"ummm actually that wouldn't happen because-" playing!!! i am playing!!! come play with me!!! i even set up the sandbox with extra shovels!!! don't smack the barbie out of my hands!!
we are doing improv!! pick up a blorbo and yes and with me!!
summary: it's andrew's birthday, and he decides to make sandwiches with you and lena for the kids in the skatepark.
warnings: brief angst related to julia, but otherwise it's just a short fluffy blurb
It’s Andrew’s forty-ninth birthday today. Nearly five decades on this earth, and for the first time in a very long time, home doesn't feel like a place.
It feels like the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while Lena sits on the counter, quietly slipping slices of tomatoes into her mouth when she thinks the two of you aren’t looking.
Andrew has never really cared much for birthdays. Especially not after Julia was gone.
Cakes and candles and parties remind him too much of how it was like when him and Julia lived under the same roof over two decades ago.
After she was gone, his other half, all the days that celebrated surviving another year seemed almost insulting, to her, and to their relationship.
So instead, when you’d been sprawled across his lap, and asked him what he wanted to do the night before, he'd shrugged.
“Nothin'.”
You'd smiled, tangled your fingers in his curls the way you always did.
"I don't believe you."
He hadn't answered, not for a while. Not until he thought of what it would’ve been like if someone had taken Julia in, if she hadn’t been sucked away into the world of drugs and a form of survival that chipped away at her until she was gone, completely.
He couldn’t save his Julia, but he could save the others.
“We could make… somethin’. For those kids at the skatepark,” he’d mumbled.
You immediately sat up, making suggestions.
“Burritos? Oh wait, what about sandwiches?”
Now he carefully layers all the different fillings you’d cut up onto a piece of bread, as you spread butter across another slice, humming quietly under your breath.
“You’re gonna have to cut these when you’re done,” you murmur, nudging the knife towards him with your wrist. “I always stuff up the triangles.”
Andrew glances sideways at you before giving you a small nod.
“Yeah,” he says plainly. “Don't want the kids sufferin' on my birthday.”
You gasp, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest before turning immediately to Lena.
“Lena, did you hear what your uncle just said?”
Lena looks up from where she's sitting on the counter folding napkins.
“He's supposed to disagree with me,” you continue, mock-scandalised. “He's supposed to go, ‘No, baby, you cut the best triangles I've ever seen in my life.’”
Lena giggles.
“He's not wrong though.”
You gasp again.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugs innocently.
“Your triangles are kinda... wonky.”
Andrew lets out the faintest huff beside you, the closest thing he has to a laugh.
You point an accusing butter knife between them.
“Oh, so this is how it's gonna be? On his birthday I've been betrayed by both of you?”
Neither of them says anything. They just look at each other.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of Andrew's mouth lifts. He shoves your shoulder gently with his.
“Get back to work,” he mumbles, though there’s no real bite behind the words.
In an hour the three of you will carry everything down to the skatepark, handing lunch out to whichever kids drift through that day. The ones who come there for a few brief minutes for a momentary escape from life. The ones who spend all day there because home isn't somewhere they want to be, or where they can be. Just like Julia.
His chest feels strangely full now, in a way that it never really feels on this specific day.
Maybe this is what birthdays were supposed to be. Not people celebrating the fact that he'd lived another year, but people making him feel like the years ahead might be worth living. People like Lena, like you - the only family he’s ever chosen.
Yeah, he thinks to himself as your laughter fills the kitchen. This is a good birthday.
happy birthday to my shayla for turning 49 this year, ily (and thank you salima for letting me know pls don't kys we gotta make it to andrew's 50th).
Another reminder to stop supporting Jon Bernthal, especially once the new Daredevil series is releasing.
He is a zionist that has supported Israel for many years, is friends with violent abusers such as Shia LaBeouf and gave him a platform on his podcast, a man that has sexually abused multiple women. Invited an IOF soldier on his podcast that hes friends with and gave flowers to cops during BLM.
Some more info in my thread here
Also i should note that Deborah Ann Woll who plays Karen Page in the Daredevil series has liked pro-israhell posts in the past.
Also if anyone comments on this post trying to excuse his actions ur comment will be deleted and ull be blocked.
No, Word, I do not “want to rewrite this paragraph with copilot”. Similarly, I do not “want to hire a drunk chimp as a chauffeur”, so perhaps you can fuck off?
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this
SUMMARY: There is no difference between a super human and a human, in the end we all need affection. It is what makes us weak. Bombsight accepts his fate. But Soldier Boy totally despises it.
PAIRING: Bombsight/Robbie x fem!reader. One sided Soldier Boy x fem!reader.
WORD COUNT: I don’t know, I should be working but I wrote this drabble instead.
