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mittensmorgul · 4 years

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Happy Resurrection Day

A short fic in celebration of Dean and Cas’s 12th anniversary!

Rated: T Words: 3652

Summary: The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

Read it here on AO3

One random morning in mid-September, a few months after the world was left in their hands once and for all, Dean woke up to the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. There wasn’t really much to forget anymore. There was no looming apocalypse, no new catastrophe on the horizon. The biggest dilemma he’d faced in the last few days was whether he had enough milk to make pancakes, or whether he’d have to run out to the store before breakfast.

Sure, he and Cas took the occasional salt and burn. Easy hunts they could usually dust in a day. Sam had taken an extended road trip to see the country and try to figure out what he wanted to do with himself now that he was truly free to explore what life after Chuck could look like, but Dean already knew. He’d known for a good long time that he loved his life, loved the bunker, and loved hunting. And for whatever reason, Cas had just decided to stay, no strings attached. Whether Dean was itching to get out on the road for a long weekend on the slimmest excuse of a hunt that just as often as not turned into a detour to some tourist trap or other, or whether Dean just wanted to sit at home bingeing an old tv series or having a movie marathon, Cas seemed equally content with the slate of activities Dean conjured up for them.

He hadn’t put it into so many words, and he definitely hadn’t said it to Cas, but Dean also loved that Cas had stayed with him.

So it was strange waking up with an unsettled swirling in the pit of his stomach. He held a hand up to his forehead, checked his eyes and throat in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t coming down with something. He didn’t want to get Cas sick, if he was. He’d already survived Cas’s first cold as a human, just barely. They went through so much soup in a week, Dean was starting to wonder if Cas was just milking it for the room service. He had to admit that Cas letting him walk him through the highlights of Dr. Sexy while he was curled up in a blanket nest by his side wasn’t the worst thing he’d had to endure. But for now, Dean wasn’t sick. He just had a restlessness in his bones and no idea how to cure it.

He pulled on his robe and ambled out to the kitchen. Coffee would help him figure out what was eating at him, surely. Only Cas had beat him to it, which was unusual enough to amp up that uneasy feeling. Dean usually beat Cas to the kitchen most mornings, so walking in to a full pot of coffee and no other sign of Cas had him wondering if something was wrong. He poured himself a cup and set off in search of Cas, and whatever he was up to so early in the morning.

He found Cas sitting at the table in the library scrolling around on the internet. Dean just stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, studying his posture as if it might give him some clue what sort of mood Cas was in. Human or not, Cas still had the intense focus he’d always had as an angel, and aside from pausing to take a sip of his coffee or navigate to the next page, he barely moved from his position hunched over the keyboard. Rather than startle him, Dean waited until Cas put his mug down before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Mornin’ sunshine. You’re up early.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, giving him a guilty glance before going back to his work. “Yes, I had been hoping to surprise you later, but I apparently didn’t wake up early enough for that. I hope you slept okay.”

Dean shrugged as he walked around the table and sat down across from Cas. He took a sip of his coffee before replying.

“Mostly. Woke up feeling restless, and I couldn’t figure out why.”

Cas nodded at him as if he understood exactly what Dean meant. “I did, as well. And then I checked the calendar. I assume you know what today is?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he performed a few calculations. Days all sort of blended together after a while, but they’d made a trip up to Henderson for supplies on Wednesday, and that was only a couple days before.

“Friday?” Dean eventually replied, hoping he was right.

Cas laughed, but shook his head. “It is Friday, but it’s also September 18th.”

Dean blinked at him for a moment as he mentally rocketed back to a run down old gas station where the windows shattered the first time Cas had ever tried to introduce himself. He’d just clawed his way out of his own grave, and the local newspaper had helpfully supplied him the date, and the knowledge that he’d been in hell all of four months. No wonder he’d woken up feeling weird. He might’ve forgotten the date, but somewhere deep down, some part of him would always know it.

Dean came back to himself to find Cas waiting patiently for him, like he always did. He took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, recalling what Cas had said before sending him off down disturbing memory lane. Better to focus on the present than linger in that particular bit of the past.

“So you were planning a surprise?”

Cas shrugged. “I thought maybe we should do something to celebrate. People celebrate these sorts of milestones, yes?”

Dean wobbled his head side to side and made a face. “Pretty sure Hallmark dosn’t make a card for this one.”

Cas frowned, reaching up to shut the laptop as if he’d made some terrible faux pas, but Dean quickly dropped his hand atop Cas’s to stop him.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it anyway,” he said more quietly, smiling at Cas. “It was a pretty noteworthy occasion, you pulling me outta hell. What did you have in mind?”

Cas’s frown deepened. “That’s where I’ve been stuck all morning. It felt inappropriate to suggest going to visit your gravesite, and taking you out to dinner seems… trite, in light of the occasion.”

“You know me, Cas. I’m always up for food,” Dean replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus it wasn’t just about me being un-dead, you know. It’s the whole reason we met in the first place. And look how that turned out.”

Cas had finally begun to smile again, and turned his attention back to the computer. “We didn’t actually meet face to face until late the next night when you summoned me. There was a bit of a delay due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Dean thought about that for a minute, nodding as he remembered the events of his first few days back on earth. “Well, if you wanna do it right, we could always take a road trip back to that old barn, see if it’s still standing.”

“Have you been back there since then?” Cas asked, curious now.

Dean shook his head. “Driven by it a few times over the years, but never went back inside. The whole farm’s completely overgrown. I figured someone would’ve gotten freaked out by all the weird symbols and burned the place down by now. It was still standing as of a couple years ago.” That got Dean curious. “Have you been back?”

“It’s been a while,” Cas said quietly. “I used to fly there sometimes, when I still could. It was a quiet place to think.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we should do. We’re taking a road trip. I know at least three great diners between here and there I haven’t taken you to yet. We can make a whole weekend out of it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas replied, finally shutting the computer.

“Good. Breakfast first, then we’ll head out. Have ourselves a little resurrection day road trip.”

Dean grabbed his mug and stood up. He’d need to get dressed and pack a bag. They could have a quick breakfast if they were gonna be stopping at Dana’s Diner for lunch. It was a bit of a detour, but the burgers were worth it. He flashed a grin at Cas.

“I’m gonna pack a bag and grab some cereal before we hit the road. Meet you in the kitchen in 20?”

Cas nodded and shut the laptop. As Dean made his way out to the hall, he heard Cas mutter quietly, “Happy Resurrection Day,” as if he was testing out the sentiment. He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

The drive to Illinois took most of the day. It could’ve been a lot quicker, but in addition to Dana’s, they hit a steakhouse on the outskirts of Chicago for dinner before swinging back south toward their destination. Dean bypassed the Astoria Motel where a mirrored ceiling shattered by Cas’s angelic voice had once nearly killed him. He pointed it out as part of their trip down memory lane, but pulled up at a different motel clear across town with the excuse that it would be a shorter drive back to the barn in the morning. Their room was a lot less shabby, and a lot less pay-by-the-hour feeling than the Astoria, so Dean felt it was a win all around.

As they settled in for the night like they had every night they’d been on the road together, Dean let himself really feel the usual longing the three foot chasm between their beds brought out in him. Most nights he’d just roll over and pretend to fall asleep while mashing that feeling down as hard as he could. Tonight, though, he lay in bed staring across that gap, wishing he could make some excuse to crawl into the other bed. Of all nights, and in this particular place, he really just wanted someone to hug until dawn.

The specific someone being Cas.

In the dark, in the quiet listening to Cas’s breathing even out as he drifted off, for one moment Dean allowed himself to admit that he didn’t just love that Cas had stayed with him. He loved Cas. Full stop. Dean lay there until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, holding on to that feeling and knowing he’d have to crush it back down in the morning.

He dreamt of what could’ve happened in that barn, if he hadn’t stabbed Cas that first time they’d met. With twelve years of history between them now, and Dean’s quiet revelation that he was in love with Cas, his dream-self went through a series of alternate endings to that meeting ranging from love confessions to things that he would definitely not be enumerating to Cas over breakfast the next morning. It made for an excellent night’s slumber.

Morning came without the restlessness the previous day had. Dean opened his eyes to the dawn light seeping between the curtains to shine a golden spotlight on Cas’s face, which was smiling back at him.

“Hello, Dean. I take it you slept better last night?”

Dean yawned, but didn’t quite feel like getting up yet. He wanted to enjoy this surreal moment for just a bit longer. Instead he stretched out under the blankets and propped himself up on his pillow to get a better look at Cas.

“Yeah, you?”

Cas propped himself up on his elbow, no longer in the little beam of light, and blinked at him. “I’m reserving judgment until after we have coffee, but yes. It seems to have been satisfactory.” Cas frowned for a second, and Dean was about to ask what was wrong, when Cas asked, puzzled, “If yesterday was Resurrection Day, what does that make today?”

Dean must’ve still been a bit loopy from his late night thoughts, the restful sleep, and what he could recall of the dream he’d been having. He never would’ve blurted it out around a yawn otherwise, but that’s exactly what he did.

“It’s countdown to Cas day.”

He froze for a second after the words had escaped into the wild, and then slowly turned to take in the fond look on Cas’s face.

“I’m already here, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t twelve years ago. I didn’t even know your name yet.”

“You do now,” Cas replied. “How should we celebrate it? Since I sincerely hope you weren’t dead set on a complete reenactment. I don’t have the power to rattle the roof or blow open the doors anymore.”

Dean grinned at that and sat up. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna shoot you, either.”

“I appreciate that,” Cas replied, sitting up on the edge of his own bed opposite Dean. He looked right into Dean’s eyes, as if attempting to convey some deeper meaning to his words, and spoke quietly. “I’m glad you finally believe in me.”

They sat there for a long moment before Dean finally nodded. “‘Course I believe in you, Cas.”

They took turns in the shower and packed up their bags. After a quick breakfast on the way to the farm, they drove down the overgrown dirt road that led to the barn. Dean had to leave the car a good way back down the road, and they hiked through the knee-high scrub to the broken old barn door. Dean picked up a shattered timber and tossed it out of the way as he pushed his way inside.

“Man, this place is a lot less intimidating looking in broad daylight,” he said, as the two of them stood in the doorway and took in the faded symbols Bobby had painted on every surface of the interior. Broken glass still littered the floor, now covered with a heavy layer of dust.

“It looks different now, somehow,” Cas added. “Smaller. Which is strange considering I was so much larger the first time I was here.”

Dean turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, but now you’re seeing it human. It’s gotta be weird.”

Cas shrugged, and walked around the perimeter of the barn, examining the sigils out of old habit. “This has always been a quiet place for me,” he said, touching a warding sigil with his fingertips before continuing on. “Nothing unholy could find me here. I could be alone with my thoughts.”

Dean noticed a few of the sigils Cas stopped by, and didn’t recognize them. A collection of carefully drawn wards drawn much smaller and in a different shade of paint that stood out from all the rest he’d watched Bobby create twelve years ago.

“Did you add those?” he asked.

Cas nodded. “Angel proofing. Or at least, concealing.”

Dean thought back to all the times Cas had been running or hiding from Heaven and the rest of the angels. When he’d been human and had nowhere to go, and instead of coming here he’d run in the opposite direction, because Dean had kicked him out. A bolt of guilt shot through him and nailed his feet to the floor. This was a place Dean hadn’t come back to because it reminded him that he’d been to Hell, reminded him that Heaven had wanted him for their own for reasons that frankly horrified him now. But for Cas, this was the place Dean had first met him, a place that for him would forever be about the moment he was truly introduced to humanity. It had been kind of a shit introduction, if Dean was honest with himself. But twelve years later, after all the shit had played itself out, Cas had finally made his own choice about his life, and he’d come back to where it all began.

“Happy resurrection day,” Dean said as he stared at Cas from across the room.

Cas turned to him, the look of surprise on his face quickly turning to a smile. “It is a bit like a resurrection, isn’t it? We’ve come all the way back around to where it started, and we’re free of it all now.”

Dean just nodded dumbly, letting the enormity of it sink in as Cas walked over to stand in front of him.

“I don’t have wings or the power of Heaven at my back, but I do recall something I said to you that night. Good things do happen, Dean. And they have.”

“And here we are again,” Dean said, clearing his throat. Both of their lives had changed that night, and they’d spent so much of their time fighting against everything in the universe since then. The one constant had always been each other, even when they’d totally fucked it all up and broken the natural order and sacrificed themselves to fix it all again, they’d done it to save each other. At the end of the road, and the beginning of their journey, Dean couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer. “I love you, you know.”

Cas sucked in a shocked breath of air and blinked at him for a moment, before a grin broke across his face, lighting up the gloomy, dusty haze in the barn. “I love you too, Dean. I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Dean shook his head, finally prying his feet free to shuffle closer to Cas. He reached out a hand to rest it on Cas’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck. “No, I mean, I love you. I think I always have, and I know I always will, but I only really just figured it out. I’m in love with you and you’ve put me back together in ways you can’t even imagine. You might’ve resurrected me and healed me more times than I can count, but you helped make me a whole person, Cas. And I love you.”

Dean felt the prickling of tears behind his eyes and struggled to hold them back. Like he always did, Cas stared into him, right through him, and lifted a hand to Dean’s cheek.

“I’d hoped it was obvious when I chose humanity, when I chose to stay with you, that I felt the same way for you, Dean. I didn’t have any idea how much knowing you would change me, how much you would teach me about humanity and what makes life worth living when I first walked through those doors. One thing I did know, though, was that I already loved you. I had no idea what that even meant yet, but I would learn.”

A slightly manic laugh escaped Dean’s lips at the euphoria of hearing Cas’s words, seeing the heartbreaking honesty in his face, and wondering how long it was polite to wait before kissing him. Cas gave him a relieved smile, as if he’d been holding it all in far too long, and Dean let out a sigh as he pulled Cas to him.

“Love at first stab, huh?” Dean asked, smiling right into Cas’s face.

“Don’t belittle it, Dean. I loved you even before then. The moment I laid a hand on you in Hell. Healing your soul and reuniting it with your body, resting you gently in your grave and waiting for you to emerge again.”

“You do know how fucked up that was, right? You couldn’t have just dug me out?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “It was Heaven’s orders. I never thought to question them. But yes, it has bothered me many times over the years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s bothered me more than once that I tried to thank you for saving me from Hell by stabbing you in the heart.”

“It worked, though,” Cas replied, one eyebrow raised. “I’m still here with you.”

“Better than cupid’s arrow,” Dean muttered, and then grimaced at his own terrible reference. It amused Cas, though. “Okay, enough awful jokes. Are you gonna kiss me already?”

Cas made a considering face, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind. “Happy resurrection day to both of us, then. I suppose we know exactly how to celebrate it now.”

Dean took that as the invitation it was, and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met tentatively at first, and then more confidently as they clung to one another in the gloom. The exploding lights were all internal this time, but no less spectacular. Dean shuffled his feet and heard the crunching of broken glass, and reluctantly pulled back from Cas.

“We should probably find someplace less dangerous if we’re gonna keep going…”

Cas nodded his regretful agreement. With one last look around the old barn, they pulled the doors shut.

“We can come back next year, if you want,” Dean said, taking Cas’s hand and leading him back to the car. “Make it an annual thing.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cas replied. “The annual resurrection road trip.”

“Next year we bring a broom,” Dean added, leading Cas through the weeds. “Maybe a picnic.”

Cas laughed, letting his hand go when they reached the car.

“So what do you wanna do next?” Dean asked as he climbed back behind the wheel. “We still technically got the rest of the day to celebrate.”

“You mentioned several diners you wanted to introduce me to, and it’s nearly time for lunch,” Cas replied.

Dean thought over their options, then leaned across the front seat to plant a kiss on the corner of Cas’s mouth, just because he could. The look of surprised delight on Cas’s face was more than worth it. “How much of a detour are you up for?”

Cas gave him a look of mock pity. “Dean, I’ll go anywhere with you. No detour is too long if I have you to share the journey with.”

Dean gave him a proper kiss, with a promise of more for later. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

#things i have written #spn fanfic #destiel #the deancasversary #CAN YOU BELIEVE THESE NITWITS HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER TWELVE YEARS?!

