#i mean most people were being chill like wow what a blue spider but you know

[hollowboobtheory]

idc if you personally like spiders or reptiles but if someone posts a picture of their snake or tarantula and you reply with a picture of a gun you're a fucking asshole. that's their PET. imagine if you showed someone your cat and they yelled "KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!111!"

[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It’s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn’t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[sherrybaby14]

Blue Spiders

A/N:  This is chapter one in a series!  I think it is going to be 3 parts, but if more is requested I do have an outline where I could take it to 10.  (Updates on Thursdays)

Pairing: AU Psychiatrist Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Words:  3700

Summary:  An interview with a charming doctor leads to more

Warnings:  This chapter, mentions of violence and murder, alcohol.  I HAVE NOT WARNED FOR EVERYTHING POSSIBLE.  PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.  

   Smoothing out your blazer and squaring your shoulders you rose your fist and knocked on the door.  

   It swung open, taking your breath away at the swiftness of the response.  Your jaw dropped for a moment, but you shook the nerves away, always the professional.  He was more gorgeous in person with blond hair and blue eyes.  The All-American man.

   “Dr. Rogers?”  You asked.  

   “So I’ve been called.”  He stepped to the side.  “Please come in.”

   Your eyes went up at the expanse of his office.  It had a balcony going around the entire space, floor to ceiling in books.  The main floor was open with a huge mahogany desk behind bright windows.  There was a sitting area with two chairs, a couch, and a coffee table.  On the wall hung a giant painting.

   “Is that a Jackson Pollock?”  You were surprised to see such a chaotic artist hung in a therapist’s office.  

   “I know it’s not the traditional calming image you would expect a doctor to hang, but I find it opens people up on the subconscious and allows my patients to see the beauty in madness.”   His voice made the hairs on your body rise, so calm and collected.  

   “Are most of your patients mad?”  You looked over your shoulder to see icy blue eyes taking in your face.  

   “We’re not here to discuss my patients Miss, that is private information.”  He wagged a finger in your face before moving toward the sitting area. “I was very clear when I agreed to the interview.”  

   “Of course, Dr. Rogers.”  You followed and sat down opposite him.  “I am sure my editor went over the basics with you, but this is for a feature we do monthly on interesting people in the area.  There is nothing to worry about, it is not investigative journalism, only a puff piece for our readers looking for human interest stories.”  

   “Yes, I am still uncertain why I was selected.”  The man adjusted his tie that was tucked into a vest.  He wore those clothes well.  “I fear I am not that interesting.”

   “You were instrumental in the capture of the Canary Killer.”  You were shocked by his modesty.  “The FBI has praised your work and referred to you as an essential asset even though you are not an agent.  That alone makes you very fascinating.”

   “The Canary Killer.”  Dr. Rogers rolled his eyes.  “I am not a fan of those nicknames.  They devalue the lives of the victims, and criminals are not my expertise.”  

   “Do you mind?”  You reached into your bag and pulled out a tape recorder.  “I did not expect to start this soon.”

   “Please.”  He crossed his legs and his lips turned into a small smirk.  “And tell me, why would your readers care about a murderer in Iowa?  I am sure they are locally based.”  

   “Yes.  We are out of Washington D.C., readership largely in Maryland and Virginia.  The surrounding areas, but a killer like this facinates anyone regardless of region.”  As his smile dropped you worried you were coming off too forward.  “And, the focus of the piece is on you, not the killings.  We want to know your background, your story.  I am sure it is more exciting than you give yourself credit for.”  

   “Your dialect is strange.”  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.  “I can’t quite place where you are from.”  

   “I moved around a lot as a child.”  You looked away from his deep stare.  “Is linguistics one of your hobbies? Would you like to expand on that?”  

   “It is fascinating. Almost as if you have no accent at all.  Very unheard of.  Tell me, are you trying to disguise your voice?”  His teeth ran over his lip, sending a tremble down your spine.  

   “Doctor, I appreciate the question, but I don’t think I could afford your hourly rate.”  You weren’t used to your subjects asking you many questions.  “How about you?  Where were you born? What drew you to therapy?”  

   “Right.”  His smirk returned.  “I was born abroad.  My parents passed when I was twelve, I became responsible for my younger sister and believe it or not we snuck in illegally.”  

   The doctor’s comment on your accent threw you off, especially when he himself was born abroad but had no trace of one.  He continued on with his life story and you barely had to ask a question.  Everything about the man was fascinating.  

   “After my years in general surgery I discovered that most of my patients were more concerned with the mental effects and less with the recovery.  I enjoyed helping them with any resulting depression or anxiety and realized my love for the blade was second to my love of the mind.”  Dr. Rogers glanced toward the window.  “People are fascinating and I want to help in any way I can.”  

   “That is very noble of you.”  The jitters you had about his attractiveness were now dwarfed compared to the intensity of his wisdom and compassion.  “I know we are running low on time.  Is there any personal anecdote you want to include?  Wife or kids?  Dog?”  

   His smile brightened the room as he let out a laugh.

   “Unfortunately my dedication to my work has left no time for any personal life.”  He rose from his seat.  “Though since this is a human interest piece, I would say my main hobbies are music and cooking.”  

   “Wow. Even your hobbies are impressive.”  You followed his lead, grabbing your recorder and hitting stop.  “You don’t have any unproductive time.  Never lose yourself in a television show? Read a pulp novel?”  

   “I do not enjoy fiction much.”  He shrugged.  “What is the point when the real world is so interesting?”  

   “I never thought about it that way.”  You smiled.  “Thank you for your time.  As a courtesy I will send over the article before it is published, not for your approval of course, but your awareness.”  

   “I am sure it will be as dull as me talking about myself has been.”  He held a hand toward the door.  

   “That is a way to put it, especially since hearing you talk about yourself was the opposite of dull.”  You couldn’t find the right words to say, but that did not stop you from speaking.  “You see the world through a unique lens and have had very unique experiences.  Almost as if, as a species, we are lucky to have you.”  

   You felt like you should cringe or apologize, but something about the man made you speak your mind.  

   “And you must be very good at your job, because I felt comfortable saying that to you and I am not even a patient.”  You stopped at the door to his office.  

   The two of you faced each other, his hand went for the knob, but he paused.  

   “You are not my patient.”  Dr. Roger’s eyes glanced over your face, then stopped at your own.  The two of you stared at each other and you did not look away as a chill went down your spine, the intensity of the man.  

   He was about to speak again when a boom landed on the door.  You jumped and put your hand to your heart, your adrenaline flaring.  

   “I’m sorry Dr. Rogers.”  The door swung open and a familiar face walked in.  “But I need to see you right away.”  

   The new guest’s voice trailed off as he spotted you.  His face scrunched and a look of disgust came over.

   “What are you doing here?”  Blue eyes glared into your soul.  

   A smirk crossed your face as you folded your arms.  

   “Hello Agent Barnes, always a pleasure.”  You should have figured he was a patient.  “I am writing a human interest piece on Dr. Rogers.”  

   “You talked to her?”  James looked to the doctor.  “About me?”  

   “I didn’t mean to create more problems for you to discuss.”  You bit back the urge to fire a crack about his narcissism.  “Thank you again Doctor.  I will send you the piece in the next week or so.”  

   You held out your hand and watched as the blonde man shook it with hesitation.  

   That deep intense stare was gone.  Your heart deflated as you left the office, trying to hold your head high and shoulders square.  It felt like he was going to ask you out on a date for a moment, one you would have gladly expected.  

   The cringe you were fighting came forward as you left the swanky office building.  Agent Barnes interference or not it was a stupid fantasy.  This man was too good for you.

~~

   Steve considered his ability to read people top notch.  Even though he was the one speaking he spent the past hour studying the journalist and to say she was intriguing was an understatement.  

   In fact, he was interested enough he was on the verge of asking the woman to dinner.  

   Bucky’s apparent hatred toward the woman was not expected and Steve found himself mentally recapping the interview to see if he missed something.  

   Before he could assess the situation she stormed off.  Her quip about Bucky being a patient was ruder than he found acceptable.  

   “You gave an interview to Miranda Balfour?”  Bucky gripped his long dark hair as he walked into the office.  “What were you thinking?”

   “What?”  Steve shut the door.  “That was not her name.”

   “Of course she gave you a fake name.”  Bucky scoffed.  “I hope you are prepared to have your reputation trashed.  Did you think to, google whatever name she gave you?”  

   “I did and she checked out.”  Steve's intrigue for the woman was turning to anger.  “Now who are you claiming she is?”  

   “She is Miranda Balfour.  She runs a murder blog, always posting sensational stories.  She gave extensive coverage to the Canary Killer.”  Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Nothing better than a gossip rag.  I’m surprised you haven’t noticed her.  She’s always lurking around any local crime scene.  Trying to get pictures and interviews like she is a legitimate source.  It is disgraceful.”  

   Steve could feel his body temperature start to rise.  He thought about walking over to his desk and sweeping everything off, then taking an axe to the thing.  He imagined the wood slowly turning into the face of Miranda Balfour as she took a whack to the head, splintering as easy as a tree stump.  

   “Well if I have been duped, it is nobody’s fault but my own.”  Steve shut the door to his office.  “What brings you by so urgently Buck?”

   “The New England Butcher.”  Bucky shook his head.  “I stayed up late last night, going over every murder in the area that even remotely fit his MO.”  

   “There is one issue off the bat.”  Steve took a seat in the chair, knowing Bucky preferred to pace while he spoke.  “Lack of sleep.”

   “Six murders in three years.  Each gruesome in their own way.  The randomness of the kills, the victims.  It is like we were only able to string them together because he wanted us to.”  Bucky stopped.  “And that is what caught my attention.  What about the ones he doesn’t want us to?”

