#Tim is trying to understand why Sam seems to hate him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peeterparkr · 4 years ago

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perennial;tom holland|eighteen.

chapter eighteen: yellow pansy ↳ flower meanings: thinking of you.

chapter summary: you left a journal in his top drawer. pairing: tom holland x y/n warnings: haha you’re going to HATE ME word count: 11.5K

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

it took me ages write this, my writersblock was awful BUT IT’S HERE ! We are missing one more chapter but here it is! I hope you don’t hate me as much as I think you will, I split the ending in two chapters because it was LONG, so expect the final chapter in these days

Please help me out reblogging tags havent been working for me and I know this will flop but I’m really happy I got back into writing

You kept a journal. With flowers printed on them. Each and every single one was given by him. You had recently remembered it, wondering where in your room it could be. Hidden behind some other lost forgotten memories or some other unforgettable mysteries. You wondered if the flowers had kept their color. Most of them hadn’t.

“Well, here goes to the happily ever after,” you said as you smiled, even when the notebook was still roaming your mind.

Tim offered a gentle smile, watching carefully, as the white dress fell down.

When it comes to love stories, happy endings are what we wish for. Life, unfortunately, isn’t like that. But often we are bombarded with stories that are just too good to be true, enough for us to believe this. With them down the sunset on a white horse. With prince charming being charming enough.

With Mister Darcy as the sun is rising telling Elizabeth “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

With Donna and Sam getting married, and a bunch of friends singing Abba songs.

With Noah and Ally peacefully drifting off, hand in hand.

With Baby and Johnny Castle dancing together.

Characters that are but a reflection of our deepest dreams. Ones that are kept secret and shut for the world. With stories that make us believe we are happy.

It’s fine to shield in. But it’s no good to dwell on them.

We often don’t get what we wish for when we shield in a dream.

You wondered, what about Valerie and William?

Or… Tom and Y/n?

Your own story was supposed to be kept a secret, yet it ended up being a script and then a movie that would be seen by thousands. Your story transformed into a story people could shield on. A story that had been merely sentiments, then words and a very bad misunderstanding and… then a film.

Seeing yourself on someone else might have been what helped you understand it. Transforming your story into characters and trying to portray a love story that was born out of hatred… had probably been the first mistake.

If we can say it was ever a mistake. How big of a mistake can it be when it brings you so much joy?

Your luck hadn’t been enough for your own faith. But you always wondered, what happens after the happily ever after? Is it truly the outcome? When two souls find each other? Isn’t it only the beginning?

Valerie and William hadn’t had it.

The story ended with Valerie and Robbie getting together, it fit. That’s how the story had been driven. Tom and you had discussed it over and over, the story was written for Valerie to end up with Robbie.

“This is a story, y/n, it’s not us.” He had assured you. “We need to disconnect from it.”

And it wasn’t. It wasn’t you. But how much had those characters stolen from you?

How disappointing, but you made the decision along with them.

It had been painful to relive some things, and the changes to the script had been made to soothe the pain.

But they had a happily ever after. Separate ways.

Who would’ve thought you’d be so right?

Films and stories often end when marriage comes, or when the couple finally gets together, the happily ever after. You barely believed it was the ending.

Because the real journey began with it. Doesn’t it? Isn't the true adventure when they find each other?

When something goes wrong, though, it means the journey isn’t over. The happily ever after is the ending isn’t it? Isn’t the story over until after they’re happily ever after?

Love, though it might be one of the most precious things, often comes with a heartbreak. A tragedy. It didn't hurt this time, though.

But love, when it’s real, doesn’t seem like a loss even if it ends. Because, isn’t it the ending when they finally are together? If we follow that rule, that the ending is when they’re together then it wasn’t the ending.

Or was it?

You couldn’t help but wonder, however…What if you lived a lie? Just a fairy tale that wasn’t supposed to have a happily ever after.

Though the script was far from reality, you felt like your own story was twisted. Why weren’t you in your ‘happily ever after’?

Maybe the side story was yours. Because you were not the princess about to walk into the sunset.

“I really love the dress,” Tim commented.

You did too, but it had you wondering about happily ever after?

What happens to them after the credit rolls? What happens to the characters when the last page ends? Are those characters strong enough to keep together? Are their stories just dried out? Like flowers. Easily forgotten in a journal hidden in your room.

A bouquet that once served as a beautiful symbol now was scattered on top of the shelf, as a few petals fell down.

Flowers dry out.

“Yes, magnificent,” you answered.

The dress made you remember the day you thought it would last forever. That Tom and you would have that ever after. That it wouldn’t dry out.

Tom had only looked up at you, sitting finally on a director chair and he had smiled. Gently. Caring.

And that thought came to your mind. “I hope this lasts forever.”

And for a moment you thought it could. Maybe it was the endless smiles or the constant yellow flowers adorning your room that would end up on your journal.

But nothing ever does last forever. Not the good things. Not pancakes, or ice cream, or street hot dogs. Moments don’t last forever, that’s why you have to grasp to them.

And there was a point at which you knew, you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Because the film continues.

However, you liked to think that love was like a flower. One that grows. Not one that is cut to be given. A perennial one. One that blooms, and continues to bloom when it’s taken care of. But perennial flowers don’t bloom all the time.

A flower can’t bloom for eternity. And a cut flower will not preserve.

In stories and films, we know detail by detail. From the very first word, to the last breath. But when it comes to your own, you often forget what is important. We barely stop to see, and suddenly, life escapes from your hands and you’re stuck in a moment and you can’t get out.

Before you know it, all you’re left with is a script and a movie you can’t bear to watch because it brings too many memories. But good ones, that is. Mostly good.

Before you know it, you have a box with his stuff, and you’re texting to see when you have to drop them off. And before you know it, he is standing there, and you’re hoping he will beg for one last time because you will give it, but he never does, and stays quiet. Too quiet.

Not every love is perennial. Not every love is meant to bloom again.

Perennial flowers, when they bloom, are the most wonderful. But when they’re away, the skies are gray.

But somehow, we go through it. At least you tried to.

The ‘what if’ comes as something complicated. No pillow talks would’ve helped your case, it seemed like any smiles were now hidden under the bed.

It’s needless to say and regard the multiple emotions that had gone by in the relationship, that week it started or that month it finished. That year, if we are honest. That whole year of your relationship. And you had to look back at it. For it all started in a breakup, that had opened the door to be with the love of your life. It all started with a revenge.

It was weird to see it. How a year before you dated Tom, you would have gone with Tim. How you had expected it, how you thought Tim was the endgame. How that year Harry had asked if you would marry Tim and you’d answered that maybe you would.

How at some point you had considered it again. How you even considered Harry. But Tim.

Had Tim waited for a little bit longer, maybe things would’ve turned out quite different. You were thankful he hadn’t. Tim and you were a lesson to each other. Tim had shown you you can be loved and you had shown Tim he can love. Tim and you were fine now, he had found a girl. Lily. Her name was Lily. Purity. Rebirth.

Because, although it had seemed that Tim had died a little with your last conversation before officially letting him go, he had seen himself shine again. How surprising, her name was Lily. Such a coincidence.

Lily, a girl that could easily be passed by. Yet Tim had stopped to see her.

Tim and you would never share what you both said in that conversation. The last flower he had given you was a daisy. A secret between two friends.

Cherry and you went back to what you were before, strangers to each other. But she’d found a girl, by luck. Heather. She was happy now. Happiest.

A year had gone by. Many things had changed. Mostly you, and though you would look back to your past self and warn her that another heartbreak by Tom would be coming, you wouldn’t change it.

A breakup had opened many doors.

Maybe this one would too.

It was bound to come. How on earth were you supposed to grow flowers on a battlefield? But you’d built it together.

And you had. And everything was good, with sunsets and polaroids, and flowers. And fights that would cycle and cyle. But end up cuddling watching reruns of an old 80’s tv show that you barely watched because you were too busy staring into his eyes.

With old fights that would resurface and other secrets that kept chasing you both. But it was good, when you were trying to get the garden back into place, to try and forget the battlefield. Loving him had come so easily, though. Waking up by his side was taken for granted.

You had thought loving him would be a buzzing street, with crowds bustling as the rain is about to begin. You thought loving him would be a Friday night waiting for someone to show up but never did.

You were wrong.

Loving him was walking through a flower field, and taking a Polaroid of the most beautiful sunset. Loving him meant holding his hand and kissing over and over again.

But loving him meant that the sun eventually would set.

And maybe the heartbreak that had come with this one hadn’t been an actual heartbreak and maybe that’s why it hurt. Because it didn’t.

Maybe you’d forged a heartbreak or a relationship. Maybe that had been it, conning yourselves into believing you were fine when you were far from it.

Looking back maybe it was because of Rome, New York, and eventually LA. Cities that you once said you wouldn’t dare to go back to. But now you are willing to visit. Happily, it’s better to walk in a city full of memories rather than one pointless illusion of the memories you could’ve had.

He had gone to New York, and still took his Polaroid everywhere. A habit you loved about him, it seemed he became an expert on holding onto memories.

The breakup had come after James’ wedding. Lovely wedding, by the way. Fairytale full of wonder. A year ago, shortly after the film had premiered, a year after it finished filming.

It was supposed to come. Because when your own brother was finding his way, you had lost yours.

But what happened? When did life slip in? When did it start ending?

Before you knew it, you had packed your stuff without you being aware of it. You had packed everything up, except your own heart. You left your heart right there, right next to that stupid journal, in his upper drawer, right next to his bed. Had he opened that drawer ever since or had he forgotten about it?

There was your journal, not in your room. In his. And he hadn’t given it back.That’s why you felt lost. Your heart was imprinted there and he hadn’t given it back.

But you had packed everything else, with him not even trying to stop you. Just watching you circle around.

Was it fear? Maybe it had been fear, from both. You supposed that’s how life was. Loving was not a duty.

You only had one request for him, one last request: “Remember me, I was the one to love you, and I was the one to call in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep. Just remember me when we’re no longer here.”

Because it hadn’t been your fault, your life just slipped in. Distance. No time for calls. Your job getting too much recognition, his job getting even more. Fights that were only to push each other away so it wouldn’t hurt when you both were away. Maybe being enemies had come useful when it was supposed to end.

Fight, and more fights in the end. Yet you were gripping each other. And life had just slipped in. Like it always does.

And it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t you.

“Tell me you actually want it to end,” he had asked when you had the final box.

You didn’t. But there wasn’t much you could do, expect walk out the doors.

Or was there? But even if it was a breakup, you both agreed to remain friends, and then it transformed into little excuses to see each other.

Because it didn’t end up badly. It had been life slipping in. With barely having any time for something that needed too much time to build on.

Filming initially had helped you, how beautiful it was creating it, what a beautiful outcome it had been out of your heartbreak. With music, and fights and everything that was splendid.

Maybe the film wasn’t a huge success, but it had been enough for you both to try and mend it after.

But when filming had ended and you had to go back, that’s when the problems started. His job, your new one. Him there, you here. When you were together, it was amazing, worth it. But then you barely could. And you could barely grip each other.

Then you were too different. Then you were just the same, so stubborn and stupid.

Then it was old arguments, and new ones.

When was it gone? Had he stopped loving you?

He had asked you, near the end. “Do you still love me? Are we still enough?”

“I do love you.” But you hadn’t answered the second question. And what was it? Why wasn’t it? “Why wouldn’t we?” you had questioned.

“Dunno, it’s delicate.”

It was.

Maybe it had been James’ words for Clark. About how love shouldn’t be forced, how love should be simple and love shouldn’t be hurt. About how they built it together. How it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t complicated.

And then Clark had said it, too. How he loved being with someone that he enjoyed silence with. How love was more than passion. How love was more than a kiss. Seeing how simple it had been for them, was a bit disappointing for you both. Your relationship was anything but simple.

And it wasn't now because you didn’t trust each other, or because you wanted to fight. No, it simply was life telling you, you shouldn’t be together. And maybe it was also the fact that you both thought you worked because you had never experienced silence together. Always a wreck. Always a mess. Always so passionate. But… was it only that? Maybe it was the passion of the moment.

You knew Tom still played the conversation with Tim over and over in his head. How by the end he said he felt guilty by it all.

You too, you were both driven by guilt and guilt eventually snaps you.

So it ended.

“Is it too soon to end this?” You had asked him.

Tom had shrugged. “Would you rather it be late?”

But that didn’t mean you… had to stop seeing each other. Or did it? So you based your new relationship on excuses. And the excuses had grown. ‘I need to give you this hoodie’, ‘I forgot my charger at your place’ ‘I need someone to drive me to do errands’, ‘I need help running lines’, ‘I need a date for this party.’

And then they didn’t even make sense. ‘I can’t open a jar’ ‘I can’t watch this movie alone’ ‘I need to rant about the ending of this series’ ‘I sneezed and no one blessed me’. Stupid things. And then it was the truth ‘I need to listen to your voice’. ‘I miss you’. ‘I want to see you’.

But it was only seeing each other, with no… relationship. No kissing, no anything. Only excuses. A… friendship.

True friendship, for the first time ever. And you could talk for hours with him until the sun came out, and you could laugh with him.

Maybe it hurt that it wasn’t more, but maybe it was never meant to be like that. But you were in a good place. In the best place you had been. The strongest you had both been, too. How civil you were with clothes on. And how many times had you stopped your will to undress him.

Your lips searched for his but they never got what they wanted, your hands hurt from keeping them to yourself, and your heart would only ache a bit.

From both sides.

Seemed that both of you knew what you had to build up on. And maybe you both knew the risk that would come if you were willing to give it a try without having something to settle on.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt. Because it would bloom again, right? Maybe you were preparing the dirt to plant it in. Not loose flowers now. Have seeds.

Or that’s the idea you built yourself into. Because honestly. Had you ever been more than enemies with benefits?

But now, you were friends. Good friends. Maybe you were in love with him, and grown fonder of him now. Really, really in love. But friends. Friends who stared a little bit too much into each other’s eyes, or friends who would easily recognize each other’s laughter. Friends who would have their feet up the headboard and talk about life. Friends who instinctively would give the other a bite of their food or offer a sip of their drink.

Friends who would take a deep breath each time the other walked into the room, and friends who avoided getting too close that it would be mistaken for something else. Secret moments. Standing on the other sides of the room, turning your head away each time your eyes met.

Maybe you didn’t get the happy ending you wished for, or not the one you had expected to.

But you were happy. And it had ended. Those things were unrelated.

But a lot had changed.

Ay first, you had to fight the urge to undress him. Now you had to fight the urge to stare too long into his smile.

Really, a lot had changed.

Tom had started dating someone else, you didn’t know how long that lasted. You had pretended not to care, although you did.

You went out on dates, too. Didn’t inform him, either. Not explicitly. Though he did know.

Because you were friends. That was the happy ending you deserved.

A lot had changed.

And you were currently helping a bride tie that bow in her dress as she stared at her reflection. Her hair hung to her shoulders and half of it was tied with perfect braids. She was finally having her happy ending.

“Are you ready for the veil?” Timmy asked, as he watched the reflection of the bride.

“Can you give me a bloody second, Timothée?” Emma snapped with her usual tone. “I’m fucking busy right now, the veil can wait, don’t be a dick.”

You only held your laughter eyeing Tim. Tim and you had stopped looking at each other like you felt guilty for a while now. Tom’s jealousy had not exactly been driven away, you guessed it never would go.

But surprisingly enough, they became...friends. Or they could stand each other now after James had talked to both of them.

James and the married life that seemed to suit him. His wedding had been very small, but charming nonetheless. You wondered if you would’ve had something like that, very personal.

Quite a different story from Emma and Harry now. Whose love had conquered. And they had had a rough patch but how difficult can it be when you find your soulmate?

Maybe Harry and Emma had Tom and you doubting too. Tom and you had seen several times that you were not meant to be. Your coincidences in life had not been so, rarely coincidences but the both of you fighting for something. Too stubborn to admit that life was getting in the way.

Tom and you had all the odds in your favor and the ones to fuck it up were you both.

While Harry and Emma always had everything against them and they managed to work it out.

Who’re the soulmates here?

“What a lovely thing the blushing bride is, eh?” Tim rolled his eyes.

Emma had been… quite the bride. Everything had to be perfect, which was not likely for Emma to be that way. But she did say it, since she was marrying the love of her life it had to be big enough. In a rustic hotel, full of books and vintage furniture. A very cottage-like wedding. Very Emma and Harry. Unique.

It was perfect.

It had to, honestly. After the crossroads… everything had changed for them.

How Emma and Harry got back together was no mystery, Harry had been brave enough to go for her. When two souls are meant to be even the rockiest path will be easy to travel by.

It was the opposite of what you and Tom used to have. Emma and Harry had all the friendship, relationship settled, they just missed… the passion.

And so when they found each other, and were like two horny teenagers running around, it became...so effortless. Because they had something built upon.

As if life was rewarding them for their patience. For the love they shared. For each and every smile.

Both wild flowers, Often disregarded, had found each other, and created the most beautiful bouquet.

You only chuckled at Tim’s remark. “Splendid bride.”

While you and Tom had never been friends. Only too driven by the other, and passion and… when it ended? What were you? Were you merely nightly romance?

Tim groaned. “Emma—“he raised the veil. “I’m not trying to—I just think you should be wearing this already.”

“Shut up,” Emma granted. “I will but right now I’m—“

“Staring at your reflection?” Tim challenged. Because Emma was actually just doing that. Staring at the perfect dress she was wearing. Shining brightly like a diamond against the sun, her skin perfectly sparkled.

Emma looked for your glance in the mirror,”y/n, love.”

“Yes?”

“As my maid of honor, what are you willing to do?”

You offered her a grin, “Anything.”

Emma stared into your eyes. “Kill Timothée.”

You chuckled, “Almost anything, you should’ve asked earlier. I don’t want to get blood in my dress.”

Tim was surprised by your words. “So you would’ve?”

“Possibly, I don’t want to encounter a bridezilla Emma.”

Timmy threw his hands in the air. “I just want to help.”

“Well, don’t,” Emma and you said at the same time.

“I’m going to check on the guys, I am one hundredth percent sure they’re still in their pj’s drinking beer,” You commented.

The hotel room for the boy’s was only a floor below. It was everything Harry and Emma had probably wished for. An outdoor wedding that was planned to the very perfection. Very fairytale like. Lights hanging from trees, flower petals covering the aisle, daisies as the centerpieces, and daisies in Emma’s hands. Emma’s dream had always been an outdoor wedding.

When speaking with Emma and Harry both had stated that they made the decision not to give up. Always leaving you to wonder.

There was a part of you that was blinded by desirous thoughts. Had it been a mistake? To conclude a relationship that you had fought so long for?

Lately it had been.

You made your way to the elevator and as it opened you found a familiar face. He seemed uneasy, though.

“Y/N!” His voice was only a confirmation to his precarious state.

Your cheeks furrowed as you smiled, “Clark, hi!”

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a hug, a very nervous hug. as you stepped into the elevator. “Fuck, you look stunning. Loving the flowers on the hair.”

The dress was absolutely stunning, you had to give in that Emma’s taste was remarkable. Sky blue had been her color choice, to match with the flowers. Daisies and hydrangeas. Innocence and beauty.

It was ironic, a bit. You’d helped her with the flowers, and initially she had like sunflowers. As if it had been sntached from you. Maybe it was destiny laughing in your face. Yet she’d gone for the delicate hydrangeas.

“Thanks, Emma’s idea,” you grinned. “Where are you—“

“Oh eh, with the other boys,” he said as you pressed the button. He was shaking.

“So, what’s got you all flustered?” You questioned.

You could see Clark sweating. “Hm?”

“What’s got you all flustered?” You questioned, again.

He didn’t give you an answer. “Clark?”

Clark bit his lip. It was never usual for Clark to be anxious or to hide thoughts for himself. The man was always certain of his thoughts and actions. There was probably a calamity waiting for you.

“I—I am only the messenger,” he said, “I was actually looking for—Tim but—“

There it was. “But?”

“I think you might be of more help,” Clark admitted.

“Clark?” Your brows furrowed as the elevator door opened. He only offered a nervous smile as he licked his lips.

