#smart grumpy guys are my bread and butter

[chronologiical]

Once was

[letstalkaboutsebbaby]

Something Kinda Funny - Chapter 5

In a night at work you meet the one guy you always thought only existed in movies. The handsome and troubled Frank would end up being way more than you expected. Pairing: Frank x Female Reader Rating: Mature A/N: I’m sorry it took me longer to post this. I’m busy feeling sorry for myself. Promise it’s just for a couple of days longer lol

From the window by the side of your bed, you see some birds flying and the sky trying to be a blue as beautiful as the color in Frank’s eyes. God, you’re so lame, but his arm bringing you closer to his chest is the best feeling you ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Since yesterday there's been a peace mixed with a strange buzz inside you and you can easily point to the handsome guy as the reason. Wanting to say a lot of little nothings and two or three big and deep revelations, you choose to keep quiet and wait for him to wake up and say something - as much as you’re excited about this, you know it’s important to be rational, especially because Frank is in a very delicate moment in his life.

All the thinking gets interrupted when the sound of his phone wakes him up and he reaches to get the device, turning it off before pulling you close again.

“Good morning” oh, the husky voice sure does things to your woman parts. Lame.

“Morning. Are you really here? I half expected you to be gone...”

“I said I was going to do it right..” he kisses your neck softly “I’m not sure how good I can be at that, but I’ll at least try, give me some credit” he jokes.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Very much, yeah” his phone started beeping again and he cursed before ignoring the call once again. “What’s the plan for breakfast?”

“Eggs and bacon? Orange juice...or coffee if you rather. I think I have some buttered bread from yesterday, it’s delicious, you have to try!” You say standing up and holding his hand to help him up. He uses the grip to his advantage and brings you closer, kissing you.

Deciding on having a big breakfast outside, you send him to brush his teeth before you can do the same, using the time to change into a short white sundress. Something in the air yells picnic and you’re not about to ignore it, so as soon as you're both fresh and ready, you ask him to help you get the perfect blanket for it, high in the wardrobe.

“Waking up excited is a daily thing for you?” he says while reaching for the red quilt and throwing it at the bed.

“Are you grumpy in the morning?”

“I’m always grumpy” he pushes you lightly against the wall, blocking your way with both his arms and kissing you.

“That’s not true at all…you’re even smiling” his phone starts to beep again “You should get that”

“No, I shouldn’t”

“Why? Is that Jack?”

“No, it’s Kelly”

“Who’s Kelly?

“Kelly is a woman I went out with a couple of times…” he drops his head and grips your hips

“Oh” you try to walk away but his hands hold you in place.

“It was just that...I swear...I want to be honest and I’m telling you the truth” Frank sits in your bed and pulls you to sit by his side.

Something in your mind is telling you to make him call her and end this, whatever it is, so you can hear his voice telling her it’s over...this is not something you would have done, you’re not the jealous type and you know a relationship must rely on trust...but is this thing between you both a relationship? Is he serious about doing things right?

“...I’ll tell her, ok? Explain that I’m no longer alone, that I’m changing my relationship status I guess” he smiles so beautifully you can’t help but feel as surprised and happy with his admission as you’re feeling confused and sad that he was dating someone without telling you. The desire to hug him is almost as strong as the necessity of air, so you stand up and walk to the kitchen, reaching for a glass and filling it with cold water.

Watching him coming in you can’t smile like you always do when he enters places.

“Can you take this and the blanket outside, please?” you say giving him a clapboard and a little box with cutlery and napkins.

Frank does what you said and when he's back, you’re holding a jar of juice to him, that he reaches for to rest on the table.

“I want to talk”

“I have nothing to say..it’s just..”

“I told you the truth”

“Thanks”

“I don’t have feelings for her..I wasn’t going to see her again or anything like that..”

“I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. So you liked Daphne, then you started going out with this second girl...and you couldn’t tell me? I mean, I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, it’s ridiculous…I just..I feel like I was telling myself the reason you wouldn’t give me a chance was because you like her so much but then..you were ok with dating other girls you just really didn’t want me”

“I couldn’t even consider you...come on, be fair. I was trying very hard not to want you. I’m not the right guy for you...look at all the mess I did with Daphne and Jack! You’re young and gorgeous and so fucking smart, I have no idea why you even talk to me, let alone want me”

“Well me neither! but I do. I want you, I think about you constantly...every night I hope you’ll show up at the bar even if it’s just to put some beer inside of you. And I’m disappointed somehow because I thought it would be me the one you would search for when you stopped loving her” yeah, there you go saying all the little things and the big revelations.

“Well, I have a master’s degree in fucking things up, but it was just sex and I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You know what? I’m sorry. I’m being irrational and you owe me absolutely nothing”

“You’re important to me. This is important to me. For real” you drop your guard enough to let him stand close to you again, a hand tracing your cheek softly. “Ok?”

“Ok. I’m sorry”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, we’re adjusting to a new thing and there’s nothing else I would rather be doing” he mumbles and you kiss him. “Give me a piece of that bread and we're good” a delicious grin reaches his face.

Well, he’s taking your head from your project all right but is that what you want?

[areiton]

tastes like sugar (ashes on my lips)

I wrote Stony. It gets angsty and has disordered eating, so mind that if you can be triggered.

This is just over 3k, so watch the read more or Read on AO3 

~*~ 

The first time Steve goes to a grocery store after he comes out of the ice, he’s looking for coffee. 

He’s been warned about Tony and coffee--or depriving the man of it--and the mansion he puts the Avengers up in while the Tower is being renovated is lacking. 

So he takes himself down to the grocery store with Natasha for company, and promptly has a panic attack, staring at all of the choices. 

  ~*~ 

  Ma used to lay out their food for the week, and he’d sit by and watch. There was never enough, and it made his stomach ache, when he watched her mumble to herself, plan what they’d eat and how to make too little stretch too long. 

If there was anything he was grateful for, it was that he was too sick to be hungry. The ache in his belly was familiar, a constant companion, but he didn't mind it so much when Ma’s cheeks were pink and her little belly round with food, when Bucky shoved Steve’s slice of bread in his mouth, eyes grateful and a blissed out groan on his lips when he licked the butter off his fingers. 

He was hungry--but he was always hungry and weak and if they weren’t--he didn’t mind it so much. 

The others figure it out pretty quick, Steve and food. 

It’s not--he likes food. 

It’s just a complicated relationship. Too many years of not enough during the Depression, too many allergies saying what he couldn’t eat, too many rations in the army. It was a lifetime on scraps slamming into a world of excess and it--

It was difficult, is all. 

They notice. Of course they notice--two super spies, two geniuses. Thor is no slouch in the smarts. They notice. 

They know Steve can’t stand grocery stores. That he flinches away from cream and sugar being dumped into coffee. That he eats everything put on his plate, even if he hates it. That he will wrap and save even the smallest amount of leftovers. That he carries food in his bag. 

That he will step aside and let others eat, before him, instead of him. 

It doesn’t bother him, that they notice. 

What bothers him is--they don’t notice Tony. 

  ~*~ 

  Tony isn’t what Steve expected. 

He’s still loud and flashy and cocky, but he’s also kind. He throws open the doors of his Fifth Avenue mansion for the team, hires people to aid in cleaning and rebuilding after the Chitauri attack. He’s funny when he isn’t defensive, brilliant and sassy in a way that makes Steve think of Bucky and ache. 

He’s also addicted to coffee, grumpy and sweet by turns when sleepy, and disturbingly undernourished. 

  ~*~ 

  The first time he notices is during a team dinner. Tony is missing, dragged away to a SI event or meeting by Pepper. He came back on the tailend of dinner, when they were sitting around sipping drinks, listening to Clint talk about a mission in Budapest while Nat argued with him through her smiles. 

Tony appeared at his shoulder and Steve craned his head back, peered up at him with a welcoming smile. “You hungry? There’s a plate for you in the oven.” 

Tony waved a hand, dismissive, “I ate there.” 

“Going to the workshop?” Steve asks and Tony nods. “I might come down, later.” 

The offer is open--he knows it is. But there’s a stutter of surprise in Tony’s eyes before he nods and smiles, vanishing into the depths of the house to change. 

Pepper appears a few minutes later, heels dangling from one hand, Tony’s dinner in the other. 

He frowns, faintly, as she settles next to Nat,slips into the conversation as she works through the mashed potatoes and chicken and her smile is bright but not the right smile. 

  ~*~ 

  Tony sits next to him, in the dark room while a movie he insisted Steve needed to watch plays out on the screen. The team is sleeping around them, passed out after today’s mission, and Tony is drooping into his side, and without thinking, Steve wraps an arm around him, tugs him close. 