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ginalinettiofficial · 5 years

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a usa starter pack

alabama / deep south, conservative, hillbillies

alaska / far north, cold, nature, conservative rich white ppl + lots of native culture

arizona / hot, dry, scorpions, great mexican food

arkansas / yeehaw

california / socal is california of tv, norcal is hippies smoking a lot of weed

colorado / weed capital of the states, also lots of nature and skiiing

connecticut / to quote an SNL skit: “the haunting in connecticut?? what’s scary about connecticut?? losing your tennis racket at the pottery barn??”

delaware / ngl i never remember that delaware exists and i’ve never met anyone from here or heard anyone mention delaware ever. might be fake

florida / where the craziest shit happens. giant swamp with many major party areas as well as hella alligators, crazy politics, retirees, and felons galore. we all stan and fear florida

georgia / southern af but also p black. deep bible belt but atlanta is POPPIN and a super fun city.

hawaii / we colonized them and now like to invade their home regularly as tourists which sucks. hawaii is a cool little nation w lots of volcanoes

idaho / they make potatoes and racists

illinois / north side of the state is where chicago is, a HUGE liberal center in the US. very midwestern. as you get more south, becomes rural, small town, conservative middle america.

indiana / v conservative politically, illinois’ twin and bud, that’s where we get all our guns and fireworks. v midwestern. parks and rec is set in indiana and that’s p much all u need to know

iowa / worst state in the union everyone from iowa is just WEIRD yes i AM an iowa hater and i am PROUD. if u tell me ur from iowa i don’t trust you

kansas / they’re p chill. conservative state w some fun cities and midwestern weather. kansas city is cool

kentucky / horse races and hillbillies

louisiana / it’s a damn party. deep south, major french influence from back in the day, swamps, large african american population, new orleans is a jam, debatably the most melodic of southern accents

maine / rich white ppl in vests and chinos sailing on boats and eating lobster

maryland / baltimore & DC make maryland a pretty blue state

massachusetts / boston owns all of our assess. beautiful sprawling state w lots of old ass houses cuz it’s colonial and shit. boston has over a hundred universities so the whole area is very youthful and fun

michigan / michigan is vaguely shaped like a mitten so if u ever ask a person from michigan where they’re from they hold up their hand and point to somewhere on it as if their hand is a map

minnesota / the canada of the US. snowy, cold, midwestern af, hockey, casserole, mall of america

mississippi / s o u t h. education?? never heard of her. quality of life?? good joke

missouri / basically rhymes with misery and that’s all you need to know

montana / i think they have mountains and ranches and white ppl but don’t quote me on that

nebraska / even their cities are rural

nevada / las vegas and a whole lot of desert

new hampshire / whomst knows. one of those small east coast states

new jersey / new jersey is the florida of the north

new mexico / again, the border crossed them. basically arizona jr but they get mad if u say that

new york / nyc and then a bunch of suburban ppl who are mad they’re not from nyc but will go to their graves denying it

north carolina / racist white ppl who talk way too much about the confederacy in 2019

north dakota / one of the dakotas has that mountain with the four heads carved into it. that’s IT

ohio / ohio is deceiving cuz it has about six major cities and they’re all like fun and cool???? they all start w the letter c tho so good luck remembering which is which

oklahoma / ooooooooooklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains (there’s a musical called oklahoma and it’s iconic) they share kansas city with kansas which is fun. cross between the south and the midwest

oregon / hipsters and rain

pennsylvania / philly is poppin, pittsburgh is slightly less poppin, scranton is where the office is set

rhode island / she smol

south carolina / see north carolina but with more ghosts and better food

south dakota / see north dakota

tennessee / memphis and nashville are FUN. p southern, p conservative, GREAT barbecue and huge music scene

texas / it’s texas

utah / mormons and conservatism

vermont / this is where bernie sanders and the people who make ben & jerry’s ice cream are all from

virginia / dc is in the north part of virginia which helps to split it into nova, the blue/urban/liberal part of the state, and sova, the conservative confederate lovin’ christians

washington / oregon but even more rain

west virginia / might be fake

wisconsin / cheese and beer and classic midwestern attitudes

wyoming / she’s a beaut ngl. it’s basically one big national park with some ppl sprinkled in here and there. harrison ford lives here

#d speaks #this is for yun who asked wtf arizona is #i accept criticism unless ur from iowa then ur complaints will be ignored

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doctortreklock · 5 years

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Anything Can Happen, Child - October 30, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Supernatural episode 15.03

Fandom: Supernatural

Title: “Listen to the Mustn’ts” by Shel Silverstein

Words: 2482

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Dean was wrist deep in his fourth pie when Sam found him. A few years ago, he would have crawled into a bottle as soon as the door had clicked shut behind Cas. But Dean was on the far side of forty now; it was about damn time he got some new coping mechanisms.

"What’s up with the pies?" Sam asked. "Is there a bake sale coming up no one told me about?"

"He’s gone," Dean said shortly around the lump in his throat. He concentrated on carefully spooning meringue over the hot lemon filling in the pie crust so he didn’t have to see Sam's reaction to that piece of news.

"What?" Dean could hear the frown and the confusion in Sam's voice. "Cas's gone?"

"Yep." Dean very carefully made sure he was covering the filling without getting any of the lemon in the meringue. If he didn't get it right, it wouldn't turn out. Which wasn't at all a metaphor for--

"Did he say why?" Sam asked carefully.

"Yep." Dean refused to look at Sam. Because, of course, if he took his eyes off the meringue, he might ruin the pie. Mhmm. Totally why.

"Well, is he going to be back soon?" Sam asked.

The exasperation in Sam's voice was clear, but Dean kept his eyes fixed on the steadily shrinking yellow circle on top of the pie. "Doubt it."

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam was definitely frustrated now. "What did he say?"

Dean's shoulders were tight with tension as he carefully dropped the last dollop of meringue on top of the pie and gently smoothed it down. "He said there wasn't anything left to say." He clenched his spoon hard to keep it from shaking and inspected the entire edge to make sure the meringue had been sealed against the baked crust.

"It's like pulling teeth," Sam muttered. "What did he say before that?"

He sounded tired. Dean felt a smaller pang of guilt about Sam plop neatly on top of the giant hill of guilt about Cas that was hollowing out the pit of his stomach. "Hang on," Dean sighed. He used the back of the spoon to lift the meringue in little peaks across the surface of the pie before setting the spoon back in the empty meringue bowl. He slid the pie in the oven and set the timer for five minutes.

Dean grabbed the saucepan from the stove with the cooling remains of the lemon filling and handed it to Sam as a peace offering. "He said the plan in Hell went wrong," Dean admitted, not daring to look at his brother. "He said I didn't trust him anymore. That I didn't listen to him. That I blamed him for Mom's death." Each confession felt like it was scraping him raw on the inside. Like he was bleeding internally, but no one could tell.

Sam sent the pan down on the counter with a controlled click. "And what did you say?" His voice was artificially even.

"I--" Dean couldn't get the words out. Couldn't admit to Sam the accusations and blame that he had thrown. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the counter on either side of him. "I--"

"You agreed." Dean knew his brother loved him. Even so, there were a few instances where he had figured it to be more of a theoretical fraternal obligation than a choice made out of familial affection. Parts of the first Apocalypse sprang to mind, as did the Trials, everything with Gadreel, and, oh yes, the entire Mark of Cain fiasco. Even so, that one sentence out of Sam's mouth shot this moment straight into the top three.

Dean couldn't stand one more moment of his brother's disgust. "Of course I did!" Dean shouted, his knuckles white where they gripped the counter behind him. "What else was I supposed to say?" He looked at Sam for the first time since his brother had walked in the room.

Sam's face was lined with grief and exhaustion and pale with anger. "What else-- Anything else, Dean! Anything! Anything but sending Cas away, again."

"I didn't send him," Dean argued, ignoring with long practice the memory of Cas's face falling as Dean had told him to leave six years earlier. "He left."

"You didn't give him much reason to stay, though, did you?" Sam snapped.

"He killed Mom!" Dean shouted. "And Rowena--"

"No!" Sam yelled. "No, he didn't! Dean. Jack killed Mom. I--" Sam faltered. "I killed Rowena. Cas had nothing to do with it!"

"It was his fault," Dean argued. "If he hadn't killed--"

"And what was he reason for that? I'm sure he had one."

"He said--" Dean hesitated and some of the anger bled out of him. "He said something about Belphagor eating all the souls of Hell and taking over."

The silence after his pronouncement was broken by the sustained beep of the over timer.

Sam's face was incredulous. Dean looked away quickly and busied himself with pulling the pie out of the oven. The meringue was beautifully browned after its brief sojourn in the oven and Dean set it on a cooling rack next to the apple, pecan, and pumpkin pies he had already finished.

The oven timer beeped again and Dean shut it off and set the potholders back down on the counter. The room fell silent again.

"Belphagor wanted to take over Hell by eating all the souls there," Sam repeated slowly from behind him. "And you didn't think that was a good enough reason for Cas to reevaluate the plan?"

"The plan was fine," Dean said impatiently, fidgeting with a loose thread on the end of a potholder. "We would have figured it out. We have before. It was fine, but then it went wrong, and it was his fault--"

"Things always go wrong, Dean," Sam protested.

"But why is it always him?" Dean asked quietly. He was almost pleading with Sam. Pleading with Sam to answer the question that Cas had refused to.

"You're such a child," Sam said coldly. Dean spun around to face his brother, a protest on his lips, but before he could speak, Sam continued. "Four years ago you were supposed to kill me. That was the plan. But then you killed Death with his own scythe instead."

"I wasn't about to--" Dean argued, but Sam cut him off.

"You never let me die, Dean, even when I begged you to let me go. You let Gadreel in me. You sold your soul to bring me back. But I--" Sam took a breath. "I said yes to Lucifer. I killed Lilith, even with you and Cas both begging me not to. I trusted Ruby over my family." The accusations lay in the still air between them, a decade of grievances aired.

"Sometimes things go wrong," Sam continued evenly. "Things usually go wrong; it's kind of our family motto by this point. And sometimes that's Cas's fault. But, Dean, sometimes it's your fault, and sometimes it's my fault. It just...happens."

"I did that for you," Dean said hollowly. "All of that, I did it for you."

"Yeah, well, you went too far, Dean. And we've already yelled enough about that, I think," Sam said in the delicate way that meant he was still upset but not about to pick a fight over it.

"Yeah," Dean laughed humorlessly.

"Anyway," Sam said, and it sounded like he was determined not to get off track. "Sometimes things go off the rails, and we can get mad about it, but that doesn't make it the sort of mistake that we cut people off over. Especially not this one. Even if we did lose Rowena." He swallowed. "It wasn't Cas's fault."

"He wasn't supposed to leave," Dean said helplessly.

"What?"

"He...he said...years ago, during the Mark stuff," Dean looked down at his hands for a moment. "He said that everyone would be dead, except him, and he would still be there." Dean grabbed the counter behind him again, hands braced by his hips. "He said he'd always come when I call, Sam." Dean's voice broke in the middle of the sentence. His fingers clutched at the counter and he kept his eyes fixed on the worn linoleum under Sam's feet.

"Well..." Sam shifted on his feet. Dean's grip on the counter tightened until he knew his fingers were white, and he tried to keep his breathing under control. "Have you tried calling him?"

Dean let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "No. I can't, I--" His fingers ached against the edge of the stainless steel counter.

"Why can't you?" Sam asked cautiously. "I mean, I'm not sure if he's still tuned into angel radio, but I'm pretty sure he's still got his cell on him."

"He might not be," Dean said, focusing on Sam. "That's one of the things he said. That he's losing power again." Dean flexed his fingers. "I didn't listen," he added quietly.

"It's not the first time he's fallen, though," Sam pointed out. "It's not like it's new."

Dean stifled another twinge of guilt at the six-year-old memory of a freshly-fallen Cas turning up at the bunker and expecting the welcome he should have been given.

"I mean," Sam continued. "He's been falling on-and-off really since we met him."

"Yeah." Dean thought nostalgically about the unearthly Castiel who had blown the doors off a barn in Illinois and made the air around him crackle with ozone. "He was really worried about it the first time. He got shored up though. He figured it was--oh." Dean's fingers went slack in realization and he was wide-eyed when he turned back to Sam.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Chuck. Cas always thought it was God who had powered him back up after you jumped into the Cage. And now with Chuck on the outs..."

"You think that's why Cas's losing power again," Sam finished.

Dean nodded grimly. "It makes sense."

"If he's falling again, falling for good, we should be there," Sam said firmly. "Not because he needs us," he added quickly, "but because his family should be there for him anyway."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But," he hesitated, his fingers curling loosely over the counter again. "I can't call him, Sam," he admitted quietly.

"Why not?" Sam asked, frustration seeping through. "Just call him and tell him you're sorry. That it wasn't his fault and there's always a place for him here."

Dean opened his mouth, but I'm dead to you echoed too loudly in his head for him to speak. "I just...what I said, Sam...I can't--"

Sam sighed loudly. "Okay," he said. "Do you want to make up with Cas? Make things right with him?"

"Yes," Dean said immediately. Then he thought about the anger and sadness in Cas's eyes before he left. He thought about the months when he thought Cas was dead after the leviathan. He thought about the months Cas was trapped in Purgatory. He thought about the long years in front of him if Cas never came home. "Yes," he repeated. "I do."

"Good," Sam said firmly. "That's good, because if you didn't, I was going to have to kick your ass. Now, I know you and Cas used to talk a lot and I was only there for some of it. So I know there's some really sentimental stuff you guys were throwing around."

Dean looked up sharply at Sam, but his younger brother wasn't sneering, just teasing with a knowing look on his face. Dean swallowed.

"I'm sure 'more profound bond' was the least of your endearments." Sam didn't really have to look so smug about the whole thing, but Dean could hardly say he was wrong.

"Yeah," Dean agreed hoarsely.

I was getting too close to the humans in my charge - you

, floated across his mind, accompanied by such lines as

I gave everything for you.

The sort of lines Dean ruminated on when he couldn't sleep and the night seemed too cold and too dark to be borne alone.

I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did all of it for you

. Affection and love lurking in every phrase, warming Dean from the inside.

I prayed to you, every night. I always come when you call. I'd rather have you, cursed or not.

We're family. We need you. ...I need you.

You ask what about all of this is real. We are.

Dean realized Sam was watching him with a knowing look. "What?" he said instinctively, fighting the heat flooding his face.

"Nothing," Sam said, though his innocent act was ruined by his cat-that-ate-the-canary routine. "Alright, so what you're going to do is call Cas and convince him to meet you somewhere. Neutral ground." Sam's grin was growing, which made Dean automatically wary of whatever plan he was concocting. "You're going to apologize for everything you said. And then you're going to turn up with all those lines and memories and tell Cas truthfully how they made you feel."

Dean swallowed around the dry lump in his throat. His fingers tightened around the counter edge. It...wasn't a terrible plan. It was just terrifying. It was just everything he'd been avoiding for the last decade.

"You can have a boombox with you if it makes you feel better," Sam told him with fake solemnity.

"Huh?" Dean managed, attempting to carry on the basics of human conversation while most of him was trying to figure out how many ways he could say I love you to Cas without having to actually...say it.

"This is your big romantic gesture, Dean," Sam told him gently. "Like a John Hughes movie. And don't say you don't like chick flicks, because both of us know that's not true."

Dean just nodded. Big romantic gesture. Right. Maybe he could just...say it. Love you, Cas seemed too casual for the way this felt, but I've fallen in love with you, Castiel was waaay too far in the other direction. Maybe just I'm in love with you, Cas. Simple, hard to misunderstand. Right.

Dean nodded again and pried his hands off the counter. "Right," he echoed aloud. He rubbed his palms and glanced absently around the kitchen.

"Those will need to be refrigerated once they're cool," he said, gesturing toward the cooling racks of pies. "And you can do the dishes, Sammy."

Dean flexed his fingers and took a breath. "Right," he whispered again before stepping away from the counter.

"And where are you going?" Sam asked. Dean suspected he meant to sound put out about the dishes, but it was impossible not to hear the delight in his brother's voice.

"To get a boombox," Dean called over his shoulder as he leapt the two steps at the kitchen's entrance.

I'm in love with you, Cas. Right. He's got this.

#Resolution19 #Supernatural #spn #15.03 #coda #destiel #gratuitous pie #sorry if dean's a bit out of character #i want to just take him and cas and push them together #'now KISS!'#but dean's a bit reluctant to Have Feelings #so this is what you get from me lol #ten months down #two months to go!

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marvelmymarvel · 5 years

Text

Green Eyes

Loki x Human!Oblivious!Reader

Synopsis: You were trying to figure out the man that laid in front of you. He was anything but human, but you didn't know what he was yet. He spoke of banishment and a brother who he hated, and quickly, you fell for the green-eyed stranger called Loki in a barn surrounded by thunderstorms and a villain lurking about.

PS: The reader is oblivious to the Avengers and I’m putting this as sometime after Thor but before Avengers. So that little sliver of time where the Avengers aren't around and the reader can be 100% clueless about ‘aliens’. Also, Loki in the comics has Green eyes, so don't @ me. XOXO. This was lowkey my favorite Loki fic I have written, so go easy ;). Also if you aren't American and more importantly Midwestern, you may be confused by some things. It’s okay, I, as a midwesterner, understand you and am also confused. I will tell you that if you don’t know something go ahead and look it up! The pictures will help :) OKAY, BACK TO IT!

Song: American Money (Away Remix) by BORNS (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dovRfPNl80w)

It was a cloudy day in the little Illinois town that you called home. No more than 500 people meant that little things such as fire trucks going out and a cop pulling a person over were talked about like it was the biggest thing that ever happened in the boring town. You didn't like it though. In fact, you quite hated the little town that you had to call home. Most times, you found yourself in the middle of a cornfield, especially when it was about to rain. Your father being a farmer meant you had free range over the 100 acres that your family owned. You took advantage of that fact. There were 100′s of acres to get lost in and disassociate for a couple of hours. Instead of a farmers girl, you were a superhero and even though superheroes didn't exist, it still made you feel special for once. You looked up at the clouds that got darker and darker the more you walked. The feel of the sharp soil under your naked toes brought comfort as you ran your fingers along the tall cornstalks leaves. There was a drought going on where you lived and the soil felt like the sand of a dessert. Dry and sharp. Yet it still brought comfort. Light exploded in the dark cloud and your eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. This wasn't like any lightning you saw. It came down quickly, light never once fading like a meteorite would after entering the atmosphere. It lit up the acres like a flashlight and the speed of it broke the sound barrier as it barreled towards you. You screeched as it got closer before ducking down into the corn, covering your head and hoping it would miss. The object slammed into the ground 100 feet from you and the dusty soil flew up and fell all around you. (I was there when you fell from the clouds). You stood up incredulously, eyes wide and mouth agape as you looked at all the cornstalks that fell down due to the sound wave that followed the collision. You could see the figure, and realized quickly it was no meteorite.