You saw Tom at the end of the hallway, on a call, shirt buttoned half way, his other hand running through his hair, he looked troubled. You were hoping his eyes would meet yours. Ever since the wedding was approaching he had been inattentive. Maybe the wedding hurt as much. It had been so hard for him to switch from lovers to friends. Did he ever stop and wonder if you guys could’ve had one? Did Tom also hindered with painful thoughts of how everything had so carelessly ended?

Lately it was all you had in your mind, how you felt ready. Or maybe it was the pressure that the wedding was giving you. And just as you started getting closer, Tom had backed away without a warning.

James was just getting out of the room, mid hallway. Your brother seemed to be as stressed. The tie around his neck barely covering it, his hair was scrunched. James’ eyes crossed with yours and then went straight to his husband’s.

“You brought y/n?” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, fuck it,” he looked at his watch. “Yes, you might be more helpful,” James said as he gestured with his hand to come over.

There was clearly something going on. You eyed Tom, who still was not aware you were there.

“I—Sam, no, no, I’ll—I can’t stay here, fuck I have his phone here—“You heard him say before James had dragged you into the room.

You approached your brother. “What is going on?”

“We—couldn’t find Harry’s tie,” James explained.

A tie? This was all of it? This whole catastrophe was for a tie?

“Can't any of you give him yours?” You frowned. It was no surprise that they hadn’t come up with a solution to such a simple problem, you could not expect less from men.

James rolled his eyes. “So he went to search for it about an hour ago but he fucking left his phone here and—“

Then you understood what was going on. “Where’s Harry?” You closed your eyes.

James gulped. “That’s—the thing.”

“Where is Harry?” You questioned, again.

Clark cleared his throat. “We don’t—know.”

Oh, so you were fucked. “Whose stupid idea was—?”

“Well, Dad told me he left home about 40 minutes ago and he didn’t see him at home, Sam hasn’t found him—Their fucking twin telepathy thing is broken, I guess—“Tom had walked in staring at his phone, loudly explaining his previous conversation. “Oh—hi, y/n.”

“Hi.” It was rutinary, for both of you. To just—stop when the other walked into a room. You blushed. Only noticing until then how handsome he looked. Seemed you hadn’t realized how badly you wanted him. In the most innocent way, in the way that you only wanted to offer him your heart. In the way that you only wanted the sole confirmation that he still loved you. In the way you wanted to be the reason for his smile.

You wanted to ask him, if it was okay he was still on your mind. Was it wrong? Would he be chill with him visiting your dreams?

Because that had been the hardest part of it all. At some point you had both decided you needed to move on… Because both of you at the beginning were trying to get back together and after a long conversation that almost led to one kiss, you both decided it wasn’t appropriate. So pretending you didn’t love each other was the way you’d keep him, for whatever it was worth.

Tom had said it once, hadn’t he? How everytime you both stated your feelings… it hurt. So now that you weren’t stating them, you were supposed to not hurt. Why did it, then?

“You look—stunning,” he eyed you up and down, and licked his lips, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t-uh-call this morning-I was—“

“You look pretty, too,” you interrupted. Knowing that the missed call would be a subject for James’ interest. The short story was—you had probably had a few more drinks than you should’ve with him at the hotel bar with Clark and James and Tom had walked you to your room, only walking, not even a kiss on the cheek as much as you had wanted it, but he had promised to call in the morning after you had claimed he had been ignoring you. He hadn’t called.

And was aware of it, which meant he hadn’t forgotten. It meant he had avoided you, again.

It had seemed that from one morning to another Tom had decided that the word friends meant strangers.

Maybe he wouldn’t pay a visit to your dreams.

He reached for your hair, “I like the flowers—”

“Can you both leave your ‘in love but not together’ bullshit for later?” James snapped you both out of the trance. “The wedding is in two hours and the fucking groom is no where in sight.”

Both Tom and you turned to him, travelling back to reality. “Well it’s not my fault! Who—sent him? Why didn’t you guys offer to go for the stupid tie?” You snapped back at your brother.

Tom looked away.

Of course. You watched him. “Tom? How do you plead?”

“Guilty,” he admitted.

You took a deep breath. This was definitely not the scenario you wanted to find yourself in. Had… Harry escaped? It was… not likely to escape but then again, you’d learned not to expect anything.

It was reason enough to worry.

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Tom said.

James sighed. “He took my car and—“

“You gave him your car to escape—!” You snapped. “Your car always stops working!”

“No,to go for his tie, not to escape,” Tom snapped his fingers with a smile defending your brother. “We-”

“Thomas oh my god, I am not even- All of you, you all thought it was a good idea?” You were furious now. Whose stupid idea was it to-Of course it had been Tom’s. You were going to jump to conclusions. “To send the groom when any of you could have gone-?”

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You really didn’t, however it was ineluctable. Not because Harry didn’t love Emma, but because Harry was… scared. You didn’t blame him. True love comes barely once in a thousand lifetimes and when we finally get to it, it might be too much for us to handle. However after your conversations with Harry this cataclystic outcome had not been foreseen.

“My dad is around the hotel trying to find him,” Tom quickly answered.

You took a deep breath. You perfectly knew Harry.

Harry and you were close as you had once been, in a way, Harry and you were well apprised of the other. Harry was reasonable enough not to leave his wedding.

“He offered to go,” James explained.

Harry wouldn’t have offered that unless he needed to go away. And you only needed one confirmation, there was no way Harry would’ve forgotten his tie. Harry would’ve never forgotten it, unless it had been self sabotaged.

You were conveyed to the drawers, opened each one carefully, fearing you’d find it, and your gut had been right. there it was. The tie in all of its splendor. “And you let him go?” You asked, taking the tie and swinging it to them. “To search for this tie?”

“Yes,” James closed his eyes. “Fuck. We should’ve known.”

Your eyes crossed with Tom’s and then you then realized it, Tom seemed calm. Tom wasn’t freaking out. Not externally. You weren’t sure if he really wasn’t or if it was the usual wall you both build around the other. Incomprehensible it seemed now. Always keeping it cool, So many things you’ve lived and you had let them go oh so easily?

But you were flawed. You had been. But not now, what was stopping you both? Wasn’t he still the one holding your broken heart in the palm of his hand? Had he not borrowed it?

You were still trying to hold his.

But your mind shouldn’t be worried about your relationship with Tom when the groom was nowhere to be found. When he had lied that he lost his tie and it was right in that drawer.

Yet, you somehow knew there was something… Something there.

“He was supposed to go home then?” You questioned Tom.

Tom was getting anxious by the second. “Yes, so we can go look for him.”

“The two of you?” James interrupted.

“Yes the two of us, we could split and look for him but...” Tom said. “Someone has to stay here.”

James was slightly annoyed, you could tell. But James was often annoyed at you and Tom. James had been the most disappointed about the resulting relationship. Honestly, everybody was disappointed. Had you been cowards for giving up?

So much drama and for what?

“Of course you’d think splitting up is a good idea,” James snapped with poison. James was annoyed because he always pointed it out to you, how much you’d fought to have him and how easily you’d walked out.

Walking out had not been easy. Walking out had to be the most painful decision you’ve ever made. And you remembered that night you had, the city was asleep, the night was quiet, and you were the only one standing on that street, under that streetlight. Alone. He hadn’t gone to you. You’d looked back to his window, expecting him to be there, and then the door had remained closed.

You cleared your throat. “I might know where Harry is,” you lied. You were at a loss of your mind at the moment. Maybe it was shock. Not maybe, it certainly was shock. The sole thought of Harry not appearing at his own wedding had not ever crossed your mind. You’d thought Emma would’ve. Would’ve been in character, but how stupid do you have to be to run from your wedding on your wedding day?

Tom directed a glance. “I think I might know where he is, too.”

Did he? Or was he only trying to prove a point?

Though the friendship was afloat, some habits could never wear out. Especially when it came to challenging the other. After the breakup it had become a sort of competition of who was dealing better with it.

Neither of you were coping well, but you wouldn’t admit it.

How disappointing, isn’t it? A whole story to end just in a few words. A whole journey to be plucked off your hands. So quickly, so easily.

How ironic it seemed that after such a long time, it was this breaking up bullshit.

James watched between the both of you. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” Tom and you answered and panicked at the other’s statement.

“Well, I’ll race you there,” you challenged.

Tom squinted, “I don’t have my car, dad gave me a ride.”

“Well, then, you should start running so I don’t beat you there,” you grinned and then walked off the room, decidingly. Only thing left was knowing where exactly Harry had run to.

“This isn’t a fucking game, y/n!” James reminded you. “We need to find Harry.”

“I know, Jamesy!”

Tom had rushed after you, “You have no idea where he is, do you?” He mumbled.

“Not a clue,” you admitted. “You?”

He laughed, “Not a fucking clue, either.”

You both got into the elevator. He dug his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think he escaped?” Tom questioned.

“It’s possible,” you admitted. You sighed, as you pressed the button to the upper floor.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked.

“I need my keys,” You said.

Tom’s eyes widened. “And are you telling Emma?” He was panicking.

“Of course!” You gave him the widest beam. “She’ll be delighted!”

“What?”

You jokingly slapped his head. “Of course not, idiot! How the fuck am I supposed to tell her? What would I even tell her? Hey! We can’t find Harry! He might have run off! No!”

“Right. Then what’s the alibi?” Tom asked. “Just showing up and leaving?”

You sighed, “You, you will be my alibi.”

Tom blinked but followed after you when the elevator door finally left you at your floor, you rushed to the room, but stopped in front of it, buttoning Tom up. He watched you with confusion.

“I thought I was your alibi,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Not that kind of alibi, dipshit.“

Helaughed, rolling his eyes and avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, it’s been a while since that could be the alibi.”

You decided to ignore the statement, “Now, when I walk in, if you hear Emma question me—just call me and try rushing me.”

“Alright, but I think we need a solid alibi, y/n,” Tom pushed.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll take care of that,” you confirmed and opened the door where you were welcomed by Timmy, who was about to go out.

“Oh, hey,” Tim greeted and then eyed Tom. “Thomas.”

“Timothée,” Tom nodded his head.

Even when they both presumed to be friends, you knew that Tim and Tom would always have some sort of… disagreement.

“Uh, I was about to… go see Lily,” Tim explained, turning back to you. “Mind staying with Emma-? Her mother is on one last minute arrangements, it might rain so they’re trying to figure out what to do-So if you could—“

“Actually,” you cleared your throat. “An emergency came up, so I need you to stay here, maybe tell Lily to come here?”

Tim frowned. “What emergency?”

“We’re taking care of it,” Tom explained as you rushed in looking for your purse. “We’ll be quick,” he added. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Y/N, babe, you’re back!” Emma commented.

You squinted your eyes closed, “And I’m leaving—sorry, I need to uh—It will be quick I promise there’s an issue with—there’s an emergency—“

Emma was nervous, “y/n? Everything okay? Did something happen to the flowers?”

You couldn’t lie to her, but you could omit the truth. “No, everything okay with the flowers—I promise I’ll be here quickly, I’m just going to—“

“Y/N, darling?” You heard Tom outside. “We need to go, now.”

Emma heard and then she was no longer going to question you. Not right now, at least. “Ah,” Emma said, knowingly as she rolled her eyes. “I see, Tom— an emergency with Tom.”

“I promise it’s not like that,” you assured her. “But everything is okay and— I’ll be here in time.”

“I am freaking out, do you see the sky? It’s grey! Fucking grey! I need to stop the rain!” Emma yelled. “What if it’s a bloody sign? Fuck, I need to talk to Harry, I need him-”

You freaked out by then. “No, Emma, calm down, it’ll be okay, we will figure something out!”

“Y/N! Please!” Tom called in again.

Emma watched you, “I swear to god, y/n, if your emergency is fucking that man I will murder you.” “Trust me, it’s not.”

Emma glared, “Y/N, I’ll only say it one more time. If you’re leaving my wedding to have sex with that hunk, I will kill you.”

You shook your head. “I’m… Trying to figure out what to do with the rain, okay? Leave this ro me! I’ll see you in a bit, Emma!” You ran back out.

You saw Tom’s mother walking down the hallway, she offered you a concerned look.

Tom seemed calm enough for Tim, however, who was watching him with curiosity. You were thankful that they avoided conversing with each other, especially because Tom would probably screw up the alibi. One that you didn’t have. But probably Tim had bought it, even if he had yet to hear what the alibi was. However, you knew that Tom’s presence was a solid alibi for rather than anything else.

Tom had been an alibi for your nerves. You knew that Tim wouldn’t question why you were nervous because he knew you were always nervous when Tom was around. You certainly looked flustered and having Tom there would definitely explain why you were jittery.

Tim raised his brows at you, and you only took Tom’s hand in an attempt to drag him back to the elevator. Tim was explicitly confused.

“Ah, Nikki! I’m so glad you’re here, Emma is finishing up, would you mind helping her?” Your voice was coming out slightly coarse.

The woman gulped, “are Tom and you taking care of the...rain issue?” She questioned.

“Yes, ma’,” Tom quickly nodded, “we will… find the rain.”

Some things never change, Tom was still an idiot. And for being an actor how terrible was he at lying.

“Find?” Tim questioned.

“Nothing to worry about, Tim darling,” Nikki stepped into the room, trying to push Timothee back inside, “they are taking care of it and they should go look at it, right now, chop chop!”

“See you in a bit, Tim!” You said as you ran to the elevator as Nikki closed the door, you finally were able to let go of Tom’s hand.

He cleared his throat as he pressed the button, “So what was the alibi?” Tom second glanced at you. “Why would we take care of the rain?”

“Because it got lost,” you shrugged. “Why else would we find it.”

He closed his eyes as you both walked into the elevator. “I’m an idiot.”

“Biggest one.”

He chuckled, “I—uh, heard Emma’s comment. About her thinking we were going to-”

You blushed, “Yeah.”

Big distance between both of you. Never ever close enough to accidentally brush against each other or hands coincidentally touching.

How different it was from the elevator in New York.

Tom cleared his throat. “Good to know where she stands in that subject.”

You shrugged, “I would also get mad if my best friend ditched me at my wedding to have sex with an idiot.”

He smirked rolling his eyes. “I believe the term she used was hunk.”

You ignored the comment.

“Why didn’t Timothee question us?” Tom asked.

You shrugged, “Haven’t you noticed that no one questions us?”

Tom furrowed his brows. “How so?”

“Whenever we are together, they never ask anything, they just let us be,” you admitted. Because everyone was waiting for you both to get back together or everyone expected something more from you. You never gave it to them.

He tilted his head slightly, agreeing with you. “I guess they think they’re going to make things awkward.”

No. People let you be because they wanted you to solve it.

“As if they could be,” you chuckled. “I think that’s the best part of us right now, people just don’t… meddle.”

Tom smiled, “I guess.”

You cleared your throat, “Now, where the fuck do you reckon Harry is?” You asked as you reached the lobby, turning back to what actually mattered.

“Honestly, I have no idea, nothing can come to my mind, it’s just… Not likely from Harry to run away,” Tom said. “Like—Me? Definitely. I would’ve—“

“Yes, you’d definitely run,” you nodded as you jingled the keys. Tom asked for the car at the valet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tom questioned.

“You’d definitely escape from your own wedding,” you chuckled. “You’re so afraid of commitment. It’s the Gemini in you.”

He opened his mouth with pride, “excuse me? Me the one afraid of commitment? May I remind you of your past, my lady?”

You avoided his gaze. “You may not.”

“Said no to a proposal, poor Timothee,” Tom started with a smirk.

“Okay that’s—“You cleared your throat, chuckling slightly. “You shouldn’t—“

“Then—Then,you faked a relationship.”

You eyed him, “are we really going to touch that subject, again?”

“You were scared of commitment enough to fake one,” he joked.

You could joke about it now. Or he could. You’d never joke about it.

“Or I knew you wouldn’t commit so I had to fake I didn’t want it,” you smugly answered.

He faked annoyance. “Well, you ran to another country, yes, just after confessing your lovely feelings through a letter—“

“That’s…different.”

“Then you didn’t give me an answer—you didn’t know if you wanted to date me,” he recalled.

You scoffed, “Thomas, may I remind you why I didn’t want to date you?”

“Then you called it quits after seeing your brother getting married and you were scared we were heading there too,” Tom said.

You gulped, “Ah, yes that last one wasn’t me—“ you reminded him. “Not entirely.”

Tom licked his lips. “Maybe we are both afraid of commitment.”

“No,” you nudged him. “I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t either.”

There was a sudden silence. You’d barely talked about it before. As if the relationship had suddenly disappeared.

You hadn’t talked about the breakup once in months.

“I would say we are at a crossroads but,” he shrugged. “I do not believe that commitment was the reason for—“

“Nope,” you gave in. “It was not.”

Because it wasn’t, maybe it was the fact you were both too committed to a relationship without form.

“However—you did—“Tom cleared his throat. “I mean—we were headed in some sort of direction.”

“Thomas, I don’t think now is the time to have the conversation we haven’t had.”

“So we should keep pushing it, then? Pretending we are both fine with this agreement? Lately we don’t seem fine with it.”

You knew he was right. Neither of you were entirely happy with this whole new friendship thing. “I—maybe we can talk about it when we find Harry!”

Tom pursed his lips, “so you do want to talk about it?”

You took a deep breath, “Thomas, we can push aside that conversation but we cannot push aside the fact your brother is nowhere to be found on his wedding day.”

“Fine.”

“Besides I think if we’ve pushed it long enough—“

He laughed. “We are—particularly calm about that subject.”

“I don’t think we are,” you admitted. “We just like to pretend when we are calm around each other.”

Tom clicked his tongue, “Maybe. But I’m—We haven’t talked about that in a while.”

“And it’s not the moment right now, it’s your brother’s wedding, and he is nowhere to be found,” you repeated.

Tom’s smile faded and was overstrung again. The car was there.

You let him drive, he usually drove your car. Another habit that hadn’t worn out.

Now things weren’t calm, as if the sudden rush had become the both of you. You finally got it, the anxiety that should’ve come from hearing it. The anger and despair that you were supposed to feel from Harry running away.

He looked down, “what’s that?” He pointed at the cup on the cup holder.

“Coffee, from yesterday,” you explained. “Didn’t finish it.”

“You think I could die from that?” He asked.

You looked at him. “I—don’t know but—You're not thinking of—“

“Drinking it?” Tom smirked. “Yeah, I’m just—-thirsty.”

“Please don’t.”

He took the cup, “I won’t die.”

“I guess not but it’s been sitting here one day!” You tried taking it off. He gripped it and shook his head.

“I won’t die!” He said before taking a sip and scrunching his nose. “This is fucking disgusting.”

“Why are you bloody drinking it?” You laughed.

He laughed, “I—I don’t know, but no it’s not that bad.”

“Thomas what the fuck,” you couldn’t stop laughing. “If you die then I’ll have to take care of your dead body and finding Harry, and my priority is finding Harry so I’d have to pull a Weekend at Bernie’s”

Tom giggled and stuck his tongue out, acting so terribly as if he was actually dying.

“You know,” you watched him with fake repulsion. “You deserve an Oscar for that one performance.”

“Right?” He grinned. “I’ll thank you when I receive it.”

You chuckled, “I think we should focus on Harry instead, yes?”

You both discussed places where he would go, that park? Unlikely. That Pub? He wasn’t there. Home?

Where in the world would he go?

“What if he—?” You were getting tired. “What if he didn’t run away?”

Tom looked over, he was rubbing his face, angry you hadn’t found him at the third pub. “That’s the thing, I don’t think he did.”

“It makes no sense, does it?” You questioned.

“No, he—he loves her,” Tom licked his lips. “It’s cause—“ he clutched to the wheel. “I don’t think Harry would—“

“No, I don’t think so—I just—“

It started to rain, because of course it bloody had to. Seemed that the ambiance always had the urge to level up to the level of drama you were always living.

“Jesus Christ, can we ever get into a dramatic moment without it raining?” Tom questioned, angrily.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. “I—It was on the news forecast, I am sorry to inform you, but we’ve got nothing to do with the weather.”