And as Tony settles against him, a content sigh on his lips, it occurs to him--the weight is wrong. Too light, bones too sharp, soft skin too thin. 

He swallows the noise of protest in his throat and focuses on the movie and thinks. 

  ~*~ 

  It starts with sandwiches. 

Thin slices of nutty bread from the bag Nat uses for her toast, thin layers of mayo and bananas that make his nose twist in disgust. He frowns at it--it looks smaller than he remembers it being when Mama Barnes made them for him and Bucky to share. 

“Did that sandwich do something to offend you, Capsicle?” 

Steve blinks up at Tony, startled to see him there, and shakes his head. “Feels wrong, eatin’ it by myself.” 

He slices the sandwich in half and Tony makes an inquisitive noise as he pours a cup of coffee. “Used to share ‘em with Bucky, when we were kids. Feels like someone should be eatin’ the other half.” 

Tony gives the sandwich a dubious look, but shrugs and reaches for it, taking a messy bite. The expression on his face is priceless--all startled disgust and embarrassment and Steve takes a bite of his half, just to hide his grin. Makes his own face. 

“Bananas taste wrong,” he says, contemplatively. 

Tony snorts and finishes his half of the sandwich. “That whole thing tasted wrong, Cap.” 

  ~*~ 

  The next day, Steve follows JARVIS prompting into the kitchen. A picnic basket is there, and there’s a note from Tony. 

This, freeze pop, is a real sandwich. 

Inside the basket are three sandwiches. Each wrapped in waxy paper, fragrant fresh bread, with thick cuts of roast beef, sharp yellow cheddar, crisp lettuce and bright red tomatoes.

A small dish of cobbler is nestled in the corner. 

He smiles, and grabs the basket and fresh coffee. 

“You’re sharing with me,” he announces, striding into the workshop and Tony sighs, a long suffering thing, but there’s a smile on his lips that’s even better than the sandwiches. 

  ~*~ 

  He finds Tony in the kitchen. He’s staring at the empty coffee mug, and Steve hesitates, then steps into the room and nudges him. “Nightmare?” 

Tony nods. Steve doesn’t say anything else, just steps up to the fridge. 

They lost a child, during the standoff with AIM. Clint vanished, and Nat disappeared after him. Thor and Bruce are hiding in the mansion, licking their wounds--he thinks Bruce locked himself in containment, just in case the Big Guy made an appearance--and Steve hadn’t had time to sit and process it, really, too caught up with SHIELD and debrief. 

He pours milk and honey into a pot, adds a dollop of whiskey and waits for it to heat. 

When he hands it to Tony, he doesn’t say anything. 

Sometimes, there is nothing to say. 

They sit in silence, drinking their whiskey and milk and pretending the other doesn’t see their tears. 

  ~*~ 

  Steve is sitting in the workshop, sketching, his fingers trembling on the page, when he realizes that he hasn’t heard Tony for a while. He looks around and almost stands to go searching for the other man--he was here, when Steve stumbled in, half awake and shaking from a nightmare--but the door opens and Tony walks in, two mugs held in his hand and his expression shuttered. 

Tony passes one to Steve and he inhales the thick scent of rich chocolate and warm milk and--”Chili powder?” 

“Ana used to make it for me, when I had a bad dream,” Tony says, softly, a sympathetic smile on his lips and Steve swallows around the lump in his throat. 

The dredges of chocolate and cream are still sticky and wet in the bottom of the cup when Steve falls asleep on Tony’s couch. 

  ~*~ 

  There are always snacks in the workshop. He notices about the third time down there, while he’s sketching DUM-E and idly watching Tony doing upgrades with the suit. 

But the bags of blueberries are left forgotten. The trail mix is ignored. DUM-E nudges smoothies and fruit and cookies and pretzels and all of it goes completely untouched. 

The only thing Tony ever touches is his coffee, and even that--it goes cold and forgotten or is swallowed down quick while it’s so hot it leaves him red-faced and gasping. 

Steve doesn’t mention it. He watches, and he worries, but he never mentions it. 

  ~*~ 

  “Tony,” Steve calls, scooting to the side of the couch and beckoning. He’s got a pile of blankets, the soft ones he knows Tony likes and a wide earnest smile Tony struggles to resist. 

Tony hesitates for a second, his gaze flicking toward the hallway, toward his lab. 

“Please,” he says, soft and Tony’s shoulders slump. He huffs a little and comes to settle on the couch next to Steve as a Disney movie begins. 

“You cheat,” he mumbles, and Steve laughs, a pleased flush in his cheeks. He nudges a bowl of kettle corn at Tony, and the other man shakes his head. “C’mon, try it. My ma taught me to make it.” 

Tony scowls at him, and mumbles again, “Cheater.” 

Steve doesn’t care, doesn’t care what Tony mumbles or how he might bend the rules, so long as Tony is warm and soft at his side.

Tony picks at the popcorn for most of the movie, a quiet noise of surprise and pleasure coming from him when he first tastes it. At some point, Tony shifts against him, leaning into Steve’s side, a warm weight that feels all right and all wrong. 

Tony is warm and strong bones, the press of the arc reactor against his arm a slightly warmer, barely there vibration that he can’t manage to ignore. 

Tony is too thin, too light, and the longer the movie plays, the more it bothers him. 

Eventually the kettle corn is gone and Steve slips the bowl away from Tony, setting it on the table. Tony shifts a little, settles more firmly against his side and licks his fingers clean and Steve tries very hard to keep his breathing even. 

When it’s over--when the movie is over and the others wander away--Tony stands. 

Steve catches his wrist, and it stills the other man, that light grasp on a fragile thin wrist, a heartbeat pounding frantic under his skin. 

“Thanks,” Tony says, soft, poised between standing still and running. “For tonight.” 

“Anytime,” Steve says, his voice raspy and raw and Tony--Tony smiles at him, a fleeting thing, sticky fingers squeezing his before he slips away. 

  ~*~ 

  He asks one night when Tony is bent over the engine of his bike, while Steve sketches the bots twirling around him and watches the flex of his shoulders, the slide of his muscles under the thin dirty tank top. 

The sandwich is sitting untouched on the table and he’s comfortable, and he thinks, that’s why. 

“Why don’t you like team dinners?” 

Tony pauses, his shoulders muscles hands stilling before he keeps going, smooth, like there was never any hesitation. “I don’t mind them.” 

“You don’t eat with us,” Steve says, gentle.

“Pizza and greasy Chinese gets old, Cap.” 

It’s light, airy, but there’s a tight sharp edge that makes Steve wonder. 

“That’s not a pizza or Chinese,” he says, nodding at the sandwich. Tony has twisted, is watching him with wide, shadowed eyes. “You never eat, Shellhead,” he says, gently. “I’m worried about you.” 

Tony flushes, a deep, furious red. His face is shuttered and closed, but he snatches up the sandwich and eats it, chewing with defiant, almost grim determination.

Steve watches, his stomach churning and nauseous the entire time. 

Then it’s gone and the glass of water is gone and Tony--Tony is gone too. 

“Dammit,” Steve breathes, heartfelt and furious. 

  ~*~

  He cooks. 

Clint pokes his head in when he’s glaring at bowl of mashed potatoes. They’re beautiful, fluffy and light and creamy, flecked with black pepper and heavy with garlic. 

The chicken is fall off the bone tender, glazed with garlic and brown sugar, so tantalizing and indulgent it makes his stomach turn a little. 

There are tiny baby carrots swimming in butter and targon, bacon wrapped asparagus and fluffy yeast rolls that made him cry they smell so much like the little bakery he and Bucky lived above, once. 

It’s extravagant and mouthwatering and perfect and Clint whistles, eyes wide and says, “Damn, Cap, what’s the occasion?”

The elevator door stays, stubbornly, shut. 

“JARVIS,” he says and the AI is quiet.

Tony is still locked away in his workshop then. 

He’s still angry, still pushing Steve away. 

“Nothing,” he says, finally. “No occasion at all.”  

  ~*~

  He tries soup next, a hearty chicken noodle with big chunks of seasoned chicken, long thick noodles, chunks of celery and carrots swimming in the garlicky broth, paired with a dense loaf of bread, nutty and fragrant. 

It’s perfect for the cool fall day, and he doesn’t know if Tony even likes it because he steps outside to take a phone call, and when he steps back into the Mansion, the rich scent of food roils up and slaps him in the face with a million memories. 