   Bucky sat down and dropped a file on the table.  Steve was annoyed at the waste of paper when an email would have sufficed, but he indulged Bucky and picked up the file.  

   The first photo was of a dismembered man found in a ditch.  Steve knew the date off the top of his head, July 2nd 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was a pig of a man.

   “That is a murder from 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was stabbed and chopped post mortem.”  James glared as Steve looked up, waiting for his punchline.  “I think he was the Butcher’s first victim.”

Steve bit back a laugh with expertise.  

“The brutality matches.  But what was missing?”  Steve was curious if the Agent was going to connect the dots.  

“Nothing.”  He sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead.  “Or something we missed.  But I have seven more bodies I believe are connected.  We know that as killers go on they get lazier, think they are unwatchable, but the Butcher, he is different.  We are not going to catch him on a technicality or sloppiness.  He is too good.”  

Steve did enjoy the flattery.  

“We have to find his first kill.  It always starts with someone they know.  Always.”  Bucky had a desperation to his voice.

“So you believe that this Blake Corenzo knew the Butcher?”  Steve watched Bucky struggle to connect the dots, not realizing he was the fish on the hook in this game he was not even aware he was playing.  “Have you told Anthony Stark?”  

“Yes.” The air deflated out of Bucky as he fell back into the couch.  “He told me mandatory session with you before I am cleared to return to work.”  

“If I check my e-mail will there be one from him?  Is that what it will say?”  Steve appreciated the protectiveness Tony had for Bucky. In a way it was as if Stark saw Barnes’ brain as a fragile asset.  One he was constantly concerned was about to break.  

“It will say I can’t go back until you clear me.”  Bucky tried to hide the humiliation.

A man in his 30s being controlled by his boss and therapist as if he were a child.  Steve recognized something in Bucky, an equality almost.  Because Tony Stark’s concern were not without merit.  James Buchanan Barnes did have a brain that could operate like no other and if anyone were to catch the Butcher Steve was certain it was the Agent in front of him.  

“You are obsessing again.”  Steve crossed his legs.  “It is not healthy.  You are getting too involved.  The Butcher hasn’t struck in three months and twice already this year.  It’s likely he will not attack for some time.  You are trying to create leads.”  

“You sound like Tony.”  Bucky scoffed and looked away.  “When I sleep,  I see their faces.”

“Whose faces?”  Steve leaned in, unsure what Bucky was going to say next.  

“The ones, the ones I didn’t save.” Tears glossed over Bucky’s eyes.  “Not the ones who have already died.  The ones who will if I don’t stop him.  Their faces are blurry but they’re pleading with me.”  

“People die every day.  You cannot carry that guilt.  It will destroy you.”  Steve reached for his rx pad.  

“I can’t help the people who die every day, but I can help these people.  If I can stop the Butcher.”  Bucky’s jaw tightened.  

“You keep saying ‘I’ when it is a team effort.  You are not a superhero.  You cannot do this alone.”  Steve wrote out a medication.  

“I have to since none of you will listen to me.  Not Tony, not you.”  Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Even Natasha told me to give it a rest.”  

“Maybe that says something.”  Steve handed Bucky the prescription.  “That will stop the dreams.  Take one before bed and get some sleep.”  

“And then what?”  Bucky looked up, lips parted.  

“And then come and see me in the morning.  Once you are rested we will have a conversation about Blake Corenzo and I will talk to Mr. Stark.”  Steve watched as relief flooded Bucky’s face.  

“Thanks.”  He looked at the prescription before shoving it in his pocket and letting out a yawn.  “And sorry, for what I said earlier about Miranda.  She won’t be able to tarnish your reputation.”  

“I am aware. The most salacious detail I gave her is already public knowledge.”  Steve rose.  “I only regret my own error in judgment.  Now get some sleep.”  

Bucky nodded as they walked to the door.  Steve kept his calm as he let the FBI Agent out.  

Then he walked back to the table and picked up the file.  He set out the photos of the four crime scenes Bucky wanted to tie to the Butcher.  

“Very clever Agent Barnes.”  All of them were done by Steve.  In a way seeing the photos was like revisiting an old friend.  

Corenzo was far from Steve’s first kill though.  He had watched the man use a racial slur and a racist imitation at a dry cleaner.  Another rude person the world did not need.  

Steve flashed back to Miranda’s comment about the human race being lucky to have him.  She was right of course, on more levels than she realized.  He was purging the world of the disgusting people who did not belong.  

After Agent Barnes’ proclamation Miranda Balfour’s name had landed on that list.

~~

Steve was a patient man.  He sometimes marked his victims for years before they met their demise.  

When he got home, to what his visitor’s refered to as architectural magic, he went straight for the kitchen.  It was on the level of any executive chef’s dream.  

He would cook tonight.  Channel his anger over the reporter, but not before adding her name to his list.

He went to the recipe drawer.  It looked more like a filing cabinet, filled with Rolodexes of index cards with carefully printed ingredients and instructions.  He had order them online since the entire world had gone digital.

On the rare occasion he had a guest they poked at his old fashioned nature.  He remembered the first time he had Bucky over for dinner.

“You live in such a modern house, and appear a very modern man, but that recipe system reminds me of my grandmother.”  Bucky laughed as he sipped his wine.

“And I bet your grandmother’s cooking was far superior to your own.”  Steve raised as eyebrow as Bucky frowned.

The memory vanished as Steve pulled out the Rolodex he wanted.  This one did not have recipes, it was for its original purpose, filled with business card collected over the years.  

He grabbed one at random.  Donna Chung.  He closed his eyes and remembered her behavior,  the way she was screaming at her child in the grocery store.  The child could have been no more than three and was crying over not being able to drop a quarter in a donation box.  

“You get nothing from that.  Here I’ll buy you a candy bar instead.”  

Steve followed her home that night.  Googled the address and the next day walked into her real estate office.  He picked up a business card and dropped her in his Rolodex.  That was almost eighteen months ago.  

She was not a candidate for a butcher murder.  Besides, the day left Steve uninspired.  But still he set her card to the side.  

He picked up an empty one and wrote the name Miranda Balfour, along with the phony one she had given him and the contact e-mail.  Then he closed up the Rolodex and put it back in its place.  

Steve poured a glass of wine and walked over to his computer.  He fired up the laptop.  

Grabbing a remote he turned on the fireplace and some music as he sat on his overly plush blue sofa.  Calm colors was what his interior designer recommended.   He was grateful for that advice.  She was someone who brought beauty to the world.  

As soon as Steve typed Miranda Balfour into the search her blog popped up first thing.  The title was “Miranda’s Macabre Museum”.  

Steve rolled his eyes as he went to the first post.  It was from two days ago.  

Murder

Victim:  Lawrence Engle

Death:  Stab wounds

Date:  April 12th, 1985

Location:  Mobile, Alabama

What followed was a summary of the facts.  Steve was expecting more of a tattle-tale type scenario.  But he did not see anything salacious.  If anything it was very matter-of-fact with little insight.  

At the end there were links to photos with appropriate warnings and links to sources.

Then there was a section titled editorial.  

“Here we go.”  Steve readied to read the sordid opinion.

The motive in this murder was money.  While the law, for the most part, disregards the motive as important to the trial my long time readers know I disagree.  Until we change as a society and value human life over finances we will be doomed to see unnecessary killings as this continue to happen.  That does not mean the killer should be pardoned for his crime because society as a whole is at fault.  On the contrary.  He is part of the problem and should be punished.  

Sentence:  Death by lethal injection.

“Interesting.”  Steve found his mind going back to his initial opinion of Miranda or whatever her name was.

He noticed a search option on her blog and typed in his name.  Several posts on Canary victims came up, but he found he was only mentioned in the source articles or the summary.  

He did the same for Agent Barnes and saw the results light up.  He scrolled the posts for the highlighted name and came across a murder from three years ago.  

Editorial:   The lead Agent on this case has shown textbook narcissism.  His attempt to relate to the killer to solve the crime failed here, because the murder was not about him, but he found a way to make it so.  The last victim’s death would have been preventable if Agent Barnes listened to anyone but himself.

“That explains Bucky’s dislike.”  Steve shut the laptop and pinched his eyes shut.

When he googled the first name, multiple stories came up that were as she said human interest pieces.  Did she lie just to get the interview?  Pose as the other woman?  

Lie.  What difference did it make?  She was a liar and had earned a spot in his Rolodex.  

This one felt personal though.  In a way Steve did not enjoy.  She made him feel...comfortable.  Or made him feel something.  The way her eyes were so inquisitive and she seemed to hang on every work with genuine interest.  When in fact he was intentionally trying to bore her.  

That would not stand.  This woman would not sit in the Rolodex for years.  Her time would be shorter.  Steve stood up from the couch and went back to the kitchen.  He picked up Donna Chung’s card and returned it with the other, instead setting the card he’d just drafted on the counter.  

He would start tomorrow.

~~

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading!  I really appreciate every like/comment/reblog!  I haven’t done a series in a long time so I am excited!  And if you didn’t figure it out this is....

Hannibal AU :). 

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 7

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 7)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The secret history of Logan and Roman begins to come to light while little pieces of Roman's world start to fall apart around him, resulting in a late night confrontation that exposes Roman's role in reuniting Virgil with his big brother.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: MORE CHAPTERS INCOMING, ‘cause this was getting super bloated. IDK, I just have a lot of feelings, and I’m rushing ‘cause I want the boys to kiss and be happy so I can start my series of smutty one-shots...I mean, what? >.> <.< XD

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1020, A.A.

“Hold on...just hold on...”

