Draco can feel the tension in his body twisting and turning, slowly ebbing away as he and Harry leave Robards’ office in a hurry. He’d been dying to get out of that meeting from the moment it had begun this morning.
It had been a mandatory review of all of their cases from the last six months. Apparently the head of the department had decided that no one was exempt from the intense scrutiny they’d just faced over the last two hours. Hell he had expected it to be brutal based on the chatter around the Auror office from those who had already faced their own review, but even he couldn’t have anticipated the kinds of questions they would ask.
“And do you feel your relationship with Mr. Potter is completely professional?”
“Mr. Malfoy, have your feelings for Mr. Potter ever gotten in the way of your ability to make an unbiased call in the field?”
“Mr. Potter, there is a history of rash decisions in your case file. Do you believe yourself of sound mind and judgement in the heat of the moment?”
“Gentleman, have you ever had more than a professional working relationship with your Auror partner?”
They’d claimed the questions were standard, and would be the same for all partners regardless of gender or sexual orientation. A necessary precaution they’d called it. But Draco had felt his insides churning at the questions, his mind over run with thoughts and desires which he usually worked very hard to keep below the surface. He had answered them with a cool and calm countenance that had betrayed nothing of his true feelings.
Harry on the other hand had begun to get agitated the second they’d questioned his personal life.
“I’m a damn good Auror and what I do off the clock is none of your business.”
They were partners. Friends. And yet Harry had bristled at the insinuation they were more, refusing to answer the questions which Draco was sure only made things about a hundred times worse.
By the time they finally reach their office Harry is in a right mood, ripping his Auror robes off and flinging them on the chair in the corner. He takes his glasses off next, setting them on the desk and rubbing his face with both hands. He looks tired, stressed. It’s not the first time Draco has wondered why Harry is still an Auror. He’s good at it, damn good in fact, His reflexes are excellent and his experience with Dark Wizards invaluable. But even after three years working together Draco can see that he still has trouble taking orders; he’s brash and though his instinct are usually right he follows them blindly. Mostly though, despite how good he is at his job he just doesn’t seem happy.
Draco watches with curiosity as Harry just drops to the floor, as if he truly cannot take another moment of anything, running his hands through his hair before laying down. He feels guilty for the thoughts that run through his mind, the way he can’t take his eyes off the strength in Harry’s forearms, or the space between his legs. H knows he shouldn’t be thinking those things when Harry is clearly struggling. But the questions had been too much, had brought too much to the forefront of his min, and though he might not be showing it outwardly Draco feels just as close to exploding as Harry looks.
“Do you regret it?” Harry asks quite suddenly, startling Draco out of his thoughts.
“Becoming an Auror?”
Of all the things Draco thought the other man might say that is not one of them. He thinks back on the brutal years in training, of the distrust and harassment he had faced when he first joined and the hard work and determination it had taken to get anyone to take him seriously. He thinks back to when they had first become partners and the way they had argued and clashed just as intensely as they had in school, until one day after a bad case when they’d both ended up at the same bar and gotten pissed after work together. The next day he couldn’t remember what either one of them had said or done, and truth be told he still has no idea if Harry ever remembered because they never discussed it, but things had changed after that. They had begun working as a team, and before Draco had known what was happening they weren’t just two people being forced to work together they were partners; a well functioning team that both trusted and relied on one another.
He looks at Harry now, sprawled out on the floor looking tense and unhappy, something Draco now knows he hides from almost everyone else and he wonders what it means that Harry trusts him with the ugliest sides of himself so implicitly.
Draco doesn’t usually stop to think about his own feelings, not after having worked so hard to push them away. He regrets many things in his life, but becoming an Auror is not one of them, not when it has led him this. Whatever this might be.
“No, I don’t.”
Harry’s shoulders tighten and Draco wonders when exactly he learned to read the other man so well. He looks angry, at himself Draco thinks, and guilty.
“You know its ok to hate your job.”
Harry jerks his head up in surprise, his brow crinkling in confusion. “But you just said-”
“I know perfectly well what I said. I answered your question honestly. You just didn’t ask the right question.” Draco crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair and watching Harry throw his hands in the air before dropping his head back to the ground with an audible thud.
“Well what the bloody fuck was the right question?”
Draco can’t help it, he laughs. Harry shoots him an angry look.
“I’m so glad you find this so funny.”
“Always so fucking melodramatic, Potter.” Draco knows exactly what to say to get a rise out of him and Harry is on his feet in seconds.
“That meeting was a load of shit. We’re the best Aurors in the department and they know it.”
“Are you angry because they questioned your work ethic or because they questioned our relationship?” Draco says, and is surprised at how good it feels to say something. To acknowledge them in some way, even if they have no idea what they are.
Harry opens his mouth to speak and then stops as if he’s thought better of it. He suddenly looks so unsure, and so much younger than his twenty seven years. He rubs his hands on his shirt almost unconsciously and just stares at Draco.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Draco asks, rising from his seat and closing the small distance between them. He can practically feel the tension in Harry’s body, the air nearly crackling with it. “I think you’re tired of all of it; of the protocol and the bureaucracy and the phoniness. You’ve spent your entire fucking life saving everyone else and being who they needed to be and I think you’ve finally had enough. Today. Right now, Harry. You’ve had enough.”
Harry sucks in a deep breath, and Draco has no idea what to expect because he knows he’s crossing that forbidden line that says neither one of them will acknowledge real feelings but he doesn’t care because he can’t stand another day of pretending either.
“Aren’t you tired of being what everyone else needs you to be? Don’t you want to get what you need for once?”
Harry licks his lips, still unable to move from his spot as if his feet have been spelled to the floor. “And what exactly is it you think I need?”
Fuck it Draco thinks, he’s come this far already. Instead of saying anything he reaches out, his hands sliding into Harry’s hair and gently urging him closer. He presses his lips to Harry’s, afraid for a moment he’s made a mistake and gone too far but then Harry is nearly clawing at him, his hands grabbing onto Draco so tightly it almost hurts.
The kiss is almost brutal, desperate, and so fucking good Draco stops trying to hold it in and just moans into Harry’s mouth which only spurs the other man on even more. Draco’s hand is sliding down Harry’s back when there is a knock on the door and they spring apart just seconds before the door flies open. It’s Robards. Draco has never wanted to curse someone as badly as he does right in this moment. His heart aches and he just knows the moment has been ruined, that this interruption has shattered whatever fragile thing they were beginning.
“Listen, Potter, Malfoy, about before I-”
“I quit!” Harry shouts and Draco’s mouth falls open in the most un-Malfoy like display of shock he’s ever shown.
“Excuse me, Potter, you can’t quit!”