In one breath he’s back in his shitty apartment with Bucky, struggling to breath and laughing, Mama Barnes soup hot in front of him, bread cooling on the counter. 

In one breath he back in his childhood bedroom and Ma is leaning over him, a spoon pressed to his lips and her eyes alight with worry. 

He leaves the soup and the bread on the counter and crawls into his bed and he doesn’t cry, exactly, but he shakes, shivering so hard his teeth chatter, until a tap on the door comes and Tony slips into bed with him, wraps around him and holds him. 

They don’t speak. But he smells like coffee and chocolate and engine oil and it helps. 

Holding Tony helps. 

  ~*~ 

  Tony shows up for team dinner a few nights later, but it’s tense, and he skitters away quickly, without really eating. 

Steve glares at his stir fry and chews the carrots that taste wrong and mushy and when Natasha asks if he wants more--he doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t--he nods. 

  ~*~ 

  It takes him less than six hours after Colonel Rhodes arrives at the Mansion to put two and two together, and another three days to corner the man by himself to confront him. 

He doesn’t even find him--Rhodes finds him, in the kitchen, studying the array of fruit like it holds the secrets of the universe. 

“Strawberries,” Rhodes says and Steve looks up, curious. He’s studying Steve, his face blank. “He told me you and him got into a fight.”

A flush crawls up his cheeks. “It was--”

“When Tony got to MIT he weight a buck five, soaking wet and fully dressed. He was tiny , all bones and skin,” Rhodes says, something flickering in his eyes. “It took me almost two months to figure out he wasn’t just bad at taking care of himself--and you know what I finally did figure out? He hates eating in public.” 

“We aren’t public,” Steve says, weakly and Rhodes shrugs. 

“No you aren’t--but Tony isn’t quite comfortable yet. You gotta understand--Tony has lived in the spotlight since he was born. He used to get scolded for eating cookies at his mother’s charity lunches, used to get punished for eating sandwiches in meetings where he could be answering questions, and he was never allowed to eat at parties and galas. Even business dinners, he usually ate two bites before he was answering questions and pitching ideas and caught up in everything that wasn’t eating. It’s what was expected--and that causes some baggage.” 

Steve stares at him, not sure he even believes it because--”That’s---they starved him.” 

“They used him,” Rhodey says, “and they didn’t bother taking care of him, while they did. And somewhere along the line--Tony forgot he was allowed to take care of himself.”

Steve is quiet and then, “He eats in front of you.” 

Rhodey smiles, and it’s a little bit smug, a little bit proud. “He trusts me. He’s comfortable.” 

He swallows the hurt that wells up at that and Rhodey’s eyes narrow just a little, and his smile goes even sharper. But all he says is, “Take the strawberries. And a bagel with cream cheese. And be patient with him.” 

  ~*~ 

  Tony stares at the strawberries, delicately sliced and sprinkled with sugar, the bagel with lox and cream cheese, the coffee. 

Steve doesn’t watch him, instead, busies himself settling on the couch and opening his sketchbook--but when he slips out, hours later, all that’s left are a few bites of bagel. 

  ~*~ 

  It doesn’t get easier, really. 

Steve still eats food he hates and panics in the grocery store when Natasha drags him out for 3am ice cream. 

Tony still skirts team dinner and often ignores the food Steve brings to him, and drinks more coffee than can possibly be good for him. 

It doesn’t get easier, really. 

Not all at once. 

  ~*~ 

  He looks up and Tony is laughing, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread, eyes on Thor telling a story. 

  ~*~ 

  He inhales the scent of cloves and his fingers shake and Tony’s hand is steady on his, stirring the mulled cider and leaning into him, warm and soft and solid. 

  ~*~ 

  He blinks and Tony is stealing half his sandwich on a picnic in the Park, and Nat smiles, sphinxlike and satisfied. 

  ~*~ 

  He kisses Tony, and he tastes coffee and pie and his hips are solid and thick under his hands. 

  ~*~ 

  It doesn’t get easier, really. 

Not for either of them. Not at first. 

But slowly. 

  ~*~ 

  One morning, Steve trails his fingers down Tony’s spine, just to see Tony arch and shiver and huff into his pillow. 

He twists and says. “It’s Christmas Eve.” 

Steve hums, a quiet acknowledgement. Tony’s eyes flicker, just a little, and his shoulders tense. 

“When I was growing up--we always had a party Christmas Eve. Big thing--absolutely ridiculous. And Christmas was a photo op--Howard was drunk for most of it. But Christmas Eve morning--Ana would make me French toast and molasses cookies. She’d let me ice them, no matter how messy I got, and always called them beautiful.” 

Steve is still, heart caught in his throat and Tony rolls to look at him. He’s still wearing bruises from Steve’s mouth on his throat, and it makes him want to preen. 

Instead he focuses on that smile, shy and sweet and beautiful. “Wanna make cookies with me?” 

Steve nods and he kisses Tony, and he tastes as sweet as sugar, as rich and indulgent as everything Steve never thought he could have. 

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 17 - TBL - Sweden Pt. 2

5-3 Loss to the Lightning

Google says Buffalo and the surrounding area was a railroad commerce hub producing steel, auto products, and grain storage all not to mention the Great Lakes transportation. Buffalo has a proud history of being a working-class City. Now… oh boy… now I think it’s the biggest producer of Sabres gas. What’s Sabres Gas you ask? SABRES GAS IS THE GAS LIT UNDER 3 MILLION SABRES FANS ASSES EACH FALL AS WE’RE BAITED INTO BELIEVEING WE HAVE A GOOD TEAM ON OUR HANDS! Perrault, Martin, Robert, Gare, Housley, Mogilny, Lafontaine, Peca, Hasek, Miller, Briere, Vanek, Pominville all the heroes of old marched out this season for what? To remind us two generations before us also have gone through the same suffering? THE SABRES HAVEN’T BEEN GOOD FOR A DECADE! Don’t you tell me that 2009-2010 team was good. That was the first team I watched full time and let me tell you, the Sabres’ division at that time wasn’t anything like it is today! FUCK OFF WITH THAT DIVISION TITLE! THAT MINUS WELL JUST BE THE PEGULA BAIT BECAUSE BOTH THE PLAYOFFS THAT YEAR AND THE YEAR AFTER WERE NOT WORTH JACK SHIT! And what have we had since then? SHIT! AWFUL SHIT! I know some of you diehards put on your tank commander helmets and had a real exciting time from about 2013 to 2015, I did not. That was garbage and if I didn’t believe it was effective at the time I would have been smacking down anti-tanking hot takes like a Buffalo News Boomer! The only season there hasn’t been crushing disappointment with this team was Eichel’s rookie year; and the only reason that was a purely optimistic year was because he was too young for us to put him on blast! WE CAN’T EVEN AGREE ON WHY THEY SUCK! Mike Harrington and every hockey fan over 50 in this town feels the need to call out effort and grit from guys who either provide that in spades or were not drafted to punch people in the face! WHAT THE FUCK! DO YOU WANT TO HAVE FUN! And on the other side you got 20-30 something bitchy blog dudes with children in their avatar so you feel bad @ tweeting them when they drop the most pessimistic kill-me-now takes this side of Whole Foods! WHAT SHOULD I TALK ABOUT WITH THIS GAME? WHAT!?

Oh, Curtis McElhinney is the most overrated backup goalie in a generation. Hmm, that’s real compelling story telling! He won yesterday! The Sabres dominated the 5on5 shot share this second game in Sweden? You know I think we’d all dive into advanced stats a lot more if they weren’t SO OUT OF CONTEXT DEPRESSING ALL THE TIME! I understand Corsi and shooting percentage and even PDO now but all it feels like is I’ve found new ways to FEEL FUCKING DEPRESSED ABOUT THIS PERRENNIAL SHIT SHOW I’VE ATTACHED MYSELF TOO! Oh my God, imagine if I ran one of those advanced stats programs. Imagine how fucking grumpy I would be on the twitter machine if I spent the whole game cracking out numbers and charts only to be FUCKING ROASTED BY MY TEAM AGAIN WITH A FIFTH FUCKING STRAIGHT LOSS! Oh Chad you are some kind of Saint. Oh I forgot; we need to celebrate Victor Olofsson getting his first 5on5 goal! Yeah, let’s go back to that brief shining moment at the start of the third period when it seemed like we might just catch up with Tampa. Jack Eichel got the puck up to our favorite new Swede on what was hardly a breakaway. Olofsson gets the puck dragging two Lightning defenders behind him like he’s fucking Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and manages to outmaneuver McElhinney to get Buffalo within one at 3-2 early in the third. There were two other Sabres goals in this game: Sam Reinhart continues to make us simultaneously love him and dread the cap jail he’s going put us in with the new contract next summer with his goal in the first. By the time Jack Eichel scored at the end of this game folks were already calling their Swedish Ubers to get back to their hotels and catch their flights. Oh tell me all about how they got the first goal or how they looked good in the back half of the second or how they might be able to win games without a great powerplay or how THEY ARE GETTING US BUTTERED UP FOR THE ROLL DOWN THE HILL AGAIN! FUCK! WHY DID I DECIDE I HAVE TO BE THE SABRES OPTIMIST!? FUCK THAT! I’M DONE LOOKING FOR SILVER LININGS! FUCK THIS TEAM THAT NEVER FUCKING CHANGES AND ONLY PROVIDES ME SOMETHING TO MISERABLE ABOUT WHILE I DON’T HAVE ANY DOMESTIC SOCCER TO BE MISERABLE ABOUT! FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!