It took all his effort to stay calm, keeping the rhythm of his compressions steady the way Remus taught him. It was different, watching his twin tap-tap-tap the chest of a tiny kitten and blowing a careful stream of air into its snout—this was a boy, an entire person and his skin was pale as marble, lips tinged the blue of Father's lapis ring...

The body under his hands spasmed, a gush of water suddenly erupting from his mouth. Thinking as quickly as he could, Roman tipped the boy's head to the side so he could spit the water on the grass beside the river that ran behind the palace, and not swallow it back into his lungs—but you couldn't swallow things into your lungs, could you? Was it wrong? Was he doing this wrong?

...pulse. He should feel for a pulse, right? That's what Remus said...

Roman pressed fingers to the boy's throat, sagging when he felt the rapid flutter of a heartbeat there...at least until the boy twisted away and scrambled back, still hacking and shaking from the chill air and his sodden clothing.

Blue eyes met green, and eleven year old Prince Roman Sanders was struck breathless by the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his short life.

“Careful—it's all right, I won't hurt you.” he soothed, raising his hands and remaining on his knees. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

The other boy blinked, water dripping off clumped eyelashes like diamonds falling to roll down his wet cheeks. He had jet black hair, plastered to his head, and even with his heart beating again, his skin was still so pale. His eyes sparkled like the river water itself, clear and bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

“I...was dead.” the other boy hiccuped, bringing a hand to his chest as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I...well, yeah. I mean, your heart wasn't beating, so I used the vital breath to make it start again. My brother taught me.”

The boy blinked, his thin but well formed lips drawing into a curious pout that made him flinch, made him reach up and touch his lower lip—sporting a shallow cut that matched one on Roman's, where he'd been a little too forceful pressing his mouth to the boy's so he could force air into his lungs.

“You...you brought me back from the dead.”

Roman blinked—but when he said it like that, he supposed that he had. Wow.

“I didn't use magic.” he said instead of...literally anything else. “I swear it.”

“On the Spider's Thread?”

“What's that?”

“The bond that unites souls.” the boy explained. “It's the most sacred oath in the world, 'cause if you break it the Fates will tear you from the Living Tapestry.”

“What's the Living Tapestry?” Roman asked, shifting to edge closer to the boy.

“The world.” he replied through chattering teeth. “And all the people in it...and you stopped them. You stopped Fate.”

“But—I didn't use magic. I didn't...really stop Fate, I...I just...you were floating in the river, and—I had to try.” Roman explained, feeling strange with all this talk of bonded souls and raising the dead, and how pretty the boy was.

“Is...is that okay?”

The boy watched him with a look Roman couldn't make heads or tails of...but after a moment he nodded.

“It's okay.” he assured him, shifting onto his knees slowly.

“Good.” Roman replied, then winced a little when the clickclickclickclick of the boy's chattering teeth became audible.

“You're so cold—you'll catch your death without some dry clothes.” He looked down at himself—equally wet from diving into the river to pull the boy out. “I could bring you back to the palace to dry off and--”

“I can't go there.”

Roman flinched at the forceful way he said it, harsh and tinged with fear. He didn't need to be his brother to connect the dots.

The boy knew a lot about death magic, and he was afraid of the palace. He was Necromata...but he was small and beautiful and shivering, and he wasn't sure anyone so awestruck by the vital breath, of all things, could be as evil as he'd been raised to believe.

Could they?

Roman thought for a moment, then struggled to his feet and started pulling off his tailored white tunic, leaving him in a simple black cotton undershirt.

“What--”

“I'm going to walk you home.” Roman insisted. “You're in no shape to be by yourself—and if I'm dressed like a citizen, no one will recognize me as a prince! You'll be safe.”

The boy watched him as he finished stripping off anything that would mark him as nobility, even discarding his boots so he was walking barefoot. When he was done, the boy was still kneeling on the ground, just...staring at him.

“What?”

“You said 'citizen.' Not 'commoner.'”

Roman made a face. “I don't like the word. I don't think people are common—I like to watch the roads from my bedroom window and imagine all the stories that the people who travel them have to tell. Common people are boring, and how can anyone with so many stories be boring?”

The boy hesitated, but finally started to get to his feet.

“Thank you...apologies. I don't know which prince you are.”

“Roman. I'm Prince Roman.” he offered, extending his hand to the boy to help him up. “And I swear—by the Spider's Thread—that I will see you home safe.”

Regarding the hand thoughtfully, the boy reached up to take it.

“Salutations, Your Highness. I am Logan Crofter.”

Their fingers touched—and Roman's heart froze when the other boy screamed.

********** 1033, A.A.

“At the end of the day, Your Majesty, the truth will come out: you're not merely a pawn of the necromancer. You're in league with him—and the Sanders line will fall from power. After all, twins don't long survive the death of their other half—or so the stories say.”

The words were going to haunt Roman long past the resurrection of his father—then again, so was the broken hand that still throbbed where he'd punched the court mage in a fit of blind fury.

“Roman!”

He stopped in his tracks, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings: he was storming down the corridor that would lead to the north wing, where Patton and Logan were being kept. Head still spinning with the angry shouts and protests of both royal advisors and soldiers loyal to Colonel Mori, he'd fled the crowded throne room after breaking the mage's jaw with only the sound of his brother's cackling to comfort him.

Without his permission, his feet were trying to carry him towards the necromancer—towards Logan.

The one who was depending on him. The one who was helping him...the one...

Footsteps pounded behind him. His eternal, steady awareness of his own twin was all that kept Roman from being startled by the hand that grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Roman.”

Remus stood there in front of him, hands on his shoulders, wearing an uncharacteristically sober expression. For one moment, in his mind's eye he saw Logan and Virgil, somewhere in the palace, having a similar encounter—the image had clung to the back of his thoughts since a discreet intrusion from Remy let him know that Logan was okay, his hope for both of them a fantasy he couldn't stop himself from willing into reality.

Logan had his brother back. Virgil had his...the notion of it made Roman ache, brought him dangerously close to thinking about things he couldn't entertain. Not a hint, not even a memory.

Hold on.

Do not let go.

I never have...I never will.

Roman was clutching at Remus's hands on his shoulders before he could stop himself, staring down his twin. For a second, Remus's eyes widened and his gaze grew distant—looked at him like he wasn't there, didn't seem to see him through whatever wheels were turning in his head...

Then the wall came down, his hands slid away from Roman's...his arms opened, and Roman collapsed into them. He felt the tears fall, then stream, then shook with sobs torn from his marrow. The dangerous memories fell away, replaced instead by the chill of the king's lifeless body, the stillness in Roman's arms, the stiffness of rigor setting in as he held him close before the guards forced him back into the castle.

His father was dead.

Father was dead.

Father was dead.

In the heart of the palace, Roman came apart, and Remus gently put him back together with strong arms, soft words, and shared pain.

********** 1021, A.A.

“You're sure this is all right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I wish it.”

The pair were walking by the river, Logan's request. He wouldn't tell Roman anything more than that he had to do something as part of his training, and that he wanted Roman's help. Logan's Grandpap didn't know he was doing it, Roman lied about being sick to get out of his lessons and sneak out for the afternoon...

It was confusing as hell, and Roman would be a lot more afraid of the chances he was taking if it were anyone but Logan asking him to do this.

“But what if your Grandpap finds out about...whatever we're doing, and you get in trouble?” Roman protested.

“Then he can...”

Logan trailed off and stopped walking with a  frown before fumbling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach into his pocket for the vocabulary cards that had been a staple since Roman started teaching him outsider slang. The clumsiness came from reaching into his right pocket with his left hand—because his right hand was busy being firmly enmeshed with Roman's.

“...'deal.'” Logan finished once he'd pulled the cards out and read the top one. Glancing up to meet Roman's gaze, he offered him the small, triumphant smirk that anyone else might read as arrogant confidence. Roman knew it was all Logan allowed himself in moments of triumph—pride in the hard-won victories.

“You've been studying.” Roman observed, doing a miserable job of hiding a smile.

Logan stopped in his tracks, released Roman's hand, and shuffled through the vocabulary cards for another one, speaking as he displayed it for Roman's evaluation.

“'Duh.'”

Roman dissolved into giggling, and on impulse reached out, pulling Logan into a hug. The ten year old boy immediately tensed, breath stilling at the unexpected embrace.

Roman didn't let go, but he did loosen his arms for Logan's benefit. He waited to see if he'd bolt or...

Roman watched the vocabulary card flutter to the ground as Logan let them go, and very deliberately wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, laying his cheek against Roman's shoulder. He was still tense, but held on.

“Too much?” Roman asked softly.

“Yes.” Logan replied.

“Hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“...no. I...”

“Breathe, Logan. Remus says it's important to breathe—and important to take it slow 'cause you're touch starved.” Roman reminded him. “I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I really don't want to hurt you. I'll let go if you ask me to.”

“I know, just...”

“What is it, Logan?”

“...more.”

The way his voice fractured and his arms reflexively tightened broke something inside of Roman as he did as he was asked: held tighter, pressed his face to Logan's hair, stood still and gave hugging his best friend his whole attention.

That was the moment Logan let out a shaky sigh and sagged in Roman's arms. He didn't know what it was, but he had to be thinking about touching Logan for it to stop hurting. Sometimes it was still too warm and too overwhelming, but it didn't seem to hurt him as bad when he was just standing there, willing his whole attention into Logan.

“...it's the Warping.”

Roman frowned a little, lifting his head just enough to rest his cheek against Logan's hair instead of his whole face. “What?”

“The Warping.” Logan repeated quietly, his breath puffing warm against Roman's neck. “I must commune with the dead as part of my training. The fiber strung onto the loom for weaving is called the warp, while the fiber that is strung across this is called the weft. The Warping is preparing myself to learn how to find the Loom of Memory—a state of consciousness where I can work my power properly.”