Draco doesn’t even look at Robards, because he can’t take his eyes off Harry. Harry looks giddy, euphoric even, and it reminds Draco of the way Potter used to look after he’d caught the Golden Snitch.
“Yes, Sir, I can. I quit. I hate my job,” he shouts, and then he begins to laugh. Robards looks like he thinks Harry might have lost his mind. “God that felt good to say out loud. I FUCKING HATE MY JOB!” he screams even louder, making several of the other Aurors peek their heads down the hallway and through the open door to their office.
Robards holds his hand up to silence him but Harry is paying him no mind.
“I hate the paperwork and the assignments and the bloody protocol that makes no sense sometimes and I hate the awful hours. Fuck I hate everything about it except that I get to work with you,” Harry says, turning to look at Draco with a look so pure in intensity Draco is glad he’s sitting down already.
“And what about you, Malfoy?” Robards asks, sounding equal parts confused and helpless.
“Oh I quit too. I detest this job.”
“I thought you said you didn’t regret becoming an Auror?” Harry asks suddenly, as if he’s forgotten Robards is just standing there watching them.
Draco shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “I don’t regret it, not at all. But I still fucking hate this job.”
“Then why don’t you regret it?” he asks, and Draco wonders how it’s possible that other man really doesn’t see it.
“Because you oblivious idiot, I’m in love with you. Pretty sure if you jumped out this window right now I’d follow you like a lovesick puppy. It’s absolutely pathetic,” he answers in the most self deprecating tone possible.
“Well, that’s rather good then isn’t it. Because I’m in love with you.”
“Right, well I’ll just be leaving now,” Robards mumbles awkwardly before shutting the door behind him. Neither Harry nor Draco pay him any attention.
“So, before….when you said you knew what I needed,” Harry begins to say, crossing the room until he’s standing directly in front of Draco with his hand outstretched. “What if you showed me instead.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,“ Draco answers, taking Harry’s hand in his own and thinking that maybe what they both want and need might just be the same things.
My hands sting and I can already feel the bruises beginning to form.
I sit to catch my breath, in the deafening silence I hear a drop of my blood hit the scuffed wooden floor.
Looking back, not wrapping my hands was a bad idea.
I get onto my feet and hook another bag up. This time, being careful to wash and wrap my hands.
Letting out years of pent up anger felt good after a long day of dealing with idiotic people.
“You should probably take care of that first.” Steve comments just as I knock the bag off its chain, accidentally spilling sand across the floor.
“If it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan, why are you here? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything -” he says obviously finding humour in his joke. My patience is running thin and I shoot him a glare.
He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Fury wanted to see you.”
“Fury? Nick Fury, the one that relieved me of my title as field agent?-” Steve tries to cut me off
“-All because yours truly made one little mistake-”
“You almost got us killed.” He cuts in
“But I didn’t! I came in and saved your ass, again!”
“You wouldn’t have had to save us if you stuck to the orders!”
“It was my brother! What would you have done! I fixed my mistake, but Fury didn’t give me my second chance, why should I give him his?”
“Y/N I-” he sighs “I need your help.”
I shoot him a questioning look. “My silence is your cue.”
“Do you remember Bucky?”
“Bucky. Barnes?…The Winter Soldier? Yeah, why?”
“S.H.E.I.L.D wants to recruit him”
“Why? He tried to kill us. You were his mission-”
“I was his friend.”
“Steve, Bucky was your friend, the Winter Soldier, he’s your enemy. You can’t save him. He’s long gone. And he tried to kill us.”
“He remembers.” Steve argues “H-he’s still the Bucky I used to know, deep down.” He clears his throat again.
“Fury said that if you brought him back successfully-and alive- he’ll give you your job back.”
“Fine, but I’m doing this for me, and only me, not for you or your issues with your broken boyfriend.” Steve barely contained his excitement as we walk to the jet waiting outside. After a short flight to Stark tower and many questioning glances, we’re sat around a table discussing the terms of the mission.
“There are tracking devices in all the weapons in case you decide to go rogue.”
“Stark, I take my job very seriously.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just a precaution.”
I glance over the weapons layed out in front on me and pick a few, stuffing them in my duffle bag. I pause when I see an unfamiliar weapon. “Hey, Stark, what’s this?”
“Turn it away from you, press the green button, it vaporizes whatever its aimed at.” He demonstrated on a vase sitting on the table and it turned to a pile of ash.
“Woah. That’s awesome!”
“Tony, if only you were as big as your ego, maybe you’d be able to reach the top shelf.” Although he was a few inches taller than me I still liked to tease him about his height compared to the others.
I sat back down looking over the Winter Soldier’s case file once again, taking in all the details, adding them to what I already know. In his military picture he looks young, determined, sweet, definitely handsome, probably a ladies man with his hair neatly cut and gelled.
In the other two he looked different. There’s one of him in cryo. Even in his frozen state you can still make out the crease in his brow, he looks like he’s… in pain. The one of him in action, a majority of his face is covered by a black mask, his hair long and messy. His metal arm stood out against his black uniform. The vibranium caught the sun and made the red star stand out even more. The way I recognized him best, as the Winter Soldier.
“What?” I say snapping out of my stupor
“You spaced out, it’s time for us to leave, you’re headed to Shelbyville, Indiana, that’s where the target was seen last.”
“He’s not a target.” Steve yelled from down the hall, slamming the door.
“Actually, Sam? Wilson, right? Alright bird-boy. I say we head to Washington. I was thinking metal-man grew up in Indiana, maybe he went looking for answers he couldn’t find. If you’re a fossil who doesn’t know how to properly use a computer, where would you go to search for the past?”
“The Smithsonian.” Bruce chimed in when we walked past him lab. I shot him a smile, seeing as he was the only one who sided with me when I almost got them killed, he’s one of my favorites. Him and Natasha that is. Agent Romanoff was always one of my favourites.
“Exactly, there’s a big plaque dedicated to Barnes there. I say we check it out. I don’t think Barnes would stay in one place too long, he knows he’s wanted.”
“You really think he’s there?”
“Wilson, I’m a spy, its my job to know where people are.” I send over my shoulder on my way into the quinjet. I’m met with a light chuckle from Mr. Patriotism himself. “What’re you laughing at?”
“You know, you’re quite funny, agent Y/L/N.” I’m slightly startled by the title, not being used to it anymore. Does he just have that much faith that I’ll succeed? Although, I’ve only failed one or two missions. “Alright Rogers, we’ve got three hours on the jet, try to behave.”
Three hours later I’m dropped off at one of Stark’s safe houses a few blocks from the Smithsonian.
“Call when you’ve got him, we’ll send a jet. And Y/N, please, don’t hurt him unless you absolutely need to.” A quick nod and a small smile from the Captain is my parting, from here I’m on my own. I head into the small rundown house, it’s bigger on the inside, cleaner and brighter too. There’s a bed to one side and a bathroom on the other.
