were pulled from your thoughts when your dad guided you into the country club.

JJ had stepped out to clean off another table when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he was surprised to see you.

“Hey.” You smiled.

“Hey.” He wipes his hand on the black rag and smiles at you.

“I didn’t know you worked here too?” You take a second to look over his features. His right eye was for sure bruised and there was a cut under his eye, looked like from a ring. It wasn’t a secret around the island that his dad was abusive. Everyone knew of it, but there wasn’t much for people to do, especially the kooks, so everyone minded their business. Especially, if it dealt with the people on the cut, also known as the pogues.

He nods, “Yeah I alternate between helping Pope, here and then landscaping.”

“You’re just a man of many talents, aren’t you?”

“I guess you could say that.” He chuckles and you laugh in return. He knows you’re staring at his black eye. He’d come home from hanging out with the pogues and had a run in with his dad. He wasn’t too happy about JJ showing up and interrupting one of his shows.

“what’d you do, Maybank? Run into a pole?” You motion up to his eye.

“I-uh..” he chuckles, playing it off, “Yeah. Was messing around John B and he got me good.”

You nod. Someone with a mean right hook. You weren’t a stranger to those. “Well, he’s got a mean right hook.”

JJ nods, “Yeah…” He clears his throat, hoping to change the subject, and motions to your dress, “You look pretty.”

You blush, glancing down at your dress and then at him, “You think? I think I look like a lemon.”

“A very pretty lemon.” He adds. Both of you laugh and it quietly dies down. He contemplates asking you if you’ll be at the boneyard tomorrow, but he’s interrupted by your dad yet again.

“Y/n. Let’s go.” His eyes are sending daggers JJ’s way.

You and JJ turn around, “Okay. Just one more minute. I’ll meet you in car?”

Your dad shakes his head, “No. Now, young lady.”

You give a nod before turning around to JJ, giving him a soft smile, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nods, “Yeah of course.” He watches as you walk away from him once more. Even after you have walked by your dad, he’s still glaring at JJ and takes a sip from his drink before turning away and heading after you. What was this guy’s problem?

The next morning when he arrived at your house, he could hear you and your dad yelling inside the house but tried to ignore it. It wasn’t his business. He heard the door slam closed and looked up from the lawn mower. You stormed out of the house and across the lawn, your dad now outside as well, “Y/n, you get back here right now!”

You ignored him and got into your car, your dad following close, but you had already closed and locked the door.

JJ flinched when he watched your dad bang on your window, “Don’t you dare leave!”

You started the car and pulled away as quickly as you could, leaving your dad standing in the dust. When your dad turned around, JJ was staring from the lawn mower, “What are you looking at, boy?! Get back to work!”

JJ quickly nodded, “Yes, sir.” He turned around and started the mower as your dad stormed back inside.

“There’s the perfect kook.” Kie rolled her eyes.

JJ turned around to see you had arrived, heading to the keg. You hugged a few girls and a couple of the guys, grabbing a drink from one of the guys and chugging it.

“Damn.” John B says, noticing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink.”

JJ glances at John B then back at you, “I haven’t either.” You were the good girl, the one who didn’t drink or do drugs. You came and hung out at the Boneyard, had fun but never engaged in such activities. He decided then and there, he’d keep an eye on you, and it’s a good thing he did.

Usually, he wasn’t one to get into people’s business, especially kook business, but the way your demeanor was around your dad, it mirrored his own and his mind wondered if there was something more behind your perfect family. The perfect family and perfect life he wanted but would never have. You didn’t live like him though, did your dad really do the same thing his shitty pogue father did to him? No, there’s no way. Your life was perfect. Your life was one he’d never have, you had a family he’d never have, a loving father that he didn’t have or never would have. He was jealous of your perfect life, so why did he feel the need to protect you?

Two hours later, you are upside down on the keg as people yell “Chug! Chug! Chug!”

“Dude… she just beat the record.” Pope says, eyes wide, “And she’s never drank before.”

Taking a sip of his red solo cup he watches you get down, throwing your hands in the air as people cheer around you. This wasn’t you, but who was he to judge?

He watched from a far. He’d kept a watchful eye on you all night, ready to step in if something went wrong. You were dancing with a few girls and a guy, who had his hands all over you. You were stumbling and he knew it was time to step in, especially once the guy started to lead you toward the woods.

“Hey hey!” He hurried after you and the guy, “No you don’t.” He grabs the guy by the shoulders, making him face JJ, “What the hell are you doing?”

The guy looked at JJ, “Dude, what are you doing? Back off! She’s the one who wanted to go back here.”

JJ looks at your figure, the guys practically holding you up as you sway, “Yeah, I doubt that. Fuck off before I beat your ass.”

The guy rolls his eyes, dropping his hands, “Whatever.”

JJ catches you as you start to fall, “Alright… I think it’s time to head home.” He picks you up bridal style and heads toward the pogues.

“hey! You’re JJ!” You giggle.

JJ can’t help but laugh and nods, “Yeah I am. And you’re y/n y/l/n.”

You giggle again, “My daddy doesn’t like you.”

He looks down at you but is interrupted by Kie. Is that why your dad was always staring at him, giving him evil eyes?

“She okay?” Kie asks standing.

JJ nods, “Some guy was trying to head to the woods with her. I’m going to take her to the Chateau, she’s plastered.”

John B nods, handing him the keys, “We’ll be back soon.”

JJ carries you to the van and lays you down in the back as you mumble incoherently about needing to be a good perfect girl. You can’t do no wrong. You have to be perfect. Before he could close the door, you leaned out of the van and vomited, before falling back into the van.

“Lovely.” JJ mumbles, scrunching up his nose in disgust. You had luckily missed his feet but had managed to get some on your shirt. Sighing, he closes the door to the van.

When he arrives at the chateau, he picks you up bridal style and carries you inside. He thought you had passed out, but your head swung forward, looking up at him, “Why do people think my family is so perfect?” You slur.

JJ gently sets you on his spare bed, “Because you guys are perfect. Your house and yard are always clean. You guys are always a happy little family.” He grabs one of his t shirts, “I need to change you, you’ve got vomit all over your shirt.”

You nod, but then shake your head, swaying back and forth on the bed, “They wouldn’t think we’re perfect if they knew the truth….”

He carefully helps you out of your dirty one and then the clean one over your head, “Oh yeah?” He’s letting you ramble on as he grabs the trashcan and sets it by the bed. He’s taken back by your next statement. Your voice was slurred and mumbling but he heard you perfectly, loud and clear.

“If they only knew what Mr. y/l/n does to his daughter behind closed doors.”

When he looks up at you, you’re passed out on the bed. What he does to his daughter behind closed doors? Is that what he thinks it means? He gently picks up your legs and tucks you into the bed, leaving a glass of water by the bed. As he steps out of the room, he turns around to see your sleeping figure on the bed, suddenly looking so small in his spare bed. You’re a kook, a part of this perfect family, living in a perfect house, on the perfect side of the island, yet you’re living a life just like he is?