It was a person.

You walked closer to it, scared that it would harm you. (And landed in the desert). The desert-like surroundings making you feel like you were far from home. Far from the normal thunderstorms and far from normalcy. (There was a thunder inside of my heart). Your heart hammered around like thunder the closer you got. Finally, you got to the figure and used your foot to nudge his shoulder. This caused it to lean forward before falling onto its back. You jumped and squealed in fear, but quickly calmed down seeing that he was not awake. “Are you dead?” you whispered to no one in particular as you knelt and ran a hand down his face. Your eyebrows crinkled as you saw blue appear from under his pale skin the minute your fingers touched it. Your heart hammered harder as you sat down cross-legged into the dirt. Something about that touch made you hungry as if you wanted to touch him more. (There was a wonderful pleasure). You thought about leaving him there and calling the police, but then you had a better idea. Your parents weren't home for a couple of days, so what would be the harm of taking this stranger in. Sure he fell from the sky, but he couldn't be a villain...

Could he?

You had managed to get onto an old Four-Wheeler that your father had in the barn only a half a mile away from where the man laid. You were hoping and praying he wouldn't have disappeared as you drove through the corn quickly. Your heart relaxed when you saw him still laying there, either soundly sleeping or knocked out cold. You stopped the ATV before swinging off of it and walking over to him. You brushed away the thoughts of your father possibly killing you once he found out you brought a greasy looking man into your little farmhouse, but what he didn't know didn't hurt him.

Right?

You managed to pull him up onto the back of the Four-Wheeler where you would normally lay hay or other farm equipment that you had to take to your father who was in the middle of a field. You heard thunder overhead and looked up in angst. Feeling a raindrop hit your nose, you climbed back on and took off. All while holding the man's arm to make sure he was still there and not about to fall off. (And like a stallion racing the rain). The rain began to fall harder and you raced faster and faster to get back to the barn. If your dad didn't find out about the man, he would certainly know about all of the corn you were ruining. (You rode on the back of my bike). You looked back to make sure he was alright and were relieved to see him still asleep, but a little more lively as he winced at the bumps. (I knew from the song that you sang). The thunder rumbled in your ears as the rain began to soak you to the bone. (You were my lover for life). You pulled up and into the barn just in time as the wind picked up and the trees blew violently. Putting the ATV in park and shutting it off, you flew off it and ran to the banging barn door. Grabbing it, you slid it shut so that there was a barrier between you and the wicked thunderstorm that rumbled outside. Instantly, you were enveloped in silence, other than of course, the occasional whistle of the wind outside. You clutched onto the barn door, the soft glow of the lights above giving you warmth and sense of security that you needed. You always hated thunderstorms. They were violent and deadly. Something you always hated. You let out a small exhale before turning towards the ATV, but your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the empty ATV. (Oh, there's no time to sleep). You felt frozen in fear and had to physically force yourself out of the trance to go a step forward. Looking around the barn, the mysterious man was nowhere in sight. You walked over towards the ATV in pure distress. (Oh, living in a dream). Did you dream that? Did you disassociate from the real world into your fantasy dream, and dream him up? You grabbed your head in confusion, you had never done that before. (So take me to the paradise). You exhaled in disbelief before backing away from the Four-Wheeler. “I’m just imagining things. Yes, imagining things. He wasn't real... Ha ha ha so funny.....” you tried so hard to laugh it off and act like it wasn't a big deal, but it was. You dreamed up a man, a man that could bring you some sort of paradise to your boring life. You hit a wall, and your blood ran cold at the impact. There was never a wall here.

“Oh I am very real darling” the voice whispered in your ear, causing you to take a sharp intake of air before whirling around and facing the man awake and towering over you. (It's in your eyes). You knew you should have been afraid of him. But his eyes. They were blueish green, but his green outfit made them greener than they were blue. They took your breath away and seemed to calm you down at the same time. The green in them reminded you of the money you had in your back pocket. (Green like American money). The American currency to you was never beautiful. That was until you met this man. Your eyes went to his lips, pink and plump. (You taste just right). You began to wonder what he tasted like. Did he taste like the Sweet Tea that was mixed with honey from Tennessee that your father got every spring? (Sweet like Tennessee honey). Did he taste like the sweet corn you would have in the summer? Did he taste like the pumpkin pie your mom made on Thanksgiving? Or, did he taste like the mint that was infused in the candy canes you handed out at Christmas time as the white snow fell around you? What did he taste like? More importantly.

WHY WERE YOU STARING?!

Your eyes shot up to his eyes once more, cheeks bright red as you saw a knowing smirk on his lips. He knew you were staring... (And we can run away). You wanted to run away right then and there, but you couldn't move. You dripped with cold late summer rain, and it felt like you just got out of a swimming pool. (Swimming in the sunlight every day). Except, you didn’t have the sun to warm you after the cool dip into the water. All you had was his intense gaze that made you feel like a lobster being boiled alive. He was far from the sun... He made things 10x hotter. (Paradise, it's in your eyes). Yet, in the dim lights, his green eyes added a coolness that made you feel safe and secure. You were confused as to why though. He was a stranger, if anything, you should be running from him. His sharp features and height should have sent you running as they screamed arrogant and dangerous. (Green like American money). But his eyes, his eyes spoke of something different. They were soft and careful as if he didn't want to scare you away. His lips must have moved because his eyebrows shot up incredulously. “Sorry what” you whispered out as you shook yourself from your trance.

He chuckled lightly, the smile reaching his eyes before looking to the side. “I said that you had a staring problem, but you were staring at me too hard to hear it” he teased before looking back at you. Your cheeks reddened more and he rolled his eyes playfully before walking away from you to look at the barn. You stood there, looking at the ground in confusion before turning swiftly to watch him walk. (So we took to the Calico road). He left you in a stupor like no one else ever could do before. You wanted to get answers from him, and since the rain was the way that it was outside. This was a perfect time to take the road less traveled and get the explanations you needed. Simple explanations. Like who he was, where he's from... WHY HE FELL FROM THE FREAKING SKY?!

(Running from the weather). “Are you going to ask questions or do I have to do all the talking love?” He spoke up, once more drawing you from your thoughts. Following his words was a great big flash of lightning and some thunder, causing him to look at the roof in slight fear. “Afraid of lightning?” you blurted out. You mentally cursed yourself for allowing your first question to be whether he was afraid of lightning like you were. The thunder never scared you as much as the lightning, but you always blamed it on the thunder anyway. “Way to go Y/n” you whispered to yourself as you slammed your palm against your head. “I am not...” he started as he looked back at you with confused eyes, “But I’m not too overly fond of what follows...” This caused your head to cock in confusion as you let your hand fall from your face. (There was a highway inside of her eyes). He pinpointed that he was on Midgard, only because most of the beings on this wretched planet acted like you. Trembling and pesky little things, yet, you seemed different. Your e/c eyes were bright under the lights of the barn and it, for some reason, made his heart rate pick up a little every time he looked at you. It was as if you were similar to other humans but different in more ways than you were ever similar. You were nervous on the outside but strong in your heart. He could tell that by just the way you were standing, shaking in fear but still holding your ground. (There was a buried treasure). To him, there was a treasure inside of you, something he would dig for and end up getting if he tried. The thing was though, was that he didn't even know you. Yet at this moment, he felt like he only knew you. Like his brother didn't matter and all that mattered was you. Midgardians, he scoffed to himself, but he didn't realize it was out loud.

“Midgardians?” you questioned, causing him to freeze in fear of saying too much. You were clearly someone who did not know about the other worlds, and he wanted to spare you that pain of knowing too much. He wishes he could go back when he didn't know too much. Like before he knew he was a frost giant and that his ‘father’ was a liar and a kidnapper. None of that mattered though. (And we got caught in the storm). Lightning flashed once more and a large clap of thunder followed, causing you to scream and cover your ears in fear. His head cocked as he walked over to you, cautiously so as not to spook you further. “Are you alright darling?” he questioned softly as he reached out a hand to your arm, but stopped at the thought of you seeing him as he truly was. (You started flying a kite). “Just afraid of some storms is all” you whimpered out as you adjusted yourself and walked over to the door to look out. The rain started to pour harder than you thought possible and you knew you’d be stuck there for a few hours. (At the end was the key to my heart). He was playing a dangerous game giving out his heart like this. He was Loki, Laufeyson. God of Mischief. He was no man of comfort. His skin was as cold as his heart and he could not fall for a Midgardian woman. Nonetheless, one he met only minutes ago.

And yet here he was. (You were my lover for life).

He thought he was going crazy as he approached you once more. “I don't know your name,” he whispered out shakily. It felt like he wasn't in control of his tongue or body, otherwise, he would have left you and never said a word. You turned your head a little, contemplating whether to tell him your name or not. Your father's lectures ran through your head on repeat about stranger danger and what not to do in situations like this...

But you broke too many rules already, so why stop now.

“Y/n” you stated firmly before turning and looking at him sternly. Part of you was offended that he was asking the questions around here since you were the one deserving the answers. “That's a beautiful name” he whispered out sweetly nearly causing your knees to buckle and for you to lose your composure. You quickly fixed it and crossed your arms to remain strong. “And yours?” You pressed finally finding your voice. He chuckled lowly before turning to the side and walking towards some farm equipment. “Loki. Previously OdinSon. Now LaufeySon. God of Mischief.” He stated proudly as he turned to look at you cockily hoping to see your disbelief. But you just looked confused.

“Who?” you asked with crinkled brows and a frown set into your forehead. His cool composure fell and he realized you were clueless. “Loki... Never heard of me?” he pressed causing you to shake your head childishly. He sighed before coming up with an idea, “How about I tell you about myself and where I am from... will that help?” he asked sweetly. You nodded softly and he opened his mouth to begin his long story. (Oh, there's no time to sleep).

It took a long time to get through his story, but by the time he was done, it felt like you were in a dream. (Oh, living in a dream). He was a fantastic storyteller, but it didn't explain who he truly was and why he fell from the sky. He looked at you with a big smile after he was finished and was pleased to see your dazed look. “That story was amazing, you should write a book about it,” you said innocently, causing his smile to falter and his arms to drop from their ‘ta-da’ position. “I’m a God you Midgardian, how hard is that to understand” he growled frustratedly but calmed himself when he saw you cringe back in fear at his outburst. You fell silent and looked at your hands in embarrassment. “Sorry?” You questioned after looking back up at him. He sighed before rubbing his face and walking towards you quickly. You flinched but he pulled a bucket in front of you and sat down on it. (So take me to the paradise). He grabbed your hand and it made your heart stop as the coldness made the hairs raise on your arms.

“I’m a God, the God of Mischief to be exact. I can do magic and many people call me a witch, but really, it's just my mother who is a witch, not me.” He stated softly as he turned your hand over so that your palm was up. He moved his finger down the skin of your palm and a glow followed his finger, causing your eyes to widen as you looked up at him. (It's in your eyes). His green eyes were illuminated in the glow that was on your palm. (Green like American money). “This can’t be real” you whispered as you searched his eyes for any sign that this was fake, that you were passed out somewhere in the field and this was all a dream. A very realistic and beautiful dream. (You taste just right). His face was close to yours, and once again, you wondered how he tasted. (Sweet like Tennessee honey). Was he sweet like the words he spoke? Or was he sour like the way he walked? The rain had stopped, causing you both to look up at the ceiling in pure relief. “I’m very real” he whispered as he stood and drug you up with him. Your bodies were close together and you looked down at your shoes in discomfort. He let go of your hand just then and you stepped away afraid you made him feel bad. “Someones here” he whispered out before walking past you and towards the door. “Probably my aunt” you called out before turning around and walking towards him. “Nothing to-” an explosion outside caused you both to fly back, his arms wrapped around your body and protected you both from the explosion and the impact of the fall that followed. Your skull cracked onto the hard ground and you moaned out in pain as his grip around you loosened.

“Not my aunt” you whispered out shakily as your head began to spin and you sat up to see a man dressed in all black approach you both. “Definitely not my aunt-” but you were cut off once more by Loki lifting you up and putting you onto your feet. “RUN” he screamed in your face as you backed away shakily finally seeing the gigantic blade the thing was holding. (And we can run away). You took 3 steps back before tripping on some rubble, typical of you but luckily you caught yourself and took off. You ran out of what would be the back of the barn and into the corn. (Swimming in the sunlight every day). Sweat poured down you as the sun that was now out beat down onto your poor body. Your mind was spinning still and you stumbled quite a bit. Reaching an opening, you heard laughing all around you, causing you to spin around in anguish. (Paradise, it's in your eyes). You just wanted him and his calm eyes. The one person that you only met hours ago, seemed to be the only one to calm you down now. “WHO ARE YOU?!” you screamed out before a figure emerged. (Green like American money).

“Loki” you whispered out exasperatedly before running forward and grasping him in a hug. Looking up at him with teary eyes, you thanked him over and over for protecting you, but then you realized something. His eyes...

They weren’t green.

“Who are you” you whispered before pushing out of the strangers grasp. He chuckled, it first sounded like Loki but suddenly morphed into a deeper tone that sounded demonic. (We carved our love in the mountainside). “You were never apart of the plan... But I’m happy you are now, human” it snarled as it got closer and closer to you. You stumbled while backing up and your head slammed into the rock below, only making the spinning worse. (We soaked our hearts in the rain). The mud-stained your clothes and caked your hair and you felt like you were paralyzed. “Who are you” you whimpered out as it leaned down and ran its long finger down your neck. “it's not who I am that matters... Its who I work for that does” He hissed lowly before standing up fully and smiling at you sickeningly.

You began to go in and out of consciousness, and you weren't sure if you would feel death or not. Would it hurt? Would it be fast? The thing raised its staff down at you and you closed your eyes, praying to pass out before it happened. “I’ll do it” was the last thing you heard before you were out like a light. Not knowing whether or not it was death that consumed you but you knew one thing for sure. That voice. It was Loki’s voice. That was the last thing you heard. (And I, waited my whole life, for you). Somehow, you were okay with his voice being the last thing you would ever hear. You just wished his eyes were the last thing you ever saw.

Your e/c shot open and you inhaled sharply before sitting up quickly. You winced in pain before grabbing your head as the world spun around you. You balanced yourself before looking up slowly, jumping a little at the sight of Loki sitting at the end of your bed. His back was facing you and while he had a weirdly shaped helmet on his head, you knew it was him from all of the green. (So take me to the paradise). “Loki?” you whispered out softly, hoping it would make him move, but if anything, it made him go more rigid. His bouncing leg stopped and he looked forward into the mirror to look at you in it. Your face, it was so sweet and precious. You were innocent, and now, you were a weapon against him. “I’m so sorry for what I have done” he whispered out, still staring intently at you in the mirror. His green eyes took your breath away once more and his words sent a chill down your spine. (It's in your eyes). “You did nothing wrong Loki? That... That thing was not your fault-”

“No, but my following actions were” he pressed as he turned and looked you straight on. Your breath caught in your lungs at the piercing color that made you melt and fall in love. (Green like American money). He was someone you just met, but you couldn't help the feeling. The feeling that all of this was meant to happen. “God works in mysterious ways” you whispered out causing him to chuckle darkly and shake his head at you. He leaned forward before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. (You taste just right). You were right, he did taste perfect. Like honey that you stirred in your hot tea. (Sweet like Tennessee honey). He tasted as sweet as his words. He pulled away and looked at you painfully. He grew to care for you and you would forever be his little human. His Midgardian. Which is why he had to go. (And we can run away). “I have to go little human” he whispered out sadly as you grabbed for his hand anxiously. “We can run from this, I know we barely know each other, but I don't want you to leave me” you whispered shakily as you searched his eyes for something, anything. You felt adventure with him. You felt love when with him. For once in your life, you weren't bored. You only knew each other for less than a day, but less than a day is enough to decide who you wanna spend your life with. He shook his head before lifting your hand and pecking your knuckles softly. “I’ll keep you safe... I promise...” he whispered once more before using the staff he was holding to form a portal. You looked at him shakily but didn't make a move to stop him. He stepped through, leaving you in your bed. Feeling alone once more.

(Swimming in the sunlight every day). He stood there, the Other walking around and proclaiming how he would help by leading the Chitauri in taking over the earth. His brain was swimming with worrying thoughts, but he knew that if he followed through, you’d be safe. He closed his eyes, thinking over your face, your beautiful and innocent face. You didn't look at him like he was a God, and for some reason, he liked that. (Paradise, it's in your eyes). He found comfort in the image of your eyes. Eyes that held stories about your life. Stories he wished he could learn, but he wouldn’t be selfish when it came to you. Opening his eyes, he looked at the Other sternly. “You won't harm her, will you?” Loki pressed as the Other walked past him silently, thinking through his answer.

“Only if you follow through” the Other snarled as he walked behind him and continued on with his speech of how you will be safe as long as Loki does his job. Otherwise, you were as safe as dead. Loki nodded, wishing he never met you. Wishing his green eyes didn’t tempt you. (Green like American money). He was happy he met you for selfish reasons, but meeting you caused so much headache and pain for him. Now he couldn't protect you, the one thing he truly loved. And that killed him more than saying goodbye.

Part 2?? IDK let me know :)

#loki imagine #loki imagines #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines

104 notes · View notes

norahastuff · 5 years

Text

Dean, Cas and gifts

Historically, Cas hasn’t has a lot of earthly possessions. It has even been brought up for us to consider, like in 12x10 when Ishim pointed out that he had:

‘’no wings, no home, just a ratty old coat and a pair of poorly trained monkeys.’’