“There’s no place like home.”
I drop my duffle and slip a gun into the waistband of my pants. I also grab a knife and slip it into the holster in my jacket, you can’t be too careful.
I decide to take the small ‘getaway’ car in the garage. Its not as great as Steve’s bug though.
The first few days go by with no sign of the infamous soldier. I’m caught off guard to finally see the one and only sporting a baseball cap, jeans and a sweatshirt. He has gloves on too, it seems. Its not too cold, it’s only late October, he’s most likely trying to hide the metal that could set civilians into a panic and most certainly give him away. He’s standing near the plaque dedicated to the one James Barnes of the 107th.
I stand and observe him for a little while. He reads the words over and over again. Its a good ten minutes before I finally walk over, careful not to startle him. I stand next to him and read the plaque for myself.
“Bucky seems like he was a great person, definitely someone you’d want to befriend.” He seems caught off guard by my words and he takes a second to comprehend my sentence.
“Yeah I bet he was a great person.” He says. “Was.” He says. I don’t comment on it because I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it. After another few minutes of silence I start again.
“You know, Steve really misses you.” His head shoots up and his eyes are dark and guarded. He recognized the name.
“He remembers.” Steve’s words play over in my head.
“Who sent you?” He questions obviously ready for a fight.
“S.H.E.I.L.D.” the look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“They want to recruit you.” No response.
“Bucky-” recognition crosses his features, but is gone almost immediately and his eyes soften, barely. He looked like he was thinking hard, remembering.
“-Steve wants you back, he wants you to remember and I can help.” I show him my S.H.E.I.L.D badge for proof
“Let’s go because that guard hasn’t stopped watching you since you came in.” We head towards the street making our way to my car.
A tall man blocks our way. I pull out a gun and shoot. I clip his shoulder and he gets my leg, I collapse, but shoot again, this time its a head shot. The car’s gone and I can’t walk.
“How’d you get those through security?”
“Same way you got your arm through. Can you carry me, I can’t walk.” He picks me up as if I weighed nothing while I made a makeshift tourniquet.
I call Steve and then Romanoff and Banner, but none of them answer. He sets me down in a chair when we reach the safe house.
“Well, Earth’s mightiest heroes aren’t answering, I guess we’ll spend the night here. I’ll take first watch. You rest.” He hesitates, obviously not trusting me.
“If Steve trusts me, you can too. I promise.” He gets up and heads towards the bathroom. I hear the water start to run. I decide to make something light to eat for us, assuming he hasn’t had much lately. I hear the door click open.
“Hey, I made us dinner-” he standing in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “I uhm, left my clothes.”
I hand him his clothes and try to keep my gaze from wandering. The door clicks shut again and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in. I sit on the bed and begin eating my sandwich. Bucky comes out, fully clothed with his hair neatly combed. I hand him his plate.
“You know, if there’s anything you want to know about yourself, I could try to answer, the basics at least. You’ll have to ask Rogers on the rest.”
“You know, that wasn’t me. None of it was me, I killed… So many people b-but, it wasn’t me.”
“I know Bucky.” I say taking his plate as he lays down.
He tosses and turns for hours. And when his breathing finally evens out I’m relieved to know he’s at least resting. I know what torture can do to a person. He sleeps for about an hour before he wakes up, immediately on guard. He wraps his metal hand around my throat
“Кто тебя послал?” Who sent you?
I’ve never been caught like this before, I could get out easily, but that would only make him more nervous,
“Bucky.” I choke out. “Its me, no one sent me.” His eyes soften and he drops me.
“I’m so sorry.” He says softly, glancing at the forming bruises.
“Its okay, I have them too, you know.” He looks surprised,
“Mm.” He looks at me for another second before going and sitting on the bed. He mutters quietly in Russian, but I can’t make out the words. I sidestep my bag and go to the sink.
“Drink.” I say handing him the glass. “What were you just mumbling?”
“Пытки равна прочности.”
“Torture equals strength.” We say together.
“ It was written on every surface back at Hydra.” I sit on the bed next to him, a bit closer than necessary.
“Все это будет нормально.” It’ll all be okay
He looks up at me and for the first time I see the ghost of a smile grace his features.
My phone rings interrupting our conversation.
“I’m sorry, we had a mission, I’ll come out to pick you up now.”
Thanks Clint, see you soon.“
“Katniss will be here soon, just throw your stuff in my duffle, I got it.” He does as he’s told, obviously confused, and goes back to his spot on the bed. It kind of set me off that he was trusting me. I knew well enough that it was an act. That he would try something. It was almost too easy.
Bucky became my new partner on all my missions and he’s remembering more and more.
With the help of Steve of course.
Its been about 2 years. I’ll fill you in on the details.
I was right, when Clint came, Bucky tried to escape. To kill us. He didn’t succeed. He was locked up for a while, with only minimal visits from me or from Steve. Steve helped him to remember, I was like a therapist. Maybe it was because I didn’t remind him, maybe because I was, in a sense, a stranger, but nevertheless, we grew closer. Eventually, I got Fury to agree to let Barnes roam, with me as an escort. Once he was stable enough, he began training, which, in my opinion, he didn’t need. And then he was recruited.
“Hey, Buck, we gotta go, we’re on our way to Vegas, remember?”
Finally, a mission in a nice place. We drop down and check into a nice hotel, that’s a new one. There’s a Hydra base under one of the abandoned casinos in town and its our job to take it down.
“Hey Buck, we’re in Vegas, we should do something fun.”
I say as we walk away from the burning building, cliché am I right?
“Why don’t we go back to the hotel and order room service? Watch a few movies, I’m still not caught up with the 21st century.” I laugh and nod my head in agreement.
I collapse on the bed and bury my face in the pillow.
“Are you tired, Мой ангел?”
I feel a rush of warmth at the name. Did he just call me his angel?
“No, just getting comfy.” I reply, my voice muffled my the pillow.
“I can make you comfy.” He says climbing in beside me and pulling me to him. He trails kisses up my neck to my jaw. I turn over to face him and give him a puzzled look. I’m not denying my feelings, everyone knew they were there, we’ve just never… confronted it, or even talked about it. And he’s never this carefree.
He smiles and captures my lips with his, a soft, yet hungry kiss, like he’d been waiting to do it. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he instinctively put his hands on either side of my head to hold himself up. I tuck my hand up under his shirt and he pulls away only long enough my me to slip his shirt off and throw it across the room. I trace the skin where the metal meets, its still red, but not as bad as when I caught him watching his own reflection. As if he were a monster, a few weeks after I brought him to S.H.E.I.L.D. he slipped my shirt up over my head and trailed kisses down my neck, to my chest and onto my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He brings his mouth back up to mine and his tongue skims my bottom lip. The moment ends when my phone rings insanely loudly. Bucky curses under his breath.