Obx taglist: @emmalvei-blog , @tregua-oca , @weirdbiwitch , @losers-club6 , @treestarrrrrrrr , @omgwhattheeven , @normatural , @lreincarnationl , @laurenron , @junkiemuppettxx , @beth-winchester21 , @divcrdown , @timotaychalabae , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @tangledinsparkles , @prejudic3 , @lanarichards5 @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch , @fratboystark , @nas-marie-loves-u , @sunwardsss , @annedub , @jellyfishbeansontoast , @turtlee-says-rawr, @fanficscuziranout , @summer-clouds-and-long-days , @write-from-the-heart , @louisolos , @summer-clouds-and-long-days @outrbank , @sunset-d-rive , @family-buisnes , @traumaflavouredjuulpod , @http-cherries , @k-k0129 , @mileven-reddie , @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid , @cinnamon-roll-seth , @teamnick , @rockyyc77 , @ellojustafangirlhere , @sataninsatin , @lordsagittarius , @helplessquotess , @katerosexx , @kiarasgold , @thee-sex , @sunshinemadds , @ceruleanjj , @nikki082489 , @ilovejjmaybank

All my works tag list: @blossomreed

*If your name is crossed out then tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you :(

*Also, if you wanted to be tagged in a specific post, I’m sorry, i only go by the fandoms, just because it’s easier to keep up with right now. So, if you’d like to be taken off, just send me a message :)

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pallasperilous · 4 years ago

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Piledriver

Dean/Castiel 1815 words Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair Coda, Fix-It (sort of), Grief is a weird and protean beast, Second Person POV, but also Dean POV, I realize what a tall order that is y’all but I swear it’s mad judicious {AO3 version}

You’re not really sure when you started doing it.

That’s a fucking lie.

You started doing it ten, maybe twenty minutes after.

Not as a conscious thing, not like those snappy comebacks you think of the next day, or like those speeches you practice in your head and then never get the chance to deliver. (Although it seems like other people have better luck in that regard.)

It’s more like a tic — like the way Sam used to pick at his hand, or your mom used to hum the same little bit of Stairway to Heaven offkey. (Which was kind of a trip since she’d come back from, you know. There.)

You think: I love you, too.

It’s just a drumbeat of syllables running in the back of your head. Might as well be shave and a haircut. Which you could use, incidentally.

It eases off a little, after the universe ticks over. You’re so fucking relieved that you basically revert to a lower life form for awhile — you’re like a jellyfish, or a fungus, or a Yankees fan. For a few minutes there, things are pretty sweet.

Then the clock starts running again, and you and Sam are faced with the frankly fucked-up necessity of needing a hot meal and somewhere to pee.

It kicks back in then — during the peeing, specifically, because goddamn did the dude never get over what a fucking nightmare it is to have a bladder. Like it actually made him mad. Even after he got his batteries back and was once more able to, like, effervesce fluids out of his body or teleport them to the surface of Mars or whatever, he never stopped giving you pitying looks whenever he got up to use the can. On the road he’d ask if anybody needed a bathroom break at every single freeway exit. You chewed him out once that you in fact were not a four year-old or an Alzheimer’s patient and could therefore hold it for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he looked at you with such bottomless patience and empathy that you could’ve thrown him out of the fucking car. I love you too.

Instead of a heartbeat, it’s like a piledriver hitting the ground ten feet away.

I love you too. It rattles your fucking thighs as you wash your hands in the gas station bathroom. None of the other dudes do because dudes are fucking disgusting. This attitude was maybe part of the problem.

I love you too. You come out and the car’s moved and you have a hot second of freakout, then you see Sam’s just pulled it away from the pump and parked in the lot and honest to God (go team!) you almost burst into tears. What the fuck.

I love you, too.

That night you do your absolute best to lobotomize yourself (not to obliterate yourself, which is a sign of progress and for which effort you absolutely deserve a round of applause from…somebody), but the piledriver just keeps on pounding away and you realize that it’s either piledrive or get piledriven. Sam’s asleep six feet away after his own inpatient procedure but you’re really fucking starting to panic so you say it out loud, anyway.

I love you, too.

And something gives, eases off like a gas bubble turning a corner in your gut, and you pass out.

So you lean into it. You make it your thing. You figure you can either be losing your mind, or practicing, so you choose practicing. You’re showing the powers that be that you’re keeping the faith. You’re holding a torch. You’re being the change you want to see in the world. You’ve talked to coma patients before and you’ve prayed to this asshole before and this isn’t any different. Isn’t it?

Washing the dishes: I love you, too.

Checking the oil: I love you, too.

Swinging a machete and hitting that sweet spot between vertebrae where the head just pops right off, like a Lego dude: I love you, too.

Pulling on socks: I love you, too.

Burning that fucking jacket: I love you, too.

Not out loud, or at least, not where anybody can hear you. That would be weird.

And you know, you know, that he doesn’t hear you, either. You know that, worst of all, he didn’t even need to hear it. You’ve heard a lot of shit about unconditional love, but it’s never had any goddamn appeal to you because, what? Somebody loves you the same no matter what fucked up shit you do, no matter how you feel about them?

That’s either (a) some seriously poisoned Kool-Aid or (b) so huge it’s useless, like giving somebody a galaxy for their birthday. You want unconditional love? Get a fucking dog.

I love you, too.

Lately you’ve been swapping in phrases that have the same rhythm or meter or whatever, so you can say them out loud without worrying anybody more than usual. The rain in Spain does some heavy lifting for a couple weeks, then ba-DUMP-bump, tissshh! followed by the king of beers for about half a particularly shitty afternoon and then closing out with you bet your ass, which is a much better fit for your lifestyle.

So fine, great. Life goes on. You were the subject of his unconditional cosmic love-boner whatever and getting that off his chest was all he needed to go happily fucking off into the abyss. And you’re still down here (up here? over here?), drinking coffee and hating Mondays. Awesome. I love you, too.

This is around when you discover the best match for both meter and tone yet, one so close that it doesn’t even feel like a placebo for the real phrase. It’s a whole different drug, actually. It makes you feel like a million bucks, it’s absolute rocket fuel. If the original is whiskey, this shit is meth. You turn a whole nest of ghouls into one big ghoul smoothie and then at the bar later somebody nervously informs you that you were yelling it out loud the whole damn time.

The phrase is: go fuck yourself.

You imagine it at night, lying in the empty bed, your pulse hammering in time: him standing there, one big cow-eyed khaki rumple, and you yell: Go fuck yourself. You asshole. You bastard. You smug piece of shit. Go fuck yourself. How many times have we done this, and every fucking time you find a way to make it worse. Go fuck yourself.

I love you, too.

After a few weeks it loses its edge. You kinda knew it would, having some experience with the limits of amphetamines and your own rage-juice glands. It downgrades from a battle-cry to a slur. At some point you realize you’re not even saying it to him anymore. You’re saying it to you. Go fuck yourself.

You try to imagine him saying it instead. Go fuck yourself, in that nutso Sam the Eagle voice that he must’ve gotten out of a box of Cracker Jacks, because it sure didn’t come complimentary with Jimmy Novak’s dry-ass mouth. Go fuck yourself, Dean.

Somehow it’s still the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to you.

So you go back to the OG version, and this time it feels like it settles in. You do whatever the psychological equivalent is of buying it a dog bed and a food dish and a leash, and you take it out for walkies whenever it starts to chew on the furniture. I love you, too.

You get so used to its presence that sometimes you even forget it’s there. You’re joking around with Sam, eating sandwiches at some picnic grounds on the way to Sioux Falls for a social visit, and you say some dumb thing to him, who knows about what. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust as required by the kid brother certification board and snorts “I love you, man,” in the way that means how are you even allowed to exist, and you answer “I love you, too,” in the way that means I love you, too.

Sam has seen a lot of wild shit, but the look on his face after that is a brand new one to you.

“Checkmate, asshole,” you say, in case he’s worried you’re gonna off yourself in the bathroom or something.

You do get to say it, eventually.

Like most things in life, it happens after you’ve totally given up, and then totally given up giving up, and have achieved the spiritual equivalent of that shrug emoji Claire sends you sometimes. When the phrase is well past thinking about, when the words don’t even carry any meaning anymore; they’re like the thought version of blinking, or swallowing. A background process, until something flies into your eyeball or you try to breathe a tortilla chip.

So the tortilla chip shows up one day. Don’t worry too much about the details here, just take it for granted that it either required a heroic effort of years that nearly broke you, or that he just showed up unsolicited on the porch like a copy of The Watchtower. Or maybe you’re both dead; seriously, who cares, because regardless — he’s there, and you’re there, and for awhile other people are there too, but eventually they go away.