Oh I hope Jason Botterill has signed a deal with Elliotte Friedman and Darren Dreger to provide us with a slow drip of Sabres rumors until the deadline passes and we just watch the whole house burn down around us again! That shit has been the only thing since before Halloween getting me excited about this team! Make a move Jason! You’re worried we’re going to roast you about it if it’s not good enough? We’re cynical sad crazy people following your team, WE’RE GOING TO DO THAT ANYWAY! What do you have to lose!? Your job? You think Terry is going pull the plug after firing sixty bazillion white bread yes men between his two pro teams since 2011? You sound smart, that’s THE ONLY REASON he hired you! FUCK PITTSBURGH, you could’ve built ten years of mediocrity in Minnesota but as long as you talked smart enough to deflect the inevitable shitstorms from him you were going to be his golden boy! He doesn’t want to fly his jet all over North America to dank arenas everywhere again! Do you think they want to do Rebuild Part III here or what? DO SOMETHING! 5 straight losses isn’t a big deal considering the last few years here but that shouldn’t be the expectation anymore. I know they played the games in Sweden; I know the officiating was horse shit, I know all these supposed disqualifiers of the recent skid being real; but I’m done giving them completely unjustified optimistic takes. When Tampa scored those two third period goals almost immediately back-to-back I was going to a movie with my wife for a fun little date night. I turned the radio off. This team is becoming a second job for some of us. The cloud of last season hangs over our head like an impending blizzard we know isn’t bad enough to get us time off a work. Most of my Sabres work is free content. I’m not getting paid for this job and if they can’t convert on chances and eek out even an overtime loss in four games then I’m not going to give them a full postgame. I’m sitting here watching the Bills more excited about a team in a sport I don’t even like! We’re only 17 games in but if this turns into another lost season I don’t know if I can keep asking for more. More suffering. More SABRES GAS!

That’s it for today. Like, share and comment if you want. That probably feels pretty difficult right now. 1-5-1 in the last seven games! Gross. Three points per seven games isn’t going to clinch a playoff spot, not even close! Is that what Jason Botterill and this organization wants this year or should I start looking at draft profiles again? At this rate we’ll find out before Thanksgiving! Have a nice day, Go Bills.

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. Tell me this garbage is more exciting then Soccer and so help me God I will stick my foot up your ass!

[tweenw]

Field Trip pt. 2-(Derek Hale)

Characters: Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey(mentioned), Derek Hale and (Y/N)

Pairing: Teacher!Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: swearing, some light smut, and the whole illegal relationship thing

Word count: 3876

Summary: Can (Y/N) and her history teacher Derek Hale keep their relationship on the down-low?

A/N: Here’s the requested second part, if anyone enjoys this then I will be posting a third part :)

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3

“Don’t forget your assignments due for next week.” Mr Hale shouts after the desperate students eager to escape class and start planning their Friday night parties. 

Since we’ve come back from the Christmas holidays a few months back, a lot of things have changed. I read Derek’s notebook, and at first I thought he was joking. I actually avoided him for the entire holidays. That is until I told Erica about it all and she proved me wrong in the most unexpected way. Who knew the world was so small. Then when I finally got the guts to show up at his house to apologise, I met his sarcastic uncle Peter, who to this day tries to make passes at me. I also found out that half of my friends are like Derek, but they never thought about letting me in on this secret for some reason. It kind of stung, but I understand why they kept it a secret.

I laugh a little at Derek’s feeble attempts. At least he tries. I pack up all of my books and head to his desk where he’s also packing up his stuff. Unlike the other teenagers who are going to be partying and regretting it tomorrow, I have my entire night planned out perfectly. And it involves my favourite teacher.

“So, I’ll be over when I drop my books off. Please tell Peter to restrain himself a little more this time.” I smile up at Derek. Each time I look at him I get overcome with pride, because I know he’s mine. Yes, there’s the issue with the law and we technically can’t be public, but I know we’re exclusive. 

“I do every time, but you know what he’s like. He loves to tease knowing fine well it pisses me off.” Derek jokes a little, but he takes a step back so we don’t look to friendly and comfortable. That snaps me back to reality. I cough a little and smooth my skirt down. 

“I better get going, but expect me soon.” I leave his class and walk out of the class, anticipation and excitement brewing in my stomach. Nights in with Derek in his loft are always something to look forward to.

Erica joins me as I walk out of the school, a small smirk on her lips. 

“Look at you, living on the edge.” She laughs a little, and I laugh with her. She isn’t wrong, this is so unlike me. Up until the fateful day I met Derek Hale I’d spend all of my free time in the park reading, and now I’m breaking the law. What joy.

The two of us get into her car and she starts it up. “What plans do you have for tonight? Anything exciting?” I ask Erica as she drives to my house.  At least one of us has her driving licence. 

She winks over at me before I slap her shoulder to remind her to keep tabs on the road. “I have a date, actually. He’s also older, you’re not the only one who has a thing for older guys. But he’s like, a few years older than Derek.”

I raise my brows at her. Erica Reyes having a date isn’t all that surprising, since she’s pretty much the hottest girl in school. But Erica Reyes having a date with an older man? Who knew we were so similar.

She pulls up outside of my house and I get out, but not before passing over some wisdom. 

“Use protection, and please make sure to give me all the details tomorrow.”

I slowly make my way into the massive building, which is owned by Derek, and begin to walk up the flights of stairs. You would have thought that if Derek was rich enough to buy this warehouse of sorts he’d at least install an elevator. But judging by him fat to muscle ratio, the stairs do him good. So, instead of whining, I keep walking and send him a quick text as I get into the elevator. 

‘Be up soon, I have a little surprise for you x’

I bite my lip at the thought of how Derek might react. Yes, we’ve only been doing this relationship thing, whatever it is, for a few months, but something tells me this might be a good idea. 

I open the door to his little ‘apartment’ and walk into the warmth, the smell of vanilla candles welcoming me. Derek is a very clean person, which didn’t really come as a surprise. He just seems like that kind of guy. But he has a serious candle-hoarding problem.

In the corner of the kitchen, his uncle, Peter is sipping a cup of tea. A part of me slowly dies, but I force a smile. Peter is tricky. He’s a dick with sarcasm and behavioural problems, but he’s funny and makes me feel welcome despite knowing the illegal relationship Derek and I have going on. So I’m still on the fence with him.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favourite human. Don’t worry love, I’ll be out of your hair soon.” Peter smiles at me as I walk into the kitchen and place my bag on the counter. There’s a bag of groceries lying on the table, unpacked and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be put away any time soon. 

“Nice to see you too Peter, what do you have planned for today other than scaring little children?” I grin at the older man teasingly and start to unpack the bag, putting some vegetables into the fridge. Peter raises his eyebrows at my actions, but doesn’t question them. At least he’s not the one that has to put this away. 

“Very amusing as per, (Y/N). If you must know, I have a date of my own to attend to.” Peter says smugly, straightening out his suit a little. Ah, that’s why he’s all dressed up. But wait, doesn’t Erica have a date too today? And with an older guy? Of course, I should have known.

I take out the bread and put it in the metal tin they have for it.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it. At least you can actually go out and be seen together.” I mutter under my breath, but no doubt he’s heard it, with the wolf hearing and all.

Peter finishes his cup of tea, places the empty cup in the sink and walks to the door. Before he opens it, he looks back at me with an almost sad smile. 

“I don’t know how serious you and Derek are, but I know he cares about you. A lot, this is the most vulnerable I’ve seen him in years. I think this has potential, just don’t get caught. I know you make him happy.” Peter smiles a little at me and then walks out of the door, leaving me with a small smile of my own. 