“What?” I snap at the person on the other line.
“Did I interrupt?” Comes the snarky voice of Tony on the other end.
“Why are you calling, Stark?”
“I sent Natasha to come get you guys, she’ll be there in a few hours.”
I end the call without a goodbye and look to the soldier piercing me with his blue eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He just chuckles and places a light kiss to my forehead.
“We’d better get dressed.” He muses a playful smirk on his face.
“To be continued, Кукла.”
My face when the fandom tries to compare a brainwashed, drugged Ray’s crimes to that blonde Marshall Applewhite wannabe’s crimes.
Rika was literally controlling him, y'all. Don’t forget that. It wouldn’t make any difference if she was a man, I’d still hate his cult leader, ‘stabbing my ex cuz he doesn’t love me anymore’ ass. You can’t compare the situations, Ray is Rika’s victim.
She took a boy that knew next to nothing about the world because of his extremely abusive mother who didn’t let him outside, and started giving him a drug that flooded him with dopamine. She convinced him to hate his brother for leaving him in order to make him dependent on her and only her. Ray clung to her because she made him experience happiness for the first time, even if it was fake and drug induced.
The drug is never fully explained, but it causes hallucinations and makes you ill after prolonged use, and Ray has been using it for years. I know from my experience with psychedelics, that if your mind is not in the right place when you take drugs, it will seriously fuck you up. It can change your worldview and personality completely. Set and setting are extremely important, and mentally unstable individuals should not take it.
I was in a terribly depressed mood for hours once after taking LSD, just from watching the first episode of Trailer Park Boys, my mind was stuck on a loop of how truly terrible their lives are. This show is a fucking comedy, and it had me in a bad mental spot for about 6 hours. Just imagine what it would do to a boy who has had the life Ray has.
There’s a reason for the term ‘trip baby sitting.’ Other’s influences are really strong, and if you start to spiral into a bad place, you need someone to talk you through. Rika obviously used this vulnerable state that she induced in Ray to shape his mind for her selfish purposes.
I’m sure there was a trial and error period before they got the dosing to the point where people could function well while on it, so Ray has probably been in the state V was at one point or another. And we all saw how depressed V was after it began to wear off. Ray doesn’t take the elixer regularly because it hurts his stomach. So hes on a constant drug induced wave of depressed followed by a forced high from dopamine. Speaking of dopamine, his ability to produce it naturally is probably completely shot from prolonged use.
The elixer seems to have some psychedelic properties, but it’s definitely mixed with something else to cause physical harm. Psychedelics only cause psychological damage, hence the name, and there’s no known case of overdosing on them. Mixing drugs is very, very dangerous, and I can guarantee that Rika isn’t qualified to do so safely. Take note that we never see her taking it.
Long story short, Rika fucked Ray up mentally. If he stopped taking this drug, or never took it to begin with, I highly suspect he wouldn’t have been so committed to Rika or to ‘paradise.’ Would he be pretty fucked from past trauma? Definitely. But I really don’t believe he would be so far gone if Rika hadn’t lied and manipulated his mind.
All I’m trying to say here, is I’ve seen a lot of people defending her, saying the fans would like her if she was a guy, or excusing her actions because of mental issues, or saying Ray is just as bad, and that’s simply not the case. Ray sympathizers aren’t ignoring his crimes, we’re just aware that he’s been manipulated into them, and that makes all the difference. And its really a disservice to fellow fans to think they aren’t aware of or don’t care about the bad things Ray has done. We want him to be happy because he never stood a chance, because we know that deep down, he’s actually not a bad person, he’s just been used as a puppet for Rika’s selfishness, and that HE DESERVES BETTER.
Rika, however, seems to be truly, deeply malicious. No one is manipulating Rika. This is all her. I would hate her just as much if she was a man, because these actions cannot be excused no matter what. In my book, she’s just as bad as other cult leaders, like Marshall Applewhite and Charles Manson, who are, you guessed it, MEN. I have no sympathy for whose who use the vulnerability of abused people for their own purposes, which is a big reason I don’t like religion in general, but that’s a whole other rant that I won’t get into here.
Sorry for getting so serious, just felt it needed to be addressed. I’ll be back to regularly scheduled programming soon.
You were on your way down to the hotel lobby to meet with the other students on the decathlon team. You passed Peter and Ned’s room, stopping once you heard Ned’s frantic voice coming from behind the door.
You furrowed your brows, reaching up to the knock. “Ned? Peter? Is everything alright?”
When it suddenly became silent, you pushed your ear up the door and heard the sound of someone shuffling around.
“(Y/n)! Hey!” Ned called, inside the room whispering harshly into the phone, asking Peter was the hell was supposed to do. “Y-Yeah! Everything’s cool.”
“Ned, I know you’re lying to me,” You told him, arms folding as you frowned at the door. “Your voice always gets an octave higher.”
“Pff, no it doesn’t, what?” Ned tried to assure you, purposefully going into the Darth Vader voice to try and convince you.
“Ned, let me inside, now.”
Here’s the thing, you grew up with two mothers, so if anyone could convince teenage boys to do something with just the tone of their voice.
It was you.
And it proved correct when the door almost immediately opened, and Ned was staring at you with minor terror. “Y-Yes?”
You tried to look over his shoulder to look for Peter, but Ned blocked your view each time you tried to look around him.
You inhaled deeply. “Move over, please.”
Ned was about to refuse but you gave him the best “mom” look you could manage and his mouth snapped shut as he moved aside.
“Thank you,” You said, walking past him to see the room was empty, and Peter’s things were missing. “Where is he?”
“Uh, one moment,” Ned told you as he returned his phone to his ear. “Alright, so, (Y/n) knows.”
Somewhere in a locked hangar, Peter was groaning into his phone. “What! I told you not to let her in!”
“Look, I did my best but-”
“She gave you the look didn’t she.”
“Yes! I’m sorry!”
“Just cover for me!” Peter said before hanging up.
You continued to grow impatient, ever since Liz’s party you felt like there was something the two of them knew that you didn’t. Despite the initial hurt you felt, you also felt somewhat insulted that they didn’t trust you enough to tell you their secret.
“You know what, I don’t really care that the two of you are keeping secrets from me, just don’t do such a shit job at keeping it.” You told him, not even bothering to listen to Ned’s excuse before you pushed past him to leave the room.
If you were pissed before the Decathlon, you were borderline completely enraged afterwards. A couple weeks ago, Peter made the surprise announcement that he wasn’t even going to D.C in the first place. Then all of a sudden he shows up the day you’re set all leave, saying he had made the time.
And now, he didn’t even show up.