GENRE: Angst, fluff (for Bombsight x reader of course).
WARNINGS: Language?
NOTE: This is set in the 50s, I need Vought Rising. English is not my main language. Barely revised. And Bombsight is everything Soldier Boy wants to be but can't because he is a cunt okay? Okay.
The announcement is on. The president recites his speech as if his life depends on it. But how couldn’t he after the greatest battle America's heroes just won?
Roars come from the crowd as the greatest supes get on stage to receive their honors. Men whistle and compliment Liberty and Private Angel, the two female companions of Payback. And when Torpedo, Bombsight and Soldier Boy appear, ladies swoon and scream so loud one could swear their panties dropped.
Soldier Boy, as the great leader of Payback he is, gives a short speech on stage, putting on a handsome smile, giving details of their last mission. Once again, we are safe from comunism and trusting up on our moral institutions, we must respect American values and the new big corporations are not definitely making any profit from it, hooray! People clap, and you follow.
Standing on the other side of the stage, you beam, with proud. Proud of your soldier - the real soldier - finally getting recognition. Robbie catches a glimpse of your loving eyes from the side. He smiles back and winks at you before standing straight, looking at the crowd. You feel a heat scattering your cheeks. Ah, yes it still feels like the day you met when you were just two kids foling around. Now, look where you are.
When the pictures, speeches and patronizing are done, the team leaves through the other side of the stage. The staff claps and celebrates backstage as the supes make their parade through the aisle. Robbie finally finds its way to you and you jump right there, hugging him and never, ever letting go, sparking that laugh of his you love so much.
"I'm so proud of you!" a grin so wide on your lips, arms around his neck, his hands rest on your sides so slightly. "You are a hero, honey!"
"Well, ain't a sweet surprise having you here, my love?" he adds with a playful voice, and then gives a gentle kiss to your cheek.
You chuckle. "I have something for you, c'me here."
You walk a few steps to the corner of the backstage, where people already dissipated, except for just a few. There's a beautiful bucket of flowers resting on a chair that you take and place in front of your fiancé with a teeth showing beam and shinny eyes. Robbie takes them happily.
"For you," you say, his eyes go soft.
"Doll, you didn’t have to..."
"But I wanted to. It's been a long time since I saw you."
Robbie leans to you and finally kisses your lips. You savour the moment, as much as you can with a pair of eyes you have felt even before you encountered Robbie. A hard pair of green eyes, looking at both of you from afar.
When you break the kiss for air, you fix the collar of Robbie's jacket. You touch his cheek and nose affectionaly, with a gentleness Soldier Boy could sense. And he observes throughly the way you speak so naturally with Bombsight. How he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers of his free hand with yours, playing with the ring he proposed you with, pulling your frame even closer.
Soldier Boy has watched you before. The receptionist at Vought. The first smile he sees every damn day he gets to that hideous building in the middle of the city. He's had all the ladies he's ever wanted, but you. You kindly always said no, and when he found out Bombsight was the reason, Soldier Boy fumed with rage.
How could he get a woman like you?
Bombsight wasn’t number one at Vought's experiments.
He wasn’t leading the audience.
He wasn’t the strongest.
He wasn’t the handsomest.
He wasn’t an imposing leader.
He wasn’t Soldier Boy.
That was what attracted you to Robbie. His idealism, his romantic side, his soft-spoken voice... None of those things is Soldier Boy.
Robbie never saw you as a game, or a new girl to get his hands on and then toss away. You were very aware of Soldier Boy's reputation with the ladies. And you, you weren’t interested in becoming one more of them. That's why you kindly declined his charm.
And he thought someday you'd just give in. He snorts to himself as you walk together his way.
Robbie, on the other side always wanted to be chosen. Corresponded. Taken care of. Loved.
And that's what Ben can't handle.
The stupidest of all feelings. The most basic of all the needs of a human being. But he's not human anymore. He is not just another man. He is the greatest supe in America, the most perfect model of masculinity, heroism and patriotism of the century.
He doesn’t have time for pettiness. And love - he confess to himself - is a trivial thing. He doesn’t need that.
You smile, kind and cute as always, when you pass his side, clinging to your man. Bombsight salutes to his leader, smile vanishing away. Soldier Boy nods his head as both pass by, and notices the idiot saves the soft side and true beams for you.
What a bunch of fucking malarkey.
Soldier Boy is anything, but a wimpy little boy who craves for a woman's soft touch.
He spends the rest of the day - and probably the rest of his life - convincing himself he is not one made for feelings.
Because just watching you from afar, sharing your perfect love with his teammate makes his blood boil, knowing he will never, ever be worthy of flowers or delicate hands fixing his suit, just like you do.
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