Ishim was wrong though. Yes, it may seem like all Cas has in the way of material things is the trenchcoat, but that’s not entirely true. It just means that although his possessions are few and far in between, the ones he has, are important and mean a great deal to him. Just look at the pride he felt over his Pimpmobile, and how affronted he got when Crowley or Sam insulted it (RIP pimpmobile, we miss you almost as much as Cas does I’m sure). And then there are the things that Dean gave Cas. In fact I find it very interesting that you can actually track the evolution of Dean and Cas’ relationship, as well the showrunner’s approach to it, by paying attention to the things that Dean has presented to Cas.

Kripke era:

The FBI badge

This was the first time, Dean and Cas were truly free to spend any time together away from the machinations of heaven. Yes they had a bond and connection that they built throughout season 4, but they were being manipulated most of the time. This episode is important for many reasons, one of them being that it marked when they truly became friends, at least in my estimation. Thus it makes sense that Dean gifts Cas with a badge. It’s a tool, a prop that they need to work the case, but it also shows how Dean is beginning to care about Cas as a partner and a friend. He trusted him enough to support his pursuit of Raphael, and decided to help. That was essentially the way that Cas and Dean’s relationship was handled in the Kripke era, as friends, brother’s in arms and trusted comrades...with a healthy dose of homoerotic ‘’have you forgotten dean might be into dudes?’’ style tension added to the mix.

The badge clearly meant a great deal to Cas. In 9x10, human Cas reveals that he still has it. Think about the implications of that for a minute. Even after everything that happens, after he gets loses his grace and the trenchcoat itself, he keeps the badge that was in the pocket. Because Dean gave it to him.

Gamble era:

The Trenchcoat

Technically this is a regift, proving re-gifting isn’t always a dick move, but I digress. Dean is returning Cas’ trenchcoat to him, the trenchcoat that he pulled out of the river and carried around with him, after he thought he had lost Cas. It became a symbol of the friend he lost, the guy he couldn’t save. And then Cas returns. He regains his memories, remembers all of the horrible things he did and cannot deal with it, so Dean pulls out the trenchcoat. He reminds Cas of he was to Dean, what he meant to him. He was his friend, a fellow warrior, a man who’s death he could not get over and someone he could not keep himself from hoping, would return to him. By carrying it around all those awful months, and then returning it to Cas in an effort to remind him of the good parts of himself, Dean imbued the coat with a meaning it didn’t have before. The Gamble era, starting with 6x20 and continuing with 7x17, began to make Dean and Cas' feelings for each other, an important and intrinsic part of the plot, and the return of the trench coat had no small part to play in that.

Carver era:

The first blade

If the Gamble era started to expand on the importance of Dean and Cas emotional relationship, Carver took this idea and ran with it. This was such a crucial moment. Dean exhausted after his fight with Cain, gives Cas the very thing that could lead to his total destruction, in every sense of the word. The absolute trust he places in Cas is evident. The blade is what caused Dean to become a demon in the first place, so of course Dean presents it to the one person he has the most faith in to keep it safe and away from him. Bonus points for hammering it in to Crowley that he’s been screwed over, as the Dean/Cas/Crowley love triangle (dear God that actually happened) was another hallmark of how Carver handled the Destiel subtext.

Dabb era:

The mixtape

‘‘It’s a gift. You keep those.’‘

And then we arrive at the Dabb era. This was the first time that the word ‘’gift’ was actually used in relation to anything that Dean has given Cas. This moment is interesting in so many ways, of course, but I find it fascinating to compare it to the previous scene I just mentioned from the Carver era. Dean giving Cas the first blade was a gesture of immense trust of course, but also one of necessity. Dean needed to stay far away from the blade and it’s influence. In contrast, there is no alternative motive in gifting Cas with a mixtape. It is a move that has no significance to the wider plot, and seems to exist only to show how Dean feels about Cas, with a very obvious romantic gesture no less. This to me, has been the biggest difference between how the Dabb era has been handling Dean and Cas’ relationship. The scope has become much more personal in nature, and there is a greater focus on how their feelings affect themselves and each other, rather than the world at large. It has also been presented as a much more overtly romantic relationship than any other time before.

The reason Destiel has always been so fascinating to me, is the organic growth of their relationship. It has never felt forced. From FBI badges, to primordial weapons, to Zeppelin mixtapes, these dumbasses have run the gamut of emotionally charged gifts. The evolution of their love and trust for each other is amazing, and who knew this is where these two would end up when they met in that Illinois barn all those years ago.

Honourable mention:

The cowboy hat

Aka the time Cas indulged Dean’s fetish. This one doesn’t strictly count. But Cas said:

‘‘Thats why you’re making me wear this ridiculous hat’‘

I have so many questions. Did Dean buy it? Did they buy it together? Did Dean tell Cas he was buying him a cowboy hat? Was it a surprise? This whole scene was sublime. Whichever way it went down, I’m sure Cas still has the hat. Gotta have a souvenir of the day you annoy an ancient cosmic entity (who knows who you love btw) into tossing you back to earth, and the one human you care about most, is so happy, he giddily forces you to role play cowboys and you secretly love it, just because you get to spend time and enjoy yourself with him. But you know, platonically.

#destiel #oh cas #5x03 #7x17 #10x14 #12x19 #13x06 #the evolution of their relationship still gets me #it's like nothing that's ever been done on tv before #and honestly i doubt ever will again #deancas #my spn thoughts

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rainythefox · 5 years

Text

Oh, Brother (RDR2 Fanfic Ch.1)

Summary: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short multi-chapter fic revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John, further developing what would eventually become the Van der Linde gang. Rated T for language, some violence, drinking/drugs and mischief. It will mostly be Frienship/Family and Humor, but there will be Action/Adventure with some violence!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Red Dead Redemption franchise, Rockstar, or its characters, etc. This is just for fun.

Chapter 1

"I did no such thing."

Hosea's tone was playful as he rubbed a hand through his light-blond hair before placing a hat upon his head. Dutch made a sound nearby, a mix between a chuckle and a snort as he spurred his horse to canter alongside them.

"Oh, dear brother, don't play sly with me. Even Arthur can see straight through your façade. That much is painfully clear."

"His what?" Arthur drawled, shaking his head, already impatient. "Are we lost or not?"

"I may have slightly got us off course."

"Hosea, you said it was due southeast of the camp."

"Southeast?" Arthur grunted, glaring at Dutch. "Bessie said southwest."

"Did she?" Hosea asked, glancing over his shoulder at the path behind them. "Huh, that explains a lot."

They halted their horses on the road, Arthur voicing his displeasure with a groan. Dutch wheezed a laugh beside him. A gust of wind brushed by, plains surrounding them. The same, dull prairie had been their only scenery for the couple hour ride they've done.

"My friend the master con artist, horrible with directions."

Hosea waved them off. "I haven't been down this way in ten goddamn years. What do you expect? And every blade of grass looks the same."

"Next time maybe you should stay behind, old man, an' we can bring Bessie instead," Arthur said.

"Very funny, my boy."

"Jus' sayin'."

"Now come on, son, where is the fun in that? We couldn't get into quite as much trouble with 'ol Bessie and Susan around."

"That's the point!" Arthur looked around. "Can we move? I feel exposed here."

"We're exposed everywhere," Dutch replied. "What, you missing Chicago?"

"Hell no!"

"Okay then."

"We got company," Hosea announced.

A wagon pulled by two draft horses met them on the road, coming from behind them. The wagon was full of produce, skins, and other materials. Two men rode in the front while two sat in the back, and all four were armed. Arthur was quick to notice the men's suspicious glares as they rode up on them.

Dutch cleared his throat. "Let me handle this." And directed his horse over to the wagon. The men got their repeaters ready, but Arthur knew Dutch's charm would pacify them easily.

"Hello, gentlemen! My dear friend, his nephew, and I are sight seeing 'round these parts. Decided to get away from Chicago for a bit, and got a little lost. They're as stubborn as mules asking for directions. We're trying to find the town of Andell, could you so kindly point us in the right direction?"

"Andell?" the older man echoed, eyebrows furrowing. He scratched at his full beard. "That's across the river. You a ways off, pal. Ya'll have to head back yonder to Canker Point and take the trail to the river and find the 'ol run down station before headin' west into Andell."

Dutch smiled, a hand to his chest as he dipped his head. "Thank you, friend. You may have saved our necks."

"Not sure why ya boys would wanna go to Andell though," the older man continued. "Fire took out most of it 'bout a year ago or so. It's not near as populated as it was."

Arthur sighed. Well, there went their chance at poking around for jobs. The young man slouched atop his horse, but Hosea didn't break his "hello, I'm a polite gentleman and harmless" expression. Dutch didn't show any falter to the news.

"Is that right? That's quite a shame. I was hoping to surprise an 'ol friend down this way. He's from Chicago too. Had ambitions to start up a livery stable in these parts, if I remember correctly."

One of the younger men in the back of the wagon perked up. He looked to be in his early twenties just like Arthur, only wasn't near as large and sturdy as he was. "Oh, we know that feller. You talkin' 'bout a Mister Galligan right?"

A sly smirk eased on Dutch's face. "Why yes, that's him. I hope he is well?"

"He moved over to the town of Hickory, which is where we're headin'."

Dutch glanced back at his older partner-in-crime, their subtle exchange something only the two of them understood. Dutch turned back to the travelers.

"Why, you fellas are our saving grace today. May we join you on your ride to Hickory?"

The older wagon driver glanced at his passengers then back to Dutch. "Sure. We don't want no trouble though."

Dutch eased their new traveling companions with a gentle laugh, a hand to his chest. "You'll get no such thing from us. Well, except for my brooding friend right there, he's a little grumpy at times."

Arthur gave Dutch a look. He and Hosea trotted alongside the wagon with Dutch as it followed the road to Hickory. Arthur stayed quiet, letting Dutch and Hosea sweet-talk the wagon riders and only talking when spoken to. It wasn't long before Hosea was drawing them in with some humorous story about a faulty fishing trip while portraying one of his many personas.

The wagon riders laughed and after that they were a lot more open and talkative, which is exactly what Dutch and Hosea wanted. Arthur heard the exchange of names, the aliases that his mentors chose this time around. The wagon driver, Hester, and his son, and the other two men were ranch hands for a wealthy homesteader family within the area. They explained how the Warrens were strict and hard to work for, how they used their prosperity to take over the town of Hickory.

Their complaints and frankness drove Dutch and Hosea to exchange knowing smirks with each other. Arthur knew them well enough to know that an idea was hatching. He swore it was like the two men could read each other's thoughts at times. He didn't quite understand it.

After traveling together on the road for an hour, the town of Hickory came into view. It was a bit smaller than what they were used to in scouting for jobs, but it would do. It was average, nothing quite unique stood out to Arthur, and he noticed the typical stores, homes, and dirt roads. The small town seemed to be quite populated, however. Men, women, and children walked the streets, some hollered out to others. Horseback riders and those on wagons kept the roads busy with traffic.

"Now this is quite a town you have here, Mister Foll," Hosea said. "Ya know, I think I've been here years before, and well, seems to have grown considerably."

"I'm sure it ain't nothin' like what you boys are used to in Chicago, but it's an alright town. The Warrens are to thank for its growth, but since they've taken over most stores and businesses, prices have gone up and, well, there're far more poor folk than there should be."

"Such a shame," Dutch said, dark eyes already scanning for opportunities.

"Anyways, this is where we go our separate ways, we gotta get these supplies to Mister Warren. You fellas be careful. Hickory has a thievin’ problem. Ya'll find your friend Mister Galligan on the far side of town at the stables."

Hosea and Dutch waved them off as the wagon turned down a different road. Dutch turned his horse to face Hosea and Arthur as they looked over the town before them. The town was surrounded by more plains, a forest not far to the west. Besides the stores and houses, there were also livestock barns and pens. It looked to be mostly sheep and pigs here.

"Smell that gentlemen?"

"Yeah, smells like shit," Arthur grumbled.

"No, opportunities, Arthur. Did you not pay attention?" Dutch said, shaking his head.

"Aw c'mon, Dutch. There ain't nothin' here. I betchu that Mister Galligan lost all that money. Why else would he leave the city? He gon' have worse men than us after him."

Hosea chuckled. "He left because he has the money, you sulky buffoon. You still upset about what happened?"

"It weren't my fault."

"We never said it was, son."

"Eh, it wasn't that big of a loss anyway. We've been doing this for eight years, Arthur. Some jobs just don't pan out. Best to get over it," Hosea explained.

"Sure."

"Let's hit the saloon. I'm parched. We can discuss some ideas there, get a feel of the town," Dutch ordered, spurring his horse into a trot.

"Okay, Dutch," Hosea answered.

Arthur rode behind his mentors. They hitched their horses outside the small saloon. Inside, several folks drank and laughed away. The voices bounced through the walls, and Arthur scanned the room, the faces, the behaviors. It looked like there would be no trouble.

Dutch got them some drinks and they talked to the side, watching the townsfolk drink and chatter away.

Dutch and Hosea stood out amongst most of the people. They always wore nicer clothes, Dutch especially. Dutch had grown a mustache in the past couple years and kept it trimmed and neat, but Hosea remained clean-shaven as always. Despite Hosea being nearly twelve years older than Dutch, his eyes shown with the same youth, the same passion and ambition.

Arthur himself had grown considerably since they found him eight years ago. No longer a lanky, dirty teenager, he bulked up some and now had some scruff on his face. He wasn't as rowdy or impolite as he was when they first found him, the typical orphan delinquent. Although, he kept Dutch and Hosea on their toes with his sarcastic, often cynical nature.

His clothes weren't near as kept and clean as his mentors', but he often had the dirtier jobs. He finally could wear his father's hat without it swallowing his head. He may have not have liked his blood father too much, but he sure as hell liked his hat.

"Seems like good people here," Dutch said finally. "I'm quite interested about these Warrens our talkative friends spoke of."

"They didn't shut up once you charmed them," Hosea joked. "I'm curious though."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Hosea grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought we was here for Mister Galligan, not these Warren folks?"

Dutch patted him on the back. "If you'd paid attention on our humble ride into town, you would've heard the plight of our friends. The Warrens sound like your typical wealthy overlords of the region. Can you imagine what we could take from them?"

Hosea took a shot, letting the bartender give him another. "I'll look into the Warrens, see what I can find. Dutch, you've been wanting a crack at Mister Galligan for three weeks. Maybe you should go check that out?"

Dutch took his own shot, puffing from its bitterness. "Sure. I mean, if you’re confident you can handle some hillbilly homesteaders who think they run this place?"

"You offend me, sir," Hosea mocked.

Dutch laughed. "Well, Arthur. How about you survey the town? See what else there is that we can take advantage of?"

"Sure, Dutch." Arthur raised his glass and gulped it down, hissing at the burn. "Jus' don't leave me here. I'd love to see Miss Grimshaw and Misses Matthews tan both yer hides once this is over."

Dutch lit a cigar as they headed out of the saloon. "Knowing them, they're getting into their own trouble."

Arthur laughed. "No doubt!"

Dutch bowed once they were outside. "I bid you adieu, my dear brothers. See you soon."

"Hey, make sure you drag 'em behind a horse when you're through with 'em!" Arthur hollered.

"Shh," Hosea hissed, a hand going to the younger man's shoulder. "Don't give him any ideas."

"He's the one with the ideas, I'm jus' sayin'! That fool ruined our last job outside Chicago. Nearly broke my goddamn neck."

"We aren't here for revenge. We don't do that. We're here for his money, that's all. The job just didn't go as planned, Arthur. We're outta here once it's done, alright?"

Hosea was always able to settle him with his calm words and caring, wise eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Hosea smiled, patting Arthur's arm. "Alright. Well, get out there, boy, and see what you can find. We'll meet back here later."

Hosea went his own way in town. Arthur heaved a sigh, looking about. Time to get to work, he guessed. Straightening his hat, he stepped away from the saloon over to his horse.

"You be good, fella," Arthur said, patting the bay gelding's neck.

The next few hours, Arthur spent his time going into businesses and stores, getting the feel of the people and the town of Hickory. He eavesdropped on any interesting conversations his ears picked up. Apparently, the Warrens had a livestock auction every Thursday. It was something they could look into.

Later, he overheard the Warrens had some kind of cellar behind one of their barns that they always kept locked up and guarded. This piqued Arthur's interest, and he was excited to tell Dutch and Hosea about it.

While he waited for his father figures to return to him, he leaned on a hitch near their horses smoking a cigarette. He nodded and waved at passersby, just to keep up a friendly appearance. The town of Hickory must've had strangers coming and going a lot, because the townsfolk barely paid him any mind. Arthur liked that.

"Hey, Mister!"

Arthur turned around, only to see the body of a young boy flying through the air. The boy crashed into him, throwing Arthur onto his back, the wind knocked out of him from the kid's legs slamming his gut.

"Oof! What the hell?!" He coughed.

The boy had dark hair, and laughed as he cut his satchel strap, taking it and the hat atop Arthur's head before dashing off. Arthur scrambled to his feet, anger coming over him as he realized he had just been robbed by a damn kid.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

He chased after the boy as he took an alleyway between two stores. He looked to be around eleven or twelve, although Arthur could tell he was scrawny for his age. His hair fell past his chin in greasy dark locks, and his clothes were tattered and dirty.

For being small and thin, the kid could run fast and was nimble, ducking and swerving out of Arthur's grasp each time he went to snatch him. He knew the town well, weaving through people and farm equipment. Arthur barreled his way through folks, keeping the boy in his sights.