And it’s him, and it’s you. And if you hadn’t absolutely digested this thing in advance, if you hadn’t broken each word down into its atomic particles and cut and pasted them into your DNA so that 45th century forensic anthropologists from Mars could extract it from a fragment of the the mummified marrow of your left ass-bone, you might’ve said something else.

You said: “I love you, too.”

You realize, in the moment after you say it, that you have reached the limits of your preparations. You’re a samurai with a single move; you’re the cannon in the 1812 Overture; your photo’s in the dictionary under one-trick pony and you’ve got frosted tips and you’re blinking.

You say it again, and then a third time, and a lot of times after that. You keep saying it, for years, in varying degrees of franticness and horniness and happiness and honestly still-fucking-angriness and whatever else is on special that week. You say it to his face and to his dick and to his back and to the mere concept of him well after he’s left the room, left the state, left the dimension. Eventually you stop bothering to say anything else to each other. There are maybe half a million words in your native language, according to Sam, who uses them all, and with everybody else you keep on using the two hundred or so you feel confident about.

But with Castiel, you make do with just the four.

I love you.

I love you, too.

#spn fanfiction #destiel #deancas #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #spn spoilers #pallas perilous fic #fixit fic #15x18 coda

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

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Cruelty of the Beast, part 7

( previous. )

Characters: c!Ranboo, c!Tommy Word count: 1685 words Content: whump, mention of hypnosis, confessions, Ranboo and Tommy have a bonding moment, talk of apocalypse, tommy calls Ranboo out for his hypocrisy

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They’re finally left alone. Ranboo is unable to make eye contact with Tommy, which seems fine, because Tommy isn’t looking at him either. There’s a shift though, an unspoken understanding of the situation they find themselves in. It’d already hit before, but now there seems to be something heavy between them.

Ranboo focuses on the food on his plate. It’s nothing special, a slab of pork and scrambled eggs. It’s not like Dream and Wilbur are starving them, nor depriving them of a warm bed, a warm home, and general comforts, but Ranboo still doesn’t like this place. He doesn’t like knowing what he’s helped plan in the past, what he helped put Tommy through.

When he forces himself to look in Tommy’s direction, Tommy’s staring at Wilbur. He can’t decipher the expression on the other teen’s face, but it’s a far cry from troubled. He has to wonder what Wilbur told Tommy today.

“Hey,” Ranboo mutters. He looks down at his plate, cutting into the pork slowly. “Are you okay?”

Tommy turns back toward him. In his peripheral vision, he can see a large grin spread across Tommy’s face. He wonders if Tommy is brainwashed somehow, then retracts that thought. There’s no way Wilbur has that kind of power.

Dream’s words come back to him. “I’m not controlling you, I don’t have that kind of power. Wilbur, maybe, but he’s not interested in you, he’s interested in Tommy.” Ranboo shudders at the memory. It’s unlikely that Wilbur was able to pull anything sinister in the one day they’ve all been split up.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Wilbur and I had a long conversation and he cleared some things up for me.”

“Did he hypnotize you?” Ranboo asks. He hadn’t intended on asking that, and immediately winces. It’s a stupid question; Wilbur’s only human, it’s not like he actually wants to hurt his brother.

“What?” Tommy scoffs. “What are you on about Ranboo?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Not to be...well, okay, I mean to be blunt and offensive, but I’m not you and Wilbur’s not Dream. I’m sorry Dream hurt you, but Wilbur didn’t do anything, we literally just talked.”

“What’d you talk about?”

“You’re awfully nosy, aren’t you?” Tommy sounds defensive. Ranboo lets out a sigh. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’m still shaken up, we went out to gather sand and gunpowder. Mostly sand.”

“And?”

“Before I answer, are you going to tell me what you and Dream did today? Did he hypnotize you?”

“No.” Ranboo offers a smile. “He and I literally just talked, as well.”

“Wilbur apologized to me,” Tommy says in a rush. “He said he thought that by dying, he was doing me a favor. He didn’t realize things for me had gotten so bad.”

“Do you believe him?”

“He was crying, Ranboo. Wilbur never cries. He normally doesn’t really talk the way he did earlier. Like, I think he actually meant it when he said we can be brothers again.”

“You trust him?” Ranboo tilts his head. “One conversation is all it takes?”

“You’re seriously getting on my nerves here,” Tommy grumbles. “What did you and Dream do today? You’re on edge for some reason, what happened?”

Ranboo isn’t sure what he’s allowed to say or not say, but then again, he and Tommy are in this situation together. If they’re going to be each other’s only friends, he might as well start being honest.

“Apparently I’ve been helping Dream a lot longer than I realized,” Ranboo whispers. “I’ve been out here before, digging up something for him.”

“Stop being cryptic and tell me what’s going on. Jesus, I’m tired of secrets.”

“Dream and Wilbur want to go to the end,” Ranboo says. “They want some dragon that’s in there. They both want to use us to get it into this world.”

“So...” At least Tommy looks pale. Ranboo’s glad that Tommy isn’t taking this news lightly, it gives him hope that Tommy isn’t completely falling for Wilbur’s...whatever Wilbur is doing. “So what Wilbur said earlier makes sense now.”

“What?”

“What he said to me makes sense. He said when all this is over, and it’s time to let everything go.”

“Tommy, they’re going to end the world. Why aren’t you panicking?”

“Ranboo, I’m fucking exhausted, mate. I’m tired of fighting with people, I’m tired of being used as everyone’s punching bag, and I’m tired, in general. So yeah, I want it all to end. I’m a child and I’ve already lived through more than everyone even cares about. Dragons aren’t ideal, and of course I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but I don’t have anything to go back to.”

“What about Tubbo? Or Puff-”

“Tubbo’s got you, and Puffy has a life outside of me. No one needs me. You’re the one who has something to lose in this. If you want to sneak away, I won’t stop you, but I’m not going with you.”

“Tommy, you know this is classic villainy, right?” Ranboo swallows.

“Tell me more about what you did. Do you know what you helped Dream out with? What was it you dug out?”

“Oh.” Ranboo looks down again. “I dug out a hole that leads straight to a lit end portal. Apparently, I helped put you in this position. From exile, to being trapped in the prison, and now this.”

“So you call me wanting to stay with my brother villainy, but you helped hurt me, and you somehow don’t see the hypocrisy here?” Tommy laughs sardonically. “That makes us both villains, Ran.”

“Tommy I’m sorry.”

“Save it. I’m not going to hold it against you forever, I just want you to really think about this. You can’t sit on a moral pedestal and call the rest of us out when you contributed to my death.”

Ranboo falls silent as he reaches back behind him. He grabs the book Dream gave him earlier and wordlessly hands it over to Tommy. “Read the last page,” Ranboo mumbles, as his only response.

Tommy does, flipping through the pages silently until he reaches the last page. He reads the common words carefully; Ranboo can see his eyes flickering back and forth as he studies what’s written. After what feels like ages, Tommy finally looks up, handing the book back.

“So you knew.”

“Tommy, I had no idea.”

“You knew,” Tommy repeats firmly. “You fucking knew the whole time what was going on. You knew that Dream and Wilbur were working together, you knew that Wilbur was coming back, and you fucking knew about the dragon. You knew!”

“I don’t remember! I swear I don’t remember this!”

“What do you think Tubbo’s going to say if this falls into his hands? What do you think Puffy and Sam and Quackity are going to say? You knew. They’re not going to buy memory loss this time because this is your handwriting. Including the ender bits.”

Ranboo’s shoulders slump. Tommy’s right. He hates that Tommy’s right. The proof is literally in his hands, and destroying it isn’t going to do much either, because now Tommy knows.

“We have to warn Tubbo.”

