#aaron pace

[evelyn-onfire]

finding someone who appreciates a niche character as much as you is so exciting like- hell yeah we’re both brainrotting over this one side character together

[aaronpaceluvbot]

song lyrics (aaron x reader)

summary: in which you have a slight fight with Drum over your favorite practice room. you need it to practice your music and he needs it to practice whatever it is he does, but Aaron finds out and comes to your rescue. 

before you read: this is probably the most self indulgent fic i’ve ever written, forgive any inaccuracies. i'm assuming aaron can play piano because my school only lets you play percussion if you can play piano, school starts at 6:45 for me so it does in this fic as well, LOWKEY OOC AARON…, voice teachers are scary af , READER IS FEM, written in honor of me having a recital in a week and i am in fact losing my voice, DRUM APPEARS AND LIKE THE THING IS IS THAT I DONT REMEMBER WHO’S WHO SO HE’S JUST REFERRED TO AS DRUM , this flows so weirdly sorry yall i promise i had an outline , this is like the 20th fic that reader cries in (reader is so me.), i didn’t wince as much while writing the affection (PROGRESS!!!), THIS IS  NOT PROOFREADDD  reader is implied to be in choir and not in play an instrument anymore, SOME MUSICAL TERMS?? if you’re confused about them I Will Add Explanations. 

WC: 6.2k words. holy moly. 

songs referenced that are good to listen to:

sebben crudele

ah! tardai troppo

—

You always tried to get to school early to make use of the practice rooms especially since everyone seemed to want to use them at that time. You especially needed to practice considering the fact that you had a rehearsal today with your accompanist and you hadn’t practiced at all for it. You found that arguably the best practice room was open so you placed your stuff in there and tried to quickly get your binder and your anthology book for lessons. You noticed a person standing in front of the room. He notices you as well. “Are you using it?” He asks, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah? My stuff is already in there,” you tell him, clutching your binder. If he really wanted to fight about a practice room at 6 in the morning, he could if he wanted to. You would gladly give it up if he was going to keep it going, but you’d make practicing absolute hell for him. 

“Well I need to use it to record something for an assignment,” he says, clearly expecting you to give up the practice room. You roll your eyes at him. He really couldn’t have used one of the other open practice rooms? Sure their acoustics were horrible in comparison to this one, but your stuff was already in there! 

“I needed to use it to practice something for voice lessons,” you respond, raising your binder and book up. He looks at it, confused. 

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” He asks, giving you a look of disdain. You roll your eyes and decide to end the conversation. When you said you’d make practicing hell for him, you weren’t joking. You enter the practice room next to his and you pull out your sheet music. After doing some light hums and lip trills, you pull out a couple arias from your book. Quickly taking a sip of water, you sing a couple scales. Your voice seemed to be in good condition today. Perfect. You decide on the easier of the two arias to avoid straining your voice - Sebben Crudele. You sing through it to see if you had it memorized and thankfully you did! This would help you avoid the wrath of your voice teacher. You were going through the rough patches of the song when you heard a knock on the door. You look through the window and see the guy from earlier.

You open the door and give him a confused look. He clears his throat. “Do you mind keeping it down? Everytime I record my part check, I hear more of you than I hear myself!” He’s cut off by the sound of yelling down the hall.

“DRUM. DRUM. DRUM I SWEAR TO GOD.” You both look to see where the voice is coming from and you see the source coming this way. It was a brunette boy who looked outraged at the guy who knocked on your door. You both look at him confused. Why was he calling out for a drum???

“Aaron what’s wrong???” The guy asked, looking confused. 

“Tell me why I found your crumpled up sheet music on the floor covered in spit,” Aaron says, clearly pissed. He gives you a look and then Drum?? one as well. “Is he bothering you?” He asks. You sigh and nod. 

“She was bothering me! She kept like making all these high pitched noises!” Drum?? says, looking at you as if you committed a war crime. 

“This is what happens when you make the wrong person mad,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the dude in front of you. Aaron sighs at the exchange. 

“Do you mean singing?” He asks him, giving him a dirty look.

“Yeah! That thing!! Can’t you do that anywhere?? So she doesn’t really need the practice room!” Drum tried arguing. 

“You can also play your little instruments anywhere, but I’m not complaining about that,” you retort.

“Aaron!! Do Something!!” He says. The boy rolls his eyes.

“Just leave her alone. She has a point. What’s your name?” Aaron asks, turning to you. You tell him your name and he nods. “If he keeps bothering you, or if any of the drumline bothers you, come to me and I’ll set things straight.” You nod at his comment, amused that he’d even say something like that. He was probably a section leader, you thought, judging by the way he commanded that guy to leave you alone. He reminded you of one of your old section leaders. You leave it at that and shut the door and continue practicing. 

Aaron sighed as he dragged Drum away from the practice rooms and into the band room. He gave him the dirtiest of looks. “Why would you embarrass us like that?” He asks, rubbing his temples as Drum struggled to come up with an explanation. “You know what Wiley said, to leave the vocalists alone if they’re practicing. They need the practice rooms just as much as we do.”

“Yeah but she was so loud! She was louder than me trying to play the part check!” He whines. Aaron does the thing that you do to dogs to get them to calm down. He pokes his neck with two fingers. 

“If she’s louder than your playing, then that’s your issue. An instrument playing at forte will always be louder than someone singing forte,” he grumbles, obviously fed up with his antics. This wasn’t the first time that a spat between Drum and a vocalist occurred. “Just practice elsewhere. Practice here for god’s sake.” Aaron decides to walk out of the room, but stay nearby to see if he actually practices. He does not. He let out a loud exhale as he tried to come up with a prank to use to get Drum to practice productively. The bell rang and interrupted his thinking. 

You let out a sigh as the bell rang. You didn’t want to go to class and would much rather practice your music. Instead of putting your belongings back into the choir room, you decided to just put them in your backpack. As you exited, he called out your name. You turn to face him and greet him with a smile. “Thanks for earlier,” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

He nods. “It was nothing.” The two of you walk in awkward silence until you exit the music hallway. 

“So what class are you headed to?” You ask him as you both go the same way.

“Poetry.” “Do you like it?” You ask. He didn’t seem like the type to take poetry in the first place, but we all have our interests.

“I think it’s a good outlet for me, even though I wasn’t the biggest fan of it when I took the class. I only took it because my counselor said I couldn’t take a different class.” You nod at his words. You had beef with your counselor so you understand why he felt that way. “What class are you going to?” He asks, looking you straight in the eye. You only realized this now, but he was really attractive. You brush it off and continue the conversation. You can talk about him to your friends later. 

“English,” you say, shuddering. He gives you a confused look.

“Who do you have?”

“Williams.” He makes a face that could only be described as pure loathing.

“Well I’m sorry for your loss. I hated her when I had her.” 

“I always feel horrible for the classes near us whenever she goes on one of her rants,” you murmur, thinking back to the time that she got really pissed about a kid’s essay and threw a heavy metal water bottle. 

“No yeah, my poetry class is right next door and every time she starts going on a tangent, my teacher just tells us to brace ourselves and he plays music,” he says, almost amused. You nod and let out a laugh. The two of you walk in silence to the English wing and separate once you two get to your respective classes. But before the two of you enter your respective classes he stops you. You give him a confused look.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilting your head. He shakes his head with a smile. “No, just hand me your phone,” he says, sticking his hand out.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to ask for my number so soon,” you joke, obviously keeping your phone away from him. He laughs as you try to keep him from getting it.

“Well then, if you don’t want my number, then I guess you’ll have to fall victim to all the band kids who are gonna bother you in the practice rooms,” he says, shrugging and getting ready to leave.

“Wait! Aaron, no!” You say, grabbing his hand and placing your phone in it. He lets out a chuckle at how you caved. He puts his number into your phone and sends himself a text. He pulls out his phone and checks to see if it sent. It did. 

“If any band kids pester you again, just text me and I’ll gladly come to your rescue,” he says, smirking at you. 

“Thanks for the offer Prince Charming, but I don’t think you’ll have to.”

“Oh so you think I’m charming?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. You shake your head and try to hide your laughter as you head to class, but he stops you again. “What class do you have after this?”

“Math…”

“With who?” 

“Miller…”

“We’re in the same class.”

“What? How have I not noticed you?” You ask him, trying to recall if he ever was in your class.

“I don’t know, but I knew you looked familiar earlier. Let’s walk to math together afterwards?” You nod and finally get into your classroom just before the bell rang.

—

You wait for Aaron outside of your classroom. The door to his class is still closed, but right as you’re about to leave, the door swings open. He comes out of class, eyes scanning the area, looking for you. He smiles when he sees that you waited for him. “Glad that you didn’t forget about our little plan,” he says, walking next to you. 