Roman nodded against Logan's head. “What do I need to do?”

“Just be with me...technically, I am supposed to do it alone, but I researched the ritual, and it is believed that, in the Old Times, a Weaver could bring their Animata to the Warping.”

“But I'm not an Animata.”

“No, but the Animata's defining characteristic was that they were twin souls—and you are a twin. I believe your presence will be acceptable.” Logan replied. “I...am supposed to acclimate myself to the emotions of the dead. It's not really my strongest area—feelings—and...”

Logan didn't finish. Just held on, tensing a little, then relaxing—leaning into Roman's embrace.

“You're afraid.” Roman finished for him softly.

“Fear is an emotion. I feel nothing.” Logan insisted petulantly—and it was petulant with the way he huffed soft against Roman's neck. “Necromancers have no souls with which to feel.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It's true.”

Silence fell again.

“...if I had a soul, however...I would entrust it to you.”

Roman felt something in his stomach tremble at that, soft and shivery and bright.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he asked softly.

Logan didn't answer right away—as he did with things he was never terribly sure of.

“Grandpap says that the Spider's Thread is woven by Fate, not by magic.” he replied instead of a real answer.

Roman fell silent at that, just holding onto Logan and trying to ignore the way that having Logan close like this, pledging him his non-existent soul, quiet breaths on his neck and head on his shoulder made his chest warm, made his heart do pleasant, squirmy things in his chest.

“Do...you believe in Fate, Logan?” he asked softly, not sure why he suddenly felt like holding his breath. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

Like most things Logan knew—which was almost everything—he answered immediately.

“I have since I met you.”

********** 1033, A.A.

Roman couldn't sleep that night—which was a good thing, seeing as how his room was invaded at three AM.

It happened silently, but he was emotionally raw and vaguely paranoid after what had happened to his father, after the threats made against him and all he cared for by the members of his own guard, his own court—or, perhaps, he just felt Logan's magic still teeming in his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs full of air. Maybe the nearness of him set something off, magic calling to magic.

One moment, the dark was empty and gaping like the hole in his chest that lingered ever since his breakdown in the halls with Remus, and the next it opened wider before filling with a presence that teased him with both the promise of danger and comfort.

When the blade touched his throat, he already had his hand under the pillow.

“Virgil, don't.”

Roman expected Logan's voice—he did not, however, expect that Logan had company.

Snapping his fingers to call to life the luminaries in his room, Roman sat up and pulled his hand out from under his pillow, a dagger in his hand and pressed to the hollow of the cadet's throat. Virgil hissed—actually hissed out loud—and backpedaled, his own dagger dragging a thin line against the side of Roman's throat.

“OW! You venomous little shit!” he spat, touching his bleeding neck as he blinked against the onslaught of light.

His hand was jerked away, and cool fingers probed his throat with deft, clinical precision. Abruptly, his head grew foggy with something akin to sleep, but cold and light...Logan's magic working, taking control of him again.

“Relax—I'm not taking your mind, I'm healing you.”

“You're what?! Logan, you're a Weaver! You can't heal!”

Roman had to work at it a little, but his free hand lifted to rub his eyes. When he let it fall again, he had  Logan sitting on the edge of his bed, hand pressed to his chest just below his collarbone, eyes lit up with that dazzling blue-white, misty light again.

“Apparently, I can when I'm animating someone.” Logan pointed out, lifting his hand and running it along Roman's throat. The touch, with Logan so close, raised gooseflesh on his skin—and there was a lot of it, given Roman slept only in loose trousers and nothing else.

Virgil leaned in as he sheathed his dagger, his eyes going wide. “Ohhhhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit...”

Roman reached up, following the trail Logan's palm had taken—and found no trace of the wound. Not even a scar remained.

What troubled him was that Virgil was right. It wasn't something Roman was allowed to know, something he couldn't glean from the things he read in secret or the tidbits Remus shared from his Anima lovers...and he couldn't communicate how he knew.

Logan looked at Virgil pointedly over his shoulder, then turned back to Roman when his brother fell silent again.

“I apologize for the unexpected arrival, but Virgil insisted on secrecy once he realized he'd been exposed.”

“E-exposed?” Roman stammered, his head still spinning with surprise, the lingering effects of Logan's power, and very genuine confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” Virgil snapped, folding his arms. “You knew who I was before Master Picani felt my connection to Logan and outed me in the war room. That's how I got in, and with a shard of Necromatic magic hidden in a healing object, no less.”

Roman felt his blood run cold, and in a manner that was anything but light or misty like Logan's magic.

“Don't deny it: I asked around after Logan got back to Patton this evening. You personally cleared me when I applied to join the guard. Pair that with the fact that Logan remembers the night he was arrested? And you're lucky he stopped me from killing you.”

The world stopped turning in that instant. Everything came to a halt, from the spinning of the earth to the beating of his heart as he met Logan's eyes—those crystal blue depths that he barely kept at bay, the swirling tempest that he restrained for ten years...

Roman balled his hands into fists and tried to remember how to breathe again around the nameless emotion trying to claw its way out of his heart.

“You...remember me, Logan?”

Logan just stared at him, features inscrutable. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed—he was thinking, he was...uncertain.

“I was half conscious in the war room.” he finally replied. “The Spider's Thread—Virgil told me what that oath references. I...I don't remember you, but I feel certain you swore that oath for a reason.”

The nameless feeling in his heart grew claws, ripped and tore and drew blood.

“I did.”

“...how long have we known each other?”

“Ten years. Since the night we met in the dungeon.”

“And in total?”

Roman shut his eyes, bowing his head to avoid that look, those eyes that would unmake him.

“...thirteen. We've known each other for thirteen years.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.26

Lance kicking himself. He’d gone and called Keith “a snack”. The stupid hunter had looked so awkward that he couldn’t help it, it’d slipped out and now he couldn’t take it back. Lance was now left with the hope there’d be a tragic mine accident and the earth would swallow up his stupid body. Sure, Keith was unfairly handsome, but those moments did not exist. Not at all. Those moments didn’t exist because he most certainly was not being won over by Keith’s easiness now they weren’t fighting over him being turned. Groaning to himself, he dragged himself out of the bronco, not blaming Keith for the way he’d leapt out as soon as he could. He’d known the man for like two weeks. His judgment was clouded by Keith being everything he wasn’t... Oh, lord. He was pathetic. This always happened. Someone showed the vaguest niceness and bam, he was an idiot.

Heading to the back of the bronco, Lance grabbed the the coil of rope and the shovel. The flashlights were for Keith’s benifit, seeing he could see in the dark and all. He wanted to say something, but whatever he said might just turn into him word vomiting out something worse. Setting his jaw, Lance started walking to where the entrance had been shown on the map. Stupid Pidge. All he’d done was care about her. Now she was planning on doing something dangerous and his undead arse had to make sure nothing bad happened.

Having been left behind, Keith jogged to catch up with him

“Do you know where the entrance is?”

“Yeah”

“Vampire memory again?”

“Something like that. You were supposed to stay at the car”

“What if something happened to you?”

“You could pack up, take Blue and head to Coran’s. I’m sure you’d be sent back out into the field and forget all about me”

Keith let out a groan of frustration

“Will you stop that?”

“What?”

“Thinking this is easy for me”

What did Keith have to worry about? His target would be dead, or at least immobilised. It’d be job over and goodbye Platt in the process

“I never said it was. I was simply expressing that my death would be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. You’re not coming in the mine”

“If we can even get into it”

“I’m sure the council would take care of the entrance, otherwise with all the nosy tourists an accident would have happened by now”

“But they might not have. You can’t go in there alone”

“Umm. I’m dead. Nothing’s going to make me more deader than I already am”

Keith huffed

“Fine. But if you die then I have to explain that to Shiro”

“Let him use the house. Hell, Matt can just live there”

“That’s not funny”

Lance shrugged. Keith was doing that thing where he sounded like he cared again, and Lance only had so much people power left

“Who said I was trying to be?”

“It’s not. So don’t joke about that”

They fell into an awkward silence. Lance guessing Keith was now thinking about Adam again. He’d gone and put his foot in that. Reaching the entrance to the mine, there was dirt built up at the bottom of an iron door. The padlock had seized into the latch holder, but a solid tug by even a human would have seen to that

“So this is it?”

“Yep. It’s definitely not made sturdy enough to keep a determined gremlin out. Here, take the shovel, we won’t need it yet. It looks like the door opens inwards”

“Is that another vampire thing?”

“It’s a hinge thing”

Keith let out a soft “oh” that Lance knew he wasn’t meant to hear. Passing over the shovel, he decided to pass the hunter the rope too

“If I get into trouble, you leave. Don’t try to help me. I can survive more than you can”

“Then don’t get into trouble”

Accidentally using too much force, the ancient padlock all but crumbled in Lance’s hand. Lance shaking off the debris in annoyance

“Did you mean to do that?”

“Nope”

“Look, this seems really dangerous. For all we know, Hunk might have talked Pidge out of this”

“Hunk would have given it his best shot, but Pidge never gives up on anything. She’s fierce and she’s brave. Sometimes she acts before she thinks, meaning though she’d never set out to cause trouble, it finds her anyway”

“I noticed that”

“It’s hard not to. The only things she fears is drunks and the world running out of coffee. Wait here while I check the entrance out”

The door groaned on it’s hinges, Lance using his strength to convince it swing open. Dust billowing out as the dirt floor was disturbed. Coughing, Lance covered his mouth. The place smelt of dampness and dirt, not a healthy combination for human lungs. Stepping through the doorway, his eyes fell on the entrance put a few metres ahead. That was good. Hunk would never want to climb down there, his best friend was smart like that. Walking over to the remains of the ladder, the bottom of the pit was annoyingly dry. The ladder only missing half a dozen steps, but the edges seemed sturdy enough to repel down

“Keith, stay there. I’m going down”

“What?! No”

“I’ll be fine”

“Wait...”