You were so angry at him and Ned, you sat next to Flash the entire trip to the Washington Monument.
Mr. Harrington was leading all the students to the line to take the elevator tour of the monument when you noticed Michelle standing back, reading one of her books.
You jogged over to her. “Hey, aren’t you coming up?”
She looked up at you and shooked her, thumbing her page and closing the book. “Nah, I’m not really the ‘tourist’ type of person.”
You nodded, looking back at the group for a moment. “I can wait with you down here if you want?”
Michelle looked surprised for a minute but ultimately shook her head. “No, no. You don’t have to do that,” She said, looking down at her hands for minute. “But uh, maybe when you come back down we can go walk through one of the Smithsonian museums together?”
You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
You were pressed up into the corner of the elevator, trying your best not to look at Ned, knowing that he just be looking at your sadly. He never liked it when you angry at either him or Peter, but he knew you had a right to be upset this time.
Quite frankly, the tour guide was a bit of a bore and you started to tune her out, staring along the metal walls of the elevator.
When a small explosion went off you shut your eyes and curled further into the wall, looking over to see that the elevator had stopped moving, and there was a large hole in the ceiling.
“What just happened?” You asked Ned, who was looking at you with a guilty smile.
“Remain calm, the security procedures are currently functioning.” The tour guide said, but the look in her eyes told you a different story.
Then they started to take the students out through the opening on the ceiling and moving them to the platform outside.
Flash had just pushed Liz out of the way so he could get out for himself when you felt the elevator was becoming more jittery.
You noticed the expression on Liz’s face and you placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey it’s okay, you can go before me. I’ll hold up fort down here.” You said, making her smile.
“Thanks, (Y/n).” She said, moving to take her turn when the elevator dropped entirely, pusing her to the ground.
You let a choked scream when your hands pushed against the wall, and suddenly, the elevator was perfectly still again.
Liz looked up at you and saw the wall around your hands had a slight glow to them, and she could hear a faint humming noise all around the small space.
You were the one doing that.
You slowly opened your eyes, now realizing you weren’t dead, you saw what Liz was seeing and the slight feeling of panic settled in again.
You didn’t have too much time to think on it, because just then a masked head apppeaded through the opening.
“Is everyone alright?”
You knew that voice.
You knew that stupid voice exactly.
“You’ll have to take her first.” You said, nodding to Liz.
If you were the one keeping the elevator up, you’d have to be the last one out.
So when Peter, or “Spider-Man” reached his hand to you, you were hesitant to move your hands away.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, his tone was on complete alert. “You’re in a lot of danger in here, we gotta get you out!”
You frowned, still mad at the boy behind the mask and you quickly moved your hands away, and just as you suspected the elevator fell a couple feet before you managed to place your hands back on the wall.
“See!” You yelled at him.
The eyes of the spider mask went wide for a second. “Just stay there, I’ll be right back!”
You scoffed. “Like I have anywhere else to go.”
He was gone for about a minute when Peter’s masked head finally reappeared on top of the elevator. “It’s safe now, you can let go.”
You slowly did as told, sighing heavily when the elevator remained in place.
“Now, give me your hand.” Peter said, holding out a gloved hand to you.
You looked at it for a moment, hesitating when he moved it closer to you.
“It’s fine now, I promise. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, you can trust me.” He said softly.
You grabbed onto his hand, surprised when he managed to lift you the entire way out on his own. Peter wrapped his arms around you before shooting a web onto the door where all the other kids were.
Once the two of you were safely on the platform, Peter released his hold on you. “Are you alright?”
You didn’t look at him. “Fine, thanks.” You said in offhanded tone before pushing past the other kids to find the stairs.
While everyone was waiting for their parents to arrive, you stayed seated on the ambulance on your own, but you could tell Peter kept glancing back at you.
You didn’t want to talk to him right now.
Something about his expression though told you that he knew you knew his secret.
Michelle had come up to while you waited, offering to talk. But you told her you wanted some space to think.
She understood, after having a near-deth experience could make anyone question their mortality.
But you were more focused about the way you stopped the elevator, and judging by the way Liz’s eyes were following you the rest of the day, that she was thinking the same.
You looked around to make sure no one was watching before pulling out a quarter from
your jacket pocket. You placed it on your palm and stared at it for a moment, then it lifted up, and started to wobbly weave its way through your fingers.
You watched it with wide eyes, a small smile on your face when you realized that it was kinda cool.
You could move things with your mind.
You also had a lot of questions for your moms when they got here.
A/N: This was requested by anon! I hope you all enjoy this! <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3
It had been five years since you left the hunter life. Five years of solitude and living out your dream. You now had a bakery, a successful one at that. It was called Mama’s Cakes. Every recipe was your mother’s, but no one usually asked about the name of the shop. Most of your customers were polite people who loved your little shop.
You looked forward to your job every day. There was one thing you did miss about hunting; Gabriel, the archangel. You didn’t want to leave him, but you wanted to be happy. It wasn’t that he didn’t make you happy, it was the life you lived that made you unhappy.
You came into work like every other morning. You switched the sign to open and started your day by making fresh coffee. Then you would make fresh muffins, donuts, cakes, and cupcakes. People would start coming in around eight in the morning. There were always a few people who would come in for coffee as soon as you opened up shop. Once you took care of those customers you could slide your baked goods into the oven.
Imagine Chris introducing you to your son for the first time.
A/N: Part 5 already? Man, time flies when you’re having fun. Stay tuned for the epilogue. Here are the links to the previous parts: (Memory Lane - Part 1/Part2/Part3/Part 4) and (Drunk Minds, Sober Hearts and Baby Fever - Masterlist). This one is super cute if I say so myself. 💕
You could barely remember the labor experience when you woke from your nap, or anything for that matter. You could remember the pain, of course, that was still there but it had subsided sufficiently since the birth of your son. You could remember your water breaking at home because of the silly argument you had with Chris, and him rushing you to the hospital whilst apologizing the entire drive there. You smiled to yourself when you thought about it; you had the best husband even though he got a little messy sometimes.
“Knock knock,” you heard your mom’s voice and you looked up dazedly. “Hey sweetheart,” she smiled at you and you mirrored it. “How are you feeling?” She asked as she entered your ward; she sat down on an empty chair and took one of your hands in hers.
“Glad I’m not pregnant anymore,” you responded with a soft chuckle and she chuckled in response. “I don’t know how you did it, Mom. That was-” you shook your head in disbelief, “one of the most painful experiences of my entire life.” She squeezed your hand gently, chuckling. “I know I said I’d think about having a girl, but I don’t think I want to do that ever again.”
“You will,” she disagreed with a nod. “Not now, but you will. Believe me, honey. Parenthood is one of the best experiences you’ll ever have. When you see your baby, you’ll understand that the pain is worth everything.” She pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand and you smiled. “He’s beautiful, by the way.” She told you and your smile grew wider.