“How could I? It’s not everyday that you talk to Mr. Prince Charming himself,” you say, laughing at your own joke. 

“If anything, Peter’s Prince Charming. I think I’m more of a Derek Charming,” he says shrugging. 

“Like from Ever After High?” You ask, looking amused.

“Yeah, that one.” 

“What do you know about Ever After High?” You tease.

“I’ll have you know that I watch it with my little sister,” he says, sticking his hands up in defense. A thought pops into your head.

“Wait, so where do you sit in math? I still don’t know how I didn't notice that you were in my class.”

“I’m like all the way in the back corner by the door.” You nod. 

“That’s a really good seat. I got stuck sitting by her desk. But looking out the windows is really nice, if she actually leaves the blinds open.” You both snicker at your comment. Your teacher was infamous for having an insanely dark classroom that everyone fell asleep in. Her blinds were always closed and her lights would always be off and instead, she would only have fairy lights on. You both entered the class and you both chatted at his spot until the bell rang. You wandered off to your desk and sat there, getting your things out.

“Ok class! I have a bad headache right now, so you guys can just do these practice problems with a partner and just check them with the answer key by the end of class,” she said, handing out sheets of paper. You turn to look for a partner and realize that your friend was absent today. You sigh and figure that you’ll just work alone on it. When you get ready to start the first problem, you notice a figure standing by your desk. You look up and see Aaron.

“Wanna be my partner?” He asks and you nod. You follow him to his seat and pull up a chair. He’s actually pretty good at math which is nice since math is definitely one of your weak spots. The two of you make small talk until he asks an interesting question. “Would you want to hypothetically help me pull a prank?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“On who?” “The guy from earlier. He’s in my section and he’s been causing some trouble lately and I need to keep him in line somehow.” You nod at his reasoning. It makes sense, but you’ve never heard of anyone pulling pranks to keep anyone in line. The worst thing a section leader has done in choir was probably just throw a stand with someone’s binder and music in it but that was different from a prank. 

“I’ll think about it. I just need more details, you know?” He nods. “What would you even do?” He says something regarding his drum. “But how would I be involved?”

“I just need you to do your thing and sing your little heart out. That shouldn’t be too difficult right?” You let out a small laugh at his question.

“It shouldn’t be. Any suggestions on what I should be singing?” You ask jokingly. But he seems to take it seriously.

“Do you have your music on you?” You nod and pull out your anthology book and hand it to him. He reads the title. 

“Coloratura arias for soprano. Neat.” He flips through the book, examining the music. He places the book between the two of you so you both can get a look. You already knew the contents of the book, so you chose to observe him. He grimaced as he looked at a page. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to see what page he was on. It was a page from the aria “Ah! Tardai Troppo”. All the melismas must’ve been what he was referencing. “Nothing. Your music just looks intimidating. But I think you should sing this one.” He gently shuts the book and hands it to you. Your hands brush for a split second. You’re definitely going to tell your friends about him. You put your book away in your bag and continue on with the math problems. 

— 

Later in the day, you walk to the music hallway with a skip in your step after your interactions with Aaron. He’s really sweet and funny and just… he’s amazing. You go to find your voice teacher in the choir room, but you see her speaking to Garth. Garth was one of your closest friends as you often kept him company when he wasn’t busy accompanying any of the choirs. Both of them looked concerned and only looked even more worried when they both saw you. “Did someone die?” You ask, looking around. No one else was there except for the three of you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you during solo/ensemble night. Something personal came up,” Garth says. You nod in understanding. Whatever it was, you hope that he’s ok. “It’s ok Garth! I just need to find someone else to accompany me right?” You ask, looking between the two of them. Your voice teacher nods and Garth clears his throat.

“Yep! And in fact, I think I have the perfect person for you. Do you know Aaron? Aaron Pace?” Garth asks. You nod. “I’m sure he’d be willing to accompany you. In fact, I think he has lunch this hour so you could ask him right now and you could give him my music as well.” He hands you the sheet music. 

“I’ll go hunt him down!” You say, giving a mock salute to the two of them. You exit the choir room and head into the practice rooms. You send Aaron a quick text. 

where are you?

He responds just as fast. 

practice rooms, why?

You sigh

i need to meet with you, it’s important. 

meet me in the big piano practice room. i’m already there. 

You circle around the practice rooms and find the one he was talking about. He was sitting on the piano bench on his phone and looking up. His eyes brightened when he saw you and he let out a chuckle when you tried to pull open the heavy door. “What’s up?” He asks, looking concerned after seeing the look on your face.

“I kind of have a favor to ask you. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but basically I need an accompanist for solo ensemble night and mine kind of bailed and he told me to ask you if you could be my accompanist,” you sputter out. He nods, deep in thought.

“I mean sure, why not? Solo ensemble night is like, a month away right?” You nod. “That should be enough time for me to learn the music. Do you have it with you?” You murmur something that seemed like a response and you handed him the sheet music. “Oh nice. This is the song we were looking at earlier, and most of it looks easy enough to learn in like 30 minutes or so. Tell you what, since we’re both a little occupied with our little prank today, when I get home I’ll learn it and if I can learn it pretty quickly, I’ll send you a text and you can come over. If not, we can just run it tomorrow during lunch.” “Yep! That sounds good. Thank you so much for agreeing to this even though I kinda just sprang it onto you,” you say sheepishly. 

“Well I’ll be off now. Good luck with whatever his name is.” He laughs at your comment and you walk out. Little did you know, he only agreed to it because it was you. 

—

Later in the day, you get a text from Aaron. 

i finished learning it. there were only a couple tricky spots, so you can come over now. here’s my address - xxxx

You read through the text and type out a response

would you mind picking me up? It’s totally fine if you can’t, my car’s just getting an oil change right now

You hear the chime of a notification

what's your address? i’ll be omw

You send him your address. After 15 minutes or so you hear the doorbell ring. You grab your things and then head downstairs to look through the peephole. You see him standing there. You open the door. “Hi,” you say, feeling immediately awkward after saying it.

“Hi,” he says back. It takes 5 seconds of awkward silence before the two of you burst out in laughter. “So are you ready to go?” He asks, fiddling with his hands.

“Mhm!! Let me just lock the door real quick and then we can go.” You exit the house and try to lock the door. You stand there, trying to hold all your things while trying to put the key into the lock and Aaron takes your music from you when he notices you struggling. You thank him and you both get into his car, with him opening the door for you. You two both sit in comfortable silence as he drives to his house. You both get out and he uses his house keys to get inside. He gives you a slight tour and leads you to the room where his piano is. He grabs a stand nearby and hands it to you. You decide to break the silence. 

“How was it?” You ask, and he hums in response as he’s setting up his music. He freezes like a deer in headlights. 

“How was what?” 

“Learning the music,” you say, deciding to copy him and set up your music as well. He nods at your response. You notice that he hasn’t responded and has what seems to be a thinking face. 

“It wasn’t horrible,” Aaron says, shrugging. You laugh at his response. “What? It wasn’t!” 

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at how long it took for you to come up with a response,” you say, covering your mouth before your laughter turned into a fit of giggles. 

“You are the absolute worst,” he says jokingly, making an exaggerated sighing noise and marking something in his music. 

“But you love me for it!” You say, mimicking his actions. He rolls his eyes at you and clears his throat. 

“Is there anything that you do that isn’t written in the music?” He asks, picking his pencil up.

“There’s a few ritardandos and other things, but we could just go through the piece and fix it as we go,” you say, flipping through your music. A question lies on the tip of your tongue, but you decide not to ask. Aaron can tell that you were thinking about something though based off of your facial expression. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just curious about why you asked that,” you admit.

“Because I’m accompanying you… It’s not my first time doing this,” he says, laughing at your dumbfounded expression. “You’re the soloist, not me. I’ll always be sure to watch you and follow you.” 

“How? Are you gonna practice or something?” You tease, laughing at your own joke. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing so if it was you,” he retorts. “But if that’s all, then that should be fine. We should be able to get started.” 

You nod and you take a swig of water from your water bottle. He plays the intro to the piece. It goes shockingly well considering that he just learnt the piece and that you hadn’t practiced much, but you eventually get to the end of whatever good luck the two of you had. You got to a very painful melisma with way too many accidentals to count which made it hard to stay in key. 

[a melisma is basically a riff - it’s singing multiple notes on one syllable]. 

Aaron makes a face and stops playing when your voice trails off. “What happened?” He asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“Nothing! I’m fine, I just psyched myself out a little bit with that part. I think I just need to review it really slowly really quickly,” you say, shuddering at the fact. Normally you could sing it in front of literally anyone, but why were you scared to sing it in front of Aaron? He wasn’t going to blow up at you or anything for not being able to sing it.