The boy climbed up and ran along a fence top before jumping into a pig pen and cutting away. Arthur heaved himself over, kicking and yelling at pigs to get through.

"I'm gonna wring yer neck! Com'ere, boy!"

"Catch me if ya can, ya big oaf!" He had a distinct, raspy voice.

The kid ducked under another wood fence. Arthur vaulted over it seconds later. He kept at the boy's heels, but the slippery little heathen would only veer away, using obstacles and people to stop Arthur. He jumped and grabbed onto a moving wagon as Arthur came back out into the street. Arthur ran after him on foot, the boy laughing.

"Nah nah, ya can't catch me. Why don'tchu give up?"

"Stop that wagon, mister! Ya got a little monster on the back of it!"

The wagon driver turned around at the holler, pulling on the reins to stop the horses. The boy ditched the wagon and darted for another building, Arthur cut him off. He blocked the boy's path, keeping his body as a barrier as he tried to get around him. The boy dove through his legs and got up and scampered off once more.

"Stop, ya little thief!"

As he came around the corner, huffing, the boy was finally caught. Like a little wild animal, he fought Hosea's hold. Hosea tried to calm the boy down. Arthur, jaw clenched, came over and snatched his satchel back. But just as he was about to grab his hat, the boy kicked Hosea in the groin. Hosea yelped, letting the boy go and he escaped.

"Ugh, so much for a polite introduction," Hosea groaned, holding himself.

Arthur, still annoyed, couldn't help but to laugh at the sight. "He got ya too, huh? Little shit was as slippery as the devil." Then Arthur realized the small thief still had his hat. "He got my goddam hat!"

Hosea grabbed him as he started after the boy once more. "Forget it, Arthur. We'll find him. Don't worry."

The boy was probably long gone anyway.

Dutch arrived shortly after. He took in their disheveled appearance, the pained scowl on Hosea's face as he gripped his crotch and Arthur's huffing breaths as he dusted himself off, mumbling a whole range of curses. Arthur reached into his satchel to make sure his journal was still intact. He was relieved to see it was.

Dutch raised his eyebrows. "What the hell did I miss?"

"You don't want to know," Hosea said, finally standing up straight.

"Got robbed by a goddam kid."

Dutch chuckled, earning him a glare from Arthur. "You mean a little bumpkin got the best of you, Arthur? My boy, come now!"

"Not funny, Dutch. He still has my damn hat. And well, damaged Hosea's tallywags."

Hosea wheezed. "I'm fine."

"Come on, we should head back to camp. Got some planning to do," Dutch said.

"But my hat!"

"We'll get it back, Arthur. We're gonna stick around a few days. We will see that brat again, no doubt," Hosea assured.

Arthur groaned. "Fine."

"I leave you both for a few hours and a child wreaks havoc on both your prides. What ever am I going to do with you two?"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't get kicked where it counts," Hosea huffed.

"Low blow, huh Hosea?"

"Hah, you're funny, dear friend."

Dutch feigned innocence, motioning to himself. "It's not my fault you two provide me opportunities for such jokes."

"If I don't get my hat back, I'm siccing Miss Grimshaw on that little heathen."

Hosea chortled. "Dear god, Arthur. The boy doesn't deserve that much torture."

The three of them laughed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932513/chapters/39785013

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13143281/1/Oh-Brother

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #fanfiction #fanfic #short story #have some goddamn faith #i have a plan

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sie-sie86 · 5 years

Text

Almost a year without you

May 16th, 2018

The day that will forever be embedded in my every being. Growing up I never pictured life this way. In my younger years I saw both of my parents living and making it to their elderly ages. I pictured both of them together forever and as grandparents. You were 64 years young and I was 31. A few years before... you started to cough a lot among many other symptoms. Different doctors with different diagnoses. Finally we found out that you had congestive heart failure. We had hoped that you could be fixed. That they could repair your broken heart and make you whole again. That you would be okay and be able to live life for many years down the road as pictured. Little did we know, that wouldn’t be the case. The first hospital that we went to, they didn’t want to operate. They said it would be too risky. After that we decided to get you to Mayo in Rochester. They did all sorts of testing and met with different doctors. They said that they would do the open heart surgery to repair your valves. The doctor said that you should be able to walk me down the aisle. You had your open heart surgery but things went downhill from there. A few months down the road, your lungs started to fill with fluid and they started to collapse. You had to have lung surgery. They said if the lung didn’t inflate all the way back up that you would only have little time left to live. A month and a 1/2 after your lung surgery things were not looking too good with how you were feeling. After a hospital stay in Illinois we got you down to Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri. You didn’t know if Mayo would take you back due to insurance. You appeared so frail and stumbled at times when you would walk. You had to have a room with a roomate. Maybe it was a good thing for you but we wished that we could have spent more time with you at your side. It was May, you wished to sit outside for a bit but it was against hospital policy. Doctors sometimes didn’t come in to see you until 9pm at night. They made you NPO then canceled testing on you after you hadn’t eaten or drank in hours. This made you upset. You had so much hope that the ball was rolling. I was at your side that day. You were trying to help us with accomodations so we could be nearby and didn’t have to travel. You were ready to pack up and head to Mayo. Oh, how I wish I would have agreed with you Dad. I wish I would have packed your belongings and loaded you into my car for the drive to Rochester. You told me you were so upset you felt like crying. I must have just said it’s okay. I wish I would have done more than that, been there for you more than that. I wish I would have given you the biggest and warmest hug but seeing you upset made me upset and I had to leave the room to go cry not in front of you. I must have said I was going to get something to eat. Many times at the different hospitals seeing you upset I couldn’t handle it. I had to leave the room whether it was a gently cry in a bathroom stall or a fullblown shrieking sobbing in my car begging for you to be okay.

After days of just laying in your bed at Barnes hospital they finally scheduled your second open heart surgery to put a tissue valve in because your mechanical valve failed. They said that this was a “suicide mission.” The other option was to do nothing and live for just a few months more. We all agreed to the surgery. We all had the hope that you would make it through. Before surgery we were at your side and you spoke to us one by one. You were joking around with the nurse like usual with the occasional smile. She said that she was going to have to take you home since you were so full of it. You told me to take care of mom. You said this numerous other times during past hospitalizations with your CHF. I listened but I didn’t really listen. You knew that things might go south but in my mind you were going to live forever. You told Derek the same, to take care of mom. Mom said you promised to come back. We gave our hugs and said I love you’s and traveled towards the elevators to go to the waiting room. As they wheeled you out I waved and you waved back. Little did I know that glimpse of them pushing you in that bed down the hallway with you waving at me back would be the last time I saw you alive.

Matt decided that we should do something to try to keep my mind off things since the surgery would be long. We decided to go to the zoo since I had never been there before. I was hesitant at first but then decided that it would be okay to go. My brother said that he would contact us for updates. After awhile the first update was that things were going okay. Later in the afternoon my mom got a call that things were not looking good. My brother said that we needed to come back to the hospital now. Once we arrived back at the hospital their still were not any details. Just that last dreaded call that things were dire. After awhile I really don’t remember, things around the time are still kind of a blur due to the sudden shift from feeling hopeful to feeling extremely worried...the doctor directed us into a room and began to speak with us. From what I can remember overall she said that they put you in an induced coma (ECMO) due to a period of time where there was a lack of oxygen during surgery. They allowed us to go back to see you. I couldn’t handle looking at you like that. The tears flooded. The most tubes, lines and machines I have ever seen during my eleven or so years in the medical field. After seeing you we went back to the waiting room. My brother decided that he would stay there and that the rest of us should go back to the hotel room to get some sleep. It had to be 3, 4, or close to 5 in the morning when my brother got ahold of us and told us that it was time to say goodbye.... That they reopened you right there in that ICU room to operate due to bleeding that they couldn’t control. You were also having seizures that my brother witnessed... They had you on medications to keep your blood pressure up so we had the time to be there with you and tell you goodbye... This was the most traumatic experience that I have ever had to endure. Losing my grandmother Darlene was very hard on me then and for a long time afterwards. I thought her loss was devastating but having to say goodbye to my father was unimaginable. I just felt like I floated down that hallway unaware of my own steps. Going into that room seeing all the tubes, lines, machines and beeps keeping you alive for the moment. As I uncontrollably sobbed, saying no, no, no, arguing against you leaving, arguing against saying goodbye, kissing your forehead and seeing your last heartbeats turn into that flatline with the machine beeps of failure my world was and has been forever changed.

I don’t know how it has almost been a year. Still to this day my wish is that maybe I am in a coma and that this is all a bad dream of mine. Maybe I will wake up soon and there he will be by my side smiling...glad that I have awoken. We all experience grief in life and many people are able to adapt. Throughout this almost year I have experienced all of the stages of grief and I guess that they will last in no particular order throughout the rest of my living days. I have been angry that he couldn’t be saved. I have felt guilty that I didn’t get him to Mayo. I have racked my brain with thoughts that maybe if he would have went there for his second open heart surgery then maybe he would still be alive today. I was numb for awhile after he passed. Then after awhile the sadness seeped in and has remained with me off and on since then. Something I haven’t told very many people and have been scared to share: I use to be hopeful and very spiritual about an afterlife, but when the first deep gut wrenching sadness set in...I began to wonder. I began to wonder if I will ever see my dad or deceased loved ones ever again. That maybe what I had with them was just that and there will be nothing more. With this thought I was broken to pieces for awhile and still am in a way. I use to fear my own death but not anymore. Grief of a loved one feels unbearable and when my time comes I will be ready to hopefully join my loved ones that I miss very much. I have had some signs. I have always been a “sign” kind of person and we use to live in a house where very weird things happened in a ghostly manner. So with my past experiences of living in such a house and the signs that I have experienced not only from my dad possibly but from other passed on loved ones I have been split between the war of is this all just a big coincidence or is there something more? Maybe this is a normal part of grief...feeling so down about life after death. I don’t know. But all I do know is that I wish I would have had more time. Looking back on life, my thoughts scurry with trying to remember and hold onto the memories of you. You are constantly missed more than ever and will always be loved and kept inside my heart with what heart of mine remains.

#grief

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brilily17 · 6 years

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You love her don’t you?: Bucky Barnes Imagine

A/N: So this is an imagine based off of this letter that was requested by @sweetstilesofmine who also asked for the letter. When writing this I adjust the letter he wrote to the reader just a little. This is based during The First Avenger and after Steve had gotten the super soldier serum. I hope you like it. Characters: Bucky, Steve, and reader (Mentions of other men that work along side Steve and Bucky) Warnings: None? Fluff

Bucky’s P.O.V:

The sky was a navy blue full of stars that were faintly shinning. Steve and I had just finished our training for the day and eating. We decided not to go to the last day campfire party so we can just chat and have alone time as friends. The only sounds you could here were the quiet chatter of the other men, trees, and our feet against the gravel. As we walked into the cabin there were letters tossed across my table from the mail guy that has come around a few times. I could hardly have any letters without them being ripped or taken from me by one of the other men. My hands grasped each of the letter which were from various family members, I opened them to see little “I miss you” messages or “Can’t wait to see you again” things.

After opening all of them I saw one I had been waiting to open for a long time. The door next to me hadn’t opened for a while, so I stuck my head out to make sure no one had come back from their campfire party thing or whatever. I’ve had this letter for days but I’ve always been afraid to open it, worried that it would be ruined by someone. Steve sat on his bed drawing something, he did this a lot when he was bored. I sat down at my desk and looked at the letter very thoroughly before opening it. The letter opener grasped in my hand, the blade slid across the envelope as I made sure not to damage it. I grabbed the paper and began to read it.

Dear, Bucky

I heard from around that you would be coming home soon. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you and it kinda scares me. The only concern I have is that you may die in battle and I won’t be able to say goodbye. James...I can’t lose you, you’re all I’ve got! While you were gone everyone gathered all their things and moved to Illinois. They all wanted me to come, but I couldn’t leave knowing you were going to be coming back, and even if you didn’t come back, I would still stay here because that’s what you want to do, stay here and make a living. Waiting for you it’s kind of hurting me, but I’ll live on, I can’t wait to see you soon I miss your touch and your laugh.

I love you everything I have,

-Y/N

Tears pricked my eyes, Y/N has been so supportive and willing to be with me no matter what. She is the kind of person who would never cheat on you, never hurt you, and would always show how much she loved you. My eyes scanned the table for a paper, pen, and envelope. I began writing out my letter to her, it may not make before I get there, but there is always hope.

Dearest, Y/N,

I’m sorry that’s it’s been a while. Steve and I have been working on the field with some training. I promise I’m not trying to ignore you, I just can’t get caught, The people here aren’t very nice and will most likely tear this to shreds if they catch me. I miss you so much…my lips long for yours once more,and I hate being away, but I’m fighting for you. If anything were to happen to me…I want you to take care of yourself. Remember the good times and move on. When you get this I may already be there, but I decided to write this anyways. There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you, I had looked at this letter non stop waiting for the right moment to open this. Me and Steve miss you, but he can never miss me as much as I miss you. I’ll see you soon, you don’t have to worry about me leaving you anytime soon.

-James

Setting the pencil down, I looked over the paper and smiled. I could feel the presence of someone behind me. My head turned around to see Steve looking at the letters in front of me. I turned back to read over the letter before I folded it up and put it in the envelope.

“You love her don’t you?” Steve came around the side of the desk with a chair and sat down on it.

“Yes, I really do...like a lot.” My fingers tapped my knees to the beat of my heart.

“Buck, you don’t have to keep fighting if you want to be with her, go be with her” I looked down at the ground then raised my head slowly.

“I can’t, I promised her that I would follow my dreams. She didn’t want her to get in the way of what I really wanted to do. Even if it meant being with her every day I woke up” Silence filled the room. Steve stood up and patted my back.

“Just do what makes you happy” He smiled and went to his bed. Grabbing the letter, I took it in my hands and put it in the mailbox out side by the door of our cabin for pick up tomorrow. There was no one to be seen, but everyone could be heard even if it was faint. My elbows rested against the railing in front of me and I looked up into the abyss. Y/N and I would watch the stars when we couldn’t sleep, then we would wake up in each others arms on the grass that was slightly wet from the morning dew. It grew later and later as I looked up at the stars so I decided to go. Just as I walked in I could hear the snores from Steve, he was always snoring no matter what way he laid. I grabbed some clothes to change into so I could sleep on got on top where my bunk was.

The next morning I woke to the sound of Steve packing up getting ready to leave, Him and Peggy got really close so he was planning on taking her out.

“Morning Buck” I ran my hands through my hair and yawned.

“Mornin” When I jumped off my bunk I reached for some clothes and began to change fast. There was nothing stopping me from seeing Y/N today. My bag was packed so I grabbed one last thing. Y/N had gotten me a necklace with:

“When we aren’t together just remember I’ll always be close to your heart”

It was something she always said to me before I would leave. It was engraved on the front of a circle piece of metal with a red star on the back of it. She said she didn’t know what it meant but it was pretty. From the day I got it I never stopped wearing it. Steve was waiting for me to put it on. Once I got it on In motioned for us to leave. Before I left the cabin completely I looked inside of the mail box to see that they had mailed the letter. A smiled spread across my rosy cheeks, Steve must have noticed cause he patted my back. Everyone got to there car, besides Bucky and I we had motorcycles, and drove off. I put my helmet on my head and tossed my bag in the back.

“Good luck!” Steve shouted at me as he started up his bike.

“You too” I winked at him causing him to shake his head. He was soon gone, before I even started up mine. Once I got the bike started I immediately began driving down the road. There were hardly any cars, but I wasn’t focusing on that. Y/N and I haven’t seen each other for several months. As I approached the city people began to wave at me. I was really only know from being the best friend of Captain America. As I drove down the road leading to our shared house, my heat was racing. My mind couldn’t get over the fact that I was seeing Y/N again. From a distance I could see her standing on our porch that caused me to speed up. In an instant I stopped my bike and shut it off and removed my helmet. I ran my fingers through my hair to fix in and put my bike on it’s kickstand. The walk to the house looked so far, but I couldn’t wait.

Y/N began running at me, a smile spread across her beautiful face, her H/C hair flew behind her. My heart was beating so fast causing my adrenaline to make me run. We met in the middle and she jumped into my arms. I wrapped my arms around her waist and spun her in a circle. She began to cry, I set her down to see her face full of tears and a bright smile.

“I missed you so much Bucky” E/C eyes looked up into mine and just blew me away.

“I miss you too” She stood on her toes and wrapper her hands around my neck and kissed me. I didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, she was everything to me and I was finally with her once more. I gripper her waist tight with a fist full of her shirt and began to cry as I hugged her.

“I know you want me to keep going and living my dream, but I can’t, not without you” You could hear her heart beat so loud, it was the best sound in the world.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll stay by your side and work with you, You know I’m strong, and I’m healthy.” I shook my head.

“Please Buck”

“I don’t want you to get hurt” she let go of my neck and grabbed onto my shirt and rested her head on my chest.

“If you get hurt I can get hurt, it’s not fair that I have to see you in pain, might as well equal it out.” I chuckled at her.

“Fine, but if you leave me or Steve or get hurt in anyway, I will only have regret for letting you” Y/N smiled at me and kissed me again. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to be with her. The two of us stood out in the middle of the yard crying happy tears and just standing there. It began to sprinkle as we stood out there. She was my dream, my one and only.

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erhiem · 3 years

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R. Kelly arriving for a court hearing in Chicago in May 2019.