Peter is right, for once. If we both care about the other as much as we do, things will be fine. We just need to keep this under wraps for another six months until I graduate. It does leave me wondering, though. Is what Derek and I are doing good? He’s about seven years older than me, which I guess isn’t too bad, but he is my teacher. And last time I checked teacher/student romances don’t end well 99% of the time.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you here so early.” Derek says from the doorway he’s casually leaning against, a small smile present on his face. He hasn’t shaved, which personally I find extremely attractive. Derek with a stubble or small beard is heaven, though Derek could rock eyeliner and a pink wig if he wanted to.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see you.” I grin and set down the butter and instead walk over to give Derek a loving kiss. As per usual, the mere touch of his skin on mine sends bolts of lightning coursing through every nerve in my body, causing it to stand to attention. 

Don’t get me wrong, Derek is so physically attractive it takes my entire willpower to not pull him into some broom closet at break in school and show him just how fun things can get. But he’s also incredibly smart, witty and understanding. He’s so compassionate and loving it sometimes takes me by surprise. I haven’t fallen in love with Derek because of his physique, I truly love him for who he is, whether it be a grumpy sourwolf or caring boyfriend.

I pull away from him and grab his hand. It’s movie night tonight, so the sooner we get started the sooner I can be cuddled up to him.

The two of us walk to his room and I plop down on his large bed whilst he turns on his TV. The covers and pillows smell just like him, a hint of vanilla, mint and mud. It’s strangely comforting. On his bedside table are a few simple things. A lamp, his phone, a pair of earphones, and surprisingly the jar I gave him for Christmas. There are a few notes missing already, which warms my heart. He actually reads them.

“Did you think I’d just disregard it and put it away in a drawer somewhere?” Derek asks gently as he crawls onto his bed next to me. I turn around to see him a few inches away from me, a small smile on his face. I shake my head no. Of course I know Derek wouldn’t.

Derek never makes the first move. He never kisses me first, he never hugs me first. It’s almost like he’s afraid of hurting me, like I’ll break under his touch. Or maybe he still feels guilty about the two of us. 

“(Y/N) I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you, because I’m starting to think that Peter is right about you being my soulmate. But try to see things from my point of view. You’re young, only 17. You have your life ahead of you, you should be getting drunk at parties and making out with guys your own age. Guys you can kiss in public and introduce to your parents.” Derek paces around the room like an animal trapped in a cage with his hands in his hair as I stand at the door to his loft. 

Today was supposed to be another movie night, until Derek found out that Erica and Isaac knew about us, which led him to believe others would find out sooner or later. 

I raise my eyebrows at the werewolf in front of me. Is he for real?

“Derek if I wanted to be with immature snotty STD-ridden teenage boys I would be. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’m happy with you? That you are what I want, and not some random drunk boy at a party? So what if I can’t kiss you in public or bring you home to Christmas parties? In another eight or so months I can do all of that.” I throw my hands up in the air in sheer exhaustion. I knew Derek was having some doubts about us, but I didn’t know they were this serious. 

Derek stops pacing the room and looks at me with so much raw fear it makes me go weak at the knees. He looks like he’s leading a war with himself.

“(Y/N) I love you, you’re my soulmate. I’m so selfish for keeping you around, but the mere thought of hurting you pains me. This isn’t right, I shouldn’t be stealing your youth years from you, God know the same thing was done to me. I don’t want you feeling trapped.” Derek almost begs me, like a part of him wants me to turn around and walk away, to never talk to him again. But I know better. I know that we’re both too invested in the other to just simply let go. He said we’re soulmates, and I believe him. 

I walk over to Derek and grab a hold of his face to keep him still. 

“Derek Hale I am in love with you, have been since that ridiculous trip to the museum months ago. I want to be with you, the thought of being away from you is too painful. You aren’t stealing anything from me, you’re making my life so much more better than you can imagine. I want you in my life, now, a few months from here, a few years. I want you, and I’m not giving up on us.” I say firmly, hoping that I have convinced him to believe me. 

Derek searches my face for any trace of regret or fear or uncertainty, but all that he finds is determination and love. Without hesitation, he crashes his lips against mine with such force it leaves bruising behind.

I roll over and straddle Derek, catching him off guard. He cocks his head to the side a little and furrows his brows, as if confused by my sudden action. In the background, Zombieland starts playing.

I place a trail of small kisses along Dereks exposed neck, evoking a sharp breath from him. I keep licking and nipping at his skin until I get down to his jeans, where I stop. The man beneath me is breathing heavily, his hands slowly caressing my hips which causes my skirt to hike up to my waist. 

I look up at Derek and bite my lip a little, a string of impure thoughts running through my head. If I had it my way, we wouldn't just watch movies on movie nights. And by the looks of it, Derek would agree with me. 

I slowly grind against Derek, emitting a low groan from him. His grip on my hips tightens , but he doesn’t do anything else. Just close his eyes and  grit his teeth like he’s trying to control himself. 

I keep up my slow movements and begin to unbutton my blouse, one button at a time. The sound of the buttons causes Derek to suddenly open his eyes and look at me with so much longing and lust it’s almost enough to tip me over the edge. But I keep going, until all of the buttons are undone and he can see the silky red bra I have on. He mutters a soft ‘fuck’ before letting go of my hips, sitting up suddenly, and grabbing a hold of my wrists.

“(Y/N) what do you think you’re doing?” Derek asks, his voice strained like he’s ready to rip the skirt off me. I just smile innocently at him.

“I’ve already seen that movie, and you look really good today. The way you absentmindedly bit on your ruler in class gave me all sorts of thoughts.” I grin at him, enjoying the sudden power I have over him. This is the first time this is happening, me being in charge. So I may as well enjoy it whilst it lasts.

Derek growls, a deep throaty sound, before shaking his head a little. All it will take now is just a little push. I lean close to him and run my tongue across his ear.

“Derek, please fuck me.” I whisper. And that’s all it takes for the Alpha to flip us over and start kissing down my neck sensually.

The sound of hushed voices from the next room wake me up from my deep sleep. The voices are urgent, almost angry, but still somehow calm. A yawn escapes me as I slowly sit up and look around.

There are pillows strewn all over the oak floor, along with the clothes I had on yesterday. My blouse is ripped. The bed next to me is empty, which means one of the hushed voices must belong to Derek. The events of last night begin to flood back. 

The tender kisses, the reassuring ‘I love you’s, the growls that belonged to Derek, the moans that belonged to me. The way his hands felt on my body ignite a new fire in the pit of my stomach, so unexpected and strong that it leaves me craving for Derek’s touch, whether it be a hug or something much more impure. 

The door to the room suddenly opens and in walks a shirtless Derek with a plate of pancakes in his hands. He looks happy, content. His hair is dishevelled and he’s only wearing boxers, which I do not mind in the slightest. Just the sight of him brings a huge smile to my face.

“Morning beautiful, how’d you sle-” Derek starts to say, but quickly stops as he glances at me questioningly. Confused, I look down but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’m wearing his shirt, but that’s about it.

“You know I can smell your arousal, right?” Derek raises his brows at me. I mentally kick myself for thinking back to last night. I didn’t think that he could be so tuned in with such smells.

I cross my legs over the blankets and roll my eyes at him. But I can’t help the blush that overcomes my face. 

“Don’t sound so surprised, you know what you do to me.” I take the plate from him without looking up in sheer embarrassment and dig in to the blueberry pancakes neatly stacked on the plate. A little moan escapes me as I come to terms with how delicious his cooking is. 

Derek comes to sit down next to me and steals a berry from the plate, to which I playfully poke him with my fork. I swallow the chunk of pancakes and turn to look at the god-like creature next to me.

“So what was that about? Who were you arguing with?” I ask and take another bite of the pancakes. Seriously, Derek’s a keeper. Who knew he’s so good at cooking? I could definitely get used to this. 

Derek just sighs and wraps his arm around my shoulders, the first time he’s initiated anything. I feel my heart jump-start and begin to hammer away.

“Well, it was Peter. He was confused about the second heartbeat coming from my room so I had to break the news for him. He actually tried to act like a condescending parent. And he can also, uh, smell you.” Derek chuckles a little as he reminisces in the conversation he had with his uncle a few minutes ago. I just raise my eyebrows. 

“Well, I told you I could smell your arousal. And so can he.” Derek looks at me apologetically, almost like it pains him to actually admit that. A feeling of dread washes over me as I realise what he means. Oh my god. I immediately put down the plate next to me and get under the covers in a feeble attempt to contain whatever Peter can smell. This is one of the downsides of dating a werewolf.