“See you soon”

Swinging himself over and onto the ladder, it groaned under his weight. His sense of self preservation was kicking in, around about the same time the ladder was kicking out...? Missing the step, he found it in time for the ladder to snap, Lance falling the last half a dozen metres to the floor where he landed squarely on his back. Fuck. That hurt like a mother trucker

“Lance!”

“I’m okay!”

Just winded, sore, and regretful of his actions. At the top of the tunnel came the light of a flashlight

“Lance?!”

“I’m fine!”

“What happened?”

“Ladder snapped! Dude, relax!”

“You’re stuck!”

“I’m not stuck. I brought rope for a reason”

Lance huffed to himself, knowing Keith couldn’t hear him

“Lance?!”

“I’m fine! Stay up there!”

Regretfully, Lance pealed himself up off the floor, dusting himself off the best he could, unappreciative of the cobwebs hanging on. Ugh. He couldn’t even bill someone for the damage to his clothes because he was the idiot responsible. Turning away from the remains of the ladder, Lance eyed the dark path ahead of him, his skin bursting out in goosebumps. This was a god awful idea

“Lance?!”

Lance closed his eyes, reminding himself not to snap at Keith

“Wait there! I’ll be right back!”

The mine was in bad shape. Parts of it were indeed starting to collapse. Wood beams had split, while their metal replacements were rusting through uselessly. There was the smell of death, but he hadn’t seen anything yet. Feeling a spider running up his arm, Lance flicked it away. The place was icky. He wanted his pyjamas and his glass of wine. Pidge was lucky he loved her. Following the main tunnel, it slowly sloped downwards, the temperature dropping as he walked. In the distance the silence was beginning to be filled with the sound of water dripping and something moving. Fan-fucking-tastic. There was nothing rad about this at all. It was all sucking balls, until it wasn’t.

The end of the mine had flooded. A natural spring lapped at the edge of where the tunnel would have continued further before reaching it. Wading into the frigid water to pass the curve in the wall, his eyes widened as the room turned into a cavern. Okay. This was really fucking cool. He’d missed the turn for wherever the town tunnels connected to the mine, but this was definitely interesting. Somewhere out there he could hear what he assumed to be Keith. Keith was definitely missing out on this. Hidden away from the world, the cavern hadn’t been disturbed in so long that it’d reclaimed its natural beauty. Small bioluminescent something or other grew along the far wall. Fish were actually living down here, their movements making the barest of ripples. From a sniff he could tell the water was fresh, with salt traces from the ground.

“Holy fuck”

Struck by the beauty, he’d let himself tune out. Keith nearly blinding him as he shone the torch across the darkness

“This is awesome”

“I told you to stay up there”

“You stopped responding. I tied the rope off of to the front of your car and rappelled down”

Lance cursed buying 50 metres of rope. At the time he hadn’t known what he was going to use all of it for, but he was sure having more than he needed was better

“That’s not safe. What if you’d fallen? Or gotten lost?”

“I followed your tracks. This place is amazing”

“Yeah... I bet no one’s been down here in decades. Did you bring your camera?”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Can you see across the water? There’s something glowing on the other side”

“Gimme a sec”

Turning his camera on, Keith used it to do what his eyes couldn’t

“Wow... I’ve never seen anything like it”

“There’s fish down here too”

“For real?”

“Yep. We must have missed the turn off”

“I’m kind of glad we did. Would you have told me about this place?”

“Would you have believed me if I had?”

“Probably not... I’m not going to hurt anything by taking photos, will I?”

Lance shrugged

“I don’t see how. There’s bats here, but I don’t think you’re going to summon a lake monster”

“The exist?”

Keith sounded concerned, again, Lance shrugged

“No clue. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really know... I mean, if vampires can exist, they can too. There’s a theory that as humans were evolving not all stayed on land, like how whales used to be land animals, they moved to the sea and mermaids evolved”

“I’m pretty sure mermaids don’t exist”

“I think it’s one of those things we’ll never know. How’s the water?”

“Gross. The bottom of the pool is clay. I’m pretty sure my sneakers are ruined”

“No normal person just wades out into a potentially contaminated body of water”

“I thought the tunnel continued... it looks like maybe it does over where it’s all glowy, but that’s about it for foot exploring. I think once we’re done, I should collapse the tunnel down closer to the entrance. A place like this shouldn’t be spoilt with too many visitors”

“You’re right about that. Want a hand out?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna chill. Get it, because the water is so cold...”

“You deserve to stay in there for that. I’m going film first, this thing isn’t bad in night mode”

“Go for your life. I’m happy enough watching the view”

Keith really seemed into what he was doing with his camera. Lance wading back to the closest bit of dry land. His shoes felt soggy, water spurting out the holes for his laces when he stepped down hard. Swapping to camera mode, Keith started snapping, Lance hearing the twittering and flapping of wings

“Fuck! We have to go!”

“What...”

“Bats! Run!”

Keith ran, Lance close behind him. The colony of bats hot on their trail as they followed the tunnel. There had to be an opening somewhere if bats were able to get in and out. Unable to outrun them, Lance pushed Keith down, shielding him as the shrieking animals passed over head. Within a matter of moments, they’d passed over head, Lance rolling of Keith to flop on his back. Though it wasn’t really funny, he found himself starting to laugh

“Lance?”

“We fucking legged it... I think they’re pissed...”

Laughing harder, Lance covered his face

“... oh my god... we must have looked so stupid”

Beside him, Keith started to laugh

“I had no idea what to do”

“Neither did I! They didn’t get you, did they?”

“No... did they get you?”

Lance’s laughter started to die down

“Nah... god... we’re losers...”

“There was dozens of them”

“I know... fuck... I needed that. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lance turned his head to face Keith, Keith already looking towards him. The flashlight trapped between the hunter and the dirt, with his camera held protectively close. Keith probably couldn’t see him very well, but Lance could see everything. Keith looked genuinely relaxed and not like a man who’d upset a colony of bats

“I’m fine. We should get moving”

“Yeah. Who would have thunk there’d be bats in a cave?”

“Someone smarter than us”

“Rude. Alright, come on, you still need to climb up a rope”

Lance helped Keith up, he didn’t smell blood but the hunter might be bruised come tomorrow. Falling into step, the walk back was taken at a slower pace. This time Lance paused to examine each branching tunnel entrance

“This place would be pretty cool to sus out”

“I thought we were doing this for Pidge”

“We are. I mean, I was. You’re the one who followed me down. It’s just kind of cool that years ago people worked these tunnels. The put all this hard work into something they believed in. You know?”

“I’m pretty sure they were only down here for money”

Lance pouted as he crossed his arms

“Spoil sport”

“Takes one to know one”

“Don’t you think it’s cool? They didn’t have a plan, all they had was blind faith and strength and they made this happen”

“Maybe a bit... it’s hard to imagine the feelings. People died down here working side by side with the same people for probably years. They all made this happen”

“You sound nostalgic”

Maybe a little. In Platt life moved so fast. So many people no longer cared about things they couldn’t see on their screens

“If you’re asking whether I would have made a good miner, I totally would have rocked a pick axe”

“Because you’ve got rocks in your head”

Lance kind of felt a tad proud Keith was teasing him. He’d really come out of his shell

“I’ll have you know my head is filled with cat memes and bad music”

“That sounds about right. You don’t act like any lawyer I’ve ever met”

“That’s because Mami raised me right. A guy could spend a lifetime exploring this place”

“Are you giving up being a domesticated hermit to go full hermit down here?”

“Maybe? Maybe I’ll do some mining and strike some gold down ‘ere”

Lance’s attempt at an accent was so horrible he ended up laughing at himself. Keith’s disgusted face only made things funnier

“Whatever that was, don’t do it again”

“Yessir. I’m just a poor miner boy, never even played the banjo. Papa said I got rocks in my head, but jokes on him, he’s got rocks in his bed”

Keith let out a laugh, shaking his head as he did. Lance having to look away because he found himself enjoying the sight too much

“Oh, god. That was even worse”

“Come on then, mister big bad hunter. What can you do?”

“Not that. I’ll leave that to you”

“Spoilsport”

“That’s my middle name”

Reaching the rope, Lance stared up at it. That was going to be a hell of a climb for Keith

“Will you be alright climbing?”

“I just have to make it up to the ladder. I’ve climbed bigger things than this”

“Right, well, when you get up, get yourself away from the entrance. I’m going to knock a couple of beams out. Gravity will do the rest”

“What about the door?”

“I’ll call the council in the morning and tell them I found it how it is. They’ll be forced to fix it”

“You don’t need a hand?”

“Nah, I’ve got this. I’ll pretend I’m punching you”

“Thanks. See you top side”

Being the worrier he was, Lance made sure Keith was at the top before walking down the tunnel a bit. The wood was so old that he didn’t need much force to splinter it... it kindly deciding he needed splinters in return for the punch. Breaking through the sides of four supports, he started jogging when he heard the ground start to creak. Definitely time to get out and get home.

Lance was already starting the engine by the time they heard the crash. Dust pouring out of the mine as they both watched from the bronco

“Well that’s done”

“Yep”

“Time to head home?”

“Yep. On it”

It was no good. He was having too much fun hanging out with Keith. He didn’t care that his shoes were still gross, or that he was messing up his rubber car mats. He’d had fun. Actual fun where he hadn’t had to hide away that part of himself.

[corescorner]

Charmberry Cove Chapter Five.

Chapter Title: Funerals and Forging Friendships.

Wordcount: 4,645

AO3

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

Today is the funeral.