“No yeah, I get that,” he says, nodding at your comment. 

“It’s just embarrassing that I messed up,” you say sheepishly, choosing to fiddle with a corner of your sheet music.

“Don’t worry about it, you sounded great,” he says, turning to face you and giving you what seems to be a genuine smile. You nod and murmur a quick thank you. “So do you want me to play your part for you, or do you want to play it?”

“I can play it.” With that, he scoots over on the piano bench and gives you space to sit. You play your starting note and hum it. You try to make your way through the melisma, but it’s been a while since you had to play an instrument. Aaron notices you struggling after a few rough attempts. 

“Here, let me,” he says, so quietly that it was almost a whisper. He gently removes your hands from the keys and instead places his on the keys. With his free hand, he places your hands on top of his and slowly breaks it down for you, letting you control the tempo. After doing this a few times, he looks at you expectantly. “Do you feel better?” He asks, turning to face you. 

He looks you straight in the eye. You nod and quickly get up from the bench, trying to hide the flustered look on your face. You think he doesn’t and the rest of the rehearsal goes smoothly. Afterwards, you both make arrangements to meet up again and rehearse before solo ensemble night. 

—

After a few more rehearsals, you became much more comfortable performing with Aaron. In fact, you became so comfortable that instead of having productive rehearsals, you’d spend the time mostly talking. You both leaned towards each other to listen to what the other would say. The two of you would talk about small things, like new music that you got or just about your day. But this rehearsal was different. You had been on the brink of losing your voice due to the fact that you’d been overusing it lately, but you tried not to let that get the best of you. You kept running through the piece with him over and over again, but it kept getting harder and harder to get up there. Eventually it got to a point where nothing would come out. When he couldn’t hear your voice, he turned to look at you, but all he saw was you taking deep breaths with teary eyes.

Aaron didn’t know what possessed him, but he immediately got up and went to you. As he got closer, he realized that you started crying harder and started sniffling as well. He starts trying to calm you down, but you decide to wrap your arms around him. He holds you and tries to soothe you as your tears keep coming and eventually they come to a stop. “Are you alright? What happened?” He asks as you pull away from him and just stare. He’s surprised when your voice comes out hoarse and raspy. 

“Nothing. I just needed to shut up for a little bit, go on vocal rest, you know? And I was stupid and I chose to ignore it and it just-” You say, trailing off. He nods and opens his arms towards you, giving you a silent offer for a hug. You accept it and he rubs your back as you try to keep calm.

“You don’t need to push yourself. Solo ensemble night is going to go well, don’t worry about it,” he murmurs as you choose to bury your head in his shoulder. He pats your head and is eventually able to coax all the negative feelings out of you. That night, you realized one thing. You absolutely and positively have a thing for Mr. Aaron Pace.

—

That night you decided that you needed to tell someone about what happened and what you should do. You were in absolute shambles. You didn’t know what to do. If you told him about your feelings and destroyed the friendship the two of you had, you didn’t know what you’d do. You decided to call Cadence since she’d probably know the most about him in the first place. 

Your phone rang a few times until Cadence answered. You had science with her and the two of you became friends due to the fact that you two both came to class when there were no other seats open, so you both just ended up sitting next to each other. “Hi!! What’s up?” Cadence asks, angling her camera until you could only see her forehead and her eyes. You laugh at her and take a screenshot to annoy her with later. “Why’d you screenshot it?” She asks, zooming out to give you a dirty look.

“No reason,” you say, smirking. “But seriously I wanna ask you about something.” “I’m all ears,” she says, placing her phone on her bed and staring directly into the camera.

“Ew… Don’t do that…” You say, covering your eyes and exaggeratedly shuddering at her actions. “Fine, but what is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I think I have a crush on someone-” “Who? Is it Aaron?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Your jaw drops. Was it that obvious? “It wasn’t… Actually it kinda was, but if he hasn’t said anything about it yet, then I’d say that he thinks highly of you at least. If he didn’t, he probably would’ve told you to drop it or to stop talking to him.”

“I said that out loud?” You ask, looking confused. She nods.

“Mhm. But seriously, I think you have a chance. Maybe all you need to do is tell him!” “But what if I ruin our friendship by doing that?”

“Well, do the benefits outweigh the risks? Because if you’re really worried about ruining the friendship or something, just ask yourself that before doing so. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.” You proceed to tell her about the incident and what happened and she gives the same insight. “He’s blunt. He’s not gonna act like that just because. In fact, I’m surprised he even agreed to being your accompanist in the first place. But there’s a first for everything, so I say you should just go for it.” With that, your conversation with Cadence ends. You let out a loud exhale as you let yourself fall onto your bed. You truly didn’t know what to do. 

—

You decided the best way to deal with this was to distance yourself from him. Cadence was right, you needed to be able to weigh both the pros and cons before confessing. You needed to clear your head, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to do that if you kept talking to him. Your walk to class felt lonely without him and you felt your heart ache when you passed him in the hallway. He tried to wave to you, but you flat-out ignored him. After English, you made sure to take a different route to your shared math class. This routine continued until solo ensemble night. 

—

When the night came, you paced anxiously backstage. You were ready to get this over with and be free from your thoughts of Aaron. However, he didn’t make it easy. You were busy watching someone’s performance on stage and didn’t notice him walking over and standing next to you. Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. “You know, you shouldn’t be doing that. It messes with your voice,” you say, not realizing who you were speaking to.

“But I’m not singing,” he says. You turn and finally notice who’s next to you. 

“Aaron?” You ask, mouth open in shock. You didn’t think he’d willingly talk to you after you tried distancing yourself from him. 

“Did I do something to you? Did I cross a line during that one rehearsal? If I did something, please tell me. I can’t have you ignoring me like this, especially not when I feel- nevermind,” he murmurs, all of it coming out at once.

“You didn’t do anything. It was just me being stupid,” you mutter, rubbing your temples in embarrassment.

“Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t stupid. I’m sure you had a good reason,” he says, trying to get through to you. You shake your head, but you can’t. He takes your face in his hands and looks you in the eye. 

“It was stupid. It was so so stupid. I thought that distancing myself from you would help me figure out whether or not I should confess to you and it didn’t work at all and now I’m just left with all these feelings for you and I don’t know what to do,” you blurt out, immediately covering your mouth. You’re shocked that all these words exit your mouth, especially since you were so terrified of confessing to him in the first place. Aaron lets out a deep breath and hugs you tightly. 

“You know, you could’ve just told me. I don’t just act this way with anyone. I really do care for you. I have feelings for you as well,” he whispers into your ear. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, pulling away from the hug. You nod and wrap your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist. The two of you pull away from each other just before you’re called to the stage. “Good luck out there. Not that you’ll need it,” he says, smirking at you. He pats your head and quickly fixes your hair before the two of you walk out. 

“I could say the same to you,” you whisper to him in the wings. He smiles at you and then takes his seat on the piano bench and you take yours by the microphone. The performance goes well.

—

The two of you have a fit of laughter as you both make your way to the parking lot. “I hate these heels,” you say, giggling as you take them off and go barefoot on the concrete. You let out a shriek when Aaron picks you up.

“What? You said you hate your heels, so I just gave you a solution. I can’t have my pretty little girlfriend walking barefoot in the school parking lot. Who knows what you’ll get from walking here?” He jokes, and you let more giggles escape. 

“So that’s what I am, huh? Your girlfriend? And you think I’m pretty?” You ask, laughing as he pretends to think. 

“Mhm, and I think you’re very pretty,” he says, chuckling at you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and pecks you on the forehead, causing you to fake swoon. 

“You are the absolute worst, you know that right?” You say, mimicking his words from a while ago.

“You love me for it though,” he says, smiling at you. He puts you down when the two of you reach his car, only to open the door for you and let you in. “Where do you wanna eat?” You shrug and tell him that it didn’t matter and that he could just go through any drive-thru. After getting some fast food, the two of you headed to his house. The drive was shrouded in comfortable silence since both of you guys decided to eat in the parking lot and then drive home. The two of you agreed on having a sleepover after solo ensemble night beforehand so you two could talk about it afterwards and get food together.

Once the two of you got to his house and went through your nighttime routines, the two of you sat on his bed. “So are you sure about the whole having feelings for me too thing or…” You ask, trying to break the silence. He playfully rolls his eyes at you. “No, I just invited you to my house to spend the night because I actually hate you and want to punt you out the window while you sleep,” he says sarcastically. You laugh at his joke and embrace him. “But seriously, I do care for you. In fact, I have something to show for it.” He gets up from his spot on the bed and you follow as well, just now noticing his too short Star Wars pajama pants. He goes to his desk and you stand there awkwardly before he places a box in your hands. He notices you looking between him and the box.