Derek laughs at me and just shakes his head. “(Y/N) that won’t help. Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll find something for you to wear? I don’t think your blouse can do it’s job anymore” Derek pushes me lightly in the direction of the door. 

I groan in protest but decide that maybe getting cleaned up is a good idea. I make my way out of Derek’s room with the slightest limp and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Peter chuckling at me. I chose to take the high road and ignore him.

I quickly use the bathroom, having to result to using my finger as a make-shift toothbrush and once I decide that my hair can’t get any more tamer, I walk back out. 

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask how your date went then.” Peter calls from the sofa, a book in his hand and a smirk on his lips. I just glare at him. 

“Peter, please stop being a sleazy bastard.” I smile sweetly at him, to which he just winks. Typical Peter Hale response. I shake my head a little and keep walking, but Peter once again feels the need to share his thoughts with me.

“Nice limp there, (Y/N). Did you happen to trip and fall onto my nephews dick?” He laughs teasingly, to which I just show him my middle finger and keep walking. I swear it’s too early to be putting up with this guy, whatever the time is. He’s worse than Erica, he has absolutely no filter between his brain and his mouth. Maybe that’s why they get along so well.

I walk back into Derek’s room to see him fully dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, which really fits well in all of the right places, like everything else he wears. I’m so lucky. 

“I hate to break the news, but the pack wants to come over. So unless you’re ready for them to be let in on our little secret, you should probably go.” Derek smiles sadly over at me, hesitating at the word ‘pack’. He still isn’t completely used to the fact that I know who he really is. 

Like last month, I came over to his apartment and some girl scout knocked on his door to sell him cookies and he growled at her and flashed his teeth, and when he saw that I was behind him and seen him, he totally freaked out. He seriously thought he scared me.

“Derek, I know you’re not ready for them to see us. That’s fine. Plus, I’ve spent too long with Peter for my liking.” I grin over at him and head to the bed to get the clothes he picked out. It’s just a simple shirt and shorts, though they’re a few sizes bigger, I really don’t mind. I quickly strip from the shirt Derek gave me to sleep in, not really caring that I’m completely naked since he’s already seen me, and pull on the clothes Derek so kindly offered. Going commando has always been something I’ve wanted to do. 

I grab my backpack from the corner of the room and stuff the ripped clothing into it, almost shedding a tear at the sight of my bra that’s now in pieces. Well, it was cute whilst it lasted. 

Derek sits up from his bed and walks over to me, taking a hold of my hand. He looks thoughtful as he runs his thumb over my knuckles. 

“Do you... Do you regret it? Even a little?” He asks, taking me by surprise.

Do I regret losing my virginity to Derek? My history teacher? The man I am desperately in love with? My soulmate? No, I don’t. Not in the slightest. The thought even sounds ridiculous. 

I bite my lip a little and shake my head no. There is no way I could possibly regret what happened last night. Yes, it may have been a little quick, but totally worth every second.

Derek places a gentle kiss on my forehead, then my nose, and then finally my lips. The kiss is tender, feather-like. It only lasts for a few seconds. 

“I love you, (Y/N).” Derek whispers, placing another soft kiss on my lips, one full of promise. One that tells me that no matter how this will end, he will always love me and at the end of the day we both know the other one is in it for the long run.

[rawrmeansmemes]

DISNEY QUOTES MEME

send a   🏰  and I’ll generate a number, 1-166 and post the sentence as a starter. 

Ah, yes. Now what are you, and who are you doin' here?

Now, I'm warnin' ya. Don't let nobody or nothin' in the house.

I'm so ashamed of the fuss I made.

A lie keeps growing and growing until it's as plain as the nose on your face.

Well... guess he won't need me anymore. What does an actor want with a conscience, anyway?

You buttered your bread. Now sleep in it!

All we gotta do is build an act. Make ya a star. A headliner! 

Gab, gab, gab. They're always gossipin'.

If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all.

You know, just the other day, I was talking to myself about you, and we were wondering what had become of you.

So this is love. So this is what makes life divine. I'm all aglow...

Oh, that clock! Old killjoy. I hear you. "Come on, get up," you say, "Time to start another day."

I can't believe. Not anymore. There's nothing left to believe in. Nothing.

Oh, I wasn't... I mean, I do, but-but don't you think my dress...

Why, it's like a dream. A wonderful dream come true.

Oh, I understand, but... it's more than I ever hoped for.

Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction.

It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change.

Ah, that's just it. If you don't think, then you shouldn't talk.

if I lose my temper, you lose your head! Understand?

Curiosity often leads to trouble.

Better look first, for if one drinks much from a bottle marked "Poison", it's almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later.

Of course not. This is an unbirthday party.

Mustard! Yes, mu- MUSTARD? Don't let's be silly! Lemon, that's different...

Of all the silly nonsense, this is the stupidest tea party I've ever been to in all my life.

Goodness gracious, whatever shall we do?

It's... It's just that I never thought about it before. Say, that's it! You think of a wonderful thought.

Don't you understand, _____? You mean more to me than anything in this whole world!

Just a cute little bundle... of trouble!

You know, sometimes I don't think she's really very happy.

Well, I'm really not supposed to speak to strangers, but we've met before.

Well, *that* would make me happy.

But don't you remember? We've met before.

I'm awfully sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.

Oh... I just love happy endings.

I'm so hungry I could eat  a whole elephant.

You idiots! You fools! You imbeciles!

I'm not sleepy. I'm hungry.

I'd like to tear his gizzard out.

Sounds like someone's sick. How lovely. I do hope it's serious. Something dreadful.

When he stays out all night, he's always grumpy the next morning.

This will take brains, not brawn.

I was just wonderin', are we good guys or bad guys? You know, I mean, uh? Our robbin' the rich to feed the poor.

Rob? Tsk tsk tsk. That's a naughty word. We never rob. We just sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it.

Oh, he's so handsome, just like his reward posters.

Wowee! I'm tip-top, alright, but I'm not as good as he is.

Look, why don't you stop moonin' and mopin' around? - Just - Just marry the girl.

Ladies don't start fights, but they can finish them!

Why, your eyes are like sapphires sparkling so bright. They make the morning radiant and light.

Wait a minute. I'm the leader! I'm the one that says when we go.

You FORCE them to like you, idiot!

You get down there and find the big diamond, or you will never see the teddy a - gain!

We're still friends, right?

Don't worry, old fellow. It's not *entirely* hopeless.

There's no evil scheme he wouldn't concoct! No depravity he wouldn't commit.

Now, you will remember to smile for the camera, won't you? Say "Cheese".

I'm afraid that you've gone and upset me. You know what happens when someone upsets me.

Hey, man, if this is torture, chain me to the wall.

Isn't it rather dangerous to use ones entire vocabulary in a single sentence?

Hey, man, you're ugly! And you're uglier than him! And you're Ugly, Part Three! Hey, you're Revenge of the Ugly!

Ooh, I think she likes me, man!

Hm. Teenagers. They think they know everything. You give them an inch, they swim all over you.

My nerves are shot. This is a catastrophe!

Have I ever been wrong? I mean when it's important!

I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad.

You'll have your looks. Your pretty face and don't underestimate the importance of "body language." Ha!

This has got to be, without a doubt, the single most humiliating day of my life!

I didn't make it all the way through third grade for nothing.

Well, there's the usual things. Flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep.

How can you read this? There's no pictures!

This is yet another example of the late neoclassic Baroque period. And, as I always say, "If it's not Baroque, don't fix it!".

Oh dear. That didn't go very well at all, did it?

Couldn't keep quiet, could we? Just had to invite him to stay, didn't we?

I'd like to thank you all for coming to my wedding. But first I'd better go in there and uh, propose to the girl!

All right, Sparky, here's the deal. If you wanna court the little lady, you gotta be a straight shooter. Do ya got it?

No, really. On a scale of one to ten, you are an eleven.

How many cups of sugar does it take to get to the moon?

Arrrgh! This is the *stupidest* vacation! You drag me from home, jam me into this dumb car, drive me a million miles away to see some stupid rat show!

Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it.

I'm surrounded by idiots...

I laugh in the face of danger

Being brave doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble

For what? This? I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this. Can't think of anything right now, but.

I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you.

Is this bottomless pit a friend of yours?

You are a sad, strange little man, and you have my pity.

You uncultured swine! What're you lookin' at, ya hockey puck?

I've set my laser from stun to kill.

Oh, great. If anyone attacks we can blink em' to death.

Candlelight, privacy, music. Can't think of a better place for hand-to-hand combat.