Nuccio DiNuzzo/Getty Images

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R. Kelly arriving for a court hearing in Chicago in May 2019.

Nuccio DiNuzzo/Getty Images

Editor’s note: This essay contains allegations of sexual assault and physical abuse.

On Wednesday, singer, songwriter and producer R. Testimony is set to begin at a Brooklyn courthouse in the first of two federal trials against Kelly. In two such indictments in New York and Illinois, the one-time R&B king is accused of abusing 11 girls and women over more than two decades; making child pornography; Quietly paying money to silence the alleged victims; and specifically building a criminal enterprise to “hunt young women and adolescents”.

Additionally, New York prosecutors want to acknowledge what they say is evidence that Kelly sexually and physically abused girls and women, sexually abused a boy, and bribed until 1991. Kelly has pleaded not guilty to all charges, and has consistently denied allegations that he abused anyone.

Often, when I’ve told people I’m covering a New York lawsuit, they’re confused. There have been allegations surrounding Kelly for more than 25 years, and so they ask me: Wasn’t he arrested years ago? Yes: He was recently arrested in July 2019, and has been in custody for two years, awaiting trial. But they may also be thinking about her first major trial in 2008 — and those allegations, and that trial, add to some of the current charges.

In 2002, in his hometown of Chicago, Kelly was indicted on multiple child pornography charges after an infamous sex tape aired: it featured the singer having sex and urinating with a woman, about whom In the U.S., prosecutors said he was about 14 years old at the time. A full six years later, Kelly went on trial and was acquitted of all charges. The girl who was believed to be the girl on tape and her parents refused to testify.

That 2008 trial is heavily involved in some of Illinois’ current charges, including allegations that Kelly and members of her circle bullied the girl and her father, and persuaded them to lie to both the police and a grand jury. . 14 other witnesses who refused to testify, despite identifying the girl, seem to have influenced several jurors to acquit Kelly. (The same woman, now in her thirties, said in 2019 that she is cooperating with federal investigators.)

Back then, it seemed that much of the pop-culture conversation was primarily about Kelly and her perceived tendencies and behaviors, and not so much about anyone who might have been hurt. In some ways, the culture has changed since Kelly was last tested. Many fans today are far less inclined to ignore what they see as problematic material or context in an artist’s work – whether it relates to racism, sexism, unfair power dynamics or homosexuality.

The intervening 13 years have also seen dogmatic, harsh reporting about Kelly, including Soulless: The Case Against R. Kelly, a book by east Chicago Sun-Times journalist and music critic Jim DeRogatis, and alive r kelly, A six-part documentary starring Dream Hampton to air on Lifetime. Both were released in the middle of the #MeToo movement in 2019.

In the early days of #MeToo, many of the leading accusers were white women. But Kelly-related projects apparently focused mostly on black girls and women who were allegedly harmed.

As those projects were being developed, a #MuteRKelly movement — founded by two black women, Kennett Barnes and Oronike Odelle — gathered steam in an effort to pressure major entertainment companies to sever their ties with Kelly. . By writing about #MuteRKelly, Washington Post Columnist Christine Emba quoted Malcolm X’s 1962 speech: “The most humiliated person in America is the black woman. The most vulnerable person in America is the black woman. The most neglected person in America is the black woman.”

In March 2018 Barnes insisted in an interview to Derogatis for BuzzFeed News: “We don’t care about black girls. If R. Kelly were white, every civil rights leader would march on every street in this country.” If the girls were white, every feminist group would rage in a pile of cat hats for marching against them. The bottom line is that R. Kelly and her victims are the perfect storm for those we don’t care about We protect black men who are problematic in the black community, and we spare black girls in all communities. Essentially, he’s the ultimate example of a stalker going after the most vulnerable that anyone cares about. Not there.”

A few months later, however, Kelly’s management called #MuteRKelly “a public lynching”, noting that “since America was born, black men and women have been lynched for having sex or being charged with it.” Has been done.” At the time, #MeToo founder and activist Tarana Burke told me, “The reality of lynching in America is so, so painful, and so real. It’s not public lynching. It’s a call for public accountability.” (Also, in several cases Kelly’s accusers have said that they were underage girls, not women, when they began sexual contact with her.)

Burke continued in a 2018 conversation, “We’ve brought charges against R. Kelly for 24 years, and he’s gone unpunished.” “We’re looking for in our community and outside, there is some accountability of corporations that support this man, who has a 24-year history of sexual violence against black and brown girls across the country.” (Later that year, Burke was one of the victims of a gun threat called to an advance screening. alive r kelly in New York; Kelly’s former manager, Donnell Russell, has been charged with making this threat. His case is ongoing.)

To a large extent, #MuteRKelly succeeded, albeit years after Kelly’s commercial and creative peak, and sometimes in highly deserved ways. In May 2018, for example, Spotify removed Kelly from its playlists, the way many listeners use the service instead to look for particular artists or songs. If you actively search for Kelly’s music on Spotify, however, it still exists, as written by other artists such as Celine Dion, Janet Jackson, Ludacris, Lil Wayne, Ciara, Missy Elliot and others. and/or created songs. Audience considers problematic: Michael Jackson.

There has been one notable exception: Most of the music by Kelly’s protagonist Aaliyah — whom he married in 1994, when she was 15 and he was 27 — isn’t on Spotify or other streaming services at all. But at an interesting time, Aaliyah’s uncle and former manager of both artists, Barry Hankerson, announced a few days before the Kelly trial began that he was making his recording catalog available for streaming services. New York prosecutors refer to Aaliyah as “Jane Doe #1” in their indictment, for which they say Kelly and associates bribed a public official to produce a fake ID prior to their wedding.

In January 2019, Kelly’s longtime record label RCA and her parent company, Sony Music Entertainment, removed her from their artist roster after increasing pressure from #MuteRKelly. But that decision, apparently, was made in view of alive r kelly The broadcast came 16 years after their last big chart hit, 2003’s “Ignition (Remix)”. Furthermore, RCA and Sony have never publicly admitted to leaving Kelly.

Long before the most recent wave of accusations and reporting, black and brown voices were calling for reckoning. almost two decades ago alive r kelly, for a long time Chicago Sun-Times Columnist Mary Mitchell wrote several articles asking why alleged victims were being dismissed or ignored, and why so many Chicagoans were on Kelly’s side.

Nevertheless, many fans liked him very much. Some fellow cast members denied the allegations and continued to work with them. And comedians like Dave Chappelle joked about the alleged Kelly tape and its contents.

after the first broadcast of alive r kelly, Then-new York Times Culture editor (and now NPR affiliate) Aisha Harris wrote about how the allegations against Kelly became pop-culture joke fodder: “Over the years,” she wrote, “people who laughed at Kelly were able to ignore the allegations against her.” were able.”

In retrospect, that particular spin cycle is reminiscent of what happened to Britney Spears in the same era. (She was one of R. Kelly’s labelmates at Jive and then RCA, and Kelly wrote and produced her own song, “Outrageous”, released in 2004.) Spears’ Public Conflict, which was a joke and a joke for 24/7 Became little more than grist. The multitude of gossip blogs and cable channels coincided with Kelly’s Chicago trial. The girl at the center of that trial, like Spears, became largely a punchline.

Many of the women who have accused Kelly of sexual, physical and/or psychological abuse say that when they met him, they were, like the girl allegedly featured on the infamous tape , was a teenager striving to become a professional musician, and hoped that the king of R&B would help him chart his music career.

In the music industry, it’s a familiar story. Young men strive to make it in the tough, unforgiving music industry; If they do succeed, it is often at least partly with the help of older male mentors. Young women attempting to make it in the tough, unforgiving music industry can also enlist the help of older male mentors; After all, there are still far more successful men in business than women. But sometimes, instead of being given guidance or opportunities, they are developed into sexual conquests – and those dreams fade.

The post 13 Years After The Last R. Kelly Trial, The Culture Has Changed : NPR appeared first on Spicy Celebrity News.

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gadgetgirl71 · 3 years

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Book Blitz: Blood and Bone by Paula Dombrowiak

Blood and Bone Paula Dombrowiak (The Blood and Bone Series, #1) Publication date: October 30th 2020 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Love is complicated, messy, and sometimes painful but oh so worth it. A heartbreaking journey through love, friendship, family, and fame.

Music brought them together, addiction tore them apart, loyalty saved them. It was always Jack and Mia, everyone else was just collateral damage.

Jack O’Donnell‘s life was teetering on the edge. Forced, as a teenager, to make a decision that would change his life forever, he left his hometown to pursue a music career with collaborator Mia Stone. Living in a van by the beach was not the glamorous Los Angeles lifestyle they had envisioned but sparked the most creative time of their lives. Making it big was all they ever wanted but when it happened, friendships were tested, hearts were broken, and lives were changed forever.

Erin Langford is a seasoned journalist tasked with writing a feature on Jack O’Donnell. Being at the right place at the right moment puts Erin in a unique position to get the story, but at what cost? Having preconceived notions about Jack’s rock star image, she learns there is more to a story than just the headlines. The two embark on a journey through Jack’s past where he recounts the rise and fall of his band Mogo and the irreplaceable bond between himself and collaborator Mia Stone. The feature she thought she was going to write, turns into so much more.

Blood and Bone is an evocative story told in alternating time periods, from the early ’90s to the present day about deep bonds between flawed people whose only outlet of self-expression is through their music.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Smashwords

—

EXCERPT:

“I didn’t get this gig because of my looks.” Erin explained but he seemed unfazed. “Just so you know.” Never had she cared about such a thing from any other interview, but she wanted Jack to respect her. That was the only way this interview would be taken seriously.

“If you say so.” He did not seem convinced.

“I have a pretty extensive portfolio.” She felt compelled to make him understand that she was not being used as bait or whatever he thought. “Edge is just one of the magazines that I’ve written for.” She clarified. “You can look up my work.”

“I believe you.” Jack said putting his hands up but it was Erin who was not convinced now.

Returning to business. “I’m going to turn on my recorder.” She told him.

“Ah, we’re getting serious now.” Jack leaned back in his seat, trying to appear comfortable but everything about him was tense.

“Where should we start?” Jack asked, smoothing his hair with one nervous swipe of his fingers.

Erin took out her notebook and clicked the pen open, always well prepared. The waitress dropped off their drinks. She discretely placed a napkin near Jack with her name and number written on it. This angered Erin as she felt slightly protective over Jack after the events of the morning and gave the waitress the stink eye as she left the table.

Jack ignored the waitress and gave all his attention to Erin, waiting for her to continue. “You look displeased.” Jack suggested.

“I just think that’s presumptuous.” Erin motioned to the napkin.

“How so?” Jack cocked his head.

“Well, for one, we could be on a date.” Erin said in an annoyed tone.

“Would you like for us to be on a date?” Jack’s smile unnerved her.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Erin scoffed.

“You brought it up.” Jack shrugged innocently.

“Ok, that’s not…” Erin was frustrated. “Never mind.” She settled back in.

Erin cleared her throat and went back to business. “It’s been 20 years since the first album came out. I’d like to go back to how the band was formed. There’s not a lot of information on this subject, other than you being high school friends, but I’d like to go a little deeper and talk about what it was like before the fame.” She said.

Erin could see a slight tick at the corner of Jack’s eye. “If that’s ok.” She added, swallowing hard.

Jack took a sip of his cappuccino and Erin could tell he was very pleased with it. “I was a sixteen-year-old asshole of a kid who was destined to drop out of school and end up in jail.” He said. “Music was all I had.”

“Well, you did drop out and you did end up in jail, on more than one occasion.” Erin sifted through her notes. “But my guess is that there was a lot that happened in between.” She took a sip of her latte. Every place made chai differently and she was not impressed but it was drinkable. She was partial to a shop around the corner from her apartment in Queens.

Jack chuckled. “That’s a matter of public record.”

“You said music was all you had. Why?”

Jack’s expression darkened.

“How did the band get formed?” Erin rephrased.

“It’s how every great love story begins.” A touch of nostalgia in his eyes. “I met a girl.” A smile spread across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I met a girl and she ruined me forever.”

Erin could not tell if he was talking about Mia or Amber. She only knew that she wanted to find out.

Author Bio:

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. Music is what inspires her storytelling.

Paula is currently working on a sequel to Blood and Bone which focuses on Hayley O'Donnell's music career while living in her fathers shadow.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Smashwords

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tisfan · 7 years

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All American Road Trip

Chapter One: Get out the Map | Chapter Two: (A Very Little) Leg Room | Chapter Three: (You’re) Gonna Sing the Words Wrong | Chapter Four: You Make Me Live

Chapter Five: Count Only Blue Cars

You're a diamond in the rough A brilliant ball of clay You could be a work of art If you just go all the way Now what would it take to break I believe that you can bend Not only do you have to fight But you have got to win

-- Kung Fu Fighting, Cee-Lo Green

Somewhere around Illinois, Steve was about ready to shove both his best friends out of the tiny car and make them walk a few miles. Buck and Sam bickered. It was never anything serious -- the merits of bacon over sausage as a breakfast protien. (bacon) Whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza. (no) Whether or not Natasha dyed her hair red or if it was naturally that color. (A gentleman didn’t speculate on a woman’s dress size, hair color, or age.)

And Steve couldn’t seem to help letting himself get drawn into their petty little disagreements. They didn’t agree on anything and it was driving Steve mad.

The argument of choice on that particular day started when Sam was reading out loud. They’d stopped at a book store two days ago and Sam had picked up a handful of things from random display tables. “Get an assortment,” Sam had said, “an’ we’ll see what we all wanna read more of, right?”

That day’s book, Beautiful Creatures, was a teenage romance, which Steve was actually rather enjoying. He’d never read anything like it before, and Steve found the burgeoning love affair to be kinda cute.

And then Buck had pointed out a factual error in the book. “Jubal Early ain’t buried in South Carolina,” Buck said, crossing his arms over his massive chest and glaring into the front seat like Sam, the book, and the world in general had personally offended him about the location of some obscure Civil War general’s gravesite.

Sam actually turned around in the passenger seat to raise an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction. “I don’t see what that’s got t’ do with anything.”

“It’s wrong.”

“We’re readin’ a book about a teenage witch and a magic library, and you’re bitchin’ about historical accuracy?” Sam sighed, turned back around. He licked his finger (ug, gross) and attempted to pick up where he’d left off.

Buck reached around the seat, snatched the book out of his hand -- Steve had a brief flashback to the first time they’d met the Winter Soldier, who’d indulged in a little Jesus Take the Wheel moment (okay, that wasn’t Steve’s joke, but when the whole thing had been over and done, he could admit that Sam was kinda funny. A little bit.) -- and then tossed the book out the window.

Steve slammed on the brakes, sending all of them jolting forward.

“Bucky, what the hell?”

Buck shrugged, unconcerned. “The book was wrong.”

More below the cut, or read the whole thing at A03 [x]

“It’s a made up book, not fifth grade flippin’ Civics class,” Sam protested.

Were they really doing this? Three grown men, squabbling like idiots, about a teenage romance novel?

A car behind them laid on the horn and Steve reluctantly pulled off to the side of the road. Yes, apparently they were going to squabble like idiots about a teenage romance novel, because Steve was deeply curious about what was going to happen. “Go get the book, Buck.”

Buck stared, like Steve had just asked him to throw a tank into a clock tower, or something.

“Stevie, it’s prob’ly three miles back at this point!” Buck protested.

“So you’d better get started.”

Even Sam was giving Steve the stink eye by that point. Steve shut the car down, tucked the keys in his pocket, and put his No, You Move expression on. Of course he chose to do that with the two people least likely to take him seriously.

Buck stared a little longer; almost like watching a computer reboot. “Fine,” he huffed. He jerked the door open hard enough that Steve worried that he might rip it off. A few minutes later, he was out of sight, jogging along the side of the road.

“What th’ hell was that about?” Sam got out of the car to watch Buck run off. He leaned against the car near the driver’s side window and while Steve could hear him, Sam probably wouldn’t be able to hear Steve if he didn’t roll the window down. Steve got out of the car. The plastic handle crackled under his hand and Steve had to remember to loosen up his grip.

“Acceptable behavior,” Steve said, shrugging one shoulder.

“Your murder hobo is doing his best to fit back into a life with us, back at th’ Tower. But he’s still feral, Steve. I don’t think you’re goan be able to civilize him all the way.”

“That’s no reason not to try,” Steve said. Bucky -- his Bucky, not this wild creature that Buck had become -- would have wanted that. Wouldn’t he?

He’s never going to be the man he was before.

Well, neither am I.

Sam was just looking at him, expectantly.

“Is there some compulsion of yours that you not only have to be right, you want to hear people say it?” Steve growsed.

Sam chuckled, that gap between his teeth in evidence. “I live on it, Rogers,” he said. “Just want to make sure you’re not setting your sights too high. I don’t think I can live through broken-hearted Captain America for much longer.”

Steve sighed. “Why don’t you take the shield for a while, Sam? It’s getting a little heavy for me.” That was the truth, and nothing but. He’d been carrying the shield for so long, he wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. Even when Tony had cast his last words at him -- you don’t deserve it -- Steve wasn’t sad to let it go. He was frankly relieved. It was a burden and a responsibility and Tony might even have been right. Steve didn’t deserve it; he didn’t deserve the honor, he didn’t deserve all the shit that came with it.

Maybe Tony could stand wearing a mask all the time, being a public persona that had nothing to do with the very human person underneath, but Steve was sick to death of it.