“Is Chris with him?”
“Did you really expect him to be anywhere else?” She responded and you chuckled. “Have the two of you decided on a name? I remember both of you saying that you didn’t want to think about it until you saw the baby, but surely there’s been some discussion on possible names.”
You shook your head in response because there hasn’t been. Sure there were names you both liked, but there was never one that either of you had your mind set on. Chris didn’t see the point of naming a child he hadn’t yet met, and to be honest- neither did you. When you wrote, you’d always create a character before you gave that character a name; a name was nothing if it didn’t fit the personality. Despite your need to control things, you quite liked the spontaneity of things which was one of the many reasons Chris fell in-love with you.
“We’ll decide when we decide,” you told her and she nodded. “Where’s Dad?” You asked but before she could answer you, you asked another question. “And did Chris call Lisa and Bob yet? They were meant to drive down for the due date but- well,” you chuckled. “Their son pissed me off so much that their grandson came early.”
Your mom laughed then said, “your dad’s getting some coffee, and Lisa and Bob are on their way as we speak. So are your brothers, and Chris’ siblings, and their families. Everyone’s been informed about the sudden birth, don’t worry. We’ve handled all the details, you just relax.”
“I don’t think relaxing is in her wheelhouse,” you heard Chris’ voice and you immediately smiled. You looked up and felt your heart skip a beat when you realized he was with a nurse and your baby. “We thought you might like to meet your son.” He said as he carefully pushed the baby cot over. “Hate to say it but- he’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s ‘cause you didn’t see your wife when she was a baby,” your mom commented and Chris chuckled. “Okay, we’ll leave you two to get aquatinted with your son.” She beckoned the nurse out with her as she started to make her leave. “Pick a good name, no Jr. situation please.” You and Chris laughed softly at that, not wanting to scare the baby. “We’re better than that.” With that, she closed the door behind her.
“Before I pick him up, first things first.” He leaned over and gently caressed your face, pressing his lips against yours; you smiled and kissed him back. “I am so proud of you, Y/N, and I don’t think I have ever loved you more. You were so strong and beautiful and- I am just-” he cut himself off, glancing at your son, “we’re just the luckiest guys in the world to have you in our lives.”
“You’re just trying to make up for the fact that you basically pushed me into labor,” you giggled and he chuckled. “I can’t even give birth at a time that I want, and you call me controlling and manipulative.” You teased and his smile widened.
“You did say you were sick of being pregnant, and my job as your husband is to make your life easier so- I guess you’re welcome.” He quipped and you giggled, slapping his arm ever so gently. “Alright,” he chuckled. “Are you ready to meet your son? We really need you to because we need to decide on a name. I kinda have one in my head but- I want to see what you think of when you look at him.”
“Okay,” you nodded and Chris helped you sit up before gently lifting your baby boy out of the plastic cot. He sat down on the edge of your bed, just beside you and carefully passed the life you’d just given birth to over to you. You felt tears well in your eyes upon looking at his tiny face, he looked up at you with eyes the same shade as his father’s and smiled for the first time. “He’s beautiful, Chris.”
“Just like you,” Chris kissed the side of your head.
You looked down at your baby, gently swaying him back and forth as you thought about his name. His eyes reminded you of Chris, yes, but they also reminded you of the day Chris took you camping for the first time. It was near the Jackson River, he’d taken you out on the canoe just as the sun was rising over the water which was as beautiful a blue as your son’s eyes. You looked at him and all you could remember was that day, the day Chris took you out of your comfort zone without removing the feeling of warmth and safety while doing so. But that was what Chris did, and was incredibly good at; he challenged you and changed you for the better. Your son was the perfect example because without Chris- you would have never birthed this beautiful and angelic baby boy, and set out to experience the adventure of a lifetime.
“What are you thinking?” Chris asked, wrapping an arm around you.
“Do you remember that day you took me out camping?” You asked, not tearing your eyes away from your son. You felt Chris nod and you continued, “it was my first time out in the woods and I was a little nervous about it.”
“A little?” He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, you were having anxiety attacks.” You chuckled softly in response. “But I also remember you telling me that I made you feel safe despite how unsafe you felt out there.”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “And you took me out on the canoe just before sunrise and we watched as it rose over the water.” Chris nodded again, smiling as he reminisced. “I fell in-love with you that trip, like- head over heels in-love with you.”
“Really, that trip?” He raised an eyebrow. “But you didn’t say anything, and that was- way before Disney World when I spilled the beans. Were you waiting for me to say it first?” He teased and you chuckled softly.
“Well, I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“Please,” he chuckled. “If you’d told me then, I would have told you the feeling was mutual. Sweetheart, I was in-love with you after our first date. I just tried to play it cool because I didn’t want to scare you off. Honestly- I thought you were going to run after the camping thing, your face when we got to the campsite was pretty priceless.”
“Shut up,” you giggled.
“Why are you bringing that trip up?” Chris quizzed; there was a hint of curiosity and hope in his voice because he too thought about that trip when he looked at his son for the first time. That trip was the one that gave Chris a glimpse of the life he could have with you, where he would constantly challenge you and lift you out of your comfort zone while making you feel as loved and as safe as possible. He fell in-love with you too, that trip, because he saw how hard you tried for him despite how much you clearly hated camping.
“Because when I look at our baby, I think of that trip.” You glanced at Chris and he smiled when you did. “He is here because of you, of what you’re capable of making me do. That trip was the first time I did anything out of my comfort zone for a guy, you are the first guy who made me want to leave my comfort zone.”
“And you are the first girl who has tried so hard for me,” he responded. “You know something, Y/N? You know why we work?” Your facials prompted a continuation. “Because despite our differences, we are one in the same. I thought about that trip when I saw him too,” he told you and you smiled. “Does this mean we’ve decided on a name?”
“Jackson River Evans,” you said with a smile and a nod.
“I love it,” you felt your husband kiss the top of your head. “And I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too,” you turned and kissed him, smiling against his lips. “And we love you, Jack.” You whispered to your son when you broke the kiss, leaning into your husband’s loving arms. “God, he’s so perfect.” You said to Chris and he nodded, smiling. “Jack,” you smiled and cradled the small bundle of joy closer to your chest.
“You know what I just realized?” Chris quizzed then chuckled softly as he said, “both Chris Pratt and I now both have a son named Jack.” The two of you laughed softly at that. “Chris Evans, Jack Evans. Chris Pratt, Jack Pratt. Well-” he chuckled. “I better call Hemsworth to tell him he’s got to have another son and name him Jack, God knows Hollywood needs another Evans-Pratt-Hemsworth trio.”