Tom laughed, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Alright, if he’s not at home then he’s—“You laughed, “Where the fuck is Harry?” You yelled, defeated.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—hate Harry.”

You agreed. “Wait—wait, where’s your dad driving around?”

“Dunno, but he would’ve called,” Tom admitted. “Bloody hell, I hate Harry—I—can’t believe he did this.” You stayed quiet. If he had. What had led him to it? The day before he had been alright. Of course, he seemed nervous but he was excited, dreamy. In love.

“What do you know?” He questioned.

You frowned, getting your gaze back to him. “What?”

“You have your—thinking face on,” Tom pointed out. “See? Brow furrowed and hand on hair and everything,” he said. “You feel...guilty?”

“What?” You chuckled nervously. “No!”

“I know you guys spoke yesterday,” he recalled.

“Well yes, I wished him luck, but nothing—He gave me no clue of that, no clues of running away!” you admitted. “He was scared but he—I mean I thought it was usual wedding jitters but—he didn’t—I just—Calmed him. I mean he talked to you before, you probably were the one to scare him!”

“I—what?” Tom was taken aback. “I—I didn’t—“

“He talked to you before me!”

“yes, we talked but I gave him brotherly—marriage advice.”

You scoffed. “You? You gave him marriage advice?”

Tom chuckled nervously, “I—no, but—love advice.”

“We are the last people on earth that should give advice on that,” you stated.

He sighed, “I know but—“

“What did you say to him? Maybe you scared him and that’s why he ran away!” You stated, poking him.

He frowned, “Did not!”

“What did you even say to him?” You pushed. “I just know.”

He rolled his eyes, and mocked, “you just know?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Yes, idiot! I know, you give the worst advice on love, you’re so dramatic.”

“I am dramatic?” He laughed.

“Yes,” you interrupted before he could even defend himself, “and—and, and I am too. We are—Oh god, are we to blame for Harry running away?”

Tom seemed to realize it at the same time. “I mean—Considering what we both could’ve said—“

Neither of you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe with guilt.

“I’m scared,” Tom admitted. He sighed, holding one last laughter.“We’re fucked.”

You both stayed calmly, as the rain halted against the car.

“What did you talk about with him?” He questioned.

Of course the question held more than that. You knew what he was asking about actually.

Seemed that both of you knew you had basically laid it on Harry the day before. Or maybe not. But where else would Tom ever get his advice from?

You had told him not to give up, you’d told Harry that he had found it, whatever love is, he’d found it.

“How I was proud of him, how I wanted what he was getting,” you shrugged.

You had also joked about how you and him wouldn’t have worked out. But you’d also said you were sorry it hadn’t worked out with Tom either. How you knew that him and Emma were not headed there, that he had nothing to worry about.

How you regretted the script. Spilling out your heartbreak for the world to see. Spilling your love story that was barely one and how people had a lot to say about it.

How it was painful to hide your love. How you knew Tom hadn’t moved on either but probably was planning to.

You told Harry to keep his feelings for Emma, and only Emma. That he didn’t have to share it. You had told Harry to treasure every morning, and to find a flower to talk for him.

“You?”

“I apologized for ruining his engagement party,” Tom nodded, “the first one.”

You both gulped.

“But how I—“ Tom shifted in his seat. “How I thought that they had found the silver linings for it all. That after being apart they’d just come back stronger. And how—I was happy for him. How they overcame all obstacles. And how they were just meant to be.”

“Soulmates they are,” you said. “Which is why it makes no sense he is not there.”

“We need to find him,” he stated.

You nodded. “We are very calm, though, considering-”

“Yeah,” he gave in. “I—What about the park?”

“Oh? The park? Not a park, the park, of course, how didn’t I think of that,” you teased. “Oh yes, the park. As if there aren’t hundreds of parks. Yes the park.”

He snorted a laugh, “shut up! You know where I meant!”

“Well, drive, you pillock!” You chuckled. “Drive to—the park!”

He rolled his eyes and was about to start the car, yet again.

“Wait,” there was a part of you that thought you knew where he might be. But—to explain where it was would be difficult. “Let me drive.”

To try and find Harry. Which was technically the quest.

You had less time now. You were tired. But there was something that was making you believe you could find him. You hoped you were right.

Being behind the wheel with Tom as your copilot was weird. You always let him drive because you usually were in charge of the music.

“Well, given that I’m here, I’ll be for the first time in charge of the music in your car,”he said. He seemed to have the same thing in mind.

Which was completely stupid since you were looking for a lost groom, but well, Tom and you didn’t have much in common but you could always brag about the same stupidity and brain cell you shared.

He took the aux cord as you were driving, driving to that location that wasn’t far enough. A place you knew that gave Harry peace. The park.

But of course your own peace was disturbed as ‘I think we're alone now’ played.

You hadn’t listened to that song in a long while, since you’d danced to it on his living room, most of the lights out, your screen light and his own eyes being the only light you needed. When the things were good.

You had, purposefully, erased most songs that ever reminded you of him.

“You seriously have that song?” You snorted as the memories flooded back in.

Tom avoided your glance and shrugged, “What? It’s on my playlist.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I notice that. That’s how music works.”

There was silence. Probably driven by the growing fear of not finding Harry, probably coming from the fear that Harry had actually escaped. And what would that mean?

Had Tom and you really scared him?

But you both drowned the fear while humming the song.

Or maybe the silence came from the very memories of the song.

“It’s on this specific playlist honestly,” Tom said after a few songs.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“It’s—the song,” he cleared up. “haven’t you noticed the songs playing are only songs you like? Or songs—”

Songs with background. You shrugged, “Well, we have similar taste.”

He laughed, “No, y/n, we truly don’t.”

You glanced at him, as he was looking out the window. “Huh, alright—maybe that is the reason we broke up.”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Don’t be an idiot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind, that is.”

“No,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “what Imean—this is my—you playlist.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Tom asked.

“What does that even mean?” You questioned.

He licked his lips. “I—well.”

“So you ignore me but you have a playlist—a me playlist?” You questioned.

Tom licked his lips, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, it’s—been hard.”

It had been, for you, too. “It’s harder if we are apart,” you pointed out.

He gulped, “That is my point,” he coughed. “We are friends,” he said. “And lately, before I started ignoring you—We were—“

You had been acting a bit more than what friends are supposed to act like. And a wedding always brings romance in everything so it was hard.

You cleared your throat, “It makes it weirder if we both walk away from the other.”

Tom bit his lip, “is it, really?” He watched you carefully. “Because, y/n, I—I’ve been… jealous, how they solved it. And how we couldn’t, after we both tried it was so hard, how we kept falling back.”

You had been slightly jealous, too.

“And, really, I—look, I love my brother and Emma, it’s not them ,” he continued, he rolled his eyes. “For all I know, we are both bitter because before James’ wedding happened we were both talking about… marriage and all,” Tom continued. “And they basically stole what could have been our wedding.”

So you were going to have that conversation. A conversation you had avoided even before the breakup. How both of you were… in talks. How you were expecting it. How you’d jitter if he ever got on his knee to tie his shoe, how every time you’d be waiting for it.

“We didn’t even get engaged,” you pointed out, in an attempt to be cynical, probably.

He coughed, “We talked about it. Good thing—We didn’t get that far because, well.”

“I think we both thought marrying would salvage us from falling,” you stated. “Or we thought it was the next step.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, I think we did,” he admitted. “But I—Back then I really thought, I dunno. I was really about to ask.”

You took a deep breath, “I would’ve said yes,” you said easily, though it hurt to even think about it. Though, you had been prepared to say yes.

“It wouldn’t have been right,” he pointed out. “We would’ve broken up before even getting to plan it.”

He was right. So, so right, because where you were heading wasn’t a wedding, you were heading to an even more hurtful breakup.

The decision had been made acknowledging this. Knowing it would hurt less then. Avoiding a terrible breakup.

“We were on a thin line,” you agreed. “Anything would’ve broken us.”

“I knew we were going through a rough patch but—I think we never realized how rough it was.”

You sighed, “Maybe I fucked up when we came back here, when I decided not to move in.”

Tom took a deep breath, “No, it wasn’t that.”

What was it? What had it been?

“I don’t know where we went wrong,” you admitted. “I really don’t.”

He shook his head, confirming he didn’t either. When asked, neither of you had a reason. It just—happened. Things had been just so rough and hard. Nothing to hold on to.

Though it didn’t make sense, you loved him. And he loved you.

“I think we both expected things to get better by themselves.” Tom played with his fingers and watched the window, staring at the raindrops slipping through it. Sliding easily, without no one stopping them.

“And we grew tired of fighting,” you added, as you stopped at a red light.

“Can't even remember what we were fighting about,” he confessed.

You took a heavy breath in, as the music still played in the background. “About nothing, and about everything. We fought over serious stuff, like whether we wanted to be public or not. A little about Tim and Cherry. And over stupid stuff mostly, yeah mostly over stupid stuff. Like when we were supposed to wake up for certain events or what tie you’d wear for James’ wedding, we fought over you staying at my place too much. We also fought about FaceTime hours, and whether we had to ask if we were available for it or not.”

Tom dedicated his glance back to you, sad, upset and full of regret. “I remember the cereal one.”

You raised your brows, “Yeah, that one was a smashing doors one.”

“Over stupid cereal,” he sighed as he brushed his face. “We were so—“

“Toxic?” You finished his sentence.

He chuckled, “yeah, mostly at the end.”

“The beginning too, I mean,” you shook your head. “I—We had sex to just solve everything. Thomas, we had hatred sex.”

He chuckled. “Well.”

You shrugged, “And that’s how we solved the fights initially.”

“It wasn’t enough at the end,” he added.

“It never was, and that’s—Thats why, although we both said we would talk we just—I think that’s why it didn’t work, at the end we just—grew tired of each other, the spark was gone.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Maybe it was the script,” you pointed out. “Everything concerning it.”

Learning he had a lot to do with the fact it was made had made you doubt yourself, the one true accomplishment had come because he had come to the rescue. Although it had been nice it had really started the downfall of your trust.

“No,” he shrugged.

He didn’t want to talk about it. You had had enough talks about the script, over the fact you wrote it and then regretted it. Over filming and the input he had in the movie, how the character had more in depth than before.

Over the fact he had come to your rescue because it hadn’t been good enough. That one specially had been the start of your downfall. Seemed that when you learned about it, you had completely gone mental. Though, it had come from his heart, he didn’t understand why you were angry.

You had always asked him not to ever give a hand with your writing, if you wanted to succeed it would be for your own accomplishments.

Then again, there was also this side that loved he had helped.

Truth is, it hadn’t affected your relationship, but it had affected your own self trust. And if you can’t trust yourself, however will you trust someone else?

Enough talks had been had.

“No,” Tom started. “We were guilty. Both of us, as if we were making it up for past mistakes. I never stopped thinking about what Tim said, and I think that’s why I always tried making it up for all the other times I hurt you. And then you tried making it up for the script, or—Whatever, it was a relationship built up on guilt.”

“Yeah, I think,” you whispered almost not wanting to be heard, “we both had things to learn about ourselves, and forgive ourselves first… and the timing was wrong.”

Tom shrugged, “Isn't it always wrong with us?”

Time was your true enemy. Or maybe it was easier to blame time rather than yourselves. Time was nothing.

It had been you and your pride or your fear, or whatever you came up with now.

However, there was some truth in that statement. Maybe in the past few months it had been time.

When you had told James and Harry you might want to get back together, Tom was dating.

When you were dating, Harry had told you he was thinking about it.

But what about now? Neither of you were dating, you were single and every odd could push you both to be together. Yet…You were not.

How disappointing, you would always think. Such a long story to end up like this.

How disappointing, really.

“No,” he stated, once again. “It’s not time. The problem might be we are the most stupid people to walk on earth.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you said. You nudged him, “look at us now, though, able to talk.”

“I like where we are, yeah,” Tom commented. “I think we are in a good place, we trust each other, we are friends, good friends, we take care, we hang out. We talk. And actually talk.”

You were focusing on the road, mainly, but your heart wanted to say more things. “Yeah.”

“There’s something bothering you,” Tom stared, intrigued.

“I don’t like you avoiding me,” you stated. “I really can’t stand it.”

“I won’t avoid you, then.”

Then, it was quiet. And it didn’t matter, you enjoyed moments of silence, and it wasn’t awkward. Both of you had learned that sometimes you just don’t have to say a word.

But you had to, in fear he would feel you were angry at the previous conversation.“It’s not even all songs I like,” you pointed out.

“Hm?”

“The playlist,” you decided you didn’t want to continue that past conversation.

He coughed, “So we are changing the conversation, huh? Well, they are songs that remind me of you but hey!” He nudged you. “Which ones don’t you like?”

So easily changing subjects and getting out a smile.

“I—we can get back to that later,” you turned to him and let out a soft chuckle. “songs that remind you of me?” You smirked, poking his shoulder.

He blushed, rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he admitted defeatedly.

You laughed, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What the fuck! It’s supposed to be sweet!” He complained.

You shrugged. “Or creepy.”

“No, it’s not—“

“I’m kidding I’m—more flattered than spooked—“ you admitted. “So why are you playing it?” You poked his cheek this time and he pushed your hand away.

“Because I’ve noticed you always complain about the music so when I play this you don’t!” He explained, annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s merely to keep me quiet,” you snickered, nodding.

Tom was moving his jaw, “Yes, basically.”

You glanced again, mischievously. “Wasn’t it supposed to be sweet?”

“No.”

You reached for his hair. “Tommy.”

“Don’t Tommy me,” he chuckled. “You called me creepy.”

“Yes, I don’t know how to flirt so I bully you, I thought we had that covered,” you snapped without giving it a second thought. Then completely regretting it.

His smirk was wide now, as he laughed maniacally. “Oh so you’re flirting.”

Your turn to blush had come. “No.”

He grinned. “You are.”

But then it was a miracle, a way to avoid this subject completely because it was not the conversation to be having with the current situation. “Shut up.”

“No, you are trying to flirt with me, I won’t shut up!” He mocked you.

“Shut up!”

“No!”

“Thomas! I think that’s Harry!”

tag list @spidxrparkxr @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @happywolves81 @happywolves81 @happywolves81 @happywolves81 @applenter @claredolphinbear24 @claredolphinbear24 @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna @nevertoofarfromivar @nevertoofarfromivar @herofiennestiffinashardinscott. @tomzfrog @dark-infernal-instruments @awkwardfangirl2014 @awkwardfangirl2014 @tomzfrog @awkwardfangirl2014 @xapham @xapham @tomhollandisagod @tomhollandisagod @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter @the-lost-fairy-tale @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez @lala-florez @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @xxtomxo @muffinmari25 @cassindeansass @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious @southsidespideyy @nathaliabakes @nathaliabakes @nathaliabakes @embrace-themagic @bradfordbantams @sanniegirl1214 @sanniegirl1214 @softholand @softholand @fairytaleparker @griff1ndor @softholand @thatweirdomimic @griff1ndor @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman @spider-manholland @spider-manholland @itstaskeen @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes @kissingtrutharchives @snoopy3000 @snoopy3000 @spideyparkerstark @fanfic-4-you @lexshead @lexshead @mannien @whitewolfandthefox @melodiclovesong @melodiclovesong @melodiclovesong @bizzlepotter @acceptance07 @witchythingscore @bizzlepotter @swaggyspiderman @localfangirlx @queengemsworld @liberty0123 @stiles-banshees @stiles-banshees @itsjusttor @annathesillyfriend @annathesillyfriend @dangerousluv1 @tomshufflepuff @thewayilookatbacon @emjaywrites @emjaywrites @infamousmany @jungeunave @emjaywrites @ispiderdudei @ispiderdudei @literalfsngirltrash @quacksonhq @quacksonhq @desir-ae @desir-ae @desir-ae @desir-ae @peterporkpie @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog @quackeroos @quackeroos @spideyyeet @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid @hollandcreep @hollandcreep-blog @milly7110 @milly7110 @rebekkah4766 @farfromtommy @rubberducky-jrr @rubberducky-jrr @coveredinthemessimade @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @sweetiesangster @thatdamjoke @annathesillyfriend @l0ove-sick-blues @witchythingscore @witchythingscore @bookworm06 @bookworm06 @lala-florez @lala-florez @lala-florez @shezzalockeddoctor @chaoticpete @peeterparkr @shezzalockeddoctor @cosmichollands-blog @lowkey-love-loki @badbitchydecisions @w4ybefor3nir4na jj @saintlavrents @americaswritings @americaswritings @lukesbabylon @ilovepeterparker13 @iamaunicorn4704 @simple-things @simple-things @sip-portteam @lukesbabylon @herondale-snow-carstairs @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland @tony-starks-ego @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @belleknows @mysticalinsomniac @nycparkers @mysticalinsomniac @anythingthaticareabout @spn-assemble-seven @anythingthaticareabout @tanyalooovesyou @heartofholland @peachybloomss @peachybloomss @emyla3305 @emyla3305–butt @hollandstanevans @hollandstanevans @farfromtommy @southbeachfeeling @eridanuswave @tonguetiedholland @wolvesofthewinter @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98 @ifntelyinspirit @electraheart-3174 @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz @harryssuckz @xstarbae @xstarbae @xstarbae @xstarbae @averyfosterthoughts @darethedragonknights @darethedragonknights @justanamesstuff @emyla3305 @abbiefangirls247 @hannahholland1811 @itscaminow @youllbmineandillbeyoursbabelove @hotrubycrab @spidey-holland-96 @awkwardnesshabitat @geminiparkers@primadonnasdream @slytherinambitious @slytherinambitious @where-art-thau-romeo @viagracex @viagracex @sspidermanss @pcterparxer @whatevshollandarchive @whatevshollandarchive @aleyabee @lovewolfspirit @lovewolfspirit @xallyouneedislovexx @panicattheeverywherekid @pcterparxer @thehauntingofmymind @redhoodparker @redhoodparker @cakepopcriss @allthisfortommy @aleyabee @perspectiveparker @let-me-luve-you @erodasghosts @xxpeachyxo @m-a-r-i-n-t-p @superstarchick @notjustpenandpaper @morbiddanvers @runaway3 @runaway3 @runaway3 @lu-morningstar @th0ttie4tommy @th0ttie4tommy @riasaurusrex @frustratingpaperclip @readheadwriter @geesquariid @geesquariid @noxceleste @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @witchything @peterporkpie @bookworm06 @sinisterspidey

@peterporkpie @imthefloor @ohmyquackson @ohmyquackson @wangtan-boys @obiwanownsmyass @sadisticfries @not-some-docile-teenager @galaxystern08 @lovemarvelousfics @lovemarvelousfics @tomzfrog @thearchersupremacy @nikitajackson @dayazenn @the-fandom-life-forever @just-kickin-ass @quaksonhehe @quaksonhehe @samaratheweirdo @fr3akingphantrash @i-love-superhero @mandeeleebeebee @captainamirica @dramaticdiva @halparkebitch @lostgirlmuseum @white-wolf1940

#perennial #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines #spiderman #poetry #perfidy

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sinfulcider · 4 years ago

Text

Let me cut your hair

Parings: Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary: Bucky has neglected getting his hair cut for a few months and when his friend (who he has feelings for, but he somehow always forgets to mention that part) and him have some time off in the midst of a mission, waiting for a breakthrough, she offers to cut his hair for him.

Warnings: implied smut! Some fluff, I think that’s all.

Bucky grimaced a bit as he looked in the mirror, he hadn’t really noticed how long his hair had gotten. Of course, bucky’s hair was still much shorter than it used to be, but with how busy he’d been in the past months his hair grew out into a bit of an awkward state. He didn’t have much going on today though, him and Y/n were staying in waiting for a breakthrough and Sam was visiting with Sarah while he had the time.

Y/n knew how to cut hair, he had seen her cut her own many tims in the years he’d known her. Though she had skill, and he trusted her with his own life, let alone his hair, but he could never bring himself to ask her for a haircut.