Tommy points the tines of his fork in Ranboo’s direction. “We can’t tell them. We’re here now, and regardless of how you or me personally feel about this situation, we’re not getting out of this. Personally, I’m past the point of caring, and I know some part of you, whether you remember or not, wants this. Instead of marrying my best friend, you should marry your unconscious self and come to terms with this.”

Tommy is smart. Ranboo knows he’s smart, and Ranboo also knows Tommy’s right. It only contributes to how smart the stupid ass is. Ranboo can’t remember though, it’s like some part of him is blocked. After what he’d seen today, Ranboo can feel that mental wall in place, and he doesn’t know how to access it. Neither does Dream, apparently.

“I don’t know how to remember,” Ranboo admits. “I don’t know how to access those memories.”

“I can smack you upside the head with a brick,” offers Tommy with a snort. “Seriously. You were talking about hypnosis earlier, maybe it can be used for good instead of evil.”

“I don’t want to be evil.”

“Think it’s a little late for that, bud.” Tommy doesn’t sound angry, at least. Ranboo had expected Tommy to yell and storm off, but he’s still sitting by Ranboo, and now offering help. He doesn’t understand this.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why should I be? Because you helped Dream? Wilbur quoted Lord of the Rings at me and I fell into his arms sobbing. You could probably offer a hug and I’d burst into tears. This is how fucked I am.”

“I feel the same,” Ranboo admits. He forces out a short laugh. “Dream was admittedly really nice to me.”

“He can be your friend then. I don’t want him anywhere near me for awhile.”

“We’re both really fucked up, aren’t we?”

“Yeah man, that’s the conversation we’re having. We’re fucked up because we’re considering helping the two strongest villains of the server launch an apocalypse. If that doesn’t scream fucked up, I don’t know what does.”

“Tubbo...” Ranboo shakes his head. “I have to see him one last time at least.”

Tommy looks over his shoulder. The two adults are engaged in quiet conversation, and they look as if they’re falling asleep. Tommy looks around the cabin and spots a couple of potions in the corner. The color tells him they’re potions of weakness.

“Not tonight,” he whispers. “Another night, soon. We can drug those two and I’ll help you sneak out for the night. You can meet up with Tubbo, I’ll even give you a note from me. But it’s all gotta be before sunup, because I don’t want to lose Wilbur’s trust and faith in me, alright?”

Ranboo nods. He’s apprehensive about this whole thing, but he’s also strangely reassured with the vague knowledge that everything will be okay.

He doesn’t know why he’s feeling that now, though.

Huh, must be a missing memory trying to surface.

#dream smp #dream smp au #dream smp fanfic #tommyinnit #c!tommy #ranboo #c!ranboo #cruelty of the beast #cruelty of the beast part 7 #ch.7 #dark!fic #the descent into madness #mention of hypnosis #mention of an apocalypse #ranboo is a hypocrite #tommy calls him out though #long post #miishae writes

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arandompostarchive · 4 years ago

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Inure - Ch. 1

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

The man ran through the hall, his footsteps echoing throughout his house. He tried to navigate the dark halls, too scared to turn on lights or stop and think. He turned every so often, hoping your figure wasn’t behind him anymore. But it always was. He was panicking, you could tell. He could feel sweat stick to the inside of his white button down and the creases of the dress pants he had yet to take off.

He tried to avoid the small side tables and expensive foreign vases that lined his hall. He had managed to trip over a few tables though, knocking the glass onto his floor, shattering it. Each time he’d whisper a soft curse. There was glass beneath your shoes that probably cost millions of dollars. You found it funny. Even now, running for his life, money was still at the back of his mind.

He ran into the next room he saw, his office. A closed off space with nowhere to run. He turned around, looking at each wall. You could hear a string of curses fall from his mouth before he turned to you.

His small study still had a lamp on, the room dimly lit with the yellow-tinted light.

“Please, what do you want? Money? I can do that. Hell, I can get you your own house! I’ve got connections. I can find people for you! Other people! Please, don’t.”

Now, most people would feel bad about this. Chasing a man through his own home with certain ill intention. But you had seen his life. You’d seen what he does to people. He’d tear apart families, kidnapping people and selling any drug he could find. His hands were soaked in blood, something you could understand. But while you had killed, you picked your victims well. They were the most guilty people you could find. Murderers, kidnappers, kingpins, anyone who managed to escape justice.

Some called you a serial killer, a term that wasn’t exactly incorrect. Some thought you were a vigilante, which also wasn’t wrong. But no matter what, everyone was silently grateful for everything you did.

You always found a new target. From whispers on the street, other criminals, cops who needed a break, sometimes Nick Fury himself would send you a case file or two. You had seen it all, people with souls blacker than night. And this man was no different.

“I don’t want money, Laurence. You’ve killed innocents. You’ve let people die. You’ve heard them beg for mercy and have granted none. Why would I give you a luxury you haven’t given any of your victims?”

The man stuttered. His eyes darted around, frantically trying to find something. Maybe a weapon or just an idea of how to get out of this mess. He suddenly spoke, his voice shaking and cracking. “Because I have information! There’s this man who’s building some huge weapon. Probably wants to take New York out. He could start wars with this thing, yeah? It’ll kill millions in a heartbeat. I know what he’s got! I know what he’s doing, I’ve met the guy! I’ll tell you everything.” He spoke quickly, hoping to finish before you decided to end him. “But not if I’m dead.”

You scoffed. “Tell me, why on Earth would I accept the pleas of a dead man?” You asked. It was a real question, despite your sarcastic tone.

“I’ve got the info! He was chatting with some friends of mine, gave ‘em a whole file about it.” He reached toward the desk and pulled a file off of it, showing it to you. It read “SPECTR2” on the front in small, black script. Your eyes widened and you grabbed the file from him.

He watched as you read over it and confirmed his theory. He was right. Whoever this man was, he had the real thing.

“Alright, fine.” You said, accepting his offer.

“Oh thank god! I knew you’d be reasonable, you’re all about ‘the greater good’, yeah? I’ll tell you whatever you want, lady.” He said, relief washing over his features.

You smiled. “Yeah.” You held the file at your side. “Thing is, I know all about this project already. I don’t need you.”

The panic quickly spread across his face again and he racked his brain for something else. “C’mon, don’t I get something here?” He said, glancing at the walls to find some kind of weapon.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll make your death quick.” You said, taking out one of your swords. He only had a minute to react before he was already dead. You had gotten used to the sight of death, though it wasn’t your favorite thing, there was something satisfying about knowing you had avenged people in some way.

His blood had already stained the carpet he had surrounding his desk and leaked along the cracks of the wooden floor. You groaned at the thought of cleaning your shoes after this and sat down at his desk chair, looking for any other info on the man starting up Project SPECTR again.

***

“So you want us to team up with some psycho killer?” Tony said, leaning back in his usual chair. The meeting room was packed, each member of the team, and some newer additions, crowded together at one table with Steve stationed at the front.

“She has information, Tony. She says lives are in danger.” Tony looked at him ridiculously.

“I’ve got my share of psycho’s on this team and now we’re working with another?” Tony gestured to Bucky and Loki’s side of the table. He got a glare from Nat and he only shrugged his shoulders in response. “Her terms are insane! She wants immunity for every crime she’s done or ever will do. That doesn’t sound insane to you? What if she’s got some master plan and we won’t be able to arrest her for it?”

Nat looked between Steve and Tony. It was obvious they weren’t getting anywhere.

“She’s got info we need. If she wanted to enact some ‘master plan’ she’d just use whatever death machine she’s got, not tell us about it. If she’s serious, we’ll hold up our end. If she’s messing with us, we won’t and we’ll lock her up on site. But if she’s really found plans for what could be the world’s next terrorist attack, we at least need to see her proof.”

Tony looked to Nat, “She’s basically holding the world hostage! Either she gets to do whatever the fuck she wants or everyone dies. We’re really letting that slide?”