Loki was still awake. He hadn’t slept all night. He couldn’t
explain it but there was something… strange, and new, about knowing that when
you awoke that morning, you would have no intention of leaving. You were
actually here to stay. He had company; company he… enjoyed.
“Good morning,” came a sleepy voice from the bedroom
doorway. Loki turned and cleared his throat. You yawned and stretched, rubbing
the sleep from your eyes before trudging further into the room. You were still
in your clothes from the night before, tattered and damaged from your run
through the forest, but evidently still suitable for sleeping in.
“Good morning,” he replied.
“I’ll have a mojito if it’s not too much trouble,” says the blond guy.
Aaron nods and sets to work making the drink. He hates mojitos; first,
the fresh mint takes ages to muddle correctly, and then the sugar and
lime juice always made his hands sticky.
A/N: Uhh this one may or may not be new? We’ll never know. Merry Christmas. x *thanks gif source*
Sometimes, you think you can connect to someone who you later realize you’re only attached to because they fill sort of emptiness that needs to be taken care of. This connection can reach to great lengths from playful dates around the block to sudden heated bedroom games under the covers. I never knew I, myself was doing it until I saw her. I always announced that I liked someone anonymous to avoid any further confrontation about my love life. I finally had my anonymous person.
I was a house party thrown by a close friend and was sharing a drink with Olivia, a former fling who I had been hanging a lot with recently. She was one of the few people I was comfortable around and no matter what people said, I still enjoyed her company and it sort of shifted into a whole new direction when I noticed her acting different. All of a sudden, she always wanted to be around me and it got a little overwhelming. I was never one to know to handle someone’s feelings so I didn’t give myself any other choice but to keep whatever it is she thought this was, going. We were having what I thought was a stifling conversation when she leaned in and kissed me. With no warning, just went straight for it. I pulled away, not even a second later and looked puzzled into her eyes as she looked back at me in dismay. “I’m sorry.” She muttered and walked away, flustered.
I sighed and took giant swig from my beer when I felt a forceful thump against my back, pushing me forward, leaning on the skinny table beside me for stability. Feminine giggles heard behind me as I saw another friend of mine with a new girl I hadn’t recognized but was responsible for breaking me out of trance from her clumsy actions. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She spoke, unable to contain herself. Her smile was the first thing I noticed, it was different; Her eyes, with a hint of nervous and unamusement. “Sorry Cal.” my friend, Blaire, pat my upper arm, smiling and ran off with the mysterious brunette, who quickly turned her gaze back at me and back. I downed more of my drink, furrowing my eyebrows and headed slowly in their direction. I momentarily made small conversation with people along the way so I wouldn’t make it too obvious I was following her. I tried to forget her but she kept reappearing wherever I went. With every person I spoke to, eye contact was rarely given because I could not stop looking at her. Her face was now plastered in my mind and so was her smile. She was definitely not afraid to let it stretch across her face. Her nose crinkled and she leaned slightly forward, sometimes covering her mouth to hide her insane smile. Before I knew it, the person whom I was supposed to be engaging in a conversation with was gone. I should’ve expected that.
My beer bottle was conveniently empty and I approached the table with the cooler in which they were provided and popped off the cap without an opener with my savvy skills. “Excuse me.” That familiar voice spoke behind me. She gave me that smile, for some reason, made me feel so different inside. I smiled back and stepped aside as she reached into the cooler and retrieved a bottle. Her body’s searching motions made me assume she was looking for a bottle opener and I turned momentarily to set my own bottle down to help her in attempt to potentially start a conversation. “Hey, I can open that for you, if you’d-” Pop “-like,” I chuckled, still finishing my offer to see her sipping from her self opened bottle already. “Thank you, but I think I’m all set.” She smiled through her teeth and turned to walk away. My first thought was what just happened as if it wasn’t simple enough. I furrowed my eyebrows and sat down. I felt a tap on my shoulder and saw Olivia standing there, fiddling her fingers.
“Oh hey…” “Cal, about what happened earlier tonight,” “You know what, don’t even mention it. We don’t have to dive into that. We both know we had a little too much to drink and shit happens.” Her eyes narrowed slowly down, sulking. “It’s alright.” I gave a small smile, patting her arm and her walking away. I broke out my trance once again as I felt a tap on the opposite shoulder. “excuse me… you must really like beer to always be blocking this cooler,” the voice spoke sarcastically. “I could say the same about you, you can really ingest a bottle,” “Actually, it’s for Blaire.” “What? Blaire can’t walk anymore and help herself like a big girl now?” I said shaking my head in Blaire’s direction while she stuck the middle finger at me grinning. She, however, smiled politely and shook her head. “Well, she can’t really open a bottle quite yet so I guess that’s why she has me.” Pop She set the water bottle I was drinking aside and tossed the beer cap in the basket. “Where did you learn how to do that?” “It’s an ancient technique.” “And I thought I was the only one who conquered the bottle cap trick.” “You must be Calum.” I blinked, taken back by her sudden knowledge of who I was. “I’m sorry, have we met?” I furrowed my eyebrows at her. “Uh no, Blaire just mentions who her friends are casually. She refers to you as, um, beer boy? And I assumed that meant it was cause of something like this.” “Nice. You know me, who are you?” “Y/N.” I held out my hand to shake hers and for the first time, I was feeling awkward around a stranger. “Thanks Y/N. I’m glad I can count on you.” Blaire bumped her shoulder, taking the bottle from her. “So… Have you met-” “Yeah, Blaire you’re about 4 minutes late. Thanks for trying though.” I sipped my beer, shaking my head. “Beer boy?” She broke out laughing. “Sorry I didn’t think that’d come up but since it did, now I know you guys talked plenty. I hate to break this up but our ride is outside sooo, I’ll catch you later.” She fist bumped me, clicking her teeth and pulled her away as she gave that familiar soft smile and mouthed a goodbye. I sat back down and started clearing bottles out of courtesy and I noticed a black rubber object peeking from between a few empty bottles. I pulled it out and saw it was a miniature bottle opener attached to few keys. I looked them over and saw Y/N scribbled onto the handle in silver ink. That little sneak. I quickly slid it into my coat pocket and with a smirk and walked away before anyone saw.
Swift kicked things off by recounting how the tune came about, as she’s done before, explaining that for a few years there she felt like the media fascination with her dating life was out of control, painting her as “the psycho serial dating girl.” “My first reaction was like, ‘This is a bummer. This isn’t fun for me,’” Swift shared. “But then my second reaction ended up being like, 'Hey, That’s a really interesting character they’re writing about. She jet sets around the world collecting men…then she traps them and locks them in her mansion, AND THEN SHE’S CRYING IN HER MARBLE BATHTUB SURROUNDED BY PEARLS. So I was like, I can use this’.