With a heavy sigh he brushed it of and figured he’d get a haircut after they were done with everything. He flicked of the light and set his destination to the coffee pot in the kitchen, leaving the bathroom and swiftly moving to his desired area. “Hello.” Y/n greeting him with a warm smile, the soft kind of smile that made his heart melt in an instant. She could turn Bucky into a puddle of a man with one look and he loved it, but he hated it because he couldn’t tell her. He was terrified of the power she had over him and how much he was absolutely, overwhelmingly overcome with adoration and admiration for her.

Bucky gulped, pulling himself from the fuzzy warm feeling in his head that made his want to watch her face for the next five hours. “Hi,” his voice came out quieter than he’d expected, it was a bit timid, worried. His voice calmed Y/n though, grounding her in the foggy morning that made her head pound in worry for how the day might play out. Seeing him in front of hr and hearing him acknowledge her made her feel hope for a good experience.

Y/n sipped her coffee in content as her eyes followed the tall man before her, she watched him pour his coffee and rub the sleep from his eyes. Her smile never left her lips and she nearly felt giddy at seeing his beautiful face this early, despite having been near him in the mornings before the feeling never withered away. His eyes met hers once he’d gulped down a swig of coffee, the bright blue becoming fully visible and brightened as his eyes widened a bit “What?” She shrugged, “nothing.” He tilted his head like a curious puppy, making her heart flip. “You’re just pretty.” She chuckled, watching the light rose color dust his cheeks.

Bucky cleared his throat, suddenly feeling flustered at the compliment. Y/n’s eyes wandered to his messy hair that had grown over his ear a bit too much, dark tufts of hair sticking up her and there. She craved to run her hands through the soft locks and maybe even have the privilege of cutting it, feeling it wet as she washed it in preparation and ran her fingers over his scalp, snipping at the end just enough to bring it back to it’s cleaner style, and watching his face scrunch as she dried it.

“Hey- Bucky..” she used a curious tone, grabbing his attention once again. His heart raced a bit every time she asked him a question, out of excitement, fear, worry, wonder, he wasn’t sure. “Hm?” He nearly trembled in his voice, he couldn’t understand why he was so affected. “Can I cut your hair? If you want of course I don’t know if you wanted to keep growing it out or..”

Could Y/n read his mind? It’s like she always knew when h needed or wanted something. She always appeared to be on the same wavelength as him and it baffled him at how connected she seemed to be to him. “Uh- um.” he stammered trying to find his response, “Yeah I was actually just thinking about needing a haircut.” “Ah, we’re in sync.” She hopped off of her sat, mug in hand. He chuckled at her playful tone watching her move around to the living room that the kitchen opened up to.

Placing a seat onto a towel and grabbing her supplies sh patted the cushion, inviting Bucky to sit down. Once seated she draped a second towel over his shoulders, ruffling his hair before turning away again. “Hey now.” he laughed, “Oh hush.” She spritzed his hair, wetting it enough for it to drip and began working.

Her wishes had come true, it was almost a dream the way she got to feel through his hair, pulling it gently and snipping the ends. Ruffling the areas she worked on to let it fall correctly. Although it was going well, she had an issue in the front with getting at a good angle, unable to comfortably hold her hands to cut. “What’s wrong?” Bucky could see her struggle a bit, worry setting in more as seconds passed. “Nothing I just, can’t get close enough comfortably.” A nervous half laugh fell from her lips, he felt the air his his face softly. He blushed enough as it was everytime she grabbed his face gently to move his head and look at his hair, and his heartrate rose everytime she leaned in close enough for her scent to flood his senses, But when the thought that just formed passed his mind it was almost too much for him to handle.

He tried to think of the words to use to invite her onto his lap in an appropriate way, not wanting to make her uncomfortable but he simply opened his arms in an inviting way with a shrug. He could she Y/n think about it and almost heard her say “Fuck it, why not?” in her head before placing herself over his legs. Her legs were on both sides of his own and his hands rested on her thighs in attempt to keep her balanced.

Bucky’s breathing was shallow and shaky, his heart felt like it was about to break out of his chest and lap into her own, his hands shook in their place a little and his eyes searched every inch of every other area away from Y/n.

In finishing the haircut Y/n pulled away a bit to look over him one last time, searching for any imperfections that needed fixing in her work. She gulped when her eyes met his, nearly falling into them and their stl blue beauty. She flashed a smiled to him, setting the scissors on a table next to them,”I can hear you hear beating out of your chest.” A light chuckle danced on her tongue. He inhaled deeply through his mouth, no words breaking past the lump in his throat. Bringing the towel off of his shoulders, Y/n shook it off onto the towel beneath them and ruffled his hair dry. His nose scrunched up and his eyes squeezed shut in a way that made Y/n melt all over again.

Y/n pinched his chin a bit, warm smile still playing at her lips “I’m done. You still look pretty.” a closed mouth grin flashed across his face and his eyes flicked to her lips. “You are too.” Her grin grew and before Bucky could process his own actions he leaned forward, crashing his lips to hers. Y/n immediately kissed back, their mouths moving together perfectly.

The kiss was passionate and gre hungrier with every passing second. Bucky’s flesh hand rose to hold her face and his metal hand pulled her closer by the small of her back while she wrapped her arms around his neck. Once the kiss broke for much needed air and her hands moved to his still slightly damp hair, he moved down her neck to her collar bone, biting gently. The sensation shot hat straight to Y/n’s core, making her gasp. With a roll of her hips she elicated a small moan from Bucky, she could feel him growing hard against her heat and it made her yearn for more.

“Barnes I think it’d be wise if we moved this to my bedroom.” He grinned devilishly, placing o more kiss to Y/n’s lips before picking her up and bringing her towards the room.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff

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awigglycultist · 4 years ago

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Okay hatchetfield zombie apocalypse au bc why not ("but tgwdlm is a zombie apocalypse" shh no that's an alien musical apotheosis and also this is won't be the exact same as tgwdlm)

This ended up being way longer than I thought it would and also kinda ramblely (is that a word??) oops. So read the rest under the cut

Okay this takes place in 2019

Emma and Paul are together, emam ofc suggests they going to her cooky reclusive biology professor

This isn't the apocalypse Henry excepted and he doesn't like that, but hey he still prepped for an apocalypse so he's safe

Since this isn't a musical apocalypse and it'd probably be pretty hard to get money off of someone during a zombie apocalypse, so he's currently not trying to murder anyone

He let's Emma and Paul stay with him

But then Emma is like "hey you have room do you think my nephew, brother in law and his gf could stay with us? The gf's a nurse she could be helpful!!"

He eventually agrees

Then Paul's like "hey my coworkers are kid dumb asses there's know way they're surviving an apocalypse on their own can they stay with us? And also one of them has daughter and the other has a little brother (cough cough HCB) them too?"

And then Hidgens ends up agreeing to that, and then Alice and HCB are ofc both like "wait hold on our friends-" (ie: Deb, Ziggs, Grace Chasity (this would be HCB's friends not Alice's ofc), Cineplex kid (because I said so) Ethan (also Tony, my beloved) Lex and Hannah (once again, because I said so, do we seem them interact? No, but they're friends now)

And Hidgens at this point is like "well fucking fine I guess so! Bring em here we have a bunch of ppl already so why not!!"

All of these people, living under one roof (albeit a very big roof) is ofc chaos!

I'd imagine ppl kinda stay in groups a bit tho. Like the teens stay with each other for the most part. CCRP gang hangs out together most. Ect.

Still, very chaotic. The teens (really mostly Deb, Ethan and Lex) causing plenty of trouble. The adults all being dumb asses. Plenty of arguments between Bill and Ted ofc. And probably several arguments between the nerdy prudes (grace, hcb and cineplex) and the other teens. Probably one fight between Alice and Ziggs but it gets settled quickly and they figure everything out and clear the air and become good friends.

I mean you think this amount of ppl, particularly this certain group of ppl, are going to be well organized durning the apocalypse? Hell no!

Hidgens is the only one that actually understands shit about apocalypse, he's the one who prepared! (once again: although for the wrong one) so he's constantly having to be like "no we can't do that that's dangerous!!" Emma, Alice and Lex are the only other really competent ones.

Hidgens ofc spends his time trying to find a cure, Emma helps him. If life ever goes back to normal she has an automatic A in his class for the rest of college just for going through this shit and helping him.

Tom, Bill, and Tony are the dads. They're obviously dealing with the kids. But the do mainly try and focus on their own kid because... That their kid ofc they care about them the most. But they try to take care of the other kids too.

Bill has a rough time connecting with anyone besides Alice. But Grace was always nice to him church so there's that. And ofc Alice has gf, a gf he doesn't like a ton but now he's very much stuck with so he might as well try and get along with. They eventually do.

Tom ofc like I said cares most about Tim. But after him the next he cares most about are CaliforMIA gang. Lex and Ethan were his students (I know it's not confirmed that Ethan was one of students but he is now bc I want him to be), probably his favorite students, and that Lex's little sister who's only a few years older than Tim, ofc he's also gonna care a lot about them.

Tony also cares alot about Lex and Hannah, that's his son's gf and her little sister, once again, ofc he'll care about them alot too.

Becky absolutely cares about all the kids a ton!! She's a nurse who works with kids, she's very nurturing and mother like. She cares for and about them all fairly equally but Tim is her favorite because... Well that's her bf's son and she's known him the longest out of any of the kids ofc. Lex and Hannah end up loving Becky alot because she's so much kinder and sweet than their biological mother.

Before the apocalypse Ted took care of HCB, now he's still taking care of him ofc. Ted doesn't want to be taking care of any of the kids besides his brother. He wants to drink and party and stuff. I mean it's the apocalypse so why not? But he ends up taking care of Grace and Cineplex quite a bit too. This happens not bc others aren't taking care of them, they are being taken by the other plenty well (like I said the dads and Becky all care for all the kids they just have favorites) but because they see HCB going to Ted for almost everything and Ted doing stuff for/helping out HCB so they're like "well okay guess we'll go to him too" He's not happy about it. He already has to deal with his obnoxious little nerdy prude bother and now there's two more? But part of them reminds him a lot of himself when he was younger. Maybe that's why he doesn't like them, or also maybe that's why secretly likes them a ton?

Hidgens, Emma, Ted, Tom and Lex are the ones that go out most often because they're the only who are really able to fight off the zombies and stay safe a stuff (okay Ted not so much as the others but they bring him anwyay cause Henry's like "he looks like he can use gun or something" and Emma, Paul, Bill and Charlotte are all like "this is a horrible idea don't bring him" but they do anwyay. He doesn't kill any of the others so hey why not keep bringing him? Besides if something goes wrong they can use him as bait or throw him to the zombies to get them off the rest of the group /hj)

Other ppl in Hatchetfield exist of course and are out they're trying to survive. Sam and Pamela are some of the first to die that's karma bitch

Lex and Hannah were living with Pamela ofc when the apocalypse hit, the girls wanted to go somewhere safer but Pam wouldn't let them, then one day she went out and got turned into a Zombie, the girls quickly took that as their chance to escape and they went to Tony and Ethan and then ofc ended up at Hidgens'

Charlotte was with Sam before he turned into a Zombie and then when he did she ran to Ted & HCB and stayed with them before they ended up at Hidgens'

Gary and MIAH are together and trying to survive on they're own. Sylvia, Melissa, and Greenpeace Girl end up meeting each other and decide to gang up together and they're badasses. Dan and Donna are two focused on the news and finding out if Peanuts is surving (which yes, Peanuts, (as well as Papa Ed.. At least for a while) are doing fine) and they die pretty quickly. Holloway and Duke are doing great, Holloway's a witch so yeah she's good and ofc Duke is with her so he's good too.

Lucy is in Hatchetfield and she's already in the woods vibing with Chumby before the apocalypse hits (THAM doesn't happen in this universe and instead Lucy ends up finding Chumby own her own because uh??? Reasons??? Idk bc I said so) the two of them have no idea there's a zombie apocalypse. The Paul clones take this apocalypse as they're chance to escape, Paul23 leading the uprising ofc, they don't kill Paul and take his place tho, instead it's more like "there's a zombie apocalypse? Oh fuck yeah!" *escapes* "oh theres a zombie apocalypse oh no-" some try to stay in a group and live together, some try to go out their own. There's now a bunch of random Pauls and Paul zombies around town. The main gang do end up seeing the clones and they're all just kind like "uhhh wtf???" except Paul, he's absolutely freaking out, the clones kinda are just "uhh haha how do we explain this".

Spoiler alert: the world isn't destroyed. How? Not totally sure yet but probably through Hidgens managing to find a cure and time travel. Emdriod has traveled back in time to replace Emma, but oopsie she didn't travel back far enough so she can't kill Emma in Guatemala, so she goes to Hatchetfield in hopes she can kill Emma when no ones looking and just replace her then, but oh no there's apocalypse so thats a much bigger issue. She survives easily, she's strong af, doesn't need food, all that jazz. She and Emma do meet each other and it's another "wtf?" "how do I explain this?" situation. But Emdriod lies ofc and kinda explains what happened but said that she accidentally time travelled and leaves out the whole wanted to kill her part. Now the Emdriod has found Emma she does try to kill her, that's awfully hard to do tho considering Emma is literally always with a group of people, and Emdriod doesn't want to just kill Emma right in front of everyone bc then they'll all hate her and her goal isn't to just kill Emma it's too replace her. She end up giving up and she runs into Paul 23 and they bond of my doubles of someone and wanted to kill that somoen at first and then fall in love and kill zombies together :)

Ohh uhh other ships: Paulkins, Lexthan, Barneston, Potseed (Alice x Deb) ofc. Charted, Obnoxious Teens (HCB x Cineplex Kid) oh and ofc Holloduke. Uhh Bill x being okay for once, Ted x probably not dying for once (not too sure about that one yet) Hidgens x not actually trying to murder someone for once

Wait wait I just got idea: the zombie apocalypse occurs BECAUSE of Hidgens, he tries too bring back the working boys (remember his original backstory with accidentally killing them and stuff??)

Okay I think that's all I got for now

#starkid #hatchetfield #tgwdlm #black friday #nightmare time

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imgoingtocrash · 4 years ago

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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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lol-jackles · 4 years ago

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Random question, feel free to ignore. I’ve noticed that when Jensen posts a Jared/Sam reference (second last IG caption) or talks about him, Jared fans love it. When Jared does the same with Jensen (eg: his Twitter reply to Kripke on Jensen’s pic), Jensen fans seem to hate it and say Jared is “leeching” or “making it about himself.” I wonder why this discrepancy exists? Any ideas?

The short version is Jared fans love it whenever Jensen mentions Jared because it reminds them of Dean revolving around their darling Sammy. Jensen stans hates it because it reminds them of Dean revolving around his darling Sammy.

The long version is envy. Ever heard of Morrissey's song, "We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful"? It was inspired by Tim Booth admitting that "When my old friend Simon Topping appeared on the cover of the New Musical Express (Britain's biggest music website), I died a thousand deaths of sorrow and lay down in the woods to die." Abit dramatic, sure, but effectively distills a very human emotion called envy. We try to rationalize envy away, but envy itself isn't rational. It's an emotional response. Who cares that your friend from college is making 5 times what you're making. It doesn't affect you one whit, right? But boy, can it burn! See, emotional, not rational.

Jared is that successful friend that makes AAs died a thousand deaths of sorrow and lay down in the woods to die. Even though Jensen’s own success is the envy of many, it’s not the envy of Jared’s fans. I think that pisses off the AAs more than anything.

Envy can be a tool, and like any tool it depends how you use it. Envy can enable us to evaluate our position in the competition for resources, in this case, Hollywood's elusive A/B list. Social comparison is the way we determine where we stand, and how to adjust. And we're most envious of those who are similar to us (Jared and Jensen’s status during SPN was similar). So mature people like my readers acknowledge the envy and use it as motivation to learn from their success.

Next, meet envy's first cousin, gossip. Like envy, gossip is a tool that can be the good twin or the evil twin, depending how you use it. Gossip can help us understand and influence our own place in the social spider web. We also use gossip to create alliances, as information is a coveted commodity. Gossip only becomes a problem when it's used to denigrate another person to alleviate our own envy. Sound familiar? AAs can't help themselves denigrating Jared's success to alleviate their envy of his success because they're comparing Jensen against Jared's accomplishment.

I would add that gossip often plays a cautionary role too. On Modern Family, the eternal affable doofus Phil Dunphy used gossip in his quest to discover every detail about his neighbor's divorce so that he doesn’t repeat those mistakes with his marriage. It's why common gossip topics are what's most important to us: health, career issues, marriage and family.

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afraschatz · 6 years ago

Text

Leverage - Nate Ford, not a nice man

Let me talk about Leverage some more because, well, it’s Leverage. And let’s talk about Nate.

Mastermind Nate Ford.

When you first watch the show, Nate is the character that you possibly just kind of tolerate while you instantly fall in love with Hardison (or Eliot / Parker / Sophie). Nate is probably not the one you’d name as your favourite.

And let’s get this straight: John Rogers repeats over that Nate Ford is not a nice man. And boy, he isn’t kidding. Nate Ford is, in fact, a massive dick.

One of my favourite, and soooo not-talked-about-enough things about Leverage is the reason why the team comes together: Dubenic kinda underestimates just how vengeful and smart Nate is, yes, but he is spot on when he - very deliberately - picks Nate Ford, a supposed white hat, to CONTROL a group of the world’s greatest criminals.

I think we tend to underestimate just what that means at that moment. That’s because we all know very early on - thanks in huge parts to the tongue-in-cheek nature of the flashbacks - what good people Parker, Hardison, and Eliot actually can be. And because of that we underestimate who they are at that moment, to the world: Eliot is Moreau’s favourite and most efficient killer (“Please, don’t ask me, Parker”), Hardison is the a brilliant hacker in the age of the geek whose fingertips could unleash the collapse of civilization, and Parker is a loner thief who actually blew up her parents’ house as a kid, with them potentially inside. These are SERIOUSLY dangerous people.

Yes, Dubenic kindles Nate’s need for revenge and strokes his ego by telling him that he needs an honest man. But the real reason why he picks Nate to wrangle those three is that he rightfully assumes that Nate is both smarter AND more ruthless than the world’s best criminals combined.

Nate Ford is not a nice man.

Nate is the one who figures out that Dubenic withheld the money in The Nigerian Job, so he can get them all in one place to kill them. And his reaction is to LAUGH OUT LOUD and wait with a fucking smirk on his face until the slower kids in the class figure it out, too.

Nate is the one who, throughout the show, easily plays the sleaziest of lawyers, the hardest of CEOs and five-star-generals. Sure, because the cons often call for such a character (someone the mark can focus all their hatred on, distracting him from what is really going on), and someone has to do it. But it’s usually Nate playing them because he really doesn’t mind being the asshole that everyone hates and wants to get rid off.

Nate is the one who goes after the world’s most influential and ruthless villains with just his brain as a weapon, and he is not afraid, not for a single second. Nate takes on Moreau, the man even Eliot is fucking afraid of. It’s very likely that he kills Chesney - a man who was perfectly okay with letting a boy die, so he could get the donor heart - with just his voice and over the fucking phone. And he absolutely manipulates Dubenic and Latimer into killing each other (the look when he walks away and the two of them fall in The Last Dam Job? SO underrated).

Nate is the one who has Jimmy Ford for a dad, a character even less likable than Nate himself - apparently near to no empathy, very egotistical / self-centered, hella manipulative, very set in his ways. And it’s Jimmy who actually kind of fears Nate, not the other way around; he fears both his incredible cleverness as well as his ruthlessness, even if he does a good job of hiding it behind contempt.

Nate is the one who runs a con on his own team in season two and who deliberately keeps secrets from them in season three AND four. Hell, he runs a con on US throughout the entire first half of the series’ finale by making us believe everyone died.

Nate is also the one who, week in and week out, has to run dozens of scenarios in his head, including several in which members of his team die. “Hardison dies in plan M” is played off as a joke in The Nigerian Job, yes, but The Long Goodbye Job lets us experience first hand what that ACTUALLY means. I am still fucked up from that, even after seven years, and even though the OT3’s death is fiction within fiction. Nate lives with that scenario week in and week out.

Nate Ford really is not ‘hard on the outside, soft on the inside’. He is granite on the inside.

And yet?