This time Steve spoke, though he glared at Tony a bit for his cursing. “I didn’t say I liked it. She’s put us in a tough situation. And Nat’s right. If she’s lying in any way, we’ll lock her up. We’ve got to living lie detectors at this table.” He gestured to Loki on one side of the table and Wanda on the other. Tony only rolled his eyes, silently accepting the argument.

“Are we sure about this? I mean, if she’s telling the truth, then we’ve got some sociopath with a death ray somewhere. But what if she’s lying? She’ll be in the compound. Even if we can lock her up, what if we aren’t able to before she accomplishes whatever task she’s trying to?” Sam said as soon as the room had quieted a bit. A few team members nodded along, considering the possibility.

“We have to take that risk.” Steve said.

***

You strode into the Avengers’ compound, appreciating the space. It was larger than what you were used to. You had jumped from house to house, staying away from law enforcement. If all went well though, you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

There were a few Avengers there to greet you. You had recognized them from the news and you were interested in seeing Natasha here. Among them, you saw Tony Stark. You’d recognize him a mile away. He looked different from his father, though he had the same sarcastic look on his face. You considered punching him now, maybe giving him a serious injury. But, sadly, there really were lives at stake.

Captain America stepped closer to you, holding out his hand. You took it hesitantly, the gloves of your suit meeting his hands. You appreciated the hood of your outfit now with the light reflecting off of windows and into your eyes. It was at least a little bit of protection.

“Specter. Good to meet you. I’m Captain Rogers, just call me Steve.” The other Avengers stepped to his side, making you slightly uncomfortable with how close they were. You couldn’t show it though. You had to be steeled, show no fear. Especially since you were in the lion’s den.

“This is Natasha, Tony, and Thor. We’ve got a meeting room just this way.” He got straight to business and began leading you away. You were careful to let the four Avengers go in front of you, and you were certain at least Natasha had noticed this action. Tony kept glancing back to you, slightly nervous. You could accept that. You felt nervous too, though you had gotten good at concealing your nerves, even before you had ‘died’.

You entered the room which had all of the other Avengers in it as well as five empty chairs. You were seated at the end, directly next to Natasha. Steve settled himself in the end chair right next to you. You looked at the rest of the group who were all doing a terrible job of pretending not to stare at you.

“Alright, Specter. Should we call you Specter?” You nodded, letting Steve continue. “Your conditions are questionable to say the least. We need to figure out if you’re actually telling the truth about this weapon first.”

“That’s fine,” you began, “I’d do the same.” You opened up your file, noting how there was a small camera above you, casting a picture of the file onto a board at the front of the room. You smiled at the innovation, curious about how exactly it worked. It had been a while since you’d gotten to appreciate technology, and where better than the home of a Stark.

“This is a real file. I worked on this project years ago. It was meant to help heal people. Stitch them back together, even when they were on the brink of death. But it malfunctioned. I can tell you this is real. Check any references you like, though it’ll be hard to get your hands on. We never made digital copies, this is our original paper.”

Tony squinted at the paper, seeming confused by it.

“And by we, you mean…?” Another man trailed off. You recognized him as Hawkeye, though you hadn’t memorized their actual names.

“Me and Howard Stark. We worked on it back during the war, it was like our pet project.” Tony seemed less confused now.

“That was over half a century ago. How exactly are you standing here?” You sighed at Hawkeye’s question.

“It’s a rather long and annoying story. Let’s keep it simple and say I’ve effectively scared off death.”

“Guys,” Tony said, still looking at the projection of the file. The room turned to him and you were thankful for whatever subject change he had to offer. “I’d love to say she’s full of it, but I know my father’s handwriting. That’s his signature too at the bottom.” As he pointed the small camera zoomed in. You’d have to ask him about the technology’s design later. Assuming this actually went well. You slightly cringed at the thought of speaking to a Stark again, but you’d manage for the sake of a new discovery. “Hey, Friday?”

“Yes Boss?”

You heard a woman’s voice in the room that didn’t belong to anyone present. You quickly figured out it was an AI system Stark had made.

“How well does that match Howard’s handwriting?”

There was a beat of silence before the AI, Friday, spoke again.

“It’s a perfect match.”

The team didn’t seem to know if that was good or bad.

“So there’s really someone set on ending humanity?” A man said across the table. You remembered his moniker being something bird themed, like Hawkeye’s, but it wasn’t coming to you.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be anywhere near this place unless absolutely necessary,” You said. The Captain glanced around the table and the group seemed to silently make their decision.

“Alright. We’ll meet your terms, but understand that you must stay here through his whole process. No ‘missions’ of your own.” You thought over his offer. It was slightly tempting. Though you’d miss your little hunt for criminals, it would be nice to have a house for longer than a week.

“Fine. But you can’t bind my powers or spy on me or some bullshit.” The Captain nodded, agreeing.

Suddenly, you were a temporary Avenger.

***

“I don’t like her. She’s too calm. We’re facing a giant death machine and she’s completely stone faced.” You could overhear the conversation from where you stood outside the Avengers common area. Natasha had offered to show you around and you had denied, instead accepting a map and list of locations you’d be interested in.

They were sitting around in a circle of couches, all facing each other. Some of the members seemed distracted. Like one with long hair who was slowly stroking the spine of a book he carried in his hands and another with a striking metal arm. You had to admit, the team was certainly good-looking.

You continued to listen to the conversation, though you had lost a bit of the argument when you retreated into your thoughts.

“What can we do? I’m hardly happy about this, but she’s holding the world hostage, like you said. Millions might die if he didn’t have that info.”

“And what, we’re trusting a serial killer? She’s murdered who know’s how many people and we’re supposed to just sit here and fucking sing Kumbaya?!” Tony said. You could see his point. You wouldn’t trust you either.

“Many of us have killed.” Loki said, offering some perspective and hoping someone else would continue his point. He was still on ‘house-arrest’ and was hardly considered trustworthy. Stark wouldn’t listen no matter how silver his tongue was. But the others seemed to at least consider his words with the exception of Hawkeye who seemed upset that he even had to hear Loki’s voice.

“He’s right Stark. I’d hardly say my hands are clear, but here I am.” Natasha added, taking up Loki’s silent offer to continue his argument.

“I’m not okay with this. She’s absolutely mental. I can’t find anything on her besides media speculation. SHIELD didn’t have anything on her, despite the fact that she’s a well-known criminal and she’s got no history. No names attached, nothing. Just media speculation which is all made up. I checked.”

You took this time to walk out from the hall, the click of your shoes making the group look up. “It’s because you have the spelling wrong.” The entire team looked nervous at being caught. “Don’t feel bad. Of course you’d talk about me, I’m a stranger in your midst.” That seemed to calm some of them down, though they still looked wary of you. Stark was the first to speak.

“We’ve got the spelling wrong?” He asked.

“I’d expect so. You’re spelling my name as ‘Specter’, a ghost, like the media does. Try S-P-E-C-T-R, you’ll find a little more.” You before turning and walking out of the room. While you weren’t excited about opening up your backstory, it’d make this whole ‘trust’ thing a lot quicker. And if you were going to get anywhere, there’d need to be some sort of trust.

***

Project SPECTR - August, 1940

Howard Stark and Dr. Y/n L/n began SPECTR in August of 1940 and have been working on it for three years now.

It’s expected to help Allies win the war, though Dr. L/n believes it could— and should— be used for other purposes. There have been several malfunctions so far and I am unsure how they will continue. Stark has been promoting the idea among generals and strategists, despite the lack of finished product. Dr. L/n suspects it will not be finished by the time Stark suggests, in two weeks. She has told various generals not to expect anything in two weeks, though all generals seem to unfortunately favor Stark’s estimates. They plan to run a test run in one week and fully activate the machine. Both Stark and Dr. L/n hope it will be completely stable for at least ten minutes.