“What is it?” You ask, examining the outside of the box. It was just a plain, small, shipping box - the kind you’d use for jewelry.

“Just open it,” he says, grinning and giving you his hand. You take it and let him lead you back to your spots on the bed. You open the box and find it filled with small strips of paper stapled to a larger piece. 

“What is this?” You ask, smiling as you read the paper. You feel your face heat up and you feel flustered when you read the bottom panel of the box. It read: ‘songs that remind me of you and why”. “Shut up,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand. “You did not.”

“I did,” he says, laughing at your reaction. “Go through the songs.” You do, and you notice that they’re all songs that would play during the time the two of you spent together. From discussions about Laufey to trying to get him to scream Taylor swift to arguing about composers, they were all there. You gently shut the box and wrap him in the tightest hug that you could. You quickly break away to give him a peck on the lips, and he decides to deepen it. You finally pull away from him, slightly out of breath and trying to get air back into your lungs.

“When did you make this?” You ask him. 

“Around when you were keeping your distance. We had this poetry assignment and I was inspired by it,” he says. “I wanted to preserve all our memories together. After all, I know that music means just as much to you as it does to me and I wanted something that would remind me of that.” You nod at his words. 

“I’m glad we’re able to share that then,” you murmur. You wish that you were able to hear the rest of his words, but sleep was catching up to you and you quickly knocked out. He didn’t mind though. The two of you had so much more time to discuss these things in the future.

[genork-the-fandork]

I did a second part! And it features Aaron :3

[journullism]

🙏 secretly, we all want it

is it bad I want an Aaron route? 👀😬🫣

[loisfreakinglane]

Lee Pace and Tracie Thoms in WONDERFALLS // 1.09 "Safety Canary"

[uncertaininnit]

you ever think about how Aaron wouldn’t remember Charlie

[bugwolfsstuff]

Connor: *singing A Winter's Ball* Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after him

Connor: That's tr—

5 yr old Eliza Stoll-Pace: *in the same tone as the song* That's not true!

Malcolm (Hamilton's biggest hater and a stickler for accuracy): *snort*....

Connor (Hamilton's biggest fan): *stares at Malcolm*.....

[strangerathecinema]

can we talk about sawyer and claire in "something nice back home"?

i've been dying to talk about sawyer and claire in "something nice back home".

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey, my requests are open

I decided I would also like to write for other fandoms outside of f1.

I’m thinking about:

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Emily prentiss

Game of thrones

Little finger

Tywin Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Sansa stark

John snow

Star trek

Leonard McCoy

Spock

Christopher pike

Harry potter

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lord of the rings

King Thranduil

NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Sherlock

Mycroft homes

The walking dead

Negan

Celebrities

Alan Rickman

Lee Pace

Pedro pascal

Zak Bagans

Let me know if you want other fandom or characters I’m open for everything.

Drop a request.

I would be happy to write it

[aaronpaceluvbot]

the bcb boys as your bus buddy!

before you read: not proofread, reader is not cadence, gender neutral reader, when reading this - the boy in question probably already has a thing for you, i doubt they'd act this way if they didn’t , SOME CAN BE READ PLATONICALLY (i wrote garth as a platonic thing), the boys are listed in alphabetical order!! 

included: aaron + all the boys with routes

wc: 150-300  ish for each boy (except aaron his is 442 to be exact) (you can tell when i start losing steam,  i wrote this in order…) 

summary: your friend decided to sit with her boyfriend! so you’re left to sit with someone else… your options are limited (it’s not like you have like 8 boys who’d gladly kick someone out of their seat to sit with you…) and you decide to sit with…

AARON - 

You gather your things (and your bundle of nerves) as you walk up to Aaron’s seat. No one’s sitting next to him. Perfect. He looks up at you as you stand at the edge of his seat. “Can I sit with you?” You ask sheepishly, waiting to be hit with a cold, hard no. To your surprise, he nods and moves his belongings. You give him a quiet thanks that he reciprocates just as quietly. 

By the time he talks to you, the bus has already started moving. “Were you scared of sitting alone?” He asks, a sly smile on his face. You thought he wouldn’t say anything snarky… You decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah… that sort of thing. You know, I just can’t handle being alone,” you say, looking at him and batting your lashes with a fake pout on your face. You tried your best to conceal the fact that he made you flustered. He rolls his eyes and a small chuckle escapes him as he revels in your antics. 

“Sure you can’t… So you just had to sit with me?” He asks and scoots closer to you. Goddamn you Aaron Pace. You immediately feel your face heat up as he does that. He notices your reaction and his smirk becomes even more prominent. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He questions, looking you straight in the eye. You shake your head, knowing that you’d embarrassingly sputter out an answer if you were to actually speak. “Words please,” he says, egging you on. 

“Fine. Nothing. I just sat here because there was no one else to sit with. There, happy?” You say, making sure to give him the dirtiest of looks. 

“Very,” he says, chuckling afterwards. “After all, with you around, I guess I can’t handle being alone as well.” You laugh at his comment and let him wrap his arm around you and you rest your head on his shoulder. Shortly after, you fell asleep to the sound of him humming along to the songs he was listening to through his headphones. After not noticing much movement from you other than your breathing, he tries his best to look at you without jolting you. After figuring out that he couldn’t do that, he opens his camera on his phone and takes a look. When he realizes that you’re asleep, he takes a picture of the two of you to tease you with later (and to admire but no one had to know that) and quickly falls asleep himself. There are now multiple blackmail photos of the two of you sleeping circulating the band. 

-

CLARK - 

You internally panic as you realize that one of the only truly viable options left as a bus buddy is Clark. You had nothing against him, in fact you had a huge crush on him. However, you preferred to like him from afar and try to completely eliminate the risk of him hating you. How can someone hate a person they don’t know? 

After realizing that you either had to sit next to Drum or Drummer (you never could tell them apart) or Clark, you picked the obvious option. “Clark, do you mind if I sit with you?” You ask, trying to be as polite as possible so he wouldn’t decline and then subject you to the torture of sitting next to one of Them for a few hours. 

“Not at all,” he says, moving his clarinet case with ease. You never noticed how nice it was despite knowing that he’s had it for a while. You want to comment on it, but you decide against it due to the fact that you thought it would sound weird and bring you to the top of Clark’s hate list. However, he noticed that you were staring at it. “Is there something wrong with my clarinet case?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You immediately shake your head.

“No, no! I was just shocked at how nice it was, especially since I’ve only really seen the school’s clarinet cases,” you say, embarrassed that you got caught staring. He lets out a laugh. That’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh!

“Well, I’m glad that you know how to appreciate true beauty when you see it. If you’d like, I could tell you more about the clarinet inside.” You instantly nod and bask in his presence. His passion shone through his description and knowledge of his clarinet and when he told you the story of how he obtained it, you couldn’t help but want to congratulate him on how far he was able to come. 

-

DOUG - 

You made a beeline to Doug’s seat after hearing the information. He wouldn’t say no to you, right? You stand at the edge of his seat and ask the question - “Can I sit with you?” He nods, but doesn’t move his stuff. You’re confused. Scratch that, you’re both confused. He’s confused as to why you’re not sitting down and you’re confused as to why he hasn’t moved his stuff. To break the awkward silence, you gently and quickly tell him to move his stuff so you could sit. 

He hits you with the age old “Ohhh”. You both laugh as you take the spot next to him. You’ve had a crush on him for the longest time and you knew this was the perfect opportunity to talk to him, but you didn’t know what to talk about. Luckily, Doug had that covered. Well, mostly. He began talking, but you could tell it wasn’t to you. It seemed as though he was talking to himself, but he kept pausing as if he was giving someone else time to respond. You shrug and let him do his thing until he asks you something. “Why’d you want to be bus buddies with me? Everyone else says that I talk too much during the trip which makes it harder for them to sleep,” he says, waiting for your response.

Now’s your moment! You decide to be honest with Doug, after all, he’s not gonna tear you apart if you’re honest. “I wanted to sit with you because you’re fun to be around! You’re hilarious and so kind,” you say, giving him a smile. He beams back at you. 

“Wow, really?” He says in surprise, and you nod. “I didn’t know that fun could be around you! I can’t believe I can make that happen. That has to be some kind of superpower!” You laugh and shake your head.

“No Doug, I mean that you make things fun and that makes people want to hang out with you.” He lets out another “Ohhh” and nods in understanding. He then wraps you in a bone crushing hug and you have a hard time breathing. “Doug… I can’t breathe…” you say. “Oh!” He says, loosening his grip on you. 