“I already got a superhero gig, Cap,” Sam said. “Got back into the game for you. Don’t want to be you.”

“Yeah, I’m not too eager to continue to be me, either,” Steve admitted. “Might be nice to just be Steve Rogers for a while.”

Buck came back up; somewhere in there he’d moved out of his jog, which was about as fast as a normal human’s flat out sprint, and he’d sped up until he was moving about as far as a car. He had the book in one hand and a scowl on his face.

“Here.” He shoved the book directly into the center of Steve’s chest. It wasn’t until Steve curled his fingers around it that he realized it was covered in mud. Steve took a deep breath. He already knew he couldn’t take Buck in a straight-up fight when the stakes mattered. And it was probably best not to tempt the Winter Soldier instincts to come out by punching Buck in the face.

But oh, god, Steve wanted to.

He opened his eyes. Buck was smirking.

An honest-to-god, wicked little grin. The sort he used to use when he was getting his flirt on with a pretty dame. The one he saved up, during the war, for special moments with his captain.

Any desire to punch Buck was overridden with the intense need to kiss him stupid. If Sam hadn’t been standing right there, Steve might have. There was a sparkle in Buck’s eyes that hadn’t been there before.

The one that said I know you want me, you little shit.

***

He said, "Tell me all your thoughts on God And tell me am I very far?" Must have been late afternoon On our way the sun broke free of the clouds We count only blue cars, skip the cracks in the street And ask many questions like children often do --Counting Blue Cars, Dishwalla

Trying to play road games with two super soldiers who had eyesight at ridiculous levels was harder than it looked. Sam was 20/20 -- that was a requirement for the Falcon program, same as being a jet pilot. Truth, Sam had gotten the lasik surgery a few years back, because age did its thing without a care for the state of superheros trying to save the world.

And he knew what the numbers meant; twenty was considered “ideally, what you can see at twenty feet clearly” and then the other number indicated what that actually was. So, for someone who was a little nearsighted, like Sam had been pre-surgery, he had to be 20 feet close to see something that ideally could have been seen at 30 feet. Sam had a buddy at the VA one time whose vision was 20/1000, which meant that guy had to be twenty feet away from something that most people could see at a thousand. Like buildings.

But Steve and Barnes had something 20/-100 vision, meaning they saw things before shit even happened. Through hills and trees and around freaking corners, man. So unfair.

Which meant the alphabet game went fast, even after Sam outlawed license plates as an acceptable medium.

It also slowed their trip down some, as Sam absolutely demanded evidence. Barnes had called a V on a gas station that turned out to be two streets north of their current route, that he could barely glimpse reflected off the fucking bank building. Sam had to squint, and use a pair of binoculars that he insisted Steve buy from the local sporting goods shop before he’d believe that.

They’d tried moving on to I Spy, but Barnes refused to pick anything beyond “the back of y’all’s stupid heads, because that’s all I c’n see from here.”

Finally -- finally -- Sam hit on something that worked out. Both Steve and Barnes were unusually creative. Maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising, since they were both tactical specialists practically before Sam’s gramma was born, but Sam found himself surprised by the degree of thinking outside the box the two of them were capable of.

“Fortunately…” Sam said, thinking, “this’ll be the first time I’ve seen the Grand Canyon.”

“Unfortunately, it’s been invaded by aliens,” Steve said.

“What are you doin’, man, projecting?”

“It’s the way the world is, these days,” Steve responded with a shrug.

“Well, fortunately, I got experience shootin’ aliens,” Barnes took his turn. The scary thing is, that was probably true.

“Well, unfortunately,” Sam said, rolling his eyes expressively, “you didn’t pack your guns.”

“Fortunately,” Steve said, “I have Stark on speed dial, and he can just drone us in some.”

“Unfortunately, Stark don’t like you anymore, Stevie,” Barnes piped up.

“Fortunately, SHIELD managed to haul its head out of its collective ass and can give us some backup,” Sam said on his turn.

“Unfortunately, they’re still bound by the Slokovia accords, and I’m not sure we’ll get an acceptable use of force before the aliens have burned down most of the midwest.” That was sarcastic enough to qualify for a license to kill.

“Ow, Steve,” Sam said, pressing his hand to his chest. “That’s painful, man.”

“Fortunately, no one interesting lives in the midwest,” Barnes said, leaning back and linking his hands behind his neck. “So, it ain’t like we’re losing anything important.”

“Unfortunately, SHIELD’s current secure facility for storing weapons of unspeakable power is in Nebraska, so the aliens are actually after that, which is why they’re in the midwest to start with,” Sam said.

“Fortunately, the aliens are also looking for a good time, so we’ll just drop Sam off and everything’ll be fine.”

Barnes scoffed from the backseat. “Unfortunately,” he said, pointedly, “the aliens have good taste, and so Wilson isn’t on their list.”

“Oh, now you’re just gettin’ nasty,” Sam said. “Fortunately, we’ve got pretty-boy, all American grade A beef riding with us, so if my pretty face doesn’t do it for ‘em, Cap can take his shirt off. That’ll get anyone to stop an’ stare.”

“Are we still playing a game, or flirting like emotionally damaged fourth graders?” Steve wondered.

Barnes scowled. “Unfortunately, Steve’s already got a stick up his ass, so they’re not going to be able to do any probing work.”

“One, it’s not your turn,” Steve said, faintly horrified “and two, I fail to see how that’s unfortunate, Buck, really.”

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t gotta deal with the stick,” Barnes muttered, slumping back in his seat.

“When was the last time we ate anything?” Steve asked.

Sam had to think about it. “Um, maybe three hours ago?”

“We’re going to get ice cream,” Steve said, decisively. “You two are acting like cranky toddlers and I’m fed up with both of you.”

“Heh,” Barnes said. “Tell ya what, jerk. You sit in th’ back for a while an’ let one of us drive. See how cranky you get.”

“Flip you for it,” Sam challenged.

“I’m drivin,” Barnes said. “Or I will flip you, an’ I ain’t talkin’ about a coin toss.”

Sam could feel his sap rising, the part of himself that followed Cap into battle without a care for what they were doing. The kind of thing that kept him going with the Avengers. The part of himself that wanted to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and he’d left bubblegum behind a long time ago.

And then Steve’s hand came down on Sam’s knee. “Just… just let him drive this time, okay?”

Steve’s hand was on Sam’s knee. Not a pat on the shoulder or the occasional arm slung around Sam’s shoulder that he was used to. That was… flirting.

Cap was absolutely to blame for all of Sam’s poor life choices. But Steve flirting with him? That was a whole new realm of disastrous decision-making.

“Okay,” Sam said. He wondered if Steve would take it at all amiss if Sam put his hand over Steve’s.

***

Tomorrow we can drive around this town And let the cops chase us around The past is gone but something might be found To take its place... Hey jealousy And you can trust me not to think And not to sleep around If you don't expect too much from me You might not be let down --Hey Jealousy, Gin Blossoms

There was no possible way Wilson wasn’t doing that on purpose.

Wilson was fucking fellating that damn ice cream cone. He’d gotten vanilla, claiming that it was his favorite flavor and he was doing obscene goddamn things to it.

That could not be accidental.

Which meant he was trying to make a move on Steve.

Wilson was turned halfway in the passenger seat, talking with Steve and making love with that goddamn dessert.

Wilson stuck that pink tongue of his all the way out and slowly turned the cone in his hand, smoothing out the sides. Then he deep-throated it, hollowing in his cheeks and pulling back, letting the very top of the ice cream curl up and stretch a bit. He licked the top. Dripped some ice cream down the back of his hand and took his time licking the creamy residue off his skin.

He didn’t really need to keep his eyes on the road; he was a goddamn supersoldier and his reactions were damn fast; he barely flicked his gaze to the road ahead before watching Steve in the rearview mirror.

Hard to tell, with Steve, sometimes. Did he even notice that people were flirting with him? Back during the War, he hadn’t quite mastered the art. He turned red and spluttered whenever Carter had been around, and while he hadn’t been adverse to a little messing around in dark corners, Steve had never quite made a confession.

That had been a hard shadow living in, watching Steve fall in love with Carter.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it a second time.

“Hey Sam.” Steve leaned forward, blue eyes intent and just a tiny bit amused. “You’ve… uh, got ice cream…” He ran his finger down the side of his mouth.

Ug. Steve. That is absolutely not an accident!

Sam had some sort of mystical sixth sense; he knew exactly where the ice cream smutz was, like a glistening pearl on his chin. Because he wiped his entire chin and it was still fucking there.

That’s a trap, Steve.

Steve licked his thumb and reached out.

Oh hell no.

Flick. He checked the road ahead.

Flick. He checked the following distance of the car behind them.

Slammed on the brakes.

Wilson and Steve, who were too busy paying attention to each other, like this was some sort of fucking blind date, jerked forward.

He’d timed it just right; Wilson’s ice cream was all over his chin, his throat, and down the front of his previously immaculate polo.

Hit the accelerator just as Wilson was dabbing at his shirt, which smeared more of the remains of his dessert on his hands and into his lap.

Score.

“Wh--”

“Buck, what the hell?”

“Road debris,” he said, gesturing with one hand toward the road behind them. “Wasn’t sure what it was.”

The look Wilson threw at him was utter and complete loathing. Wilson knew, knew for certain, that there was no road debris. Knew that he’d absolutely been flirt-blocked.

He’d have done a victory fist pump if he didn’t think Steve would be upset if Wilson threw an actual punch. There was no way that Wilson could actually cause an injury to anyone but himself, but it would upset Steve.

“You are a dick, Barnes,” Wilson said. He dug around in the glove box and found some napkins.

He was still debating internally if it would be more annoying and smug-ass of him to deny everything, or admit anything, when Steve put a hand on the back of his neck.

Warm, fingers gentle and comforting, the touch was everything that he’d been missing for decades. Better than a simple clap on the shoulder with a half-dozen layers between himself and Steve’s skin.

Every nerve in his body concentrated on that one patch of skin where Steve’s fingers rested.

He inhaled, barely audible, or it should have been with the engine purring and the road noise and Wilson’s continued rant about the size, shape, and pustulant growths…

Flick.

He glanced up in the rearview and caught Steve’s gaze. Steve’s blue eyes were soft, the pupils wide with sudden feeling.

Smiling, he turned back to the road.

Just in time to swerve around a piece of actual road debris.

“Fuck!”

The car shimmied ungracefully from one side of the lane to the other. A soft, but distinct sound, like a bullet moving through a silencer.

Thup. thup. thup.

He took a deep breath, let it out. Brought the car to an ungainly stop on the side of the road. “We’ve got a flat,” he said. “Hope there’s a spare.”

“What was that?”

“Road debris.”

“Really, Barnes? Really?”

Wilson got the full force of his puppy-eyed pout. Steve had frequently been susceptible. Dames had always melted under it.

Wilson squinched his mouth up to the side, tipped his head, and looked disgusted. “You. Are a dick.”

#All caps #steve x bucky x sam #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #road trip from hell #all american road trip #fic #emotionally damaged fourth graders

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fatbottombucky · 7 years

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Steve Rogers and the Father-In-Law of Doom *x Reader* 1/5

Summary: Your whirlwind relationship to engagement with Steve Rogers, left little time to meet family members. With yours and his work, it left little free time, till now. Chicago, where your father resides. Dr Henry Walton Jones Jr and Steve Rogers go way back. Characters: Steve Rogers, Indiana Jones, Sam Wilson, Howard Stark, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Peggy Carter, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff Pairing: Steve x Reader

Note: This was inspired when I watched Indiana Jones, the first movie was set during WW2 and figured, he’d know Peggy and stuff if universes collided. I’ve had to change Indy’s age a bit, to fit with Marvel universe, so things are kind off. Don’t question it too much, go with it. - Rosalee

We all have @juliagolia87 to thank for this!

Chapter One

Exactly six months ago your life had changed for the better. Some would call this a whirlwind romance, a fleeting moment of passion, not you, this was something you were holding onto with every fibre of your being. So, it’s happening faster than normal romances, you’ve read romance novels that were only 268 pages long and had much more happen in them than what you’re currently going through.

You had met Steve, your now fiance, at a Stark Gala back in the spring. You were introduced by Tony, knowing you’d both have some things in common; it was meant to be a joke but it turned out for the best, for everyone. You’re an archaeologist, in the short term, you like looking at the study of human activity through the years. In Tony’s terms, a lot of old cool shit, hence the joke. Steve, on a whim, asked for your number and you happily gave it to him, you didn’t hear from him till a week later, mind you. Since the first date it kind of cannonballed, you had moved in with him after three months and by the fifth month, he had proposed.

There was essentially nothing stopping you both from just getting married as soon as possible.

Except for your dad.

During your relationship, due to him with Avenger commitments and you travelling the globe for your work, you hadn’t exactly had the time to tell your dad you were in a relationship let alone engaged. You had no doubt that they wouldn’t get along, it’s just that, your father is a hardass. If Steve isn’t good enough, to him, then he would make it known and wouldn’t approve… and guess what, that’s what Stevie wants. Approval.

“I understand us going but them? I don’t get,” You nodded to Tony, Clint, Sam, Bucky and Natasha piling into the van also. “This is meant to be you getting to know my father, not a vacation for the Avengers.”

Steve sighed gently as he got into the passenger seat. “Tony insisted on tagging along, Bucky doesn’t like being without me and the rest, I guess vacation.”

You let out a small sigh and decide to not question it further, hopefully, the added moral support will help calm your nerves. You drive to Chicago, where your father resides, currently. It’s a long, horrible, tedious drive but you make it. He lives just outside of Chicago, actually in, Blue Island, on Grove Street, Illinois.

You pulled up to his house, smiling as you stepped out, it had been a while since you last saw your dad. Steve takes hold of your hand as he looks directly at the red painted house, a timid smile of his own. You could hear yelling from the backyard, glancing at the others with a grin, you nod from them to follow as you walk to the side gate. Your older brother’s voice, plus the stern one of your father through the old wooden gate. You unlatched it, letting go of Steve’s hand and pushing it open to reveal the small yard, a BBQ trying to be set-up by the Jones’ men.

Steve followed behind you, nerves erupting in his stomach at the disciplinary voice, it had an edge of familiarity to it but he tends to hear that tone in his own voice. The yard was small, not too small, well-kept grass that must be fake. His eyes drifted to the two men, an older gentleman and one not a few years younger than Sam. Dark hair and black leather jacket, he looked a little like you except, well, a man.

His eyes drifted to your dad and Steve frowned.

He knows him, well, knew him. His blood ran cold the more he looked at him, the colour draining from his face, if there was one person that scared both, Steve and Bucky, it was your dad.

London, England: 1941

“What do we know about this tesseract?” Steve asked Colonel Phillips, staring at the map he had accurately pinpointed the Hydra bases.

He received a long sigh. “Not a lot, virtually nothing, Stark and his team are still running tests,” his stern voice as he looks over files that Lieutenant Lorraine brought over.

“Stark actually has called in a favour to a friend who may know a little more on the Tesseract.” Agent Carter smiled at Steve, who nodded back, “He’s here now, best if we meet him before he runs off.”

Steve and Colonel Phillips follow Peggy through the S.S.R base. Being led to where Stark does most of his experiments, his team all bustling around the area, papers flying around and off the tables to the ground when someone walks past. Steve frowns when he sees Bucky walking towards him, raising an eyebrow in question to his best friend.

“Stark, had some tech for the guys to look at but they’re all too drunk to look at it,” Bucky shrugged as he shoved his hands into his missions pants, he hadn’t changed out of them since yesterday when they returned from taking out a Hydra base. “Why are you here?” Bucky muttered.

“Howard has some guy coming in to talk about the Tesseract!” Steve shrugged lightly and nodded to where Peggy and Phillips had walked over to; the soldiers following shortly behind.

Once walking to the table there are old parchment papers with cryptic writing; images of the Tesseract also. Steve’s eyes glance up to the man who is stood beside Howard, also dressed in Military uniform, a bright smirk upon his face as he shakes Peggy’s hand. He looked roughly the same age as Steve, maybe a little younger. Dark sandy hair, tanned skin from being out in the sun a little too long, must be part of his work.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, meet Doctor Indiana Jones.” Howard smiles, Steve raises an eyebrow at the name but shakes the man’s hand nonetheless. “World’s greatest Archaeologists.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Steve smiles at the man who nods. “Airforce?” He looks over the uniform on the man in question.

Indiana chuckles, “No, I had this from a job I did over in North-America and thought, I’d fit in better here if I wore this. I’m usually more casual than this,” Steve nods awkwardly.

“Doctor Jones, what do you know about this Tesseract?” Colonel Phillips asks looking at the papers on the table, picking one up and looking it over till it’s plucked out of his hands, he gives an unruffled look to Indiana.

Indiana puts the paper he’s holding down, “These papers are thousands of years old,” he states to Phillips with a unimpressible look. ”There’s only mythology on the Tesseract, up until now it was all legend and myth, much like everything else.” Everyone listened intently to Jones. “It was created by these four beings,” he moved a piece of old cloth that had drawings of four, tall, figures with the Tesseract above them. “It then came into contact with what Norse mythology calls, Odin, their God, of such. He brought it down to Earth and left it here; its energy sustained their lands and helped their warriors, so it’s told. Now it’s being found in a Church up in Tønsberg,” Indiana shrugged and crossed his arms.

“Is there anything else we should know?” Peggy asked.

“Yeah, you should have left it in that Church!” He bitterly remarks, “It’s power, whatever it is, only brought destruction to Vikings that wanted to find it. It shouldn’t be looked or touched by men,” he was already packing up his papers into a brown, old briefcase, the initials ‘H.W.J.JR.’ inscribed onto a gold band.