There was a messy signature at the bottom, though Steve identified it quickly as ‘Margaret Carter’.

They read through a few other files, and learned more about the original project. Reportedly, there was a severe malfunction, resulting in Dr. L/n’s death. Peggy had shut down the project immediately after, despite Howard’s begging that it would still work. There had apparently been a rift in their friendship over Dr. L/n’s death.

It also said that the Doctor’s body had disappeared in 1992, only weeks after Howard’s death, which had sparked a few conspiracy theories for those aware of her connection to Stark and Carter, two famous names. She was a leading scientist and was making seriously impressive strides. Stark was disappointed she had died so soon. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would’ve done.

“Is that Specter?” Sam asked about the Doctor working on the project. Though the team seemed unsure of the answer, Steve responded.

“It must be. Why else would she draw our attention to this. She’s got personal experience with whoever is trying to restart the project, though I’m not entirely certain why a machine to heal people will be turned into a new weapon.”

The team tossed theories back and forth and you listened in, smiling when a few of them guessed right. You slipped away soon after though, heading down the hall to the training room.

#loki x reader #loki #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #loki x reader x bucky #inure #saved work #fanfic

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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Running to a Standstill - 7

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 1767

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Poly Fic

Warnings: none

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 7

Bucky had a problem.

There had been a strange level of domesticity between you, he, and Steve since you'd moved in. It reminded him of when he and Steve had lived together before the war. That was problematic in of itself because Bucky couldn't remember a time when he had been more completely and hopelessly in love with Steve than when he would wake up and make pancakes while Steve sat on the fire escape smoking one of his asthma cigarettes and drinking hot water in the hopes it would settle his stomach. Bucky would pretend they were married and he was about to go out and earn a paycheck while Steve took care of the house, or that they were planning their wedding and living in sin. It didn’t even matter that two guys couldn’t get married back then, it was always what he imagined. He would stare at Steve’s lips whenever he wasn't looking, always so pink and plump, even when his anemia was at its worst and he’d imagine what it was like to taste them. What they’d feel like against his own and he’d imagine pulled that bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled back.

Now he was making pancakes for Steve, and you and a little kid and thinking how much this was like a family, and pretending like you were his wife and that was his kid. Or maybe Steve was the one he was married to because you could do that these days. It didn't just have to be a fantasy. Except for the fact he wasn't with either of you, you were with each other. You'd even started sleeping in Steve’s bed. And god, if you both didn't deserve to be happy, which was one thing Bucky definitely didn't have in common with either of you.

So that was a problem. But it wasn't the problem.

The big problem Bucky had was you both kept coming to him for advice.

Every time one of you came to him to ask some kind of relationship advice it felt like a little piece of him died. It chipped away at the hope he had that maybe one day he might get this with someone he cared about because if he cared this much about you and Steve and Geo then who else was there for him? It also made him hate himself a little because it was Steve, and Steve deserved to be happy. The guy had practically given up on a life outside of Captain America and Bucky was honestly proud of his best friend now he was taking a chance of having romance and family too. So every time one of you came to him and asked for advice he would grit his teeth and give it because it was the right thing to do. But he was jealous and he hated himself for that green-eyed monster.

Lately, the questions had been about sex and he knew from the things you each asked it hadn't happened yet but it would soon and all Bucky could think that when it did that was it. He wasn't getting that for himself. Which was maybe what he deserved.

He came out of the bedroom after putting Geo down. You and Steve had gone out again and he’d agreed to babysit. Sam was sitting on the couch eating a slice of leftover pizza.

“You’re looking pretty grumpy for a guy who just read the little prince,” Sam said, as Bucky flopped onto the couch.

“Why are you here?” Bucky asked, ignoring the dig at him.

“Forgot Steve was going out and we just got some intel back,” Sam answered, getting up and going to the fridge. “You want a beer?”

“Yeah, alright,” Bucky answered, watching Sam move around Steve’s apartment with a comfortable ease. “What was the intel?”

Sam came back over, handing Bucky the beer as he took a seat again. “There’s word of a designer drug being sold in Madripoor. Gives people temporary superpowers.”

“Shit, really?” Bucky said. “Guess we’re going to Madripoor.”

“Guess so,” Sam agreed. “It’s not exactly known for lawful activity though, so we might be just going into another dead end. I think the army lead is better. They were definitely manufacturing that shit for the army. What are you so surly for anyway? The kid give you a hard time?”

“No,” Bucky said. The way Sam didn’t pause between topics made Bucky feel like he’d been railroaded. “He’s a good kid. I kinda like babysitting.”

“Then what is it?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Bucky grumbled. “It’s nothin’.”

“Oh don’t give me that, Sergeant Grumpy,” Sam teased. “Something’s bothering you. Spit it out.”

Bucky sank back into the couch and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. He knew he should just tell him. Sam had a tendency to bug people until they coughed up what was bothering them. Besides, maybe just saying the words out loud might make him realize how ridiculous they actually were. “Just jealous, I guess.”

“I am awesome,” Sam teased.

“Not you, you dumbass,” Bucky snarked. “This -” he waved his hands around. “Them.”

“You mean the domestic thing?” Sam asked. “Or you just want to date someone, ‘cause I could set you…”

“No. Not anyone… them,” Bucky said, the frustration he was feeling coming out through his voice.

“Her?” Sam asked.

“You’re not listening, Sam,” Bucky snapped, pulling his hair. “Both of them. This. All of it.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a while, he just stared at Bucky like he’d grown an extra head. “Wow,” he said eventually. “Do they know?”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Bucky said.

“How long?” Sam asked.

Bucky scratched his head slowly, letting his fingers drag over his scalp and tug out the knots in his hair. “Steve since we were kids. Probably started getting feelings for him when he was about fifteen, I guess.”

“And he really doesn’t know?” Sam asked.

“Either he doesn’t know or he does and he’s been pretending not to, to save me embarrassment,” Bucky said. “And fuck, Sam, if it’s the second I might as well just end it.”

“Don’t joke about shit like that, Buck,” Sam scolded. “That’s serious.”

Bucky huffed and took a long drink of his beer. “It wouldn’t be so bad, they both deserve some fucking happiness, but they keep asking me for relationship advice. You know how fucking hard it is to tell them what to do to make each other happy when all I want to do is have that myself?”

Sam nodded and took a drink of his beer. “Think you might need to talk to them, man.”

“What?” Bucky yelped. “And have them keep giving me pity looks? No thanks.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe one of them feels the same way about you?”

“That’s worse!” Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the back of the recliner. “I don’t want them to break up and then be mad at me for being the cause of it. Besides, it’s fucking ridiculous. I’m a fucking monster, no one is looking at me like that.”

“Oh cut the shit, Buck,” Sam scolded. “You’re as worthy of happiness as any of us here. Maybe more given what you’ve been through. You just gotta get your head in the space where you’re ready to accept it.”

“You sound like my fuckin’ therapist,” Bucky grumbled.

“Good,” Sam said. “That means you’re listening to them.” He sat forward in the chair and looked directly at Bucky. “Tell them. Then at least they know to go talk to Nat about relationship advice. Why they’d be asking you anyway, is beyond me.”

Bucky knew he was right. Almost all the advice he’d given to both you and Steve was based around communication. Talk to each other. Tell each other how you feel. It was only reasonable to take the same advice himself. He just didn’t want to make things awkward between the three of you.

“Buck,” Sam said, and Bucky’s eyes flicked up, meeting Sam’s. “You never know. Things are changing. People are more open to different things. Maybe telling them will work out better than you think.”

Bucky looked at Sam not even sure what that meant exactly. Sam got up and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “I’m gonna head to bed. Talk to them. And don’t forget to tell Steve about Madripoor.”