-

GARTH - 

After noticing your conundrum, Garth flags you over. You wander over to his seat with a confused look on your face. “Did I do something?” You ask him, tilting your head. He shakes his head and smiles at you.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to invite you to sit with me,” he says, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. He already cleared his stuff from it!

“Oh! Alrighty then!” You say, grinning as you sit next to him. This is the moment that you realize just how skilled Garth is at talking to people. While he did open with some pleasant small talk about the weather and the weekend, the two of you eventually got to the point where you were both discussing some deep secrets and gossip. The bus ride ended sooner than the both of you would’ve liked, but you both agree to text each other more when similar issues arise. 

-

PETER - 

He can’t be that bad, right? You ask yourself as you make the trek to his seat. Surprisingly, the seat next to him isn’t claimed already. He notices you standing by his seat, clearly debating on whether or not you were going to ask. “You can sit with me, you know. I wouldn’t mind,” he says, smirking as he patted the spot next to him. You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms, despite the fact that he immediately knew what you were going to ask. 

“I wasn’t even going to ask that!” You say, sighing at his attempt to be smooth. “But you were!” He says, giving you a look.

“Was not!” You say, still standing in the aisle. The bus driver makes an announcement telling you to sit down so he could start driving. You sigh and finally take the spot next to Peter and he looks at you with a victorious smirk. “You are the absolute worst,” you mutter as you give him the dirtiest look you can muster.

“It’s not my fault that you just wanted to sit with me that badly! I knew my charm would get to you eventually,” he says, smirking. Once again, you roll your eyes at him and this time he notices. “Careful, we don’t want you getting your eyes stuck there!”

“What if I do? Maybe then I wouldn’t be able to see your horrible face,” you say, giving him a look. Sometimes you questioned why you liked him. This was definitely one of those times.

After his horrendous attempt to try and fluster you, he was actually quite pleasant to talk to. The two of you thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the trip as you both talked about both the most mundane things and the most serious things. 

-

POPTART - 

It was as if a lightbulb shone brightly over your head as you got the idea. SItting next to Poptart would be a great idea! You had the biggest crush on the boy and you thought that sitting next to him would be able to help you talk to him. You went to his seat and asked “Can I sit here?’”. He turns his head to look at you, but he doesn’t respond. You stare at him and he stares right back at you. After a painful 2 minute long staring contest, he blinks and then nods. You mumble a quick thanks and take the spot next to him. 

“Normally people would leave once I started staring at them, but you didn’t! That means you really must’ve wanted to sit with me!” He says, grinning. You laugh awkwardly at his comment. “Don’t worry, that was meant to be weird!” He says, bringing a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. This time, you just laugh at his antics.

“How do you come up with this stuff?” You ask, smiling at him. He shrugs.

“I just do.” You leave it at that. The two of you enjoy the bus ride home and you feel glad that you were able to get closer to him. 

-

SAMUEL - 

You decided that Samuel would be the best option considering that one - he’d probably let you sit with him and two - the two of you would most likely be minding your own business. You wander over to his seat and ask him the age old question, but he seemed to have his earbuds in. After noticing your presence, he takes out an earbud and asks you to repeat your question. You do, and he murmurs what seems to be a yes. You take it as a yes due to the sole fact that he nodded while saying so, and you take the spot next to him. 

The ride was peaceful and silent between the two of you for the most part. That was until he offered you an earbud. You graciously took it and listened to his music that mostly consisted of jazz and other relaxing instrumentals. You quickly fell asleep on his shoulder and he didn’t even want to try and move you. Instead, he placed his head on top of yours and decided to fall asleep as well.

-

TOM - 

You make the easy choice of sitting with Tom! After all, he’d be easy to talk to plus he was hilarious. You toddle over to his seat and see that no one was sitting next to him. Perfect! He notices you standing and gives you a smile. “So what brings you here?” He asks you.

“Just wanted to ask if there were any free seats around here…” You say, pausing for dramatic effect. You point out the spot next to his. “Looks like there’s one right here! Mind if I take it?”

“Not at all!” You both laugh as you take a seat. You both excitedly chatted about band and other topics, however it was a later trip back to school and you checked your phone. It was about 11pm. It wasn’t terribly late, however you were extremely tired from earlier in the day and you felt like you were about to crash. However, you just couldn’t fall asleep. You felt your head hit Tom’s shoulder and you felt your lips open and make sounds that you could only assume were words, but you weren’t registering exactly what it was that you were saying.

But Tom was wide awake through this whole thing, especially since he was extremely used to staying up late and binging video games. He let you rest your head on your shoulder and only assumed that it was because the bus took a sharp turn, but then you started mumbling things. He asked you what you were saying, but you kept mumbling. He listened closely to your words and realized what you were saying. You were confessing your feelings for him. He grinned as he realized that you reciprocated them and decided that this could be dealt with tomorrow when you were both wide awake and ready to talk about it. For now, he would just let you be and rest his head atop yours. 

[journullism]

🙏🙏 GODBLESS AARON, THE MAN EVER

Because I can. :)

[stewartbyassayas]

every episode of lost (1.21 the greater good)

You asked if you could do anything for me. Anything. John Locke killed my brother. Will you do something about that?

[ivebeendressingforrevenge]

[stargiirl27]

lost characters as tiktoks (also on my youtube)

[clowningaroundmars]

previously:

Here, the Doctor leaps over to the side, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw and swinging 42’s still unconscious body into the air… letting him tumble over the ledge.

"Catch!" He announces brazenly.

42 falls down, down, down.

Gwen watches in horror.

here we are you guys!!! the final chapter! are you guys ready? :)

don't worry, i won't play with your guys' hearts for too long! well. i mean

oh yeah, and remember that death tw on chapter 1? well yeah. no gory details ofc but just mind the warning

anyways, enjoy! :D it's the final stretch

<< part 4 of 4

Doc Ock cackles gleefully as he watches 42’s body tumble into the air and down onto the concrete parking lot several stories below.

With one last burst of rage-filled strength, Gwen football-tackles him over the ledge while his guard is down, sending all three of them sailing through the cool night air.

Doc Ock clearly doesn’t expect this, if his screaming was anything to go by.

But Gwen wasn’t concerned at all with his idiotic cries, she was a woman on a mission and by god if she wasn’t going to complete it!

If she failed two of her friends and directly lead to both of their demises, then what the hell was she wearing the mask for?

No, this ends now.

She quickly grabs Doc Ock by the back of his neck and grips onto another one of his tentacles as they fall through the air, ripping it straight out of the node on his spinal cord with all of her might.

“N-no-- don’t!! AAAAAAAAAUGHH!!”

The Doctor’s soul-wrenching yowl of pain might’ve made Gwen feel a little bad… under normal circumstances. But at the moment, her every bit of focus was pointed towards Miles-42 like a compass pointing True North, and she wasn’t letting him out of her sight now.

Making split-second calculations, she kicked the Doctor’s body off of her and used the tentacle’s technological properties as a last-ditch effort to hook herself onto a nearby streetlamp, swinging her entire body’s weight with a loud grunt of effort.

She intercepted Miles’ flailing body in mid-air and succeeded in grabbing a hold of him, swinging down onto the ground safely and falling onto the concrete. She crashed onto her knees and rolled over a few times, clutching 42's head protectively all the way down.

The Doctor… didn’t make it.

With a sickening crunch and splatter, he was a disgusting mess of red, wet garbage on the concrete. His tentacles weren't long enough to reach back up to ledge of the building and his slower reflexes caused him to miss the streetlamp entirely.

His remaining tentacles laid next to him just as limp and as dead as he was.

Well, shit. That was gonna be a nasty surprise for the paramedics to find later on, huh.

Gwen sighed with relief as she laid her head back down and took a minute to catch her breath.

What a day. She wanted this to be completely over now, but… she knew that despite this small moment of relief, she wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. Literally.

But also…

“Miles,” she grunts with effort, every muscle in her body crying out as she pushes herself off of her elbows to sit up.

Miles-42 is laid across her lap now and showing zero signs of waking up anytime soon. Gwen’s heart started kicking into overdrive again, and she held him in her hands…

Just like you held Peter… after killing him, an evil little voice sneered at her from the back of her mind.

“Peter? Peter, oh god. What did you do?!” Gwen sobbed, excavating her beloved friend from the rubble of her school’s gymnasium.

He wasn’t gonna make it… oh god, he really wasn’t going to make it. The poor boy could barely open his eyes, and his bloody, beaten face was something that was going to haunt her in her nightmares forever.

It was etched into the back of her mind, the back of her damn eyelids, especially when to her delight-- or horror, it was hard to tell in the moment-- he managed to crack open his swollen eyes and look directly into hers.