- @taylorswift performing Blank Space at the Grammy’s Museum.
“Are you going to be nicer to me today?” You asked, chewing
the inside of your lip.
Loki’s attention was fixated in its usual direction. His
mind had been racing since the day prior. After his offish comment, you’d
refused to speak to him for the remainder of the night, leaving early in the
morning the next day. It was a surprise that you’d even returned. Why exactly
were you so intent on accompanying him? He was hardly polite to you. If he
wasn’t in such a sour mood, Loki might have appreciated your loyalty. Forgiveness
was not a trait he was accustomed to encountering – neither in himself or
Just for today though, he thought. Just for today, I’ll
forgive myself and then maybe she will.
“What of it? What if I decide I shall not watch my tongue?”
“Then I’ll eat this picnic by myself on the journey home.”
*SEND REQUESTS* Steve Rogers Imagine: Need You Words: 1.1K Masterlist: x
Before you and Steve were ever in a relationship, he would treat you with the highest amount of respect, more than the others, he would do things for you that he wouldn’t do for the others, he would give you cute nicknames and just in general treat you like a queen. He was honestly the nicest man you had ever met. Everyone would tease him calling him whipped and completely in love but Steve didn’t care, he just simply told them he knew how to treat a lady. Which was true.
Warnings: talk of abuse, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort
A/N: I know it’s late, but I was easily convinced to post this tonight. I hope you all enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3
This was requested by anon:
I’d like to request a Pride imagine of the reader going to Pride after their ex beat them and Pride cleaning the reader up and comforting them.
It was late at night and Pride was walking through the squad room. He stopped to look at your desk. You had been on edge lately and he was worried about you. Earlier in the day, you had jumped at his touch. It broke Pride’s heart. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, he didn’t want to pry.
“Pride,” you squeaked, standing in the entrance to the office. You were holding your arms, your keys in your hands. “I need your help…”
When the agent peered over at you, his eyes grew wide. You were covered in cuts and bruises. Your nose and lip were bloody and there was a cut on your forehead. It didn’t look too deep, fortunately for you.
I’m gonna drop some dark and depressing headcanon on y’all, so gear up. While I feel the writers didn’t do the best job with Blaine’s amnesia story, I have come to understand why he would continue faking it, from a character standpoint.
It’s pretty clear that aside from his grandfather, Blaine had no emotional support system or love in his family. I also don’t believe he had any real friends. Sure he acts friendly with those who work under him, but they are all too quick to turn on him when he loses his memory. They take advantage of him, lying to him and keeping secrets. Ultimately, they are criminals and their loyalty is to the almighty dollar.
Liv and the others always saw him as the bad guy, someone they couldn’t trust but had to tolerate because he fed Seattle’s zombies. Yet when he lost his memory, they didn’t lie to him or take advantage of him. They told him the truth about who he was and what he did to them. I think Blaine liked that brutal honesty, and I think for him it made the times they did trust him all the more meaningful. These were people who saw the worst in him and were still willing to come support him when he did his set at the lounge. He got his first taste of genuine friendship.
So when he told Liv he was afraid of remembering, I think that was still true. He was afraid that him remembering who he was would destroy the friendships he was building. Being himself only ever made people either not care for him or leave him in some way (his grandfather, his mother, Kurt Cobain), so he kept pretending to be this other person. His new self had a job that he earned through talent alone, a woman who was happy with him, people who trusted him… He was afraid that once he told the truth, all of that would be gone.
And I think this scene punctuates that fear being realized. That look on his face when it hits him that no one will ever see him as anything more than a murderer and liar. And knowing that he’s once again lost something important to him simply by being Blaine.
Summary: Negan flirts with you repeatedly. But never asked you to be his wife, until now.
Also, thank you for 500 followers!!❤️
Negan x Reader
“Well, hello Y/N” you could hear the smug voice of negan directly behind you. You rolled your eyes without him noticing. You were in the sanctuary canteen collecting your food. “Y/N…” he whispered your name like a lullaby into your ear. “Why isn’t my lovely lady speaking?” Your eyes rolled so far back into your head, you thought you lost them.
“I’m not ‘your’ lady” you turned and was shocked to see how close he was to you. He grinned loving how annoyed you were, you knew he loved winding you up.
“Keep your sexy knickers on!” he raised his eyebrows and all his men laughed.
“Like you’ve ever seen or will see my knickers.” You made sure his men heard, and they did. They roared with laughter as you took your food and stormed out. Negan gave them a death glare and they immediately stopped.
“Get out of your head Sam. This wasn’t your fault. It’s not even that bad.” You gritted out as Dean poured cheap whiskey on your shoulder. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was long and Dean decided it needed stitches. “Hey! A little warning would be nice.”
“Sorry, why don’t you lay down? This’ll be easier if you do.”
You grabbed the bottle from Dean before maneuvering to lay on your stomach. After taking a few swigs, you settled on the scratchy comforter and took a deep breath.
“Do your worst Frankenstein.”
Dean chuckled before correcting you. “That’s Dr. Frahnkenshteen to you.”
The three of you fell silent, and as Dean’s steady hands started to work you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing as much as possible.
“Where’d you go? Can you go get a rag and another towel so I can clean this up again before I put gauze on it?”
“Oh…yeah, yeah sure.”
You heard the opposite bed creak when Sam stood and made his way to the bathroom.
“Y/N I have like five more then you’re done. You holding up ok?”
“I’m good Dean. Thanks.”
“Here.” Sam set the towels next to Dean on the bed. “Y/N and I are sleeping together.” He blurted out. Dean stopped mid-stitch briefly, but didn’t say anything.
“Shit. So that’s what this is about.” you mumbled into the pillow. The two of you had been keeping it a secret from Dean, but this was the first time you’d been hurt on a hunt since you’d started sleeping together.
“Ok then. Can I finish? Or do you have any news you’d like to blurt out for the room?” When neither of you answered Dean started on your shoulder again; he didn’t get very far when Sam decided he wasn’t done.
“I’m in love with her.”
“You what!?” The shock of his declaration made you bolt upright just as Dean was about to jab a needle into you. Which he did, right on top of your shoulder. Deep. “OOOOWWW FUCK ME!”
“Apparently Sammy already is.” Dean deadpanned. He pulled the needle out and pushed you back down on the bed. “For the record my news question was rhetorical dumbass. Now let me finish so I can go to the bar.”
“Ok. I’m so sorry Y/N/N.”
“It’s fine, Sam. So…do you?”
“Hey! I said no more until I’m gone! Knock it off.”
You smiled when you and Sam both said it at the same time, but you could hear practically Dean’s eyes rolling back in his head.
“I’m not ok with cutesy talking at the same time thing. That’s going to be rule #1. We’ll go over the rest later.”