His grandmother’s funeral, his grandmother who he doesn't really know. He's not sure how to feel about it, he's sad that he didn't know her and he's sad that he won't be able to anymore.

He doesn't really know what's going to happen at the funeral, it was planned three days ago so he's not really expecting anyone but his family to be there, who would know about it in such short notice?

Maybe he should have invited Patton, they seemed close.

Great, now he feels like a jackass for not thinking of that sooner.

He's in his room with the lights off except the fairy lights, he’s slumped in his computer chair with his head resting on the back of it; staring into the ceiling rafters.

Hex is sleeping on top of the computer monitor; never too far away from Virgil.

He lolls his head to look at his alarm clock to check how much time he has before they have to leave, not too long it seems.

He hasn't changed from his sleep clothes all day, hasn't really felt like it.

But, he should probably get ready so he trudges his way to his dresser to find some suitable clothing. Dad said he didn't need to dress for a funeral, to just dress regularly cause it was supposed to be more of a celebration of life and not the mourning of death.

But he thinks that's kind of a moot point considering all his clothes are dark anyway.

He does have some colours, purples, reds, dark blues. But he chooses all black anyway it just seems like he should, he feels it matches his feelings right now with everything going on.

So a simple black t-shirt with a spider web pattern and a baggy hoodie should be fine with jeans. Dad did say it didn't matter he doesn't need to be fancy.

He makes his way upstairs (Hex shadows him) to not be bored in his room anymore, he'll just be bored in the living room instead. It makes logical sense, shush.

Flopping on to his chair, he waits in silence. Hex joins him on his chest and curls up; her purrs start immediately.

It's quiet here with Dad gone.

He wonders what Dad and Uncle Dice are doing and if they're still arguing over whatever they were the other day.

It's quiet...

“Hey there sleepy head” Pops softly shakes Virgil awake, he didn't even realize he fell asleep. “We need to head out soon, are ya ready?” He's crouched in front of Virgil's chair to be eye level with him and smiling softy.

Virgil slowly nods.

“Alrighty then, let’s get our shoes on them hm?” Pops has been talking to him with soft tones and in question form since Monday, which okay sure, Virgil hasn't uttered a word since then, but that isn't really anything new or different.

It's not uncommon for him to not be able to talk for multiple days. Though, then Virgil usually just signs at that point and Pops always tries to help him through whatever is bothering him. Virgil hasn't even signed anything to him, how could he? He can't just bring up what he heard, what Dad and Uncle Dice were talking about! And he defiantly can't just tell him that he doesn't know what’s bothering him, Pops always knows when he's lying. Not that he lies to his parents often.

So he just stays silent. Silent is safe, no room for messing up what you wanna say.

No wonder Pops is worried. Damn it Virgil, why do you have to be this way?

They head to the car. Virgil has his hands in his hoodie pockets with the hood up, he’s trailing behind his father as they walk down the walkway to the driveway.

They head to the only funeral home in town, which is at the other side of town and in twenty minutes they're there.

Virgil is floored looking over the expanse of the property.

The cemetery is huge. The wide field of tombstones end with forest baring it on all sides, like wherever you go in this town you'll eventually be stopped by a forest barrier.

The cemetery is overwhelming in and of itself, but the large Gothic house that is practically a mansion looms just in front of the cemetery gates.

The sign in the front of the pathway leading up to the house reads:

                                            Ainsworth Cemetery.

                                               Funeral Home.

                                               Crematorium.

                                                   Mortuary.

                                                   Open 24/7

                                                   Est. 1766

 He was so distracted by everything that he didn't notice how many cars were situated in the parking lot and all around the property.

And there are a lot of cars, it looks like most of the town is attending.

They walk up the path and up the stairs to the porch.

Right beside the large double doors a poster board with a picture of his grandmother in her twenties-ish is propped up. Her wild mane of red curls frames her freckled face, she has a bright toothy smile in place and a very familiar pair of sun glasses perched on her forehead.

The poster board simply reads:

 Clementine Tempest.

Loved by all.

1853 – 2012

 1853? That, that must be some kind of typo right? It can't be right cause according to that she would have to have been about a hundred and fifty years old.

He turns to Emile confused, and is about to tap the board in question, but Pops just slips his hand into Virgil's.

“There's gonna be an overwhelming amount of people in there, you wanna stay by my side?” He asks gently.

Virgil's eyes go wide, an overwhelming amount? How do they all know it was today the funeral was just planned!

His hold on Pops tightens and they walk through the ornate doors, down some hallways towards the back of the mansion.

They step through another pair of ornate doors, and holy wow. It is like half the town is here, there are way too many people.

The room is large enough to hold all of them and then some, like a ball room. There are large ceiling length windows lining the back walls that look over into the cemetery and the almost set sun. Under the middle window the casket stands on a pedestal surrounded by an abundance of different colourful flowers.

The left side of the room is situated with tables a myriad of food items on the long ones and smaller tables scattered around for you to eat at. The right side of the room holds what looks like an open bar.

It was more of a party than a funeral, some people wore black but not in a mourning type way, more like that's what their style is anyway, there’s a lot of colour to be seen in the crowd.

People are chatting light heartedly and laughing, children are running around and dancing to the soft upbeat music playing and everyone seems to be having a great time despite the circumstances.

Pops still holding onto Virgil's hand, tugs him lightly “let’s go find your father yea?”

Virgil doesn't answer him, he just points to Dad who is already on his way over to them.

When he reaches them he slumps against Pops, his head resting on Emile's shoulder.

“Uugh, I am so glad that you guys are here my brother is driving me freakin insane, like stop please for two seconds.” He whines into Pops’ neck, Emile pets Remy's head. “I'm coming home tonight, I just can't deal with him anymore” he mumbles.

Pops hugs him he drags Virgil into it as well and they stay like that for about half a minute as the party continues around them, that's fine though.

Dad is the one who breaks the embrace with a tired sigh, he looks at Virgil “how you holdin' up Pumpkin?”

Virgil shrugs one shoulder, looking up at him behind his bangs.

Dad looks tired.

“I think I saw your friend Patton over by the bar, why don't you go chill with him?” Remy suggests.

Pops squeezes his hand encouragingly then loosens his grip, but still holding on to let Virgil make the decision.

He lets go and makes a not so convincing smile, heart thudding in his chest as he walks out of his fathers grasp and into the throng of people he heads towards the bar.

He hears loud light laughter the closer he gets and he sees Patton perched on a bar stool, hand on the shoulder of the kid next to him who seems exasperated at the antics of the kid that is next to him.

As he gets closer he can hear their conversation.

“Do you think I can steal some booze when the bartender isn't looking?”

“Remus no!”

“Remus yes!”

“Please don't” Patton says.

The boy on the far side puts his hand on Remus'? Shoulder, he sighs dramatically.

“You guys are no fuuun” He whines.

Patton shakes his head but there's a smile on his face. That’s when he notices Virgil heading there and his face brightens even more, waving at him gesturing him over like that's not exactly what he was doing.

“Virgil! I was wondering when you'd get here! Guys this is who I was talking about the other day!” He gestures to Virgil.

They all swivel around in their stools to look at him.

No pressure or anything, everyone is just staring at him. He two finger salutes the group, not being able to talk at the moment, not that in this particular situation he'd be able to anyway. He's not going to be able to handle this, they're all gonna hate him, he can't speak for gods sake!

A small sense of calm suddenly pokes at him.

Patton gestures to his friends. “Guys this is Virgil!”

“Yea, no duh” the one next to Patton murmurs, Patton looks at him with a cute scowl/pout but otherwise ignores him.

He gestures next to him, the boy in a white shirt with red accents and a little crown on the breast pocket. “This is Roman! And next to him is his twin brother Remus!” He announces.

Remus is wearing a dark green shirt that hangs low on one shoulder, the shirt reads 'good mourning' and there's a picture of a skeleton waking up in a coffin. How appropriate. Remus waves madly his smile wide.

“And on the end there is Logan!” Patton says.

Logan, in a simple black polo and a shiny dark blue tie nods his head in Virgil's direction.

“Come sit with us!” Patton says excitedly patting the stool next to himself.

Virgil hopes the smile he wears is welcoming and nice but he has a feeling it's more strained than anything.

He climbs on to the stool and the others swirl theirs back towards the bar.

Roman leans forwards on the bar to look at Virgil “so, what's your deal?”

His deal? What does he mean by that?

Virgil narrows his eyes, a scowl in place and tries to answer but no sound comes out only a scoff, well this is going to be a disaster isn't it? And he actually liked being around Patton too.

“Patton gave us the impression that you could speak, was that false or are you just really shy?” Roman says.

“He's just nervous around new people! I had to push a little emotion into our first conversation before he was comfortable” Patton says brightly but pointedly.

Roman doesn't look impressed, Virgil gets the feeling he doesn't like him too much...

“Why would you say it like that Pat? If he's living here he's going to know sooner rather than later.”

Know what?

Patton swerves his head towards Roman “well maybe I'm not ready to tell him yet” he says a little uneasily, a little scared.

More people not telling him things.

“Okay! Enough of your petty bullshit Ro!” Remus says smacking the bar top.

Roman lets out an offended noise, hand at his chest. “Ugh, petty bullshit? excuse you!”

Remus ignores his brother “Virgil, why the fuck are you here?”

“Remus!” Patton scolds.

Logan clears his throat “I am sorry about that Virgil, we do not meet many new people, if at all any. It’s a very small town and we don't usually leave for long periods of time.”

“Kay, sure yea but it was a serious question! He just moved here, how does he know the dead person?” Remus defends.

“She was my grandmother” he whispers. Finally, words.

“And he speaks” Roman says waving a hand.

Patton sends Virgil a soft smile, Logan looks down at the bar uncomfortably, Remus is staring at him. 