Maggie, “the most honest person we know”, loved him and - even more importantly - still loves him. Eliot, who time and time again proves that he has the best people skills of them all (fight me on this), trusts his judgment right from the start. (Seriously, watch The Nigerian Job solely for the interactions between Nate and Eliot, oh God, it’s soooo good. - Parker and Hardison are great as well, sure, but nearly all of the serious conversations have Nate and Eliot at the center - and for a reason!).

Sophie loves him. Hardison loves him. Parker loves him.

Why is that? Is it because Maggie doesn’t see the ‘real’ Nate behind the insurance man? Is it because Nate plays to Eliot’s own need for revenge (and eventually: redemption)? Is it because Sophie is forever blinded by her crush on him, Hardison too naive, Parker too broken to know better?

We know it’s not that.

Maggie is fucking smart, and we get ample proof for that in The Second David Job alone, where we also see how well she understands Nate. Eliot is the team’s shield from the moment in The Nigerian Job where he hauled Hardison out of the warehouse. He can kill people with an horsd’oevre; he knows how to run risk assessment. Sophie proves time and time again over the course of the five seasons how well she knows Nate, Hardison’s heart is never wrong, and Parker? She understands Nate as well as she understands herself (which is, I realize, an ambiguous statement, but one to explore in another post :)).

They trust Nate because Nate IS granite on the inside. Because his moral code is unwavering.

They trust Nate because Nate is smart enough to surround himself with people to call him on his bullshit. They compensate with their compassion what he seems to lack. They could very well get by on their own but chose that they are better together. They know that he might run the occasional con on them but he would never try and twist them into something they aren’t or don’t want to be.

And they love Nate because Nate’s capability to love is unconditional and boundless. All it takes to prove that to us is that gut-wrenching six second long scream when Sam dies. Watch that scene again, I dare you, and then try to contradict me. And if you then haven’t tortured yourself enough yet, watch the bookend scene to that in The Long Goodbye Job when he pretends to grieve for his dead team. That grief is so real because Tim Hutton is a brilliant, brilliant actor, and it’s so real because that is what Nate feels, every time he thinks of fucking plan M.

I love him so much. I love Leverage so much.

#leverage #nate ford #eliot spencer #alec hardison #sophie deveraux #parker #things i love about #the mastermind #the long goodbye job #the nigerian job #the last dam job #tim hutton

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schrijverr · 5 years ago

Text

The status of Gunpowder Tim

While back on earth Ashes, Tim, JOnny and Marius run into a film crew who are making a documentary about the question: Is Gunpowder Tim a hero or a criminal.

Could be seen as a continuation of Ashes O’Reilly, Hero of the People, but could also be read as stand alone

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed something or you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian was convinced by Tim to visit earth again. The explosion maniac had just told him he wanted to see it one more time, just to check up on it and who was the Pilot to say no to that.

They were almost there and Jonny, Ashes, Tim and Marius were all filled with excitement about the prospect of Tim also going down in history as a hero of the people instead of the violent maniac that he was.

Promising to be back before nightfall and without the entire police force on their trail, the four exited the Aurora and walked into London.

The group kept their eyes peeled for any statues of plaques, but Tim also just looked around in wonder. London had always been prosperous, much more prosperous than the Moon or any of the other planets the other Mechs had come from, still it had managed to develop even more. With traffic flying everywhere and the streets busy.

They hadn’t spotted anything yet and they had been walking for a while, slowly the disappointment was starting to set in, until they were stopped by a film crew. A man with a microphone stopped them and asked: “Hello, I am Sam Willing from London National, would you mind answering some questions for our documentary?”

Tim, Jonny and Ashes grinned, they liked getting on as many records as possible in the hope of confusing as many historians as they could. In the background Marius rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop Tim when he agreed for all of them: “Sure, no problem, what is this documentary about?”

“Since it is almost the 100th anniversary of the victory on the Moon Kaiser, were making a documentary of the age old discussion: Was Gunpowder Tim a war criminal or a hero?” Sam Willing told them.

The grins widened even further, this was just perfect.

Unknowingly the presenter started: “So how much do you all know about the war on the Moon Kaiser and his demise?” he then also joked: “You all don’t look like the oldest, so I doubt you were there.”

“Oh, you’ll be surprised.” Jonny told him.

“Yeah, I think I know quite a lot.” Tim agreed.

Marius and Ashes shook their heads at their friends antics. Surprised Sam went on: “Well, great, then I won’t bore you with a bit of background information.” he looked at his paper and asked: “So Gunpowder Tim, as he is known, blew up the Moon. Lets just start with what you think of him?”

“A dashing lad.” Tim immediately answered, “Seems like a great man, 100% justified in his anger and an amazing soldier.”

Jonny elbowed him in the side and told Sam: “A bit of a prick, but I can appreciate good violence, so I suppose he’s alright.”

“Well, I can’t claim I know him in these circumstances, but with everything I’ve heard he did his best and was quite good at his job.” Marius said.

“Yeah, good at his job, but a bit of a dumbass.” Ashes agreed.

This were obviously not the answers Sam had expected, but he kept going: “Uhm, oh, okay, so 100% justified, how so?”

“I mean, Bertie died that was unfair, it was just revenge in a setting where violence is cheered on.” Tim shrugged.

“Ah, yes, Bertie, his best friend.” Sam said, “You find that reason enough?”

Tim glowered at him: “Yes.”

“Okay, I can understand that.” swallowing heavily Sam moved on: “Good at his job, what makes all of you say that?”

“He singlehandedly ended the war.” Marius said like Sam was a dumb child.

“Yes, by blowing up the moon effectively killing all British soldiers stationed there along with innocent inhabitants of the moon.” Sam told them, “Which is a perfect segway into our main question: Does that make him a hero or a criminal?”

“What do you think?” Jonny asked trying to start shit.

“Uh, my opinion doesn’t matter, I don’t want to influence you.” Sam replied.

“Oh, no, we all have out own opinions already, don’t worry.” Jonny said, “I just want to hear what you think.”

“I’d like it if you all stayed on topic.” Sam avoided what Jonny had said.

“Are you avoiding telling us, because you are afraid to give your own opinion? Would you rather stay neutral to please everyone? Is that why you chose this job, so that you could stay on the sidelines and no one would expect different?” Marius asked, psychoanalyzing the poor man.

Sam stammered something intelligible.

Ashes commented: “I knew we took you along for a reason.”

“Come on, Sammy, give us an opinion, promise it won’t hurt.” Tim grinned just a tad too broadly.

“Uh, uhm, okay, I, uh, I think he’s a hero?” Sam said.

“You telling or asking us?” Ashes asked, a bit too happy about Sams discomfort.

“Telling?” Sam replied, “Lots of wars have been going on for much longer than 4 years and he prevented generations from suffering through that fate.”

“Pff, idiot.” Jonny said, taking no time to think about the charter development.

“What? Why?” Sam exclaimed.

Ignoring what Sam had said, Jonny asked him: “What is it with you mortal and putting people in boxes?”

Sam looked even more confused now and just repeated: “What?”

“Tim wasn’t anyone special.” Jonny began, “No offense, Tim.”

“None taken.”

“He was a soldier, he got send up there to fuck shit up and that fucked him up in turn. He’s not a criminal or a hero.” Jonny told Sam, “He blew up an entire planet that is not a good thing. If he hadn’t been in this shit situation, he might’ve never done such a terrible thing. It’s not as black and white as that.”

“But he did go out with quite a bang.” Ashes smirked.

“Oh, fuck off, Ashes.” Tim pushed them with a grin.

“Anyway, that was enough fun for today and as much as I hate to be the voice of reason, we promised Brian to get back and I don’t fancy getting stuck here.” Marius said, starting to lead them away.

Walking away he heard Tim say: “Really, Jonny, something terrible? Like your hobbies aren’t murdering people.”

“Shut up, Tim.”

As they disappeared out of sight, Sam turned to his crew and asked: “Please tell me you got that all. That I wasn’t hallucinating?”

A few decades later they go back again. Tim now also has a statue and the four of them are on the cover of a conspiracy history book with the title The time-traveling heroes.

#RR writing #the mechanisms #the mechs #gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville #ashes o'reilly #marius von raum #OCs

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nobodyscarebutandyou · 5 years ago

Text

The Protective- Chapter 2

The Protective

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader(slow burn) , Adora x Catra, Glimmer x Bow, Oc x Bruce Wayne.

masterlist

Part 1- New Life

Chapter 2- The Sister

"Sorry, what?" Y/N asks by looking at the family lawyer while leaning his elbows on the arms of the leather armchair, which to add is super uncomfortable.

"According to the legal documents prepared by Mrs Amelia L/N, Miss Y/N L/N must stay with her older sister, Samantha L/N, until the age of majority"

Y/N felt the breath get stuck in his throat, his sister was no different. Sam was shocked, the curly-haired woman passes her hand in her hair and looks at her sister, who had not said a word after the lawyer repeated the guard's will.

Passing his hand on his face, Y/N gets up, scratches his head, putting on his "I'm not obligated to take this shit" denim jacket, talks before leaving and slamming the office door.

Sam recovers from the shock, holding the will to run after his sister, smiles at the lawyer with a fake yellow smile.

"Sorry about that, it's a shock to all of us, thank you so much for your work"

Sam and the lawyer shake hands, Jack hands the check and leaves the office along with his older granddaughter.

Both stand in front of the office, Jack takes a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, puts one in his mouth and lights it with a metal lighter and smokes his cigarette, looking at the horizon, waiting for Sam to start talking.

"Shall we go after her?"

"She needs time"

"You're going to..."

Sam speaks hesitantly and stops in the middle of the sentence, afraid to collapse this little reality

"Fight for the Y/N guard? No... I can't take care of her. Maybe she needs some smoke in her lungs."

"Gotham's not bad, Grandpa"

"Says that to the crime rate"

Samantha rolls her eyes, Jack takes the keys from her pocket, throws the cigarette on the floor, steps on it to put it out and goes on to get into the truck, with Sam following her.

Sitting in the passenger seat, the older sister of our protagonist observes the rural landscape of the small town in which she was born and grew up until her adolescence, the curly-haired brunette lets out a sigh and leans her forehead against the window, closing her eyes, she tries to imagine what her life will be like now, as responsible for her sister who apparently hates her.

Y/N finally arrives at her destination, the small park of her city, she sits on the swing and looks up at the sky, which was even clear for such a cold climate. She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh, so many things happened, discoveries, everything so fast, she felt so confused, everything she hoped now that fate had no surprise.

Sam leans against the door of his mother's room, watching the place with a sad and distant look. Close your eyes and enter the room with small steps, stand still for a few seconds before opening your eyes, approach your mother's bedside table, and take the small photo frame, Sam passes his finger on the present faces, the photo was her mother,Y/N, her and her father.

The oldest of the L/N family holds the tears and bites her lip hard, despite running away from this... Small town life when she was young and having cut off contact after a few months-after a big argument-, Amy was still her mother and Sam loves her.

"It's kind of weird.. come back without you here"

The brunette took a deep breath, didn't even know why she started talking to herself, as if her mother was still there

" I.. When.. I figured I'd come back here, I... thought it would be different.. that would be you and me.. forgiving me for the things I said, drinking that horrible tea you insist on making, something about maintaining our English culture.. but know that tea with milk is horrible..."

Sam is silent for a few seconds before continuing "Mother... i'll try okay... I promise I'll try to take care of her"

" What are you doing?" Question Y/N with his voice angry and loud, almost screaming, which caused Sam to turn sharply toward the voice.

She stares at Y/N's eyes, which were red- Sam concludes that her sister was crying and full of anger, as if Sam had invaded a sacred place when she was not worthy.

"She was my mother too"

" Maybe, but I bet that was before you left us"

" Y/N, I had no option...."

"Everyone has a choice" Interrupts the youngest, Sam takes a deep breath, trying to calm the angry feelings that grew in his heart and keeps his eye on his sister.

"One day you will understand, now... Go pack your things, in three days we'll be gone"

Y/N rolls her eyes, but holds the urge to yell at her sister, because she knew it wouldn't do any good, then she snuffs and goes to her room. Sam lets out a sigh he didn't even know he was holding, looks at picture and whispers

"Give me mom strength"

Millions of years ago

Etheria

It was after Hordak

"Adora?"

Adora finally comes out of her thoughts and looks towards her voice, smiles at the time seeing that she was her best friend, Glimmer.

"Hi.."

"Is everythinh all right?"

Glimmer asks slowly approaching and placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yes is.. I mean, of course everything's fine, everything's been fine since.. ""

Adora speech, her tone of voice increases according to what she felt, that she was confused and uncertain, but there was a voice, a voice telling her that she should go, go as far as possible, find other galaxies, explore and not stand still, without use, without feeling useful.

Sure, the blonde loves Bright Moon, her galaxy, the planets she explored along with her beloved and friends, loves her life as she is, but something hasn't seemed right since the conversation she owes with Mara years ago. Something about her was still incomplete, perhaps it's the fact that she never knew The First or see if her family was still alive.

"Defeat of the Hordak"

completes the queen, who lets out a sigh

"What's going on Adora?"

"I don't know" Confess the woman with clear eyes as she walks away from her friend and leans on the balcony of her room, she closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of frustration

"I was satisfied with my life, I have everything and I will probably have more, I know I am blessed but there is something, inside me, saying that I need to go beyond what we know, go after the.. my family"

"Adora..."

"I just need to know the meaning of this feeling, Glimmer.. "

Adora looks at her friend, who lets out a sigh and approaches the blonde, standing next to her.

"Talked to Catra about this?"

" No... But she knows there's something bothering me."

" Talk to her before making any decision and know that.. we will be here to support you, after all you are like a sister I never had"

Adora smiles and hugs Glimmer, who reciprocates with a little force, something told him that they would all be facing a new adventure.

#batboys x reader #x reader #batfamily x reader #batboys #dc x reader #shera x reader #mcu x reader #jason todd x oc #crossover #x daughter reader #she ra x reader #adora x catra #glimmer x bow #she-ra x reader

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dessarious · 5 years ago

Text

Broken Harmony Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Damian stood against the wall watching Adrien’s bodyguard. He had no idea the man had said to his soulmate but Ladybug seemed to think he wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t restrained and she seemed to think having him in the same room as Adrien wouldn’t cause issues. So of the two people who shouldn’t have any idea what was going on and they absolutely shouldn’t trust, one was now guarding one of their prisoners and the other might end up fighting with them. He was getting a migraine.

Red Hood stood next to him still refusing to let Adrien out of his sight for fear of Chloe’s retribution. He still didn’t understand why his brother’s were so afraid of the girl but it did provide entertainment. Ladybug had gone to check in with Red Robin and Oracle and while Damian didn’t like having her out of his sight he was more concerned about Adrien having an ally.

Ladybug poked her head in and smiled at the giant in the corner. Damian was a little shocked when the man smiled back at her since it was the most expression he’d seen. Adrien seemed to think her smile was aimed at him and gave a idiotic grin that Damian wanted to slap off his face. Perhaps not the healthiest reaction but his need to keep the former hero away from his soulmate got stronger by the day. His instincts were almost screaming at him. When he saw the uneasy expression on her face he knew she could feel it too. Then she looked at him and her entire expression changed. His breath caught at the look but he didn’t understand why.

“Robin I need to speak with you.” When he glanced at the bodyguard she just gave him a reassuring smile. He just huffed out a breath in annoyance and followed her into the hallway.

“Is there something about him you know that we don’t?” He couldn’t help the annoyance in his tone. The longer they were holed up in this house the more stressed he seemed to get, and he wasn’t the only one.

“Yes, but that’s not what I need to talk to you about.” He just frowned down at her and she had the audacity to giggle at him. “You know what happened to Tim?”

“Of course. Did you figure out the exact cause.” She looked hesitant and uncertain.

“Yes and no. I’m fairly certain it has something to do with the experiments M. Agreste has been doing to create more Miraculous. I think it’s affecting you as well.” He let out an indignant huff but she continued. “Your mood and song have been getting darker the longer we’re here but the second we leave the grounds it’s like a cloud has lifted. It’s not just you either. We need to find a way to either stop the effects or cleanse the house.”

“And how exactly would we do that?”

“Tikki has a few ideas…” She suddenly refused to meet his eyes and he saw a blush creeping onto her face. What could the Kwami have said to her? “But I think I want to consult with Gen and see if she has any suggestions. I would think with the Kwami of Creation, Destruction, and Renewal we would be able to fix the problem.” He opened his mouth once again to ask what exactly Tikki had suggested but was interrupted by Chloe, Kagami, and Gen walking towards them. His soulmate’s smile held a touch of relief that just made him more confused.

“Are we interrupting something?” Gen was looking between them as if seeing something no one else could. Given the little he knew about her it wouldn’t surprise him if she was.

“No. Is everything okay with you two?” Chloe and Kagami shared a look and Damian had to fight back a small smile. They may not be able to hear each other but it looked like they could already communicate without words.

“We’re good. Though Kagami still thinks you’re insane for trusting her.” Gen let out a snort of laughter at Chloe’s words while Kagami gave them both a flat look before turning to Ladybug.

“I do not pretend to understand any of this and I doubt I’ll ever understand your reasoning. Still if you wish to give me the opportunity to destroy the man who managed to take my free will along with that of so many others, I’m not going to say no.” Ladybug laughed. Really laughed at least until it hurt her ribs. Damian had a strong urge to hug Kagami for making his soulmate happy thought he’d never actually do so.

“Well then, welcome to the team.” She held out a hand which Kagami accepted. Before they let go Ladybug’s expression shifted to one of confusion. Damian watched in horror and confusion as her transformation dropped and she, Kagami, and Chloe all clutched their heads in pain. The other girls seemed to recover quickly but Marinette went pale and collapsed. Damian barely caught her before she hit the ground and cradled her to his chest.

“Gen what’s going on?” He realized too late that she might find his tone offensive but she was already focused on Marinette’s unconscious form. Nixx came out of nowhere to land on her chest. The Kwami appeared to be pulsing light and there was a slight hum coming from them. Tikki had taken up residence on his shoulder and was oddly quiet.

“I’m not entirely sure…” She looked at the other girls, squinting at the area around them if he had to guess, before cursing. “Oh that’s just great. I spent a millennia trying to fix this soulmate bond and she did it without even trying.” Chloe and Kagami were just staring at each other with wonder on their faces and Damian realized that whatever had just happened, it seemed that those two could now hear each other’s songs.

“But what about Marinette? What’s wrong with her.” Gen blinked at him before shaking her head as if to clear it. She walked over and put a hand over his soulmate’s eyes. She also started humming in the same pitch coming from Nixx. She slowly removed her hand before looking up at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s worn out. I’m not sure what she did but it drained all her energy. Nixx will stay with her to keep her asleep and speed her recovery. Tikki do you know what just happened?” The Kwami shook her head, eyes wide.

“I just felt a surge of power. The same as when she healed Red Robin. It seems to be something that comes from within her rather than from me.” Gen gave a thoughtful hum while staring down at the girl in his arms.

“For such a little thing she sure makes huge ripples. You two need to stay together. And I don’t mean near each other. You need to be in physical contact at all times until we figure out what’s going on.” She was staring straight at him and the look in her eyes worried him.

“I don’t understand.” Those words felt like they were ripped out of him. He hated not knowing things but admitting that he didn’t know was a sign of weakness he never allowed himself. Gen sighed and looked frustrated, though it didn’t seem directed at him.

“I’m not entirely sure I do either. All I know is that you ground each other. This place is wreaking havoc with everyone and I think her powers are trying to compensate to balance the evil radiating from the house.”

“She wanted to ask your advice about how to fix that. She said she thinks it’s because of the experiments Gabriel was doing.” Gen shook her head but seemed deep in thought.

“I don’t think it’s just that. The Agreste family and by extension the house seem to carry ill fortune with them. By adding first a damaged Miraculous and then the Black Cat which carries the essence of bad luck… I think those experiments are the least of our worries.”

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Tag list for Broken Harmony

Thanks for all the positive responses! Here’s the tag list I’ve go so far. If I missed anyone let me know.