“Yeah. Alright,” Bucky said. “Thanks, Sam.”

Bucky sat up with the TV on but not watching it after Sam left. He didn’t know what Sam had meant by things changing and how it might work out better, but his mind kept flicking back to Natasha telling him to let go of the idea of monogamy being the only way that people could get their happily ever after. That some people had none and some had many. Maybe… maybe Bucky could get lucky and have both of you and the family. But maybe he had to be okay with getting nothing too. It wasn’t fair to hinge his happiness on you or Steve or anyone else really. He had to heal too.

But first, he needed to talk to you and Steve about how he was feeling because he definitely wasn’t ever going to be happy if he resented the two of you for coming to him for help all the time.

He was tidying up and turning on the dishwasher when the door opened. Both your lips were puffy from kissing and you’d obviously had a few drinks. Now was a terrible time to bring up anything. It was late, and if you were tipsy you couldn’t be making relationship decisions.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, warmly. “How was your night?”

“Did Geo behave?” You added, coming over to him and kissing his cheek.

Bucky smiled and nodded. “Yeah, of course. We had pizza and played some games on his tablet and then I read to him and he fell right to sleep.”

“Thanks for watching him,” Steve said. “We appreciate it.”

“Sam stopped by, got a new lead,” Bucky said as he stalled for time. It was easy to tell that you and Steve wanted him to leave so you could both head to bed.

“I’ll check it out in the morning,” Steve said. “Thanks again, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and let out a breath. “Right,” Bucky said.

Steve looked at Bucky and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. Late at night after you’d just gotten back from a date was probably not the best time to do this, but he felt like it was now or he’d chicken out and it would be never. He’d end up being the best man at the wedding. He took another deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “We need to talk.”

// NEXT

#SSB2020 #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #running to a standstill

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dragonnan · 4 years ago

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Sharing Saturday - a List of Fic Recs

I haven’t restricted this to a number but I’m also doing my best to keep it from going out of control, too. I pretty much just have 2 consistent fandoms that I read/write so if you like either the MCU or Sherlock then this is the post for you!

MCU:

Adventures Throughout the Multiverse (Series) by Aelaer Jumping into different dimensions always involves risk. Sometimes you never know what sort of troubles you will run into until you have arrived. Thankfully, alongside these dangers a sorcerer is sometimes lucky enough to come upon unexpected allies.

In which Stephen encounters characters from characters from JRR Tolkien to even his own doppelgänger in Sherlock Holmes. I LOVE these!! Not only supremely clever and lovingly researched but just straight up entertaining as fuck! @aelaer writes some of the best Doctor Strange fic that I’ve read on on top of all that is a spectacular artist besides!

Omertà by HanukoYoukai After chasing down the criminal that took Uncle Ben's life, Peter is found by James Wesley, the right-hand man of Wilson Fisk--a wealthy businessman trying to clean up Hell's Kitchen. Having left a strong impression on the man, soon Peter finds himself working for Fisk, doing an internship for his business projects by day, and catching bad guys at night. If Mr. Fisk wants a few specific criminals delivered to him personally, who is Peter to object? All his boss wants to do is talk, after all, and ever since this internship began, things were finally looking up for the Parkers. Then Peter hears the whispers in the underworld about the elusive and terrifying Kingpin, and somehow there are rumors that Spider-Man is on the Crime Lord's payroll. When he decides to use his own judgement and go against Mr. Fisk's wishes, Peter suddenly finds himself neck deep in mob activity with no means to get himself out. To make matters worse, now Iron Man has Peter in his sights.....

I LOVE her writing - the interpretations of Peter Parker and fantastic and do right by him in a big way. Peter is actually the teenager I expect to encounter - with all of the nuance and emotion that I want to see! On top of that THIS is some top notch Tony Stark - again, very true to canon with his Stark snark intact!

Identity Saga (Series) by KitCat992 An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

Another stunning Peter Parker writer and OH my gosh if you are an IronDad fan and haven’t read this yet like what in THE hell are you doing?? Strap that seatbelt tight and paste your eyeballs to this series you will NOT be disappointed!

A Twisted Upheaval (WIP) by silentsaebyeok “I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.” -- The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.

*Smacks my desktop* THIS story!! It isn’t even completed yet but this fic is top level epic! This one, along with Omertà, got me totally hooked on Wilson Fisk interfering with both Peter and Tony and boy does it deliver on those dynamics!!

Sherlock:

Got My Eye on You (Series) by 7PercentSolution These stories cover just about everything from Greg's POV, from the first day they met when Sherlock was 17 through the pre-John years, John's arrival, their work together, the fall and the reunion, covering events in broadcast series 1-3 (and 4 eventually). If you ever wondered why Greg Lestrade was one of the three people Moriarty targeted, this is your answer.

Frankly I love everything I’ve read so far - the stories are incredible and deep and not afraid to dig into hard subjects. There is a wealth of backstory and Sherlock’s younger years and all the hardships he dealt with. I’m especially in love with the OC, Sam - what a treasured character!

It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip A series of One shots where John saves Sherlock's life in so many ways. Will be updated sporadically as and when I get any time to write. As always I like my characters hurt, so plenty of angst, H/C, whump and bromance (no slash) will ensue. Please comment if you can.

These were some of the first Sherlock fics I ever read and I have been hooked on this writer to this day! SO satisfyingly whumpy and on top of that many of the stories have their own comfort follow up story!!

A Sharp, Dressed Man 'verse (Series) by sgam76

I just love this series to bits and while the author considers is a break from heavier subjects, don’t for one second think that means it can’t take a deep dive into its own mythology nor deliver a freaking spectacular tale! I have loved vampire AU for a long time and this series is pure delight and hits every damn button for me! You want a cool interpretation of vampires? BAM! You want family dynamics to the extreme? BAM AGAIN! You want exploration of creature angst? BAM BAM BAAAAM!!! I’ve already read through these three or five times and I can promise I will do so again!

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don't work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

This writer is absolutely on-point with the writing of these characters - especially Sherlock. It was primarily through this writing that I felt I got such a good view of why the interpretation of Sherlock as autistic makes sense - but that it is the only truly logical conclusion. Not to mention the fanart @ceruleanmindpalace (same person) creates will leave you breathless!!

Who You Really Are (Series) by EnglandsGray So very like her, to take something he would otherwise find inconsequential – boring – and transform it into something he couldn’t live without...For Sherlock, after Sherrinford, none of the worlds he inhabits will ever be the same again. He can see a way to rebuild, but he is terrified. For Molly Hooper, strength is something she feels she is losing by the day, but the time has come for her to stand her ground.

Ohhhh my gosh like deep dive right into the pit of angst! And yet so soft and precious. This first story of the series is one that I’m still going through and it is unbelievably rich and welling with delicious plot stuff and relationship and hurt/comfort and just - you gotta read iiit!!!

He Is Different, This One by ASilvergirl How would the Serbian "interrogation" go if his captors knew that Sherlock was neuroatypical and had synaesthesia? This is an alternate version of the scene from "The Empty Hearse."

I mean, how could I not love this fic? For the record I’m still not even a little bit tired of fics that explore what may have happened in Serbia. It is just one of the most unresolved moments in the series - going from that damn beating to him walking in on John like I NEED MOOORE!!! And this fic gives me SO much more than I could have expected! Plus I’m always doubly onboard with a story that depicts Sherlock as neuroatypical.

There are sooooo many more fics I could link!! As it is I’ve been at this for about 3 hours and I’m dropping to the floor. But to see the rest of the stories I’ve loved please check out my bookmarks!