Speaking of trouble, we should have run into some by now.

Why is it, whenever we meet, I end up bleeding?

You leave town for a couple of decades and they change everything.

I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle this. Have a nice day.

You know, wh-when I was a kid, I-I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else.

Fabulous party. You know, I haven't seen this much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself.

Would you like to stay forever?

My little baby, off to destroy people.

Ooh, I think my bunny slippers just ran for cover. Come on, scare me, girl!

They popped out of the snow, like daisies!

First rule of leadership: Everything is your fault.

You listen to me, my boy. I've made a living out of being a failure, and you, sir, are not a failure.

Do I look stupid to you? 

I was saved! I was saved by a flying wild man in a loincloth.

Are you sure this water's sanitary? It looks questionable to me!

Um, okay, but it won't be the same coming from me.

But I don't wanna use my head!

I may not be a smart dog, but I know what roadkill is.

Don't tell me. We're about to go over a huge waterfall.

It's called a "cruel irony", like my dependence on you.

Why do we even *have* that lever?

Break it down? Are ya kidding me? This is hand-carved mahogany.

That is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.

Oh, he's doing his own theme music? Big, dumb and tone deaf. 

Is there anything on this menu that is not swimming in gravy?

We done a lot of things we're not proud of. Robbing graves, eh, plundering tombs, double parking. But, nobody got hurt. Well, maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew.

Hey, look, I made a bridge. It only took me like, what? Ten seconds? Eleven, tops.

Well, as far as me goes, I just like to blow things up.

C'mon, fight that plaque! Fight that plaque! Scary monsters don't have plaque!'

Now, put that thing back where it came from, or so help me...!

Ha, ha, ha. You've been jealous of my good looks since the fourth grade, pal.

You know, like on the street, with the honk-honk and the vroom-vroom, and the no walking involved?

Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.

My friends need to be punished.

Leave me alone to diiieee...

This is you, and this is your badness level. It's unusually high for someone your size.

You'll like it, 'cause it's stinky, LIKE YOU! 

"Oh, look at me, I'm a flippy little dolphin, let me flip for you! Ain't I something?"

Well, you never really know you know, but when they know, you'll know, ya know?

There he is. Ha ha! Come here, loverboy.

I mean, who wants the pressure of being super all the time?

You know?! For a little bit. I feel like the maid: "I just cleaned up this mess! Can we keep it clean for, for 10 minutes?! Please?!"

Now, I'll tell you what we're not gonna do. We're not gonna panic, we're not gonna die.

I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now.

Boy, I'm pretty good at this lawyerin' stuff!

You and me... we're in a club now.

Swear you'll take us there. Cross your heart! Cross it! Cross your heart!

I know this may seem boring, but I think the boring stuff is what I remember the most.

I was hiding under your porch because I love you.

There is no way I am kissing a frog and eating a bug on the same day.

If I can mince, you can dance.

I was beginning to think wishing on stars was just for babies and crazy people...

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. This is bad. This is very, very bad. This is really bad'! 

Stay calm. It can probably smell fear.

I've always wanted to go out with a bang!

Yeah, this one we caught sticking his bumper where it didn't belong!

I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me.

I don't wanna be the bad guy anymore.

Well, this place just got interesting.

Tut tut! As your merciful princess, I hereby decree that everyone who was ever mean to me shall be… executed.

They get away with murder! I can never get away with anything!

I'm gonna wipe the floor with that little know-it-all.

Wait, what am I looking at right now? Why are you hanging off the earth like a bat?

I've always wanted a nose! So cute; it's like little baby unicorn!

Oh, look at that. I've been impaled.

On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?

Hey, kid? If you're pullin' my leg, I'm gonna eat yours.

I'm doing the happy dance, I'm not wearing any pants!

Crying helps me slow down and obsess over the weight of life's problems.

Well, he was right about one thing; I don't know when to quit!

Never let them see that they get to you.

It's called a hustle, sweetheart.

Life isn't some cartoon musical where you sing a little song and all your insipid dreams magically come true! So let...it...go.

I'm sorry. I gotta blink. How do you hold your eyes open that long?

You trust her. Becky's eating a cup.

When you use a bird to write with, it's called tweeting.

[whumppile]

Spider-Man whump fic: Living the high life

(Peter crawls into Ned's window wearing his spider suit but hes acting a little...strangeAKA the one where Peter is high on pain meds and doesn't want to behave)

Ned sighed, writing another equation down as he finished his homework. God, he was bored, and it especially sucked knowing you had to do your homework when your best friend was out there doing super cool hero stuff.

Peter was probably swinging around the city, protecting the innocent, and beating up bad guys. Or maybe he was training with Black Widow, or battling aliens with Thor. Ned pushed homework across his desk, wishing for anything to distract him from the inane math questions and-

Ned’s head whipped around as his bedroom window slid open, a giant spider crawling through-! Oh, that was Peter.

“Dude, you scared me! What are you doing here?”

Peter crawled across the ceiling, and appeared to be giggling.

“Hehe, Ned look. No hands.”

The laughing Spider-Man lifted his hands, leaving his feet stuck to the ceiling while the rest of his body hung upside down.

And then he promptly fell to the floor, landing with a thump.

Ned let out a startled yelp, Peter groaning in pain before giggling again, words slurring just a little.

“Oops, I fell. I forgot my foot isn’t working.”

Ned frowned at that. Peter was acting funny, and he was getting a little concerned.

The other teenager wasn’t even trying to get up, just lying on the ground and staring up at him with his mask eyes wide.

“What do you mean your foot isn’t working? Is the suit broken?”

Spider-Man’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, as if confused. “Huh?”

Ned let out an annoyed huff of air and knelt beside his friend, trying to be patient. “You said your foot wasn’t working. What’s wrong with it?”

Peter seemed to need to think about it, and Ned watched him with concern until he finally decided on an answer. He was getting more worried as time went on, because Peter seemed really out of it and confused. Maybe he was just tired?

“Hmmm…oh! Yeah, ha its broken.”

Ned frowned, looking down at Peters feet. “The suit’s broken?”

Peter shook his head a little, unfazed. “Nope, my foot is.”

Ned frowned, taking a closer look at his friend’s feet. One of them was laying on its side, and the suit seemed to be thicker around his ankle, as if Peter was smuggling blocks or sticks under the material, bracing the broken limb.

“What?! Why are you here if you’re hurt? You should be with Mr Stark or something so he can help you!”

That made Peter move, his eyes squinting again he fired a web to the ceiling and pulled himself up, out of Ned’s reach.

“No! I don’t want him to see, he’ll get mad!”

Ned watched as Peter fired another web across the room, stretching and pulling it, attaching more web strings to make himself a hammock. Okay, that was cool.

“Why would he be mad? Are you grounded again? Did you break his rules?” That would be easy to do, Tony had about a million of them. No staying out too late, no messing with the suit settings, no ditching his tracker. Although, they all seemed like smart rules.

Peter lowered himself into the hammock, being careful of his bad ankle, and curled up into a ball. It was kind of strange, having him there in his full Spider suit, looking so vulnerable.

He pulled off his mask and rubbed his eyes tiredly, leaving his hair sticking up in erratic tufts.

“No, he just always gets mad when I get hurt. And then he tells Aunt May and she gets sad, and I don’t want anyone to be smad at me. I meant mad…or…sad? I can’t remember.”

Ned narrowed his eyes at his friend, watching him laugh at his own fumble, before gently pulling the Spider-Man mask from his hands.

“Okay, Peter just…let me talk to Karen for a second.”

Peter nodded and rocked himself in his hammock, while Ned pulled the mask on, hearing Karen’s pleasant greeting once he did.

“Hello, Ned. It’s been a while.”

“Hey Karen, I just wanted to ask you what’s wrong with Peter. Cause he’s acting really weird. Is he drunk?”

Karen almost sounded like she was laughing. “Peter cannot get drunk, although I believe he is high.”

Ned’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, as he turned to look back at Peter, who was singing to himself as he crawl/hopped across Ned’s ceiling to the kitchen, with one foot and both hands. He quickly followed after him, still talking to Karen.

“What!? Why is he high?”

Peter crawled to the fridge and used another web as he hung from the ceiling, his good foot bracing against it while the other was flung out to the side as he rifled through the fridge. Ned was so very glad his parents were out, and not home to see a baby avenger make a mess of their kitchen.

“He broke his ankle while on a mission, so I used the splint capabilities in his suit, and gave him a shot of pain medication so that he could get home. Dr Banner created a special medication for Peter so that his metabolism wouldn’t burn through it so fast. It seems to be having some adverse side effects.”