@crazylittlemunchkin @iggy-of-fans @captainmac6 @shizukiryuu @origami-dreams @yamadochie @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @mjisntme @zebrabaker @driftingmoonlitpetals @slytherinhquinn @politelyvicious @mystery-5-5 @constancetruggle @synnesstra @im-here-for-the-content @slytherinsheashire @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @cyborgcandy @rhub4rb @satans-favorite-homo @beautym3 @ayuchan07 @zalladane @moonlitarchangels @mooshoon @mindfulmagics @saphiraazure2708 @chrismarium @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tog84 @littleredrobinhoodlum @cupcakeandkisses @kiara-rose-blackthorn @graduatedmelon @lunar-wolf-warrior @tbehartoo @zoerayne2426 @ellerahs @heaven428 @my-name-is-michell @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @myownworldstayout @alexzandria-747 @k-rena-k @vivilakitty @redscarlet95 @un1cornf1ghter @bookreader20003 @nataladriana9 @resignedcatservant @blue-peach14 @royalchaoticfangirl @melicmusicmagic @dani-ari @captain-rice @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @fiendsangelical @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @ladylb @vixen-uchiha @spicybelladonna @asteriodd @thatrandomfandomsgirl @laurakinneylance @casual-darkness @sam-spectra @romanoff-queen @ki117h3dr4g0n @thequietestlilbucket @silvergold-swirl @bigcheeseyboi @alexresides @grandmaveitch @bluefiredemon @emjrabbitwolf @brinxiethebear @xxmadamjinxx @shadowberrybinch @tinybrie @t-nikki10 @yuuki-uzumaki @kurogaya913 @roseinbloom02 @7-sage-7 @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @schrodingers25 @sassy-spocko @lysslovsanime @jessigurl-design @danielslilangel @creator-josie @skystarssun @kuhakuanon @tritaledkitsune @interobanginyourmom @kandi-pie @eliza-bich @asianfrustration13 @two-faced-biatch @goggles-mcgee @thepeacetea @scribblinggraveyard @someonelogical @crazyrandomrebel @felicityroth @miraculousl4dybug @vgirl-10123 @sinfulfoxbeast @tricethecharm @winter-gardenflower @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @rydellakurancarson @chaosace @simplysslytherin @roseunivers999 @reaperfeels @huntressofthenight0516 @etheralentity @poshplumcot @meanids @minty-goose @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @heredemaquam @mariae2900 @dudet @littleblue5mcdork @motherly-type @bookishfangirl7 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @welcometopradasa @paradoxal-occurance @bamagirl513 @beaversuenightly @doggiediva13 @zerotosiki @lordsmeldingtonthethird @maynora @decidedly-froggy @clumsy-owl-4178 @goawayi-mreading @bee-wrecker @panda3506 @thequestionablyhuman @legendaryneckjudgestudent @cassiejaydee @the-alice-of-hearts @actual-disaster-human @chocolatecatstheron @lady13bug @fandoms-run-my-life @kakashixobito @queenmj10 @girlcat817 @enchanted-nerd @wolf-for-life @corabeth11 @multplelifes

#maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne

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luciddeparture · 4 years ago

Text

Is Meditation for Morons?

I’m can’t exactly recall the first time I decided to meditate. I just know what happened when I finally bothered to learn how to. It has since had a profound effect on my life.

Now I know what you are probably thinking… “Meditation? I don’t need any of that woo woo crap in my life.” That’s at least how I used to feel about it, but who knows? Maybe you are a little bit less cynical than I was.

It is somewhat ironic that I am now the one who is writing a blog on meditation and its benefits.

When I first heard about meditation I immediately dismissed it, until I rediscovered it about two years ago whilst listening to a podcast called The Tim Ferris Show. The podcast is a series of interviews where Tim Ferris interviews top performers in a variety of fields from all around the world. Surprisingly, over “80% of the people [he] interviews have some form of meditation practice”. That’s a significant percentage! I’m by no means insinuating that we all need to be world-class performers, but I feel that it could not hurt to learn from those who are achieving high levels of success. Especially when there is an easily identifiable common trait, which in this case is meditation.

It slowly became clearer and clearer to me that meditation might be less bullshit than I had originally anticipated.

Before we get into things, it is important to acknowledge that although meditation is now becoming increasingly commercialised and “trendy” in Western Cultures, meditation has been a huge component of many spiritual practices for many hundreds of years. In the East, meditation played a huge role in particular in both Hinduism and Buddhism. The earliest records of Meditation can be found in the Vedas, a religious text written in Sanskrit in 500bc. After reading the Vedas the Buddha added his own spin too, developing his own technique called Satipatthana, which is now most commonly known as Mindfulness. The direct translation is Sati (Attention) or (Remember) + Upa (Inside) + Thana (to keep) So Satipatthana means: To keep your attention inside.

Transcendental Meditation was introduced to the West in part by the popular culture of the 1960’s. A notable contribution was The Beatles sharing their experiences after visiting India. Although Mindfulness meditation was introduced much later to Western Cultures. Throughout this article I will primarily be discussing the effects of Mindfulness Meditation.

Over the last few years, the process of meditation, as well as its effects, has become a rapidly expanding subfield of neurological research. One of the most interesting experiments involved scientists conducting tests on a Monk, finding that although he was 41 he had the brain of a 33 year old. They gave him an FMRI scan while asking him to cultivate a sense of compassion by meditating, and the neural activity in his empathy circuits grew by 700-800%! One of the researches later wrote “Such an extreme increase befuddles science.”

When most of us anticipate getting burned our pain receptors act as though we are already suffering. So much so that when the pain actually comes nothing really changes. Once the physical stimulus stops the mental pain slowly subsides. Expert meditators act much less in anticipation of the pain and feel the pain more intensely while the stimulus is present. Their awareness of the pain ceases immediately as soon as the stimulus is removed.

Interestingly enough, the emotional centre for the brain, the Amygdala, acts in a similar fashion to the pain response. Meditators are often much better at responding in anticipation to emotional stress.

I’m someone who has always lived predominately inside their thoughts, probably leaning on the more erratic side. The thought of being able to sit in silence sorta freaked me out, not to mention seeming borderline impossible.

To understand what my mind looks like, you need to look no further than The Simpsons. Remember that scene where Homer is listening to Marge and inside his brain a monkey is clanging symbols? That’s the relationship I had with my brain almost all of the time. I believe this is the same for most of us.

Let’s put this to the test. You, my lucky reader, can be the test subject of a little experiment on your own psyche. For the next minute, I want you to close your eyes and just do your best to focus solely on your breath. 3…2..1. GO!

How did you go? Did you get lost in your thoughts? Did you forget entirely that you were even trying to focus at all? Where did your mind take you? Your relationship (or lack of)? Work? Or maybe even what you might have for dinner?

I found that when I first began meditating my mind would sometimes find itself distracted on the most obscure things. The reason why I am illustrating this point is because often when I speak to others who have tried meditation for the first time, I hear “I tried meditation, and it’s not for me - I just think too much”. I hate to say it, but these are the people who probably should be learning to meditate most of all.

The way I see meditation, is similar to closing background apps on your phone. It saves battery, and it just makes your phone faster. No brainer. I believe the same is true with meditation and giving your brain a break from constantly thinking.

A lot of the people who are reading this article will have grown up with internet access. Therefore, you have been bombarded with external stimuli in each and every moment. Bzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzzz. I’m sure that most of you will have received a messages even whilst reading this article.

Our brains have been over stimulated and are in a constant state of overdrive. Even when we are asleep our brains are constantly thinking, even if it is in the form of dreams! Obviously that isn’t a negative on it’s own, in fact sleep is crucial for the brain. But when you add everything up it’s a lot for a brain that has only been subject to this much stimuli for around 15 years - the first iPhone only came out 13 years ago.

As you discovered just before, learning to “not think” doesn’t happen instantly. Like you, when I first attempted to sit in silence and tried to focus on my breath it did not work. My monkey mind remained supreme. Once again I was convinced that it wasn’t for me. But like all skills, meditation takes time and discipline to both learn, and improve.

I’m not saying this to deter you, it’s just the truth. An easy comparison might be to say that you wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument. It would be ridiculous to expect that you would be able to play your favourite song after your first time attempting to pick up the instrument. The same logic can be applied to meditation. It takes time, practice and discipline - however unlike musical instruments, you bring your mind to all situations in life. In my opinion, sharpening your ability to think is well worth the investment. According to scientific studies Mindfulness meditation induces big changes in the minds of experts, but when beginners first meditate not much happens.

At its core, the aim of meditation is to become more present in each moment by focusing and training attention and awareness. This is to achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state. This in turn gives you the ability to have significantly more control of how you react to external and internal stimuli when they arise in your life.

In Mindfulness meditation, the goal is to act as an observer whilst focusing on your breath, watching your conscious experience as thoughts and sensations arise and disappear.

As mentioned earlier we are often multi tasking, with tech and external stimuli, but even whilst we are not, we remain deep in thought. We are often living in the past or in the future through memory rather than in each and every moment.

Meditation helps you learn how to not be constantly reactive to stimuli on the inside or outside. When I meditate, I find that it simply quiets my mind. It’s a simple reset of the brain allowing me to slow down and focus solely on the present.

Another way of looking at it is that meditation is like going to the gym. You can see it as a way of working out your mind. To begin with your mind will wander, time traveling from the past to the future. But with practice you can slowly train your mind to become more present.

Being present throughout the day allows me to consciously make better decisions, rather than just remaining on autopilot.

As hedge fund billionaire Ray Dalio puts it “When you're centred, your emotions are not hijacking you”. “Meditation is 'the single most important reason for my success.”

If you are looking to start meditation, Mindfulness meditation apps are a great way to initially learn how to meditate. I still find myself using one most days. Having tried all of them, I would recommend Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. Its thirty day training course is clear and concise and an awesome starting point to learn how to meditate. After that, new daily meditations appear on the app. Harris is a Neuroscientist and an Atheist and breaks meditation down in a way that is less spiritual which might make more sense to a western audience.

Worried it’s going to cost too much? If you can’t afford a subscription, you can email the help section and receive a one year free subscription. No questions asked. You have no excuse not to try it!

Other Mindfulness app alternatives are:

- Headspace - Andy Puddicombe

- Smiling Mind (An Australian non-profit alternative)

For further learning check out these guys:

Sam Harris, Mooji, Ram Dass and Andy Puddicombe

I am by no means an expert in this field, I just wanted to share something which has improved the quality of my life by at least 10%. I hope that it works for you too!

#meditation #mindfullness #wakeup #samharris #mooji #ramdass #headspace

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thecleverdame · 6 years ago

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Control and Release - 18

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 3k

Parts 19, 20 & 21 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

Sam has always had a tendency to fixate on things.

As a kid, it was easier to hide. His teachers called him “special,” sometimes “gifted.” But really it was an all-consuming voracity to understand everything on any given topic.

When he was in sixth grade one of his teachers assigned him a report on ancient Greece. It was supposed to be a two-pager, easy peasy, something Sam could do in his sleep, but he got an F because he never handed it in. Not that it mattered. Two weeks later they were back on the road. He spent a month in the back of the Impala, reading by flashlight. He checked out copies of The Iliad and The Histories of Herodotus, only to drop them off at the next town’s library and pick up a copy of The Republic. By the time he was done, when he finally felt he had a grasp on the inner workings of the culture and the people of Greece, it was nearly a year later and the paper was long forgotten.

He knew he wanted to go to college and he knew where: Stanford. His future was in California and he could feel it. He had a plan. All he needed was to get good enough grades, he could fake the rest. The morning he left the motel where his dad and brother were sleeping, he honestly thought he’d never see them again. The guilt was real as he walked down the road, sticking out his thumb to every car that passed. It was an uneasy feeling that took residence in his gut and stayed there a long time.

That feeling lingered all through freshman orientation and well into his first semester. But then he met Jess and he found a new thing to put all his focus on. His family was fucked, he knew that without a doubt. But she was his chance to be normal, to be happy. No more monsters hiding in the dark; no more made up stories about the big bad to justify all the crazy his dad spouted day in and day out. No, Jess was all the good stuff in life. She was gentle and thoughtful and way too sexy to be with tall, skinny Sam. But inexplicably she loved him and he felt like he’d won the lottery every day.

Jess became the focus which seemed to help with his studies. She was everything and school was second which made things manageable for him. Against all logic, his girlfriend didn’t distract him, she allowed his brain to focus a normal amount, to move on instead of getting stuck on the details and needing days of research to answer every niggling question. Jess balanced Sam and he never took her for granted.

When she died Sam thought he might die too. He’d never been in love before. Yeah, his dad and Dean were family and they loved him the way you love the people you also hate. But with Jess he’d been in love, ready to create his own family, to fulfill what he truly wanted in life, a normal job and a person to hold at night. Just when he finally believed the universe wasn’t so shitty, fate stepped in.

Dean came begging for him to join him on one last trip. Dad was MIA and Sam was powerless to say no. Dean needed their father in a way Sam never had. It was just a couple of days, he’d be back before anyone missed him and life would move on.

The police have maintained since the beginning that Dean killed Jess. They theorized that he stabbed her and then set the apartment on fire to cover up the evidence. For years Sam was so angry he let himself believe it. The anger would bubble up from his stomach, get caught in his throat and he’d think about how much he wished he could kill Dean.

So Sam did what Sam did best: he focused. After moving to the east coast he threw himself into law school. He lost himself in books and cases and facts. Anything but people.

Dean found him a couple of years later, showed up right after Sam graduated from Harvard Law. His brother told him how proud he was of his geeky little bro and that dad would have come but you know how he is.

“Shouldn’t you be drunk or something?” Dean chirped good naturedly as Sam stared at him in the living room of his studio loft. “Celebrating with the rest of the class? Havard fucking Law School, goddamn Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam snapped back, folding his arms over his chest. He used to feel so much but as he stared at Dean all he felt was empty. “Why are you here?”

“Because,” Dean tilted his head, looking at Sam as if his brother should have already understood. “This is a pretty big deal. I’m proud of you.”

Sam stared at him in silence, both of them flinching as a car backfired outside.

“Did you do it?” Sam asked the question he’d wanted to ask for a long time. It didn't hurt to think about her anymore. Jess was just a concept now, an idea of what could be taken away if you let yourself care. It happened to his father, his mother died and his dad went batshit crazy. Sam understood now, letting people in was just setting yourself up for pain and misery. It wasn’t worth it.

“Are you really asking me if I killed your girlfriend?” Dean laughed, smile fading as he realized Sam was serious. This tall, beefed-up version of his brother wasn’t the wide-eyed, big-hearted kid he grew up with. “No, I didn’t kill her.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Was it dad?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean had had enough. “You think he’d do that? Why?”

“To prove a point. To get me to come back.” Sam dropped his backpack onto the table. “You should go, I have a lot of work to do.”

“You graduated three hours ago.” Dean watched Sam, realizing the extent of the damage. This Sam wasn’t his Sam at all, not anymore. “You got work to do?”

“I have to find a job, Dean. I have goals.” Sam waved his head. “Please don’t come back. This can be goodbye.”

“You mean that?” Dean asked, lips pursed trying to suss out if this was an act, but it wasn’t.

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam turned, arms spread wide with desperation. “Just leave me alone. I want you and dad to stay out of my life.”

“I hear ya,” Dean looked at Sam one final time before walking out.

In hindsight Sam’s not sure what he believes truly happened all those years ago. His dad might have killed Jess, maybe to teach Sam a lesson about family and leaving. Maybe he was delusional, maybe he thought she was one of his demons. Who knows. Maybe it was Dean after all, the old man did a real number on his brother. Dean was, and is, a true believer, he always has been.

From that moment, Sam worked. He put in eighty-hour weeks, he took chances and he built an empire. With success, isolation came hand in hand. The more money and power he gained the more he saw the worst in people. Everyone wanted something from him. It was easy to become the infamous Sam Winchester he is today.

And then you walked into his hotel room.

He’s always been able to read people, a talent that’s served him well through the years. So when you looked at him that first time, pupils widening, that nervous swallow you still get when you’re excited, he knew you saw him.

For most people, the initial attraction to him is the celebrity of his success. He’s in an elite group of powerful men recognizable by the general public, which has always made him uncomfortable. Strangers in the street do a double-take, trying to figure out how they know him. Sometimes he can hear the whispers as a wife leans toward her husband.

“Tim Cook? No, but he’s someone, I know I’ve seen him before!”

But when you reacted to him, and he saw that pulse of excitement in you, there was nothing else but raw attraction that you didn’t even understand yourself. You didn’t want him, or his attention, in fact, you would have faded quietly into the background if he’d have let you. Something about that appealed to him.

For a long time, it was just sex. He meant what he said. He had needs and you were beautiful with that tight little ass. And to top it off you got wet every time he so much as raised his voice. It was just sex and then one day it wasn’t. It was something more, a small, excited feeling that he hated and denied.

There were two others before you. One woman he paid, the other wanted more from him. Neither of them sparked anything inside him.

But you did.

You asked questions, personal things that no one had dared ask in a long time. You touched him, held him after you came like you already knew he cared for you. The way you rested your head on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around him, dug up old feelings.

Sam hated those feelings with a passion. He still does.

Part of him wishes he’d never confessed them to you. He should have saved you from Brent and sent you on your way.

He’s not good for anyone, he’s a slow working poison. His cold, dead heart will leak its toxin like arsenic until one day you’ll be just as numb as he is. He’ll break you. And you’ll hate him for it, that much he knows for certain.

“She’s been like that for hours,” Sam explains, pacing back and forth in front of the bedroom door. “She can’t get warm.”

You woke up like this, shivering uncontrollably.

“Look at me,” the doctor shines a light in one eye, then the other. “Are you having any auditory symptoms? Sounds that shouldn’t be there?”

“There’s, um,” you pause, closing your eyes and honing in on the sound. “A ringing. It’s distant but constant. It started a few hours ago.”

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “What you’re feeling is normal. Everyone reacts differently and after what you went through it would be strange if you weren’t experiencing any repercussions.”

“What do we do?” Sam moves to stand behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at you. If you didn't know better you’d think he was pissed.

“Well, I can prescribe something for the panic attacks, but what she really needs is a support system and time. She should see a therapist and it should happen soon. Tomorrow at the latest. It’s vital to involve a professional as soon as possible. Will you be staying with her?”

“Yes,” Sam nods, his eyes shifting from you to the doctor.

“Good,” he turns back to you. “You may start to feel more acute feelings of loneliness and isolation. It’s normal, but you shouldn’t give in to those tendencies. You need to talk, to be around people. And I meant what I said, seek professional psychiatric help. It doesn’t make you strong to try and handle this on your own. It only makes you foolish.”

Sam settles next to you on the couch as a half dozen men and women mill around his living room. A tech sets up audio recording while another focuses a video camera on the two of you.

“I’m agent Ashburn with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. This is Agent Murtaugh with the FBI. We’re a joint task force and we want to make this as easy as possible. Hopefully, we won’t need to speak with you a second time.” She offers a practiced smile, shifting her gaze to Sam. “We’ll probably need you for follow up. More than one I’d guess.”

“I understand,” Sam nods, crossing one leg over his knee, his arm extending over the back of the couch behind your head. “Do you know how many people were injured?”

“As of right now we’re looking at nineteen injuries and seven fatalities.” Murtaugh leans forward, both arms resting on his knees. “It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t gotten to him.”

You shift in your seat, looking down at your hands. You want to ask about Max and Tim, but at the same time, you’re afraid of the answer.

“Did you see a doctor, Y/N? We have a lot of resources available.” Ashburn reaches out, tapping the coffee table gently.

“Yeah,” you look at her, feeling your heart speed up. You’ve been fighting these random panic attacks all morning and the medication only helps a little.

“We had someone come over this morning,” Sam elaborates, a hand squeezing your shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

“Just to clarify,” Murtaugh gestures with the end of his pen between you and Sam. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship?”

That question is so complicated you don’t even know how to begin thinking about an answer but Sam picks up the slack without skipping a beat.

“Romantic,” Sam states simply.