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destieltropecollection · 5 years ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 10: Enemies to Lovers

It's a Match! | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2015 Main Tags/Warnings: pining, online dating, getting together Summary: Dean has seen the guy a handful of times, mostly at Charlie’s parties or when out and about with her — it’s only been six times that Dean is aware of, actually. Not that he counted. Well. He did, maybe, count a little. But that’s only because the guy is seriously gorgeous, and also seems to seriously hate Dean. Like, frowns and dark stares and leaving the room when Dean enters it. And that is most definitely the only reason why Dean keeps track of their meetings. It has nothing to do with the fact that, for whatever stupid reason, Dean feels all fuzzy and happy and warm around this stupid, scruffy, handsome, dark-haired and blue-eyed Cas-guy. Something about him just… does things to Dean’s head.

In The Ballroom | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 2594 Main Tags/Warnings: lovers to enemies to lovers, broken relationship, getting back together, false mentions of cheating Summary: The high school dance was useless in Castiel's opinion; there was nothing to do, people were incredibly annoying, and he would be alone. But, having Charlie Bradbury as his best friend, he had no choice but to go; after all, there was a tiny chance he would get tacos after the party. Castiel did not get tacos but he got something a lot better.

Ring a Bell for the Righteous Man | @pray4jensen

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3003 Main Tags/Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Royalty/Fantasy AU, Soul Bond, Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dubious Consent Summary: An hour passes and the prince doesn't bed him. Dean thinks that maybe the prince doesn't have any intention of doing it at all, and if that's the case, it'll be Dean who'll face the consequences. So, thumbing a finger down the length of Cas' wings, Dean taunts, ""I thought you promised Lord Alastair that I wouldn't be able to walk, your highness."" Dean pauses. ""Are you doubting yourself, my lord?""

Addicted | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3671 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 4/5 canon divergent, Destiel, slow burn, Badass! Castiel, first kiss, first time, explicit sexual content, canon typical violence. Summary: Dean can't get Castiel out of his mind. Everytime the angel is in front of him, is hypnotizing. He needs to know what is going on with him. Why Castiel is so irresistible? And why he feels that empty everytime the angel isn't near him.

the light of falling stars | @procasdeanating

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4980 Main Tags/Warnings: Alien!Cas, wing fic, inspired by a movie (enemy mine) Summary: … when Lieutenant Dean Winchester and the two ships under his command engaged in combat with a Seraph squadron. Two army ships were destroyed, while one fighter, presumably Lt. Winchester’s, made a forced landing on a nearby uninhabited class D planet after triggering the emergency protocol. The ongoing search has not produced conclusive results. Lt. Winchester is classified as missing in action…

First Impressions | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7254 Main Tags/Warnings: hospital AU, ftm trans Cas, top surgery, mentions of medical stuff, sharing a room Summary: When Cas wakes for the first time after his surgery, there’s sunlight tentatively streaming through the window to his right. It takes him a while of uncoordinated blinking and thinking until he realizes where he is, why he’s here. And then the giddiness comes, sudden and overwhelming, when he looks down at his chest and there is none. The reality is almost too much to grasp and his hands shake a little when he tries to raise them to touch. He's happy, and giddy, and so thankful. And then a nurse wheels in his new roommate, one very obnoxious and flirty Mr. Winchester. Cas just... cannot wait to watch all of this play out.

The Galaxy's Most Wanted | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10160 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Space Pirates, Enemies to Lovers, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Angry Sex, Sexual Tension Summary: Dean had been the one always up to mischief, running around with his father’s broken laser pistol and constantly getting into places he shouldn’t have been. Sam, in comparison, always seemed to be the smart, studious one – until he reprogrammed the AI in their neighbours’ house to play ‘Happy Birthday’ at the loudest possible volume while keeping all the doors and windows firmly locked. It had taken two experts seven hours to undo the coding that Sam had managed to integrate into the house’s programming. So, yes. They had been exceptional even from the beginning. And when John Winchester crossed one too many people, his sons inherited his beloved ship, and took to the cosmos doing what they knew best: stealing. And they were damn good at it too. Almost unrivalled, across their own galaxy and even those neighbouring. Almost.

Love Thy Enemy | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 11887 Main Tags/Warnings: revenge planning, use of guns, major characters injury Summary: After being betrayed by the Men of Letters, Dean makes the most stupid, idiotic, and best decision of his life: ask Castiel Novak, his long time enemy, for help.

The Quest for the Demon King's Heart | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 12500 Main Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, demon king!dean, wood elf!cas, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, minor character death, major character injury, angry sex, angst with a happy ending Summary: In a fantasy land, Dean, the Demon King, goes to a distant guild to take a break from evil, where he meets a young adventurer, Castiel, on a quest to slay the Demon King. For fun, Dean helps and protects the adventurer, and affection grows between them. Then, they arrive at the gates of his castle.

A Virgin to Redeem the Billionaire | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16660 Main Tags/Warnings: Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, blackmailing someone into a relationship, Mentions of drug selling (not Destiel), Mentions of cheating (not Destiel), virgin!cas Summary: When Castiel meets Dean Winchester, the other man seems to be a real asshole. So it doesn’t surprise him, when Dean shows up again and this time blackmails Castiel in a horrible way. Castiel agrees to be his boyfriend, only to protect his family, but along the way he actually falls for Dean.

The Bakery | @dates-with-cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 41075 Main Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, offscreen character death, enemies to lovers, workplace sex, semi-public sex, attempted rape/non-con, mentions of past sexual abuse, alcohol as a coping mechanism, sex as a coping mechanism, sex in a kitchen, unresolved past trauma, top!Cas, bottom!Dean Summary: Dean Winchester loves his job, and he's thrilled to have his boss' brother coming in to work over the holidays, that is until he meets Castiel Novak for himself. The man is picky, grouchy, and absolutely fucking gorgeous.

The Path Between the Stars | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53111 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Labyrinth Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death Summary: It's been almost fifteen years since Dean met the enigmatic goblin king, Castiel. After failing to complete the labyrinth with Sam to save baby Adam, Dean is forced to make a deal to secure their freedom. Five years ago he finally gave in to the feelings he’d been keeping at bay for some time, only for Castiel to disappear from his life completely without a word. When Dean relays the story of the labyrinth to Sam's girlfriend Eileen, an opportunity presents itself for him to get some answers...and maybe have a second chance at something he hadn't dared to believe was real.

Of Twists and Turns | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 75080 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Pirate AU, Implied Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Amputation, Sea Monsters, Hunter Dean Summary: When naval surgeon Castiel Novak is captured by the Black Impala pirates, he has no choice but to agree to their terms: He is to serve on their ship for a whole year before they release him. That doesn’t mean he is going to like it, though. Especially when their captain is the embodiment of everything Castiel despises. Determined to earn his freedom, Castiel settles into the life of an outlaw. When the pirates’ true goal is revealed, though, he can no longer deny that things are not as black and white as he thought they were. And he can’t deny how drawn he is to Captain Winchester either.

Sovereign | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 87974 Main Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Hate to Love, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Virgin Castiel, Switching, Slow Burn, Minor Injuries Summary: When his brother embarks on a risky venture, Prince Dean of Pellia’s only choice is to enter into a marriage with the king of Arxelle in order to save Sam’s life as well as his own. King Castiel is severe, aloof, and no more happy about their hasty wedding than Dean. Marital bliss is the last state either of them expects to reach, but as Dean spends more time in his new home, he and Castiel slowly begin to settle into a partnership that allows them to put the needs of their kingdom before their own feelings. The longer they spend together, though, the more those feelings develop, daring them both to wonder if they might ever be husbands in more than just name.

Shot Through The Heart | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 156327 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Men of Letters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Humor, Case Fic, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Bottom Dean Summary: As a hunter Dean finds himself more often than not relying on the help of the Men of Letters. Most of the time that's not much of a problem - if it wasn't for Castiel, the smartass bookworm with the piercing blue eyes, the messy hair and the rude attitude. He's been an annoying thorn in Dean's side since day one - and the hunter doesn't see that change anytime soon.

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #enemies to lovers #day 10

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