“I am... Sorry” Roman says quietly.

“Eeeyea, me too I didn't know” Remus says.

Virgil shrugs, whatever it's not like he expected them to know.

Patton is the one to lift the mood.

“Whadda want to drink Virge?”

Drink? At the bar? What. They're twelve.

He cocks his head to the side to see what everyone else is drinking.

Patton has a root beer float, alright then. Roman’s drink looks like a sunset, he has no idea what that could be. Remus has a dark red, syrupy looking drink and Logan has a tea cup.

Okay so, they're presumably not drinking alcohol, good he wouldn't know what to do if they were. What even is the drinking age around here? Probably not anywhere near twelve that's for sure.

“Uh, I don't know... It's okay I'm good” he murmurs.

The bartender sets a glass in front of him, it looks like an iced latte of some sort whipped cream and raspberries topping it.

What? Looking at it he realizes that, yea this is actually what he really wanted, how did she know that before he did?

Patton smiles up at her “thanks Kate!”

She salutes him and moves on to the other end of the bar.

No one questions this behaviour, no one even seems confused by it.  

Virgil sips at his drink, pumpkin spiced. Nice. The raspberries are a nice touch too, he loves raspberries.

The four other boys continue to talk amongst themselves, Virgil is content to just listen in on the conversation at hand.

He can get used to this whole, group thing, he’s used to having only one friend so being in a group is going to be a weird difference

A bell chimes all around the large room and everyone turns towards the casket where the sound originated.

A man and a woman in very nice clothing are standing there in front of the casket, the woman speaks.

“Good evening, I would like to inform everyone that all the guests who is coming has arrived, we will start the ceremony shortly so please when the seats raise be seated.”

She claps her hands and everyone moves to the sides as the floor slowly splits down the middle and a platform of pews rise.

No one seems surprised, they all moved like it was the norm for a room to transform itself with the clap of the hands.

What is up with this town?

As the pews platform clicks into place people start taking their seats.

The man at the front stands next to the bench right at the front and announces.

“Would the family of the deceased sit in the front please.”

And although he said 'please' Virgil doesn't think he meant it as a question or request.

He fidgets in his seat, being in the front? That's too much. He'd much rather spectate in the back than everyone watch him even walk to the front, nonetheless be seated in front of all of them. He wishes he knew where his fathers were, it'd be easier to walk down that aisle with someone.

Patton lays a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, more comforting than it really should have been, but it does relax him enough for him to get up.

He takes a deep breath, eyes closed and releases it, okay he’s ready.

As much as he says that he'd be fine to himself, he's still kind of nervous but he does it anyway. He walks down the aisles of people, trying to ignore them, and when he gets to the front there sits his two favourite people in the world and his anxieties lessen.

He sits in between them, they both put their arms around him on the back of the bench and scooting their bodies closer together in a comforting shelter.

The ceremony like everything else lately is weird and confusing.

There’s a lot of burning strong smelling things and sing chanting in another language.

His family is sprayed with some type of  light purple mist that smells good and then when it’s all over people are allowed to go up to the front to speak.

There are many people who spoke of the cafe fondly and how his grandmother always made them feel welcomed and secure.

There are people who, to Virgil were spouting absolute nonsense, stuff he didn't understand and couldn't decipher the meanings of.

Some things were hard to keep track of, but he listened anyway.

Patton went up, teary eyed and said how much he was going to miss her, they were pretty close, Clem taught him a lot of things but he couldn't seem to continue everything he wanted to say cause he just began crying through his words, Roman escorted him away from the podium, arms around his shoulders.

Both his fathers went up at the same time, regaling the great times that they shared and reminiscing about their lives with her, how supportive she was. Pops cried when he was talking about how much she changed his life and how he'll never be able to repay her.

She was, is and forever will be loved it seems.

Surprisingly, Uncle Dice didn't go up, he just sat there uncharacteristically quiet.

After the ceremony the sky was black and the stars were shining brightly with the full moon hanging proudly in the sky.

The view from the windows on looking the cemetery was breathtaking.

People started to leave the hall and he noticed when most of them were gone, Patton and his group stayed. They were the only other people there, besides some other kid who looked like they were cleaning up.

The group started to walk towards him so he met them in the middle, Patton put his arms around him and squeezed.

Remy sauntered up to them.

“Damn, okay so who here wants some freakin milkshakes?” He says.

“That'd be great” Patton chirps.

“Fuuuck yess” Remus hollers.

“Wonderful!” Roman lilts out.

“That would be satisfactory” Logan replies.

Well, they're quite the group huh, he guesses he's part of that now?

Remy smiles at the young teens, turning to address Virgil he says “She left you something, though you can't use it till you're like sixteen so, like we'll just use it till you can, and right now with this entourage it's gonna be useful, come it's outside.”

They all follow him outside to the parking lot and they stop in front of a hippy looking van, kinda like the Mystery Machine, but painted in different shades of purples and blues with the odd reds and yellows swirling through.

Pops is sitting in the passenger seat already, looking nostalgic.

Dad opens the side door for the boys to get in, there are no back seats just a bunch of comfortable looking pillows with cushy flooring and fairy lights strung up.

They all climb in and settle themselves before Dad starts the van.

Virgil sits in the middle of the two front seats facing his, friends?

“Hey Dad, why'd she give me this van?” he whispers.

“Well, she gave your uncle and I the cafe, that he thank Goood signed over to me. But this van was also a big part of her life, she lived in this van for quite a while, she probably just wanted to give you a piece of herself.”

He doesn't know how to feel about that, it's great, it's unexpected and he wishes not for the first time that he actually knew his grandmother.

Virgil sits there on the floor of his van (weird) his head is leaning on Pops’ chair, he scratches at Virgil’s scalp soothingly, his eyes close as he listens to the soft chatter the others.

His friends.

 ~0~

Patton hasn't been in the cafe since Clem died, even before Remy closed it and they were still open and running despite its owner dying.

He just didn't feel right going in anymore without her there, it hurt too much.

And now here he is standing in front of it with his friends like it was a normal Friday night for them.

All the lights inside were obviously off, it being closed and all, but the lights in the apartment upstairs were on shining lightly and slightly cutting the darkness.

He hasn’t seen those lights on since, well it’s occupant died.

Remy unlocks the doors and keeps it open for them and gestures for them to go in.

Virgil fidgets but goes in first, leading the rest of them in.

The swirl of emotions he feels from everyone as they all stand in the darkened cafe almost makes him cry again. He pushes against the sad feelings but doesn't push it out into the air, he doesn’t think now is a good time to shift the rooms emotion.

Doesn't mean he can't do it to himself.

Their usual spot is at the largest bay window with a round table nestled up to the windows seat and two comfortable chairs sitting on the other side of it.

They take their seats like they always do, Roman on one side of the window with Patton next to him, his legs are usually stretched out on the window seat with him leaning his back against the wall but not this time as Virgil sits next to Patton. Logan and Remus each takes one of the chairs.

Remy walks up to them, Emile right behind him and they stop in front of their table, Emile snakes his arms around his husband and lays his chin on Remy’s shoulder, eyes closing.

“So, like what do you guys want?” He addresses them.

“Is the menu still the same?” Logan asks.

Remy taps his chin thinking “hmm, well for the sake of this being easy, yea sure. But like I don't care, ask for anything and I'll conjure it up for you.”

Remus gasps loudly, Remy raises an eyebrow.

“Oh god, don't tell him that!” Roman protests.

Patton giggles.

“Why not?” Virgil asks slowly his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well, Remus has a very unique set of taste buds” Patton explains.

“That's a nice way of saying the stuff he likes is disgusting” Roman says.

“Pshh, bitch please” is all Remus responds with.

“Do you wanna know what some of his favourite snacks are?” Roman prompts but continues speaking without waiting for an answer “frozen fish sticks that are still frozen!” he throws his hands up in the air.

Virgil's head does a weird little head jiggle of confusion and he looks at Remus.

“What, I... What? Those are frozen, you don't eat those frozen” he says baffled.

“Maybe you don't” Remus rolls his eyes.

“Another one” Roman pipes up “is Nutella and tater tots!”

“That one is actually quite good” Logan says everyone looks to him, Remus is beaming. “What? The crispy, savoury, saltiness of the tater tots complement the sweet, chocolate nuttiness of the Nutella, I highly suggest you try it before dismissing it” he says fixing his glasses.

“I keep telling him that! As someone who prefers sweet and salty mixtures you'd think he would try it too!” Remus throws his hands up.

“Sounds like a new menu item” Remy says, that makes Remus whirl in his direction making his chair rock a bit, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?” He shouts.

“Totes kid” he says, Patton giggles

“Don'tcha mean 'tots'?” he says giggling even more.

Logan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, Remus looks amused, Roman lets out a soft 'oof' but he's smiling and Virgil is looking like he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scowl.

“Anyway, what the heck do you guys want, milkshake wise cause that's what I'm feelin like experimenting with right now. Nothing is off the table go wild.”

“Fuuuuck yes!” Remus shouts again.

Roman groans, Virgil and Logan snicker.

“I dunno how adventurous I am” Patton says.

Remy shrugs. “It's whatever, if you want something on the menu I won't like stop you.”

“Mm, okay I want birthday cake then.”

“Do you have any Crofters on hand?” Logan asks.

“Sure kid.”

Logan's eyes widen a bit, surprise comes off of him, it probably went against his probability.

“Would you perhaps be able to make a milkshake with it?”

“Don't see why not, and hey if it's good I'll so put it on the menu too.”

“I, I. Yes okay, that is”- he clears his throat and adjusts his tie -“acceptable.”  

“Okay me now!” Remus grabs their attention “I've been thinking on this” he says.