“Gw-- Gwen…” he coughed, weakly.

Gwen continued to cry. “No no no no no, no, no! What did you do!? Why?!” She pleaded, wanting any answer, anything to hold onto.

“I… I wanted to be special. Like you,” he managed, even weaker than before.

Gwen knew it. She could feel the thready pulse of his heartbeat growing weaker and weaker with every passing second, and time was running out.

But she still held on.

“… Peter?” She sucked in a breath.

“Peter?”

“Peter?!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Miles?!”

Gwen sobbed once more, clutching yet another beloved friend in her arms, in a position eerily similar to that fateful night. “Miles!”

All of the feelings she felt the night that her best friend had died came crashing back down and flooding into her chest like a tsunami.

She sniffled angrily, ripping her mask off of her face and working to pry Miles’ mask off of his own face, too.

... Damn it! What the hell was this stupid thing made out of?!

She didn’t want to break his tech, as complicated and extremely well-made as it was. She knew it was valuable and expensive to make, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She needed to see if he was still possibly alive, if he could give her a sign or something, and she wasn’t going to be able to do it with this stupid mask in the way!

She didn’t trust her shaking hands to be able to read his pulse in this state… she needed to see his face.

After a couple of minutes of careful jabbing and prying, Gwen was finally frustrated enough to just slide Miles right off of her lap and pry the whole thing off of his face with one firm pull.

She managed to do so without injuring him even more, and immediately got to checking the color of his lips in the low lighting of the near-empty parking lot. She fussed over him, sniffling and wiping her tears all the while.

It seemed like his bleeding stopped for now at least, but that was without even knowing how much he had lost in the first place.

“Miles… Miles?! Please,” she begged as she held him in her arms once more. “Answer me, please! Let me know you’re still alive, anything! Wiggle your eyebrows or…” she sniffled, “I… I don’t know but god, please, anything!”

What the hell did Doc Ock even do to this kid anyways?

She examined his face once more through the tears in her eyes and noticed a new injury that looked relatively fresh, still bleeding somewhere from his temple.

Maybe he knocked Miles out for a longer time in his mad dash to the roof… and if that was true… he really, really could be dead.

Miles-42 wasn’t a superpowered being like the rest of the Spider Band, he was a regular kid with cool gadgets and intense at-home training, but a regular kid nonetheless. Gwen could recover from a hard head injury herself just fine, all she would have to do is just sleep the pain off.

But Miles…

Miserably, Gwen sunk down even lower to the ground and sobbed her eyes out, tears wetting her face and staining the spray-painted Prowler logo on Miles’ shirt.

She stays like this, clutching onto the limp body of someone she would’ve been happy to call her friend-- especially after all they’ve been through today-- and now he won’t even live to see the fruits of his labor.

Fuck.

Gwen’s wandering thoughts takes her over to his uncle Aaron’s face, how he was going to react to the news of his nephew’s untimely and unfortunate death.

Gwen thought about Rio and… well, she cried even harder.

But she didn’t get to finish because… Miles then stirred a bit, his breathing speeding up a bit before he laid his head back and sighed softly.

Gwen stopped crying. She was shocked, staring back into his blank face with wide, teary eyes.

… Was it her imagination, then? Did she want Miles to be alive so badly that she convinced herself that he moved a bit while she wept?

No. No, she’s got to suck it up, stop letting her emotions get the best of her and give it a real try this time.

Steadying her breathing and wiping the snot from her nose, she brushes her hair back from her face and turns Miles’ face towards a nearby streetlamp that casts down a cold, white light onto the scene.

With gentle fingers, she lifts up one of his eyelids, then his other eyelid, and then finally bends down to listen to his chest as closely as she can.

She hears a heartbeat, though not so loudly underneath all of the gear he wears, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

Miles really stirs this time, groaning and sucking in a breath as he slowly comes back online.

Gwen laughs wetly, wiping more of her tears and boogers and sadness away, only tears of joy left brimming in her eyes.

“Miles! Oh my god, you’re alive… you’re alive! You made it!” She announces gleefully, giving him a happy little squeeze.

“Ow,” Miles answers hoarsely, squinting in the harsh, cold light of the streetlamp overhead and coughing a bit.

“S-sorry, sorry. I’m just. Well, y’know pretty excited that you’re alive. I thought that you were actually dead for a minute there, bud! You really gave me a scare!” She laughs and sniffles.

Miles finally cracks an eye open long enough to exhale a bit and lay his head back down.

“Uhhh… who are you again?” He mumbles, and Gwen’s heart sinks.

Oh no.

“What? Uh, i-it’s me, Gwen! Y’know, the girl who you’ve been fighting to escape this horrible building with this whole night? Oh no… is your head injury that bad?” She frets.

Miles then cracks a smile, not quite being able to laugh but getting pretty damn close to doing so.

“Gwendy, relax. I know who you are. Joke,” he explained, and it earned him another head bump from being promptly dropped right back onto the hard ground.

“Ow,” he complained.

“You are a dick,” Gwen replied, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t stop smiling through her tears, though.

“Were you crying over me? Oh my god, you were totally crying,” Miles says with a smile, not making any movements to get up at all.

Gwen unfolds her aching legs from underneath her and stands up on her knees. “Shut up. Stop talking. You’ve sustained a critical brain injury and you need to not make stupid decisions before we get you out of here, alright?”

Miles chuckles quietly. “Mmnyeah, true. Lemme keep my mouth shut.”

He wasn’t slurring his speech or confusing her for another person, so that was a good sign.

He wasn’t moving any of his limbs, though. So… that was possibly a bad sign.

“Can you, uh,” Gwen starts, glancing all around her as she fully stands up, “can you walk? Or sit up? I can carry you, but I need to know that you’re not paralyzed from the neck down first. I don’t wanna risk any more injuries, y’know?”

Miles wiggles his feet and flexes his hands inside of his gauntlets for a bit before laying back down and sighing again.

“Yeah, I can move my limbs. I don’t think anything’s broken… except for this massive fuckin’ migraine I got goin’ on right now. Just, uhm. Just gimme a minute.”

Gwen continues looking over her shoulder. The blades of a chopper are vibrating through the air several miles away but it’s gaining speed quickly, and steadily getting closer.

“Okay, you might wanna hurry up on that, because we’ve got company coming and we still need to get the hell out of here,”

Miles blinks on the ground for a few more seconds, gears very obviously turning in his head as he does.

After a few seconds, he says, “okay. Help me up, then. Slowly,”

It takes them several more minutes of pained grunting and a slow ascent up to get Miles standing again, but once they’re both steady on their feet, they get a move on.

Gwen has one of his arms over her shoulder, steadying him and carrying some of his weight.

“Wait,” Miles says suddenly, just as they’re rounding a corner of the building where several guards and scientists are still milling around. There are a few big white buses parked close by, most likely hired to transport the personnel away from the facility. Some are already sat inside.

Gwen ducks back around the corner and takes a peek at the scene before turning her attention back to her friend.

“Shit, you’re right. There’s a lot of people out there, most likely waiting for Octavius or something. We’ve gotta find a way too book it out of here undetected, though…”

“Mh, yep,” Miles grunts, sucking in air through his teeth for a second. “Ow, sorry. My head’s killin’ me… which kinda sucks, ‘cause my escape plan was to just hot-wire a car and hightail it outta here.”

Gwen laughed incredulously. “Oh my god. That was your grand escape plan this whole time?” She shakes her head. “In every single universe… Miles Morales is the exact same dork I always hate to love,”

“Psshhyeah right, hate to love. You’re not foolin’ me,” Miles smirks at her exasperated expression.

Gwen rolls her eyes and instructs Miles to lean against the wall and stay put while she goes to search for a viable vehicle they could steal.

“Cool. Good luck. I definitely won’t die,” Miles informs her, which just makes her roll her eyes again before bounding away.

Time for some espionage, Gwen thinks to herself as she skirts the outer edges of the parking lot and tries to avoid being seen by the several other armed personnel still waiting around to receive confirmation that they can now depart.

After a little bit, a few ambulance trucks pull up with flashing red lights and the paramedics jump out, which actually gives her some relief. The professionals were on the job now, everything was taken care of; they also served as a perfect distraction from what she was doing…

Which was looping around the entire building’s perimeter and seeing which car was left unattended and unlocked.

She really didn’t want to have to break any windows, especially because she needed to keep as quiet as possible since she still needed to go back and fetch Miles… but if all options were exhausted…

Bingo!

She eventually came across a parked Ford F-250 near a line of trees located just behind all of the ambulances and the commotion. It was unlocked (haha, sucker!) and was perfectly empty, ready for the taking.