“Right, okay.” Agent Ashburn scans through her notes, looking up to Sam. “We’re allowing you to stay with her, but these questions are for Y/N. I need her to answer, no interruptions.”

“I understand,” Sam confirms and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to focus.

“Prior to him being let go, did Brent ever say or do anything that you found odd or aggressive?”

“No, he was nice. A lot of the junior associates are assholes, sorry, jerks, but we all liked Brent.” You think back scanning your interactions with him. It’s all true, he seemed like one of the good ones.

“Would you say you were friends?”

“No. I mean, he was a work friend, but we’re not close. I said “hi” to him every morning for six months. We talked a couple of times a week. He was more than an acquaintance, less than a friend.” You look from the agents to Sam. You want to give them the right answer, to help. “I’m sorry, I’m trying, I just-”

“You’re doing great,” Sam gives you another squeeze, his voice more gentle and encouraging than you’ve ever heard him before. It’s almost unsettling.

“Yes, you are,” Murtaugh jumps in. “You’re doing what helps us most. Just talk, don’t overthink the answer. Sometimes we get the details we need when people don’t even realize it.”

“Okay.”

“Did you ever spend any time with him outside of work.”

“A few times,” you shrug. “On Wednesdays everyone goes to the bar, he went a few times. I never really talked to him though.”

“How about after he was fired? Did you have any contact?”

“Yes, I texted him. I can show you if you want.” You reach for your cell phone and Sam picks it up from the side table and hands it to you. Pulling up the text you read it out loud. “It was the only time I ever texted him. I just said We’re all so sorry about what happened. Hope you still show up for drinks.”

“He never responded?”

“No,” you hand Ashburn your phone and she reads it.

“We’ll need to keep this,” she explains, handing it off to a tech who drops it into a plastic bag. You shift towards Sam, looking down at your hands. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s just, ummm, Sam and I text sometimes. There are private messages...photos.” You can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“Well, I won’t lie. Our techs will comb through everything but we’re only interested in your correspondence with Brent.”

“God,” you sigh, trying to remain calm. You should have deleted the thread between you and Keith Campbell, some of the things on there would make Ron Jeremy blush.

“Don’t worry, they’ve seen it all.” Ashburn winks, trying to keep things light-hearted and you want to sink into the couch. “I have to ask. We’re unclear on Brent’s plan. We’re not sure if he was targeting specific people, or if it was random. We know he was upset with Sam, do you feel that he may have focused on you because of your relationship with Sam?”

“No,” you sigh, the very thought is unnerving. “No one knows about us.”

“I see.” Both agents ask question after question, right down to the mundane details of your breakfast that morning, and then they go through them again. It’s almost three by the time they’re done with you. Retreating into the bedroom you turn on the TV while Sam begins his interview. You doubt you gave them anything, any insight, but Sam might. You don’t know the details of his termination, it's possible he holds all the answers.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester

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huilian · 5 years ago

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chapter one of my court of owls rewrite AU!

***

Dick stands near the podium, watching Bruce give his speech. He already knows that the speech is about looking forward to the future to create a better Gotham, instead of focusing on the city’s grim present and past. However, Dick finds himself thinking about the city as it was and still is, despite the point of Bruce’s entire speech is for people to not do so.

Dick can’t help it. Bruce starts the speech with stories of his connection to Gotham, and Dick finds himself remembering his own association with the city, and all that entails.

He wishes he could say he hasn’t thought of the Court for years, but that would be a lie.

Without Dick realizing it, Bruce has finished his speech. The socialites and elites of Gotham lap it up, of course. Dick knows that a lot of them don’t really believe in what Bruce is saying: invest in Gotham’s future and we can make Gotham a better place--and Dick has his suspicions about which of them actually wants to make a better Gotham, considering what he knows about them--, but they take it anyway. That’s Gotham’s elites for you.

Dick waits until Bruce has done his cursory thank-yous before putting himself next to Bruce’s elbow. He knows how much these rich people hate it when he interrupts their conversations with their beloved Brucie, but that makes him do it more often.

Spite. What a powerful motivator.

“Are you sure about this?” Dick starts signing, not really caring who sees. It’s not like any of the people surrounding Bruce knows ASL anyway. They never care enough to learn.

“Yes,” Bruce signs back.

“Don’t you have enough to do with Batman Inc.?” Dick can’t say how much he loves that he can actually talk about Batman in public. He just has to slide everything under the blanket of Batman Inc.. After all, it’s public knowledge that Bruce Wayne is funding Batman Inc. No more searching for increasingly ridiculous excuses.

Plus, it is not like anyone around them knows what they’re saying. Like Dick said before, they don’t care enough to learn. But it’s always good to be safe.

“Actually, I’m thinking of spending more time in Gotham.” The people surrounding Bruce start to disperse, grumbling and whispering to themselves and each other, after it becomes clear that Bruce is not going to translate his conversation with Dick to the people surrounding him. Honestly, by now, they should know already. It’s not like this hasn’t occurred many, many times before. “I-”

Dick stops Bruce with a hand. With the crowd surrounding them, or more precisely, surrounding Bruce, clearing, Dick can see Commissioner Gordon, standing near a window as he talks to his phone. While the sight is not something out of the ordinary, especially in an event like this,the words that Dick can read from his lips, however, are unusual.

… stab wounds… I’ll be there…

Well, maybe even that is not something new. It’s Gotham, after all. Despite Bruce’s, and lately Dick’s, efforts, victims of stabbings are still common. What’s extraordinary is the fact that the GCPD is calling the commissioner about a stabbing, when they know perfectly well he’s attending a function.

Not a regular crime then.

Bruce, noticing that Dick’s focus is now on the Commissioner, moves his attention to him.

They both watched Jim Gordon for a while, and when the Commissioner hangs up, Bruce signs, “Are you going out?”

Dick nods. He’s already thinking of excuses, and whether or not he should take Damian. A stabbing doesn’t sound like a case Dick would keep away from him, but if they’re calling the Commissioner about it…

“Want me to come with?”

No, Dick’s not going to bring Damian. If they’re calling the Commissioner because of some mystery surrounding the stabbing, then he’ll involve Damian later. The kid needs more detectiving practice. But if it’s something else, something more horrible than just a mystery, then he’ll work the case alone. Damian doesn’t need more violence in his life.

At least not more than what he usually sees on a daily basis.

“No,” Dick signs. “I’ll go alone. It’s your party, you should be here. Keep an eye on Damian.” Dick watches as Bruce’s eyes go distant--the way they did when he doesn’t understand something--at the sign name Dick has given for Damian, index finger up, palm facing outwards, which is then continued by the palm turning, while touching the chest with the middle finger. The letter D, moving onto a modified sign for heart. Dick has been meaning to have that conversation with Bruce for a long time, now, about what Damian means to him and how they will navigate that now that Bruce is back, but they never seem to have the time. Maybe Bruce being in Gotham more will be good for them. For all of them “Make sure he’s not putting anything on fire,” Dick finishes, teasing a bit.

Bruce eyes him warily. Dick knows he’s not sure whether Dick is joking about the fire bit or not Dick just smiles as he tries to figure it out.

Maybe Damian will put something on fire. And with both Tim and Cass in attendance, chaos will still reign even if Damian doesn’t light anything up. Tim and Damian are bad enough, but Dick has learned recently that putting all three of them in close proximity to each other for a prolonged period of time will only result in chaos.

It’ll be fun to watch Bruce handle that for a change.

Bruce sighs. “I’ll be on standby as back-up, then.”

“You just want to ditch the party.”

Bruce flicks Dick’s nose. For a moment, Dick is transported to years ago, having a conversation very similar to this one. Only this time, Dick is the one who’s going out and Bruce is the back-up. It startles him a bit, knowing how far he’s come since those unsure Robin days, shoulders heavy with the need to redeem his mother’s name for him, and always, always scared of the possibility of hitting too hard, of going too far.

Him and Damian are so much more alike than the kid can possibly think.

Dick’s shoulders are still heavy now, but it’s a different name he’s bearing, with a different parent behind it.

No. The mission first. Dick can do his maudlin reflections later. He shakes his head a bit, just to clear it, then signs, “I’m going to call Tim or Cass if I need back-up. This is your party, and you’ll stay until the very end of this stupid thing.”

Bruce flicks his nose again. Or, well, he tries to. Dick ducks down, leaving Bruce’s fingers to flick air.

“Brat,” Bruce says, huffing with exasperation. Then, his expression turns serious, and he signs, “Be careful.”

Dick smiles. “Always.”

***

The cape no longer drags him with its weight. It’s still heavy, it’s still weird and constricting, but it no longer pulls him down. Dick wonders what that says about him.

Since he left Damian back at the party, with plenty of protests from the boy, Batman is flying solo tonight. Dick takes the opportunity to play around a bit, since no Robin means he doesn’t have to be a good example.

It’s not strictly professional, but it keeps the mythos going. Besides, Bruce used to do it all the time. Still does.

Dick lands at the crime scene silently, searching for the officer in charge to spook.

The officer in question is Sergeant Harvey Bullock. Dick sighs internally. No chance of spooking, then. Bullock has been in the game for far too long to be startled by the Bat anymore, whether it is him or Bruce.

“Sergeant Bullock,�� Batman says. Dick hates doing it, hates forcing the words out of his mouth, hates the memories that come with it, but unlike Nightwing, Batman cannot be mute.

It’s bad enough that Commissioner Gordon and a lot of the Rogues know he’s not the original one. He doesn’t need to advertise it.

“Batman.” Bullock nods at him. “Come on. Let’s go look at some art.”

Sergeant Bullock leads him inside, to where a man is pinned to the wall by knives.

“The landlord found him on a routine rent run. He went by the name Sam Strigs…,” Bullock says as Dick listens with half an ear. There’s something familiar about the knives.

Dick moves closer.

An owl. On the handle of the knives.

Dick’s breathing stops for a second. He can feel his hands curling around phantom knives, much like these ones. His neck tingles with the sense of being watched.

No. Dick takes a breath. Bruce said the Court is gone. Bruce said he has run the Court to the ground and burned them himself.

Dick glances at Bullock. He’s still talking, oblivious to the fact that Dick’s mind had gone somewhere else. Good. It won’t do to have people know that the Batman is scared of the Court.

There will be riots. No one will take Batman seriously ever again. Dick can’t do that to Bruce.

But then… an owl. The Court is powerful. It’s possible that Bruce hasn’t burnt them all, that they have been hiding, biding their time, waiting for their chance to strike. But, that brings its own sets of questions. The most prevalent one is, why now?

“... has anything to do with the old wive’s tale-”

“I know what you mean,” Batman says. Dick knows. He knows all about the Court of Owls. There’s no need for Bullock to start saying their name out loud. Speak not a whispered word of them. Better not to tempt fate.

He also says that because he can excuse that with Batman’s general sullenness and know-it-all behaviour. The Batman is not scared of the Court of Owls. He just can’t be bothered to listen to their name.

Dick pulls his eyes away from the knives, surveying the rest of the room. The smell of paint thinner hits his nose, blocking even the stench of the body.

Why is he smelling paint thinner?

Oh. Maybe. Dick pulls out a lighter from his belt, then starts walking around the room, trying to find where the smell is strongest.

The smell is strongest on the wall right opposite of Sam Strig’s body. Dick observes the wall. He doesn’t see anything that will give him clues, but paint thinner does leave no trace on this kind of wall. Dick flicks the lighter on and approaches the wall. He hopes he’s not wrong, because if he is, then he’ll be burning the crime scene down.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Bullock shouts, but it’s too late. The fire has caught.

It illuminates the room. Well, the good news is, Dick is not burning anything down.

The bad news is, the fire writes, RICHARD GRAYSON WILL DIE TOMORROW.

Well. Dick has had his share of death threats over the years, but none so… dramatic as this.

“Tomorrow?” Bullock says. “Our time of death is a week ago, so the ‘tomorrow’ Strigs thought of already came and went. This Grayson boy should be in the clear.”

“Unless he knew when he’d be found,” Batman says.

Bullock narrows his eyes, then grimaces. “The landlord says he always comes on the second Friday of the month. Maybe our victim knows he’s going to die and be found today, and left a warning for this Grayson boy.” Bullock snorts. “Then good luck to that killer. Grayson’s Wayne’s adopted son, and Wayne’s security has security. I’m guessing you know the boy? What with Wayne being your-”

Batman grunts. Why would a dying man leave a warning message for his killer’s next victim? Unless…, unless the one writing the message is not Sam Strigs.

If it’s a Talon writing that message, if it’s the Court who’s sending that message…

“I’ll be seeing you, Bullock,” and with that, Dick is gone before Bullock can answer. He has a murderer to catch.

***

“Are you insane?” Bruce says. Other people will say that Bruce is completely unaffected. Dick knows better. He’s speaking to Dick. “The Court is back in Gotham, they’re threatening you, and you’re telling me to leave?”

Dick sighs. He would also like to be stressed about this, but when he comes back to the Bunker and tells Bruce about the situation, he sees that Bruce is actually panicking over this. He decides then that he’s going to be calm and collected. No sense in having two Batmans that are panicking, after all.

“We don’t know if it’s the Court or not. It could be a copycat.”

“I’m not leaving, Dick. You should have called me the moment you have any indication that it’s the Court instead of letting me play billionaire in a party all night.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Even if this is the Court, Bruce has been protecting Dick against them for so long now. It’s Dick’s problem, and it’s past time he handled it.

“I can handle it,” Dick signs, perfectly calm and collected. He’s not, not really, but Bruce wouldn’t even consider going if Dick isn’t the picture of serenity.

He loves Bruce for that, but Bruce shouldn’t be worrying about Dick anymore. Not when he has so much more to worry about.

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m… I’m not saying you can’t handle it, Dick. I…”

Dick laughs a little bit. Even with the threat of the Court swirling at the back of his mind, it’s always fun to see Bruce getting flustered with emotions, instead of locking them down and playing the unfeeling Batman.

Dick taps Bruce’s fingers, forcing the man to pay attention to him, then signs, “You can’t say it, can you? I’m worried.”

“Dick,” Bruce says. “It’s the Court.”

Dick changes his demeanour instantly. “I know,” he signs. “It’s time I faced them.”

A look passes between them. A thousand unsaid things and a thousand unspoken emotions.

There’s no evidence it’s the Court, Dick’s look says.

They’re smart enough to conceal it, Bruce counters.

Even if it is, I can handle it.

It’s my job to protect you, the set of Bruce’s mouth says.

I can protect myself just fine.

Bruce takes a breath. Then, in the rise of his eyebrows, he asks, Are you sure about this?

And Dick, answering in kind, raises his own eyebrows. Yes, I’m sure.

“Alright,” Bruce breathes out, “but call for back-up the moment you need it, Dick. I’m serious.”

“And by back-up you mean you, right?” because Bruce is nothing if not paranoid and controlling. He won’t even be in Gotham by early tomorrow morning. The Batman of Tokyo needs his help, and so Bruce is flying out first thing tomorrow. He can’t seriously think that he is going to be Dick’s first point of contact.

Nowadays, Gotham is not lacking in protectors, and so Dick is not lacking in back-ups. Babs is here, Stephanie is here, Tim is here. Cass is back, and even Jason can be persuaded to give them back-ups once in a blue moon. Dick is not lacking in back-ups.

“None of them have faced the Court before.”

“I have.”

“Dick,” Bruce growls.

Dick sighs. “I promise to call for back-up, but I’m not promising to call you. Tokyo needs you much more than we do. We can handle this.”

Another thousand unsaid things. Another thousand unspoken emotions.

“Fine,” Bruce sighs..

Dick smiles at him. He turns to go to the lockers to change out of his suit, but before he steps out of the room, Bruce adds, “You know that the mission is not more important than you, right?”

He is gone before Dick can answer.

***

“How much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

“You love it,” Dick teases.

Damian scoffs. “I repeat, how much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

Dick laughs. Damian glares at him, but he doesn’t stop stirring the sauce, despite all his complaints in the last twenty three minutes. Dick tries to stop laughing, but one look at Damian’s glare gets him starting again.

It warms Dick’s heart, to see his little brother stirring the sauce next to him. The Damian from months ago would have stabbed him with a kitchen knife before deigning to accompany Dick in cooking. The sight even manages to push the threat on his life to the very back of his mind.

Dick takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Damian won’t appreciate it if he keeps laughing at him. Then, Dick walks over and ruffles Damian’s hair before taking over the spatula. Only Damian can make stirring pasta sauce sounds like torture.

“Give me the tomatoes,” Dick signs.

“Yes, I know, Grayson,” Damian grumbles, handing Dick a plate of chopped tomatoes. “And stop signing while you’re stirring. We don’t want a repeat of last Thursday.”

Dick stops stirring, then gives Damian his best conspiring look. “Nothing happened last Thursday.”

Damian snorts. “Keep telling yourself that. I will break the moment Pennyworth asks me about it. I do not wish to incur his wrath. Again.”

“The mighty Damian falls under Alfred’s wrath, huh?”

“It would be prudent to do so,” Damian says. “And stop signing.”

Dick laughs again. It’s fun, actually, being in the Penthouse’s kitchen, cooking dinner with his little brother, despite the complaints from Damian. It also serves to give Alfred a break every once in a while. God knows the man needs it.

The sunlight glints on the countertop, unhindered by anything. It’s almost sunset already. Dick knows that the Court can strike just as well, if not better, at night, but the sight of the sun setting calms Dick’s beating heart somewhat. At night they are Batman and Robin, not Dick and Damian. At night Dick can protect his brother more.

It’s ironic, that Dick likes Damian to be on the streets better than at home, but on the streets, he can lead any attempts on Dick’s life away from Damian. He can’t do that here.

Dick is perfectly fine with the Court threatening him, but he cannot bear it if his family is in danger. Never mind that all of their lives are at risk every time they put on a mask.

But they can handle those dangers. They have for years now. The Court though. The Court is something else. The Court is Dick’s problem.

A shadow appears over the countertop. And from its angle, whatever it is is perching on the windows. Too big to be a bird, and anything else won’t perch on the window.

No. No. Not now, not when he’s so close to getting through the day unscathed.

Not when Damian is so close to getting through the day unharmed.

Down, Dick signs with the field signals, ones that only his family and his Titans know. Ones that Damian is trained to recognize and obey instantly.

He does, thank god. Damian puts down the basil he’s been chopping and takes cover behind the kitchen counter.

Not a moment too late, because once Damian’s head went out of sight, the window breaks. The windows at Wayne Tower are supposed to be unbreakable, but…

It’s a Talon. It’s a Talon standing inside Dick’s kitchen, in very close proximity to Damian.

So it is the Court.

And they have sent a Talon for Dick’s head.

Dick moves into his stance. From the uniform, Dick knows that the Talon in front of him is his great-grandfather, William Cobb. That’s both good news and bad news, because Dick knows how Cobb fights, but Cobb also knows how Dick fights. After all, he’s the one who trained Dick all those years ago.

He’s also a damn good fighter.

But Dick has spent the years since their last encounter training with other people and he’s guessing that Cobb hasn’t. He throws the pan filled with hot pasta towards Cobb, trying to buy some time.

As Dick had expected, the pasta didn't hurt Cobb,but it did give him time to take a knife from the knife block on the counter. Distantly, Dick remembers Damian holding a knife before he took cover, and wonders where that knife is, but Dick pushes that thought out for later.

Dick has batarangs on his person, as always, but he��s not sure whether the Court already knows that tidbit of information, so he doesn’t dare pull them out.

Cobb throws his own knife. Dick ducks and rolls towards Cobb. Another knife, this one aimed downwards. Dick leaps up.

Cobb may be good, but Dick is right. Cobb’s skills, although impressive, hasn’t improved in the years since their last meeting.

Dick’s has increased exponentially.

But he’s in civvies, with only the one knife as a weapon. Cobb is in his full Talon regalia, with dozens of knives, two swords, throwing darts, and possibly several grenades. He also has regenerative abilities. Dick does not.

Dick aims a kick towards Cobb’s eyes. Cobb evades it, but that’s okay. It is supposed to be a feint anyway. Dick knows what move Cobb will use to evade the kick and he makes use of that by slashing at Cobb’s back.