Ned watched as Peter shoved a few sandwiches in his mouth, humming happily around the bread and peanut butter.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Her kind voice came again, while Ned caught various food items that Peter was dropping, placing a Coke can back in the fridge just in time to catch a ketchup bottle.

“Would you like me to call for some assistance?”

“Peter! Put that down, and get off the ceiling! Yeah, Karen can you call Mr Stark?”

Peter turned his head at the name, almost falling from the ceiling again in his haste to stop the call.

“No! Ned don’t!

“Initiating call.”

Lights and call options crawled across Ned’s vision as Tony picked up, sounding mildly bored.

“Peter, how’s the patrol going, anything exciting happening today?”

Ned dodged an annoyed hand from Peter, as he replied, trying to think of a way to explain the situation.

“Umm hey, Mr Stark. It’s actually Ned, Peter’s friend?”

There was a pause, and then Tony’s voice came back, sounding a little mad.

“Why do you have his suit, where is he?”

Peter was making irritated little grunts as he pushed at Ned, trying to get his mask back.

“Well, he’s at my house and he’s acting all weird. Karen said he broke his ankle so he had some pain meds but they were really strong and…he’s high. He’s also eating all my food and leaving webs everywhere, and I don’t know how I’m going to explain the footprints on the ceiling to my mom.”

Peter whined again, sounding like a child. “Ned, you tattle tale!”

Ned could hear the Iron Man suits blasters in the background of the call, as well as metal clanging.

“Dammit, Peter. Okay we’ll be there soon.”

He hung up before Ned could ask who the ‘we’ was referring to, and he grabbed one of Peters hands before it could smack him in the face.

“Peter, stop! He’s coming to get you, so just calm down and sit still.”

Peter frowned, hair messy and erratic as he hung from the ceiling. Actually, his face was set into more of a pout, and Ned almost laughed.

“Why did you tell on me? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Ned pulled the mask off and furrowed his brows. “I am on your side! I’m trying to help you!”

Peter crossed his arms, glaring at Ned like he was about to throw a tantrum.

“Well, I don’t want your help and I’m not going with Tony!”

Ned had never thought he’d be scolding Spider-Man, or sounding like his mom, but there he was, hands on hips in his kitchen and telling off an Avenger.

“Yes, you are. You’re hurt and you need to do what your told.”

Peter pulled himself up his web, crawling across the ceiling and walls to Ned’s bedroom and locking himself in before Ned could get there and intervene.

“You can’t make me, I’m Spider-Man!”

Ned groaned, listening to the lock on his door click, and resigned himself to wait for backup to arrive.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long before the sound of the Iron Man suit could be heard from outside. Ned could hear Peter shout out another protest, before a knock came at the door, and Ned went to answer it.

And when he did, it took a few seconds for him to process what he was seeing. The Iron Man suit was standing at attention by his garage, and in his doorway, was Tony Stark and Captain freaking America.

Tony frowned and looked behind him. “Where’s baby genius?”

Cap frowned at Tony before offering a hand to an open-mouthed Ned. “Sorry for his lack of manners, and that we took a little long to get here; we were training when you called. I’m Steve, and you must be Ned, Peters told me a lot about you.”

Tony patted the teenager on the shoulder as he walked past them, into the house, as Ned took Steve’s massive hand and shook it.

“Yeah, we’ve met before. Now, where’s Peter?”

Ned couldn’t really think past the fact that Captain America knew his name, and was in his house, but managed to stutter out a few words.

“He…ugh he locked himself in my room. He says he doesn’t want to go with you, because you’ll be mad at him.”

Steve smiled politely and let go of the kid’s hand, following Tony inside as Ned took them to his room. Tony was already grumpy, as he knocked on the bedroom door.

“Why would I be mad? Peter, come out of there right now!”

An unhappy shout came from inside, slightly muffled. “No!”

Tony looked ready to break the door down, and Ned was about to very politely ask him not to break his house, when Steve stopped the other man with a hand to the chest.

“Tony, this is probably why he didn’t tell you he was hurt in the first place. You can’t get mad at him every time. Let me do this.”

Tony didn’t look happy about it, but waved a hand, ushering him through. Steve gently knocked on the door.

“Peter? It’s Steve, Ned said you needed some help, are you okay?”

There was a pause, before Peter’s voice came back, sounding smaller and a little less grumpy.

“Steve?”

The first avenger smiled a little at the fondness of Peter’s tone. “Yeah, do you think you could tell me what happened? So, I can help?”

Peters voice sounded tired, and Tony listened carefully, looking more concerned than mad, now.

“I hurt my ankle. I think it broke. But it was an accident and I saved the lady.”

Steve nodded, although the teenager couldn’t see it through the door.

“No one’s mad at you, Pete. Can you open the door, so I can take a look at it? Maybe get you back to the compound so Bruce can fix it up?”

Peter didn’t answer, maybe not believing that he wasn’t in trouble, and Steve nudged Tony’s arm, looking at him expectantly. The other man sighed and stood closer to the door.

“Peter, I’m not mad at you. We just need to fix that ankle, buddy. Come on, it has to be hurting.”

He still didn’t answer, and Tony and Steve looked at each other, unsure, before turning to Ned.

“You got any ideas?”

Ned was still trying to just process the fact that he had three Avengers in his house, but nodded and tried to act like he wasn’t losing his mind with excitement.

“You could bribe him?”

Tony frowned but didn’t seem to completely hate the idea. “With what? An x-box? A car?”

This time Ned frowned. “No, he doesn’t even drive yet. Just say you’ll watch a move with him or something, he really likes hanging out with you guys.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and turned back to the door. “Peter, if you open the door, I’ll let you pick any movie you want for us to all watch together.”

That got an answer, Peter’s voice was high and exited. “Really?”

“Yep, Cap and I will watch it with you, and probably some of the others, I don’t think Nat’s busy at all this week, and you know Bruce likes spending time with you.”

Ned’s mind was blowing a little more with each name mentioned, and he tried to contain his excitement at the knowledge that his best friend knew the Avengers personally.

Peter’s voice was hesitant and small. “Can Ned come?”

Tony and Steve turned to a wide-eyed Ned. Tony took a few seconds to consider the pros and cons, before shrugging. “Sure, he can come.”

Ned almost threw up with excitement. He was going to meet the Avengers. What the hell. God, Peter was the best.

Finally, they heard another web being shot, followed by a soft thump as it landed on the door, and the lock being clicked. Steve pushed the door open and they all walked through, to see Peter curled up under a blanket in his web hammock.

Tony walked over to him, smiling a little as he sighed in relief at seeing the kid okay, as he brushed the teenager’s hair back, voice soft.

“You okay?”

Peter nodded, although he looked miserable. “My ankle hurts and I’m tired, I just wanna go to bed.”

Steve admired Peter’s handy work all over the room, picking up discarded webs as he smiled at Tony.

“I guess the drugs have worn off.”

Peter looked at Tony with those huge, innocent eyes of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, the pain meds made everything feel so weird and confusing and I just wanted to go somewhere safe where I could sleep.”

Tony nodded. “It’s okay, kiddo let’s just get you to Bruce so he can fix you up.”

Peter nodded and Steve walked over to the hammock, reaching up to pull the teenager from the webbing. The drugs had worn off, leaving him tired and in pain again, and he didn’t want to even think about walking on his bad ankle, which was why he didn’t protest to being carried.

Steve lifted Peter onto his back as the teenager wrapped his arms around the super soldier’s neck. Ned couldn’t believe that Captain America was giving Peter a piggyback ride, it just seemed so strangely soft for the both of them.

Tony turned to Ned’s desk and took a pen and paper from his supplies, scribbling down a bunch of numbers before handing it to him.

“Thanks for calling me, you did the right thing. And we both know Peter is like a magnet for trouble, so if something like this happens again, just call me. I put Steve’s number down too, and Happy’s if it’s not so serious. I’ll have Peter tell you when the movie night is, since apparently that’s happening now. Anyway, thanks and sorry about the mess he made.”

Ned nodded, and went to say goodbye to Peter, only to see that he’d fallen asleep, cheek pressed against Steve’s shoulder. Tony smiled fondly at him and took his mask from Ned, before turning to Steve.

“Come on, let’s get our Spider-baby home.”

They left, the same way they’d come in, and Ned had to clean up all the webs left around the house, but how could he mind? Despite his best friend being hurt, that had been the greatest experience of his life.

(Please tell me what you think? You can find this and all my fics on my ao3 and ff.net accounts through the links below)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12151542

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12660606/1/