Gwen couldn’t believe that despite failure after failure plaguing her on this day, her luck finally turned around at the last minute… what a relief!

Overhead, the chopper finally reached its destination, drowning out every sound around them with its spinning blades as it slowly lowered itself down onto the helipad located at the top of the building. Leaves were whipped violently into the air, trees swayed and shook with the force of the winds.

Gwen rejoiced again at the added distraction that would surely help with her sweet escape.

The helicopter crew wouldn't find much waiting for them up there, save for the unconscious bodies of several brutally-beaten henchmen, of course.

She fetched her friend who was now sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin against the wall, and together they limped their way back to the truck and climbed in.

Once inside, they successfully hot-wired it using Miles’ gadgets. Then Miles went to climb out of the driver’s seat.

“Uhh wait, huh. Where’re you going?” Gwen asks from the passenger seat.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? You’re driving. Hop in.” Miles groans as he lowers himself from the high-as-hell cab, clutching at his side.

Gwen titters nervously. “Ohhh, no, no I’m not! I don’t even have my license yet, I can’t drive!”

Miles takes his sweet time painstakingly climbing into the back seat of the truck. He shirks his pack off, throws it onto the floor of the cab, and stretches himself out over the seats to lay down.

“Yep, I don’t have my license either, girl, you don’t see me chickening out when I’m picked to be the getaway driver!” He remarks, once comfortable.

Gwen huffs in annoyance, leaping over to the driver’s side and locking all of the doors once she makes sure they’re shut tight.

“Dude, forreal! I have no clue how to operate a truck like this! The gear shift isn’t even in the right place,” she complains.

Miles cracks one eye open. “Please tell me your dimension doesn’t have y’all driving on the left side of the road…”

Gwen huffs again. “No, I'm not British, Miles. I meant… this looks pretty high-tech for me and… what do all of these buttons even do? …Is this a touch screen?”

“Gwen, seriously, I get that this is a brand new experience for you but listen: there are like, no laws in this dimension. Literally not even kidding. Just pull up the GPS on that touch screen, punch in my address and we can get going. Left pedal’s gas, right pedal’s the brakes.”

She hesitated, but... there was no arguing with that! Who was Gwen to make decisions in a dimension she wasn’t even a part of, really? If Miles told her that his dimension ignored all traffic laws, well… then, when in Rome, right?

And besides, who else was getting them both to safety if not her? She needed to suck it up before they were noticed by any personnel sweeping the area, or before any cops showed up.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

“Well,” Gwen said nervously, both hands on the wheel and her eyes directly on the road in front of her, “bon voyage, then! Let’s pray I don’t get the both of us killed,”

“Vamos con dios,” Miles mumbled, an arm draped over his eyes. He quickly lost consciousness once again.

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About half an hour into their drive (which-- aside from terrible braking every now and then-- was admittedly pretty smooth, all things considered), Gwen pulls over to a greasy 24-hour fast food place that seemed to serve all of the shittiest, unhealthiest food ever invented under the sun.

She woke Miles up and asked him what his order would be, borrowed his jacket to cover up her unique costume’s design, and ducked inside.

She was surprised to see Miles up and sitting in the truck bed when she returned with their food, legs swinging like he hadn’t just gotten injured helping her fight a menacing four-armed madman not even an hour and a half ago.

He looked the worse for wear, braids frizzed out as they hung right over his shoulders like they usually did, but he was more alert now than he had been before. He looked fine, given the circumstances.

They sat side-by-side, gazing up at what scarce stars there were out in the early morning sky, the edges of the horizon peeking a slight blush of pink through the trees.

Gwen scarfed down her triple bacon burger and inhaled her large fries, only stopping every once in a while to take a sip of her extra-large milkshake.

A mildly amused Miles enjoyed his own fries and meatball sub in companionable silence.

“Feelin’ better?” Gwen asks, still munching on the last bit of her burger, which has now thoroughly stained the lap of her costume with grease.

Miles laughs, wrapping up the second half of his sandwich for later. “Yeah, a quick nap and a good meal helps a lot,”

Gwen hums in thought. “You were out for… a while. Like, back at the parking lot. I was getting real worried there, actually,” she admits.

Miles glances at her, studying her face for a second. “… How long? I mean, you were crying, so I guess it was a while,”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Can you stop bringing the crying back up again? I just… I got scared, okay? You didn’t tell me what your grand escape plan was before you… uh, passed out, so I mean...”

Miles is skeptical. “Uh huh, the escape plan. That’s what you were worried about that whole time, right?” He ribbed her a bit, intending for it to come off light-heartedly.

The tense silence that fell in that moment made him a bit nervous, though.

Gwen looked… upset.

He backpedaled. “Uhhh, I mean. Yeah, yeah, the escape plan! The escape plan... woulda been a real shame if I croaked back there before telling you what it was. Of course.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

Gwen offers him a small smile and starts clearing the wrappings and the trash around her folded legs.

“I… uh. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this before. Well, not all of the details but. I don’t really do the whole friend thing anymore because of… I mean, I lost a friend before. And you’re Miles and-- I mean, not my Miles but the other Miles is-- was my friend, and I think we’re cool now, but when I saw you falling I just…”

Gwen sighs. “Sorry. I’m rambling. This is awkward.”

Miles leans back against the side of the truck bed, positioned in the same way that they were sitting back when they were having a bit of a heart-to-heart in the vents of Octavius’ compound. Funny how little moments like this seemed so serendipitous like that.

He studied her face again in the yellowing lights of the restaurant’s signs, thinking for a bit.

“Miles… the other Miles kind of told me some stuff. Not too many details, sure, but. Yeah,” he offered, trying to signal to her that he was down for a chat, no matter how depressing the topic got.

Not very many people in his world got to understand him on a deeper level, not even his own girlfriend. It was nice sitting next to someone who dealt with just as much trauma as him, if not more. It was... an opportunity for connection. Why not take it?

Gwen looked up at him. “Oh, you two talk about me?”

“Yeah, you’re all we talk about, your highness,” he laughs, then sobers up again. “Nah. I mean, y’know like, we talk about everybody. And he likes you, you know. So, yeah... sometimes you get brought up.”

Gwen sighs, leaning her head back against the truck bed and looking up at the stars above. “He shouldn’t, honestly. I think he can find someone from his dimension that… that’s gonna actually appreciate him, you know?” She looks back down into Miles’ eyes. “Not a self-deprecating thing, by the way. Don’t worry,”

Miles holds his hands up with an easy smile. “Not worrying,”

“Well good!” Gwen smirks. Then she shrugs. "I'm not sure it'd work out between us. That's all."

“... So about that back there… I took a look in the side mirror and uh,” he gestures to his shirt, the Prowler insignia now slightly messed up and blurred in some spots thanks to Gwen’s salty tears. "Yeah."

Gwen looks away, ashamed. “Yeah,” is all she says.

“Was your friend… a good friend?” Miles prodded a bit, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Gwen saw right through it, even when she was purposefully avoiding looking at him. “Yeah. He was. My best friend,”

“Damn,” Miles replies. “I reminded you of him that much?”

Gwen laughs bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I mean… I thought of you as my friend, which… y’know, you are, until we get to go our separate ways and forget all of this even happened. And I uh… I don’t like seeing friends get hurt. That’s all.”

Miles bobbed his head slowly, digesting this bit of information and taking a sip of his own milkshake.

"He, uhm." Gwen swallowed. "He died in my arms."

It was all she could say.

Miles winced because he understood. He really, really did.

After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “Listen. I, uh. I wouldn’t mind calling you a friend after all of this, if you don’t mind. Like, even after we go home,” He strategically avoided eye contact with her. "We been through too much tonight to call each other strangers, right?"

Gwen smiled at him again. It was a sad smile. “Why don’t you have any friends, by the way? You seem cool. Well. When you’re not in work mode, that is.”

Miles chuckled. “Wow. Do I seem that lonely?”

Gwen shrugs. “The other Miles also tells me some things… sometimes. You just happen to come up every now and then, that’s all,” she manages as playfully as possible. She throws him a wink over her shoulder.

Miles' upper lip quirked up. “That little traitor. I’m giving him a wedgie the next time I see ‘im.”

Gwen barks out a laugh. “Good luck! He’s ten times stronger than you and he can go invisible,”

“Yep,” Miles nods to himself. “You definitely still have a crush on him.”

Gwen throws a fry at him and then they decide to finally dump their trash and continue their journey back into the city before the sun really started waking up and blinding poor Gwen, who was already learning how to drive on the fly and probably didn’t need the relentless sun rays beaming directly into her eyes while she was still at it.

They rode the rest of the way in much better spirits.