It hits, but Dick knows the cut will heal soon enough. Dick has to be fast. He trips Cobb’s legs and strikes at his neck.

Dick used enough force to shatter a normal person’s trachea, but Cobb is a Talon, and so even that is not hard enough. Cobb takes the hit, but still manages to land one of his knives into Dick’s arm.

Dick does not have regenerative abilities.

Dick rolls away, protecting his injured arm. Cobb does not have the same qualms. He starts to say, “Richard Grayson. The Court of Owls has-”

His words are cut off by a knife to the spine. Damian. What is he doing, staying here? He’s supposed to be out and safe.

The knife did give Dick the opportunity to kick Cobb out of the window. He doesn’t even twitch, because Damian apparently had lodged his knife deep into Cobb’s spine. Not even a Talon can heal with a knife still embedded there.

That done, Dick turns towards Damian, hands already moving.

Damian doesn’t even blink. He just says, “You’re hurt,” like that’s all there is to be said.

Dick begs to differ. “What are you doing? You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“So you would have me leave you?”

“Yes!”Dick signs that with more force than the sign actually needs. “When I tell you to leave, you leave.”

“You didn’t tell me to leave,” Damian protests. “You told me to go down. And I did.”

Dick starts to sign again, before he looks at Damian. The kid meant well, and Dick can see that Damian is shaken up by the attack. He’s just trying to help. And Dick can’t really fault that logic. But still…

“You know what I meant. Don’t do that again.”

“Tt,” Damian clicks his tongue. He stops for a moment, and Dick lets him. Sometimes Damian needed more time to gather his thoughts, and Dick is more than happy to oblige him. “Are you not going to reprimand me about the knife?”

Oh. Damian didn’t know.

“You didn’t know about the healing abilities?”

“No. I suspected, based on the way he paid no mind on your attack on his trachea. Anyways, it wouldn’t have killed even a normal human being. It would only paralyze them.”

Dick sighs. He really shouldn’t encourage the violence, but the kid did save him. And Dick owes him an explanation.

“Don’t do that to a normal human being. Otherwise, good job.” Dick ruffles Damian’s hair again, with his uninjured arm. Then, he sobers up, and signs, “That’s a Talon.” Dick doesn’t elaborate. The kid knows about the Court already.

Damian’s face turned dangerous. Dick will have to watch out for that. Damian opens his mouth.

“No,” Dick signs, stopping Damian before he even starts. “We’re not going to go after them now. Go get Alfred, then get packing.”

“Packing?” Damian asks, perplexed.

“This place is compromised already. We’re moving to the Manor.”

***

#dc #dick grayson #bruce wayne #lian writes #noctuis #fic #i'll be tagging characters on tumblr as they show up!

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abitnotgoodiebag · 6 years ago

Text

Auditory Affliction

@ironstrangebingo square: Carol Danvers

@metalandfood prompt: from the tumblr prompt: Imagine Stephen’s phone going off a la Irene Adler style during inappropriate moments but it’s Tony’s voice that always comes out. The notification sound always changes from soft moans to a breathless, “Stephen”

AO3 link

Summary: Carol must put a stop to these inappropriate interruptions during avengers meetings.

5 times Stephen’s phone goes off and one time it does not.

The first time it happens, there is silence. Stephen pinches the bridge of his nose and pulls his phone from his robes with a put-upon sigh.

After a few taps on the screen of his hours-new personalized StarkPhone, Stephen looks up to see all of the gathered Avenger’s staring at him.

“So we’re just going to act like we didn’t hear Tony moan your name?” Clint asks with a smirk, his tone implying something rude.

Stephen’s jaw tightens a fraction and he swallows the urge to portal him somewhere unpleasant. He ignores the irritating archer and says, “FRIDAY, please let Tony know that I do not find his antics amusing.”

“Will do, Doc,” comes the reply in an amused tone, suggesting that boss would ignore the sentiment completely.

Apparently being crafted to adapt to the limitations of his trembling hands were not the only thing Tony had customized on the device.

The silence from the other members of the team stretches into something uncomfortable.

“What?!” Stephen asks defensively. “It’s not like I recorded it!”

Sam snorts “Suuuure.” under his breath. Clint snickers in response, while Steve doesn’t seem to be sure how to react to the whole situation.

Stephen rolls his eyes so far back into his head he fears they might get stuck. “I’ll be sure to mention how inappropriate this is next time I see Anthony. I’m sure he’ll agree and immediately do as requested to save me further irritation, knowing how much he enjoys decorum.” Stephen says, his sarcasm heavy.

Carol clears her voice to prevent further comments on Stephen’s unfortunate ringtone. “If we could get back to matters at hand?” she asks as she turns her attention back to the projection at the front of the room.

The meeting begins to drone on as it had before.

*Ooooh, Stephen!*

Stephen resists the urge to bang his head on to the table, having already been the recipient of enough stares today. Stephen opens a small portal and throws the phone through it.

“You were saying?” He asks with a frazzled smile pulling at his face.

---

Remembering that Tony is not only an Avenger, but also the world's foremost genius inventor is surprisingly difficult for Stephen. As such, whenever Tony’s presence is required for presentations, conferences and the like, Stephen tends to sulk.

Tony has been gone for 2 days now and Stephen is not happy about it. Wong has finally gotten tired of his moping around the Sanctum and has banished him until he can ‘get off his sorry ass and act like an adult, not a wounded puppy.’

Stephen finds himself wandering the halls of the compound aimlessly. After a minute, his wandering is no longer aimless as he smells something tasty coming from the direction that he is now headed in.

Approaching the communal kitchen area, Stephen notices Carol, Rhodes, Sam, Scott, and Bruce in various stages of cooking and setting the table.

“Strange! I didn’t know you were here.” says Sam while grabbing two pitchers of what appears to be pink lemonade from the refrigerator. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Stephen nods his assent, hoping that social interaction will cause the time until Tony’s return to go back just a bit faster. “What can I do to help?” He asks moving further into the room.

“Everything is pretty much finished, just waiting on the pasta for another minute or so. Make yourself comfortable.” Bruce stirs the pan of sauce that contains the source of the enticing scent. Stephen can identify spinach and other assorted vegetables simmering in a thick red sauce.

He doesn’t realize how hungry he is, and floats an extra place setting to the table.

The food is delicious and Stephen finds himself glad that he stayed for dinner. The wine and camaraderie is just the thing to drag Stephen from his funk.

“And then Telos said, ‘I’m not going to tell you again, man, it’s a fucking Flerken!’” Carol finishes, to the laughter of the group. She takes a sip of wine and continues, “Goose then thought it was the perfect time to eat the box in question, surprising the hell out of Rastur. I’ve never seen someone faint so fast.”

Stephen lets out another chuckle as he refills his glass. He is seriously contemplating stealing another slice of pound cake when a long, loud, breathy moan emanates from his pocket.

This time Stephen does let his head hit the table. “Fucking Tony.”

Scott can’t help but giggle. “Yeah, that’s what it sounds like, man.”

Stephen shoots him a glare. “Har har, Tiny Tim.”

Carol just sighs in resignation “He’ll never change it will he?”

Rhodes laughs softly, “Probably not. Not when everyone keeps getting all stuffy bout it. Rogers’ responses alone practically guarantee that it’s permanent.”

Carol just shakes her head in disapproval. “It’s unprofessional.”

“It’s Tony.” Rhodey replies with a shrug. “He does what he does when he wants to do it.”

Stephen looks up from his response to the intruding message. “It’s one of the joys of his life to cause as much trouble as possible.” Two more indecent cries follow.

“I-uh feel like we’re interrupting a private moment.” Sam says as he hurriedly reaches for the wine. Bruce motions for him to pass it down when he finishes, Sam complies.

“If only. Wong is regaling me with the tale of the newest novice to accidentally stick themselves in another dimension.” Stephen says absentmindedly, putting the phone back in his pocket.

“Wait a minute, you’re telling me that’s not even Stark?” Scott asks bursting into giggles again. “It does that for everybody?”

“Yup.” Stephen replies, lips popping on the P.

“Fucking Tony.” Says an amused Bruce.

“Fucking Tony.” Stephen agrees.

---

Steve Rogers and his merry band of pardoned rogues enter the common room as Stephen is meditating.

They pause momentarily, debating whether or not interrupting Stephen is the wisest course of action, but Clint rolls his eyes at his teammates and continues into the room.

“It’s my turn to pick the movie and I am not letting you dipsticks put me off again!”

Natasha rolls her eyes fondly and heads to one of the couches, curling on one side as Sam and Bucky bicker over who gets the other prime viewing spot on the couch. “You always pick the shittest movies, Clint. Don’t try to deny it.”

They settle in to various positions while Clint fiddles with the Blu Ray player.

The title screen for Sharknado: The Fourth Awakens appears on the television and a chorus of groans rings out, Natasha’s the loudest of the lot.

“Really, Barton? Why do you hate us?” Sam gripes as he decides that in order to sit through this, beer and popcorn are needed. He gets up and heads to the kitchen to collect the snacks.

Clint replies with a smirk, “This is cinematic excellence, you heathens.”

“What exactly is a ‘sharknado’?” Bucky asks, dreading the answer. “Tell me it isn’t exactly what it sounds like.”

“But it is exactly what it sounds like. That’s the beauty of it!” Clint looks absolutely gleeful.

Steve and Bucky look at each other, each wondering why this even exists and why someone thinks that four of them are necessary.

As they munch on popcorn and pick apart the absurd stupidity of the film, they forget the sorcerer’s presence in the room altogether. When they find out that April is actually alive, but mostly machine (several jokes are thrown Bucky’s way) and that she seems to be part human, part iPhone they are startled by a powerful cry of Stephen’s name drawn out in the most salacious tone yet.

Stephen is jerked from his meditating with a curse and would have fallen to the ground if not for the Cloak of Levitation keeping him off the floor.

He opens his eyes to the blush of Steve Rogers and smirks and leers from the rest of the ex-rogues.

“May I help you?” Stephens asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Sounds like you get enough ‘help’ as is!” crows Bucky trying unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.

Various sounds of amused agreement from Sam, Clint and Scott follow the statement. The phone moans again, omitting Stephen’s name this time. Steve’s face is almost completely red when he manages to tear his gaze away from Stephen’s amused one.

“Why? Why would Tony do that? That is not for everyone to hear!” Rogers looks ready to combust from embarrassment.

Flying sharks dance across the screen in the background completely forgotten as Stephen tries not to crack a smile at Steve’s obvious discomfort.

“I think he was trying to embarrass me. He wasn’t aware that it was an exercise in futility, but your reactions do give him some small measure of satisfaction.” Stephen gets to his feet carefully and stretches.

Steve is still blushing and Clint is throwing popcorn at him chuckling.

“In any case, Everything I’ve tried to change or silence it has ended in failure, so I have to hope that he’ll get tired of everyone’s reactions and give it a rest. Eventually.” With that, Stephen opens a portal and steps through to the Sanctum.

“I just don’t understand it.” Steve groans as he closes his eyes and thumps back against the couch, hitting Bucky’s leg.

“Well Stevie, when a boy and a boy love each other very much-” Bucky begins.

“And one of them is a shameless slut!” Clint interrupts, tossing more popcorn, this time into his own mouth. Bucky collapses into laughter unable to finish his lesson on the bees and the bees.

Steve drops his face into his hands and wishes the floor would swallow him whole. “I hate you guys.”

---

Stephen is still unsure how exactly they’ve ended up at this point.

Somehow during a routine training exercise (in which Clint is not a part of, yet is there for), Steve Rogers acquires two serrated arrows. Said arrows are sticking out of the affectionately dubbed ‘America’s Ass.’ At Stephen’s gesture, the Cloak of Levitation lifts him with as little movement as possible and floats him quickly to the medbay.

Stephen opens a portal to Metro General in search of Christine. After he locates her, they step through to the medbay and she appears to be just as baffled as he is.

“Why do you people even have an archer? What is the actual point?” She mutters to herself as she slides her hands into a pair of latex gloves.

Stephen finds it difficult to find a positive answer to her question. He floats several instruments and supplies over to the cart next to the bare-bottomed, Captain America. Steve’s teeth are gritted and his fists clenched in discomfort.

Bucky is standing at the head of the gurney trying pathetically to rein in the snickers at the sight Steve makes.

“As you can see, the arrowheads are serrated, so yanking them out would not be ideal. I came straight to get you, so I haven’t determined whether or not they’ve lodged into any bone matter.” Strange offers his observations as the cloak floats back to settle on his shoulders.

Christine approaches the gurney containing the super soldier. “Captain? I’m going to have to get a quick X-Ray to make sure the tip isn’t lodged in your ilium or sacrum, can you hold tight for me while I check?” Stephen is already pushing the XRay machine over to her. She aims the beam and takes 2 images. Seconds later, the images are displayed as a hologram above the XRay machine.

“Good news, Captain, No tips lodged anywhere. That will make extraction much simpler.” Christine smiles at him.

The doors open and Carol steps into the medbay with a stern look on her face. She catches the gaze of both Stephen and Bucky and quirks an eyebrow. “I am not happy to reset the critical incident counter in the training area again, gentleman. Why exactly am I unhappy this time?”

Bucky ducks his head and swallows his laughter while Stephen just shrugs and replies, “Barton felt left out, I guess.”

Christine is dabbing the punctured area of Rogers’ backside with betadine, concentrating on the task at hand. She picks up the forceps and places a hand on Steve’s lower back. “This may pinch a bit, Captain.” Steve lets out a breath. “I’m going to remove the tips now.”

Steve grunts in response and a fist shoots out to grab Bucky’s forearm. Bucky looks down at Steve and his gaze softens a bit at the discomfort on his face. “Just a tick, Punk, the Doc will have you good as new.”

Christine maneuvers the forceps into position and is able to get the first arrow out with little more than a grimace from Steve. She places the arrow on the cart and turns to the second arrow, inserting the forceps into the puncture gently.

*Oh Yesssss Stephen!*

Christine jerks at the sound, causing the arrow to tear into Steve’ glutes. Steve’s grip on Bucky’s arm veers into painful territory. Barnes and Rogers both cry out simultaneously.

“GODDAMMIT, TONY!” Steve shouts, face colouring in pain and mortification.

Stephen fights with every molecule in his body, but is unable to stop the “Language!” admonishment from leaving his lips.

Every single person in the medbay levels a glare at the sorcerer who raises his hands in a gesture of contrition. He is only moderately certain that his smirk is no longer on his face.

---

Stephen is hard-pressed to admit it, but he absolutely loves spending time with Peter. He knows that he still isn’t quite as close to him as Tony is, but Stephen has grown fond of the Spiderling.

They are in Tony’s lab, Peter doing his homework and Stephen analysing the molecular structure of a relic discovered by the master of the newly rebuilt London sanctum. Once stephen is assured that it is in fact magical and not some alien detritus, he joins Peter at the workbench.

They quickly fall into a discussion on microbiology when a filthy moan stretches out for much longer than necessary.

Stephen whips his head to his pocket before hearing the sound of a pen hitting the metal worktop. Strange turns back toward Peter, scandalized. Peter’s face turns bright red and he looks as if he has no idea how to respond to the noise that just came from Stephen’s direction.

“Uh, Mr. Doctor? Is everything alright?”

Stephen exhales slowly, counting to ten before retrieving his phone and glaring at it. No matter how hard Stephen has tried, there is no changing or silencing the embarrassing notifications. Tony refuses to do it himself and while Stephen initially found it irritating at worst and amusing at best, Peter is now being subjected to Tony’s ridiculousness.

“How upset would you be if I murdered Tony? Scale of Lang to Banner.” Stephen asks mildly, rubbing at his temples.

Peter doesn’t seem to have heard the question. His gaze is set resolutely forward, avoiding Stephen’s eyes. After hearing his pseudo father like that…well, Peter needs brain bleach. “Erg…I just. Can’t.”

Unfortunately, Carol chooses this moment to enter the lab. She frowns at the look on Peter’s face and opens her mouth, no doubt to ask him the matter.

Stephen’s phone picks that same moment to literally scream his name. Everyone in the room is struck by a powerful urge to be somewhere else.

“Strange! This has to stop immediately!” Carol barks as she throws her hands in the air.

Peter hurriedly throws his work in his backpack and flees the lab muttering under his breath about therapy and neuralizers. Stephen experiences a wave of disappointment at his time with his Spider child being cut short. Stephen feels the first twitch of serious ire at Tony’s foolishness. “Major Danvers, I assure you I will speak with Tony about this idiotic phone.”

“See that you do, Strange. Peter is going to be confounded for days.” Try as she might, Carol can’t help but feel the tiniest bit amused at the expression on his face as the boy bolted. She turns on her heel and exits as Stephen opens a portal to the penthouse.

---

Carol steels her resolve as she heads down the hallway towards Tony’s office. These interruptions and interjections cannot be allowed to continue. Amongst the Avengers it’s an annoyance, but now Peter is being harrassed and Carol must take action. She knows that Dr. Strange has nothing to do with it, that Tony is the one behind the many disruptions, so Tony is who she’s going to dress down. She reaches his office door and turns the knob.

“Tony, we need to-”

Carol freezes.

Tony is spread over his desk on his back with his shirt ripped open, head hanging down so she can see the blush on his cheeks. His eyes are screwed shut and he is huffing out little breaths. He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat and he looks utterly wrecked. Strange jerks from the other side of the desk, his hands gripping Tony’s hips tightly, eyes closed in concentration or ecstacy, Carol can’t quite tell nor does she want to.

Carol has never appreciated the necessity of knocking as much as she does in this moment.

A loud cry interrupts her mortification and she turns and flees, not remembering whether or not she closed the door behind her.

She nearly collides with Rhodey a few meters down the hall, still bright red.

“Mmm, Stephen!”

Rhodey frowns. “Tony still won’t change Strange’s ringtone?”

Carol manages to flush even deeper and squeaks “S-Something like that!” She speeds down the hall away from Rhodey, who shakes his head in exasperation and continues in the opposite direction.

He reaches the cracked door of Tony’s office and pushes the door open, about to scold Tony Stank for embarrassing Stephen and ignoring Carol. The door is abruptly jerked closed and Rhodey quickly heads in the direction Carol went muttering curses at Tony Stank.

Back in his office, Tony and Stephen have not slowed down in the slightest. Tony is gripping the edge of desk for dear life while Stephen rails into him. Tony is past the point of caring about keeping quiet and lets out a low stream of curses scattered with the sorcerer’s name.

Stephen groans and shifts his hips slightly finding Tony’s hot spot. Tony throws his head back hard enough to hit the desk. Stephen moves a hand from Tony’s hip to grasp his erection, rubbing his thumb along the slit. Three twisting strokes later, Tony is undone. His legs tighten around Stephen’s waist and he comes with a loud cry covering his stomach and chest with his seed. Stephen is not far behind him, coming with a strangled cry, eyes popping open to look at Tony.

Stephen drops forward onto Tony’s chest, huffing at the feel of Tony’s spend on his exposed skin. Tony brings his head up and tangles his fingers in Stephen’s hair.

Stephen pulls Tony off the desk and falls backwards into Tony’s chair, ending up with a lapful of sated mechanic.

“They still giving you shit about your phone?” Tony asks with a sly grin.

Stephen rolls his eyes and kisses Tony to shut him up. The genius knows perfectly well how the Avengers feel as Tony gleefully has FRIDAY send him the more amusing reactions.

“At least they’ll just think it’s your phone when we sneak off in here.” Tony quips.

“I hate to disappoint you babe, but both Carol and James barged in here not 10 minutes ago. I think we’ve scarred them.” Stephen nuzzles into Tony’s neck breathing in his scent.

Tony shrugs, “Well, that’s one way to guarantee knocking in the future.”

Soon after there are no more lascivious interruptions from Stephen’s phone. Tony’s office door also now sports an unnecessarily large ‘Knock, please!’ sign in hot-rod red. It doesn’t seem to be necessary as no one approaches that hallway anymore unless it is absolutely vital.

#ironstrange #strangeiron #supremefamily #stephen strange #ironstrange bingo #Winebuzzfics #5+1 fic #Tony is a little shit #ironmagic

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