Colonel Phillips and Peggy left to go over the new information, Indiana had already given his best opinion to Howard about the power of the Tesseract provides to the weapons Hydra have. Bucky raised his eyebrows as Steve walked over to Indiana who was clipping his case up, also giving a questioning look to Steve who stands beside him.

“What exactly is it you do?” Steve questioned as Bucky sighed, shaking his head at his friend’s curiosity.

“You heard Stark, Archeologist,” Indiana repeated with a nonchalant look to Steve. “What’s it to you?”

“I just- I just think you know more about the Tesseract than you have admitted,” Steve shrugged with one shoulder, trying not to show how intimidated he suddenly is.

Indiana narrowed his eyes at Captain America. “Listen, I’ve given you all the information you need to know, there are some things about that cube that are better left unsaid. You got it, spright?”

Steve nodded instead of answering, Indiana sarcastically grinned and gave a half glare to Barnes who instantly looked away, something about Indiana made both of the men feel a little uneasy.

It didn’t help with the fact, Howard insisted that he stayed a little longer and help, meaning Steve saw Indiana a few times in the base. Each, and every time, it was just as awkward and intimidating as the last. He overheard Indiana talk of his expeditions, his adventures and the people he encountered along the way, it was safe to say; Indiana Jones was a man that no one should mess with, not even Nazi’s.

Present Day

“Engaged?” the enraged voice pulled Steve from his thoughts and back to reality, “Engaged! Are you hearing this Mutt?” your dad asked with disbelief to your brother who only shrugged as a response to him. “Why am I only just hearing about this?”

You sighed gently, “Dad, I’ve been busy and so has he, it kind of just happened.” You tried to explain but only received a cold stare back from your father. “Please, be nice. He’s really nervous,” you grab your dad’s hand in the hopes of reassuring him or calming him down, it didn’t work, he only grumbled.

Lightly pulling your dad to the group that awaited you noticed Steve and Bucky’s wide eyes, almost shock-horror, you frowned but looked at your dad who was already nodding at Stark; your dad knew the Starks, it’s how you and Tony are friends, grew up with one another.

“Dad, these are my friends, guys this is my dad, Henry Walton Jones Junior.” Your dad stiffly nodded at them all, eyes sweeping the line before stopping on Steve and Bucky, he didn’t look shocked but you noticed his fists clench. “Dad, this is Steve-”

“Don’t you say it.”

“-My fiance,” you finished with a frown as he yelled ‘Goddammit’ into the air. “What’s wrong?” You look to Steve who looked slightly terrified and flustered.

Your dad huffed, “Him? Really? You’ve been in a relationship with Captain Fucking America?” You nodded, “he’s older than I am, almost.” You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady!”

“I met your dad back during the war, he helped, gave information about the Tesseract,” Steve mutters to you and you sigh gently; your dad hadn’t changed much since his youth, still a hardass and stubborn idiot, no wonder Steve looks terrified, probably thinks your dad is gonna gut him. “It’s nice to see you again, Doctor-” Steve turns back to your dad who is marching down the end of the yard towards the shed, you widen your eyes.

“Oh no.” You breathe and run after him, your brother chuckling to himself as he stands back and watches your dad unlock the shed. “Dad, get out here, right now.” You yell from the other side of the old, worn, door.

Shuffling and banging happens before the door is shoved open, “I just had to get somethin’” Your dad appears holding a gun, specifically, a shotgun in his hands and an untroubled look on his face. “I hear, he can survive a bullet wound, let’s see if he can withstand a Mossberg 590 special purpose shotgun blow.” He racks the slide of the shotgun.

“You can’t kill him!” You stress to your father.

“I’m not gonna kill him,” he exhales, “I’m gonna maim him.” He steps around you swiftly and you groan, turning and walking slightly behind him, glaring as Tony and your brother laugh on the sidelines.

You stand in front of Steve who is currently edging himself behind Bucky, “Dad, stop right now. Put down the gun, you’re gonna hurt, someone.”

“That’s the point of the gun, sweetie.” He dismisses you, his eyes dead set on Steve, he lowers the gun when he looks into your E/C eyes, looking just like your mothers when she was angry at him.

You take the gun and pass it to Natasha, “if you don’t behave I’ll leave.” You warn to him and his eyes soften and nod once.

“You’re here now, me and you will discuss this later but I don’t approve of him, he knows that and my mind ain’t changing.” You sigh as he walks around you.

He passes Steve and Bucky, giving them both glares before walking through the sliding back door, not even sparing another glance to you or anyone.

(Let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged especially for this, I get inspired in the weirdest way. I am so proud of this, I am working on other stuff but this, this is good, in my opinion. - Rosalee)

Everything Tagging list: @girl-next-door-writes @22ifyoukeepmenextoyou @t3-daria-todo @sebby-staan @skylark50 @thegoddamnfeels @gillibean9 @sergeantjamesbarnes107th @full-of-sins-not-tragedies @fxcknbarnes @broncos5soslover @say-my-name-assbut @fangirlwithasweettooth @buckyismybbz @charlotteblanden @wholockiand@momscapris @mashroom-burrito @firewolfkelly @winterboobaer

@mychocolatemints @avengingthesupernatural @usannika @itzelreade r @tillytheinvisibleshadow @tomhollahd @imagining-marvel-soldier @oh-my-gravity @what-the-ducky-bucky @heyitssilverwolf @katiegrace122 @newtmas-newtella @sillylittlemary @buckyhawk @codexofwitches @the-the-sound-of-the-bees-blog @songsforsentences @leahneslen21 @whateveriwantworld @itsblehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh @cassiebarnes @that-one-jewish-elf@tardispandagirl

@theawkwardone-0002 @djpaige13paige @thewinchestersbabe @majestic-squad @fangirlextraordinaire713 @stevesmylove82 @mrporkstache @t0kistar @marvelousmimi @shadyweeny @thequeenofgood @calursocute @casey-anne-j @ohmoveoveralohomora @grass-is-not-green @hiphoppery @imnotinsanehunny @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @coltcas @agalaxyofgayships @jjsoccer11

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #captain america x reader #captain america imagines #captain america oneshot #Tony Stark Imagine #bucky barnes x reader #indiana jones x reader

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aoifphotos-blog · 5 years

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The truth about tractors: Much more than a machine

Love for an inanimate object is something that many people cannot get to grips with. What isn’t understood is more often than not these objects and things that seem to fascinate people, come with a deeper meaning. Whether it’s collecting old stamps that remind you of that time you wrote a letter to your pen-pal or collecting guitars that your favourite band used in an iconic concert or music video, these objects are much more to the owner than what they appear to be.

When I met my boyfriend John Grant, it was pretty obvious from the beginning that tractors were a big part of his life. When I accepted his friend request on Facebook the cover photo of a vast field with an old Ford tractor and a mower cutting silage was just a sliiight give away... I’ll be the first to admit that watching a tractor cutting silage in a field would no more interest me than watching paint dry but I tried not to judge. He didn’t talk about makes and models and horse power with me, the same way I didn’t talk about free ins and sideline cuts. These were some of our interests and we might not have met eye to eye on them, but we had so many other mutual interests it didn’t matter.

Last May I finally understood what all the fuss was about when unexpectedly, he appeared at my house with a tractor that he couldn’t but tell me about. Although his love for tractors wasn’t something he talked often, I couldn’t but smile when I saw the gleam on his face as he drove into the yard. As I climbed up on what seemed to be a mountain of a tractor, he proceeded to tell me how long he has waited to finally call the John Deere 4440 his own.

In 2001, John was 4 years old and by all accounts a tractor mad small child. His Mam often remarks about how she had to lock every gate and door in the house in case he’d try and run out to the farmyard in the hope of getting a spin on the tractor. He’d beg to sit in the cab with his father and so when his Dad decided to look at a tractor for sale in North Kilkenny, all hell would have broke loose if he didn’t get to go for the spin.

The one thing John said he could never forget about the trip was the sound of the then astronomically big machine. The engine bellowing and the dark smoke rising into the sky. Even though it’s 18 years ago now, he swears the smell and sound is still so vivid. Much to his disappointment his Father didn’t buy the tractor and he didn’t hear about it for another two years.

In a strange coincidence, in 2003 a family friend decided to look at a tractor and knowing how much he loved them, asked the now 6 year old John to come along. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised it was the same tractor and to his delight *Jim decided to purchase the rare 1982 model. This photograph is one he cherishes. It’s him in Jim’s barn sitting on the tractor he would one day own.

As he got older, and began to cycle John and his friend Eoin would cycle to Jim’s house and see could they peep in the barn and see the tractor. Jim didn’t live in the same village but instead a neighbouring village in a townsland called Kilnaspic. It’s not the easiest cycle for two young teenagers, between hills and narrow lanes it easily takes an hour. Funnily enough, it also happens to be the townsland I grew up in. I had no idea who he was as a teenager, but myself and my friend Kate remember two seeing two strange lads parked up at the cross near Murphy’s cottage. They looked to be around the same age as us and it was strange to not know who they were considering they were our age. I always wonder if it was him and Kate swears it was.

The fascination with the machine stems from there, but the history of the tractor for lovers may spark some interest. According to John, the parts for this tractor were made in the American John Deere factory in Illinois between 1977-1982 although assembled in Mannheim, Germany. This specific vehicle came to be in 1982 and is one of the last of the 4440 models. It’s not the easiest tractor to find in Europe as they didn’t seem to sell well due to their size.

Aside from the rarity, his love for the tractor runs a lot deeper than that. When the opportunity arose to buy the tractor aged 20 it was a dream come true. It was only then I realised how an inanimate object can mean more; the sentimental value it can have for a person and how far back fascination can grow. Last summer I decided to let all notions behind and sit in the cab of the 4440 with him for a local tractor run. I might not feel it myself but I now understand what they mean, when they say “a tractor is much more than a machine”...

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nickymakesmemad-blog · 7 years

Text

Show Me Your Teeth

My infatuation with teeth began at an early age when I found a mess of them strewn across the bottom of my mom’s jewelry drawer. Is that what pearls were made of? My mom didn’t own any pearls, so maybe this was her grand scheme to finally have some of her own. I could see her, showing up to First Baptist, with a shiny new necklace adorning her Sunday outfit and the preacher’s wife would say, “Oh, Terri! I love your pearls.” My mom would look down as if she had simply forgotten what she was wearing because this outfit was put together effortlessly and she would smile, revealing only gums where her teeth had once been, and lisp, “Thank you, Mitheth Harlow.”

The teeth, however, turned out to be mine. And my sister’s. My brother’s would have been in there too had he been old enough to grow any, let alone lose some. I was disgusted. Not only had I been insulted by a gargantuan lie—a conspiracy, if you will!—but my teeth were mindlessly mixed in with my sister’s. By my logic, it seemed just as if my sister and I had French kissed, which was revolting more because of my homosexuality than the incestuous nature of the act. Laying amongst the others in the Island of Misfit Teeth was my silver tooth, the crown I had been given on my first (and only!) cavity. I was repulsed. A tooth shouldn’t look like that. I didn’t have to think about it when it was in my mouth and all the way in the back. Is this what my life would become if I didn’t take care of my teeth? Would they all fall out and soon I’d have to hide them from the gestapo in a drawer along with my other valuables? I wouldn’t let that happen. My sister could do whatever the hell she wanted, but not me. That drawer would never again see a tooth of mine. They would all stay in my mouth. The importance of this was paramount. Of course, this was before I knew about wisdom teeth.

But before I had my wisdom teeth removed (a traumatic experience!), was the Duquoin State Fair. Not much noteworthy happens in Southern Illinois except, of course, for the State Fair. Illinois’s best and worst all make an appearance at the Fair, to do otherwise would be treasonous and subject you to a full year of “oh y’all really shoulda seen the fair this year, they had fried Snickers...who knows if they’ll be back next year. Might’ve missed your chance.” Women would show up to the fair mere moments after giving birth, vagina still ripped apart. Coincidently, that’s how non-mothers also left the Tilt-A-Whirl and the east parking lot port-a-potty.

The Fair was always fun, because there was always drama. Someone would be seen with a woman who wasn’t their wife at the race track. Or someone would throw up on their date on a ride. Or someone would win a grand prize, bringing pride and joy to their entire town. I didn’t know it, but I would be this person. I didn’t plan to bring my town glory, but was I surprised when I did? Absolutely not.

My mom and I were walking around the craft barn where people from around the state brought their woven baskets, murals, and quilts for non-AIDS purposes to be scrutinized and judged mainly by strangers but also by certified judges. At the center of the barn was a stage, so I was naturally intrigued. Though it had never happened and there was never anything to imply that it would ever happen, I was always convinced that this would finally be the year that Dolly Parton showed up. We had a Mountain Dew distributor, so in my mind, it was only a matter of time.

My mom saw the sparkle in my eye and took me to the stage to see what was happening. “Boys Smile Contest” read a banner. A smile contest? What does that mean? “You should sign your boy up. Let’s see that smile, baby!” cooed an elderly woman in a lavender cardigan. The color of her sweater already won me her trust, but I was still skeptical of this stranger. I imagined this was a ploy to enlist pretty boys with nice teeth into the back of the barn where our teeth would be removed, sold for money, and then we’d be sewn together à la Human Centipede and we’d have to compete against a prize-winning pig to find truffles. My mom insisted that I show her my smile; after all, I didn’t have any cavities anymore. I knew exactly what to do. I looked down at the ground (a power move to feign modesty) and then I flashed it. My best, beautiful, boyish, charming twelve year old smile. “I’m signing you up, sugar!”

It was real now. My first beauty competition. Looking back, I had spent my entire life preparing for this moment. I had been perfecting my American Idol sob story since before I could walk (it involved the Taliban, but is too nuanced to be fully detailed in this humble post). I nervously paced backstage next to the canned salsas that were also up for judgement and made exclusively by white Midwestern women. My mom was on the phone with grandma urging her to get to Barn F immediately. It seemed, however, that a girl from her church was trampled at the goat corral and she was held up for the time being. I didn’t have my support group, but I had my mom and that would have to do.

Should I take a step forward? Should I do a wave? Should I sing? I can sign so that would probably help; show the judges I know how to put my teeth into practice as well as keep them visibly pretty. Maybe I should keep it simple? We’re southern adjacent. Maybe I should toast the audience with a glass of sweet tea and really play in the demographic. I didn’t have time to come up with any choreography and the craft barn was devastatingly devoid of batons, so I would have to go up without props.

“Boys age 7 to 12 on stage for this year’s DuQuoin State Fair Boys Smile Contest!” Shit on my dick, I would have thought had I had the vocabulary. Although the following summer at Catholic camp, I would be introduced to the word “queef”. I wasn’t prepared, but neither was Dolly when Jolene stole her man. I briefly said a prayer to both God and Jesus (because they couldn’t prevent 9/11, but maybe they had some sway over this) and made my way onstage.

It was me and two other boys, both of whom were on the younger side of the seven to twelve age range. Both were missing teeth and it was fucking adorable. I was livid, but I couldn’t give up. I would just have to be better. The announcer stated the first boy’s name and he waved at the crowd. That was my move. I was pissed. But the fucking idiot was so young and so stupid that he forgot to smile. The crowd loved it. Then it was the second boy’s turn. He was wearing overalls, which would definitely score him points for matching the fair aesthetic. I shit bricks when I saw he was missing both his front teeth. The crown went fucking wild. Here he was stealing my thunder when he should have met his match with a coat hanger in utero.

Then my name was announced. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t in costume like the other boy. I wasn’t adorably missing any teeth and that first motherfucker stole my wave. For a moment, a mere moment that felt like an eternity, I stood like an idiot. Then (and I truly believe it was divine intervention that caused me to do this) I took a step forward. That was it. Neither of those cocksuckers had bothered to step forward literally putting me ahead of them and separating me from the crowd. I smiled. I LAUGHED. And then I went back into my smile, but never fulling touching my top and bottom teeth, keeping my mouth just a little open to suggest to my fans that I was so jovial and so charming that I could burst into another laugh at any moment. The crowd loved it. And I knew I couldn’t stop there. I leaned to my right to give that side of the audience a good look. They exploded. I leaned to my left (the side with my dimple). They lost it. I hesitated as I considered which song I should burst into. But God gave me another idea. A spin. One glorious, one hundred eighty degree spin followed by a STUNNING over the shoulder look followed by a laugh at the audience because those people are fun. I waved to signal the conclusion of my act and stepped back into line with my competitors. Being gorgeous is fun.

I stepped off the stage with a stuffed cow that had a big red plaque that said “Boys Smile Contest Winner DuQuoin State Fair”. It wasn’t American Idol, but I had to start somewhere. My mom ran up and hugged me and one of the judges snapped our picture. We all laughed when he told us to smile. Some of us more beautifully than others. I’m referring to myself there. It was my smile that was the most beautiful and I had a cow to prove it. My mom kept her hands on my shoulders and paraded me through the barn and towards the exit so we could find my dad. “Well that’s an awfully cool cow!” a vendor shouted. “Think your mom should look at my jewelry” and she motioned to what were obviously fake pearl earrings.

“He just won the smile contest,” my mom informed her, “show her, Jacob!” Like my mom picked out her church clothes, I flashed my smile effortlessly. The vendor gasped at my pearly-whites and then motioned to her jewelry after she recovered. My mom politely declined interest with a nod and kept walking. She had something else to brag about in church that Sunday.

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