They drive past Newark, New Jersey and before Gwen knows it, they’re driving through Manhattan and reaching the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Okay okay, okay, okay okay okayokayokay,” she mutters to herself, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel and leaving slight indentations in the material. “I got this, I got this,”

Miles is now seated in the passenger seat, seatbelt firmly clicked in place. He’s leaned forward, ready to stop Gwen at any moment and pull the emergency brakes.

“Yeah, yeah, you got this, you got this! Don’t be intimidated by all the other cars around you, this ain’t our truck, remember? Everyone else is gonna be doing whatever the hell they wanna do, but don’t do anything stupid on the bridge, right? Otherwise, just keep your foot hovering over the brakes, like I told you before. Let this truck coast,”

Gwen tries her best to internalize all of his rapid-fire advice and not accidentally find herself flooring the gas by accident at the same time. She’s pretty sure her finger marks are going to be sunk into the polyurethane foam and possibly even the metal underneath forever.

She didn’t know who in the world owned this truck, but whoever he was, he was going to be real pissed off when he discovered it in the future.

Which, actually, speaking of…

“Sooo, how uh… where are we going to put this truck once we’re done with it? Should we… pull over soon, leave it in a parking lot somewhere and take the train the rest of the way?”

Miles chuckled. “Leave it? You kiddin’? This truck is basically brand new, pristine. We’re taking this straight to my uncle’s chop shop, we’re gonna take this stuff apart, sell a part here and there, keep the rest for our own gear.”

Gwen gave him a cursory glance. “Uh, your uncle has an auto shop? Huh. Dunno why that surprises me.”

“It’s not a legit business, that’s why. He only runs it as a front. We use it mostly to bring in abandoned cars, use the metals, wires and glass for our gear, other weapons we make to sell. Sometimes Aaron fixes other people’s cars and bikes for some money, though… and bribes.”

Gwen chuckles a bit. “Sounds about right. But I guess I don’t blame you guys. Gotta do what you can to… survive… right?”

She trails off as they get closer to Brooklyn's residential areas and see a rampant spike in crimes. Gwen’s Spider Sense goes off as she sees crime after crime being committed in the brand new hours of the dawn, when the sky hasn’t even finished lightening up to a nice baby blue yet.

“… I see that you guys, uhm… these New Yorkers here in this dimension are a… lively bunch, huh?” Gwen comments distractedly as she drives past someone actively committing grand theft auto.

“Yyyyep,” Miles sighs. “Home, sweet home.”

“You ever wonder what it’s like to live anywhere else in the world sometimes?”

“Only everyday. But us Morales never run from anything. So,” Miles shrugs.

Gwen gives him a fond look.

"Sure do wish I could stop some of these people, though-- wait. Is that man mugging that other guy over there?" She cranes her neck over the wheel to get a better look.

Miles grabs the wheel to keep them from veering into a line of parked cars. "How about we just keep driving, okay? Eyes on the road, girl."

Gwen laughs sheepishly. "Right! Sorry. Spiderwoman instincts."

"Yeah, trust me, I get it." Miles replies flatly. "Don't get distracted. This crime's ours to fight, not yours. Just get us home, like, alive please?"

After finally rolling up to Aaron’s garage at five in the morning, bright and early, Miles lowers himself down from the cab once again and limps over to ring the doorbell.

He presses it in a series of patterns that Gwen only vaguely recognizes before the metal garage door eventually starts rumbling open, revealing a slightly disheveled Aaron still in his PJs, but with a fly coat on as per usual, and some nice-looking Timbs. He was casually leaning against a vintage Cadillac.

He held a mug of coffee in one hand that read “WORLD’S WORST UNCLE” in bold lettering on one side.

Gwen bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“About damn time,” Aaron grumbles, scratching at his beard and pushing off of the Cadillac. “What took y’all so long?”

Miles only gives him a cursory glance before going around the front of the truck to help Gwen down from the cab and dive into the backseat to retrieve his stuff.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, hello… sir. I’m Gwen!” She responds, mostly to dispel the awkwardness that hung in the air.

Aaron eyes the truck as he paces casually towards the two teens, gaze occasionally flicking down to the purple jacket that Gwen still sported... that very clearly belonged to his nephew.

"What, uh," Aaron starts, "what... happened to you two?"

"Ah, you know. High risk life-threatening mission, the usual!" Gwen quips on auto-pilot. Her mouth moves faster than her brain does sometimes.

Miles followed Aaron’s gaze and quickly stepped in front of her, holding his pack out for him to take.

“I got it,” he informed Aaron. “All of it.”

Aaron made a noise of approval, taking the pack and examining it.

It still had a few cobwebs dangling off of it. He hummed in thought, eyeing his nephew once more.

“Sooo, we’re gonna go upstairs now, cool? I gotta clean this super awful and deep wound I got from… uh, saving Gwen here. Yeah, she was gonna be sushi if I didn’t jump in front of her. It was Doc Ock, by the way,” Miles continued, as they both made their way into the garage and towards the door in the back. “Doc Ock, that we killed, too. By the way. Mostly me, of course. But, y’know. No need to thank me or anything!”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. "I'm tellin' Rio, kid. I am! I'm snitchin', I don't care."

"What!" Miles exclaims indignantly. "About what?!"

Aaron's shoulders are shaking. "I'm tellin' her you got another girl around now,"

Gwen laughed loudly, grabbing Miles by the back of his shirt and yanking him towards the back exit door.

“I do not! Do not call her! Bye!” Miles called out before stumbling into the landing that lead up to the elevator of his uncle’s building.

Miles apologized about his uncle in the elevator ride up, and when he opened the door to Aaron's spacious apartment, he kicked his shoes off and sighed with relief.

“Make yourself at home, by the way… mi casa es su casa, and all that,” he says nonchalantly as he peels his shirt off of his body, shedding gear on the floor all the way to the couch.

Gwen only stands by the door, jacket in hand, fiddling nervously with the material.

“I should… I should go.” She finally says after a moment of hesitation. Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. “I shouldn’t stick around if I really don’t need to--”

“Why, ‘cause of Spider Society rules?” Miles scoffs, pulling a first aid kit from under the couch and inspecting his wound. “Am I still bleeding on the side of my face, by the way?”

Gwen sighs. “No. And, no. You’ve stopped bleeding a while ago. Look…” she dumps his jacket onto the back of a computer chair and looks down at her watch. “This little adventure was very fun and all… but you got hurt because of me, and I should--”

She stops when she sees Miles’ wound. It looked nothing like she’d ever seen before on a person... and she’s seen her fair share of wounds.

The gaping… thing that Miles was inflicted with didn’t look like any wound she’d even experienced before.

It was green, still had a slight glow to it from the weird snake-like marks winding out from the center. The dried blood scabbing over didn’t bother her at all, she knew how ugly a stab wound could look most days, but the green glow…

It looked a lot like the glowing green circuits back in that power box that she destroyed at Octavius’ compound…

She gasped.

Miles looked up from his inspection and they locked eyes.

“Uhhh,” his pupils bounce around for a bit, trying to think of something to say. “It’s… it’s not as bad as it looks?”

Gwen winces and then swiftly turns around, immediately punching in her own dimension into the watchface. “I’d love to stick around… but I gotta go. Don’t die on me, okay?” She tells him, speaking quickly.

Miles is caught by surprise, but eventually concedes. He places a hand over his wound and nods in her direction. “Uhm. Yeah, cool. Will do. You uh, you take it easy, too. Yeah?”

Gwen only offers him a sad smile in return and her own watercolor-bright portal is immediately opened. Then, she’s stepping through it like she’s being chased down.

After the portal closes, everything that was in the vicinity settles down after floating in the air a bit.

Miles is left alone blinking in the place it used to be, unsure as to why Gwen just dipped on him like that out of nowhere.

He looks back down to his wound, only maybe slightly infected, but still very sure that the poison most likely worked itself through his body by now. Especially after that meatball sub and the fries...

Maybe seeing poisoned wounds upset her or something, he figured, shrugging and going back into the open kit laid next to him.

He starts cleaning his wound with isopropyl alcohol, wincing every now and then when the chemical stung a little harder as he peeled away dried blood.

It isn’t until after he’s done that he remembers their conversation about her best friend, back in the truck at the fast food joint.

He shuts the kit closed, tucks it back underneath the couch, and picks his phone up off of the counter where he usually leaves it before heading out to dangerous missions.

He selects and copies Gwen’s number from the Spider Band groupchat that he never sends messages in, opens a new message box, and sends only one text.

Thanks, btw. For everything.

[felicitykings]

endless list of pairings i love  →  charlie pace + claire littleton (lost)

You know, I’m not giving up on you either, Charlie. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this together.