“Oh that's always a good sign” Roman groans.

Remus kicks him from under the table making Roman squawk but continues like he didn't just do that. “I want something with pickles!”

“Ew, you are disgusting, how are we twins?” Roman says flailing his arms up, almost hitting Patton in the face he knocks his glasses slightly, Patton puts a hand on Roman's hand gently lowering it and keeping it there. Roman looks at him apologetically.

Remy hums “so like pickle juice incorporated into it or?”

“Yea! But also some chunks I want a crunch!”

“Alrighty you funky little weirdo” he says affectionately.

“I cannot believe you are humouring this... Well, whatever. I'll have peanut butter and chocolate one please” Roman says.

“Pumpkin spiced” Virgil says, Remy hums knowingly.

“I'll be back with those. Have fuun” he says turning towards the kitchen with Emile, who looks really tired.

Things are unusually quiet for a few seconds until Virgil jerks upwards, looking from him to Logan.

“Hey, you have the same glasses!”

Remus and Roman both burst out laughing, Patton snickers.

Logan looks at him and nods slightly while fixing his glasses “yep” is all he says to that.

Virgil is becoming a part of the group, slowly but it's happening he can feel it. He smiles at the fact that Virgil won’t have to be the new kid who's alone at school.

School starts pretty soon, which means this weekend is...

“Oh!” Patton smacks his hands onto the table top startling everyone. “School is starting soon! This weekend, guys guys, this weekend!” he says jumping in place with excitement looking around at everyone then pointedly nudging his head in Virgil's direction.

“Yes Patton, I think that's a wonderful idea” Logan says.

Roman sighs but agrees “of course he can join.”

“Yea! One more for an orgy!” Remus declares.

“You did not have to say it like that, that's gross.” Roman whines.

Remus just shrugs, laughing.

“Anyway...” Patton begins, turning to Virgil he explains. “Okay so we have this tradition we started when we were around eight where the last weekend of the summer we have a weekend long slumber party starting on Friday! We always change who's house it's at, and since you're new we're not gonna make you play host, but do you wanna start coming to them? You're our friend after all!”

Everyone looks at Virgil, anxiety rolls off of him, he's looking around at everyone panicked, trying to find something and apparently doesn't find anything malicious on any of their faces.

“Uh, yea sure. Sounds like fun.”

Patton claps “This is going to be great Virge, you'll see!”

[imaginesnkdorks]

Thank Goodness for Crazy

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |

Part VIII: Bruised Cinderella

Pairing: Erwin/Reader

Summary: That time Erwin and the others attended a fancy party.

           “Today’s the day!” I said to myself the moment my eyes open. It’s the day that Nanaba would humiliate me in front of everyone. Or it’s the day I’ll beat her senseless. I trained so hard this past week.

           Racing to the grounds where we’ll battle it out, I saw a number of people gathering. Damn, it was those bets. Hange was noisily calling out to people to place their bets. They really made a game out of this. My coach was already here, and finding him was quite easy. He was standing beside the betting board.

           “What the hell?” I don’t know what I expected but there are obviously more people expecting Nanaba to win. Those who bet on me would expect a huge payout as I could count them off of my hands.

           “I’m betting on you.” Erwin tried to encourage me.

           “Of course you are.”

           Now that it’s here, I’m finally here, I feel chills. Nanaba is a legit soldier. She’s killed titans, and the only thing I’ve ever killed is a teeny tiny spider and I was screaming my head off the whole time.

           Soon enough, we were called to the middle. Hange is also the referee. As soon as she gave the go signal, Nanaba went in to attack! The bitch tried to punch me! But my training paid off – my reflexes improved a lot I feel like a ninja.

           I successfully dodged, but she immediately followed up with another punch. Raising both my arms, I shielded my face. “Ugh!” Her punch is really something! But it’s nothing compared to Erwin’s.

           Erwin never went easy on me during our sparring sessions, I almost hate him for it. But I can see that it might just be the thing that’ll help me live.

           Since I’ve gone defensive for a good five minutes, Nanaba’s guard isn’t that up. I grabbed the chance and kicked her on the stomach. She caught my foot and won’t let go. With a smug smile, “got you.” She taunted.

           This would’ve have been bad for me, except this is my favorite move. Using her grip on my foot for balance and foundation, I raised my self almost over her head going for another kick. And I hit her hard with my other foot, she flew backward and fell hard on the ground.

           All around me were surprised faces. Everyone was so quiet for a full second before they started cheering.

           “Wow. Looks like you’ve really been training hard.” Nanaba said before she runs off to attack me. I suddenly regret being an asshole who kicked her in the face.

           To sum it up, I took a beating. But she received her fair share of bruises. We’ve been going at this for more than half an hour, and I am really tired. I can feel my lips are swollen now. I need to finish this.

           We began running towards each other and she went in for a punch, which I dodged easily, then I used my ultimate move. I punched her on the throat. I know, dick move. That’s why I love it. She fell flat on the ground, gasping for air, and Hange went in for the countdown.

             “ …. 3 …. 2 …. 1 …. Andi wins!” Hange announced whilst raising my bruised arm. Despite most of these assholes losing their bets, they still cheered for me. Looking at the crowd, I saw Erwin practically glowing with pride. I can’t help but smile.

           Walking towards Nanaba, I fought all temptation to gloat and instead gave her my hand. Good thing she was a good sport. We spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing, wrapped in bandages and smelling like antiseptic.

           Erwin and the rest came to visit. Judging by Mike’s face, Erwin had rubbed my triumph in his creepy face. And probably also because he lost the bet.

           “Andi! Where did all that came from? That throat punch was so awesome!” Hange yelled excitedly. But she wasn’t satisfied with that, she ran towards me and tackled me.

           “Really? Hange I’m injured here!” My screams were muffled as I was unsuccessful in pushing her off of me. Good thing Erwin helped and dragged her off.

            We got out of the hospital wing that same day and went back to training right away. I still follow the strict training routine Erwin prepared, but since an expedition is coming up he’s quite busy. Meaning our private sessions are over.

           I’m scheduled to practice using the 3DM gear today, and I am seriously excited. My teachers for the day are my closest buddies, Hange and Nanaba.

           Turns out, balancing is not so easy. I flipped over a few times and gave my friends another round of a laughing fit, but by sunset, I got the hang of it. I can’t help but love the feel of the wind as I zip past trees and dummy titans.

           I can’t help but imagine being Spider-Man. So geeky, I know.

 It’s been three days since the duel, and I’m looking less bruised now. Also, it’s the day we started our journey to the inner wall. Apparently, traveling between walls could take days if we travel on land. Taking the boat will cut our travel time shorter.

The boat ride was uneventful and painfully boring – I spent the whole time sleeping, eating and reading. My ideal situation, really but since everything’s so new, I would’ve loved to see how different people from these parts are. Too bad I couldn’t.

Also, everyone who came along was shut in the conference room because most of them were Squad and Team leaders. Can you believe that Hange is a team leader? Too bad Nanaba is apparently “not important enough” to come along.

After the long boat ride, we finally arrived at our destination. It took us almost three days so the ball is tomorrow. The moment we land, a few people greeted uncle Keith. I have no idea who they are, but I would say that they’re someone rich, because I can definitely smell money off of them.

We were then escorted to a fancy looking house. Well, to be honest almost every house here is fancy. It’s the habitat of the rich people.

The house that we’re staying at is a regular house, I’d say. It’s almost similar to houses back home, really. Only zero electric appliances. I can see how different the lifestyle of people here compares to those from wall Maria – it’s like the Capitol from Panem!

After touring the plain-but-big house, I have nothing else to do but sleep. So I did just that. Good thing time went by so fast and it was finally Sunday – the day of the Ball.

           Erwin knocked on my door and patiently waited for me to answer. He obviously learned from his past blunder.

           “Here.” He said with no preamble whatsoever, as he handed me a blue gown. It’s a really frilly kind of gown.

           “This? This is what I’m going to wear?”

           “Yes. It is the craze among the ladies in the inner city. You’ll fit in nicely wearing that.”

           “Uhuh.” I said, and he promptly left me so that I could fix myself up.

           I found out that they have a decent amount of makeup, albeit seemingly ancient they do the job. I mean, the brow liners are like charcoal for goodness’ sake. I feel like I’m in that memoirs of a geisha makeover scene, except less graceful.

           The gown was a nice shade of ice blue; it was off-shoulder with frills just about everywhere. Oh, and big ass ribbons.

           Looking at the mirror, I can see that my hair is a mess, and my face is covered with rouge on my cheeks and lips. Despite my best efforts, I just can’t seem to tame my hair, so I just put it up in a messy bun. I know, it doesn’t go well with everything else but I really suck at fixing myself up.

           Leaving my room, I found that Erwin was waiting for me. He looked so good in his black coat, black pants, and blue shirt. Whoa, we’re matching? He offered me his arm, which I took, and we walked side by side to the carriage.

           Only then did I start feeling jittery. What if I slip up? Boy, uncle Keith is such a girl. We’re already in the carriage and he’s still not around. Man, what if I get asked about my life?

           “Where are the others?” I asked, trying to get my mind off of thinking that I’ll mess up.

           “Some went ahead; the others went to the market for supplies. We might as well get two things done during this trip.” Erwin answered calmly. Seriously, is he that used to these balls that he’s not nervous at all?

           “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.” Erwin said as he covered my hand with his. That’s only when I noticed I was shaking a little. I felt like my voice might crack, so I just nodded.

           Someone is finally getting in the carriage, but the one behind the door was not uncle Keith. It was Hange!

           “Something came up; the commander will be riding with Lord Gregory so it’s just the three of us. Ahh!” Hange was wearing her uniform. Does she even have other clothes? I waited for her to get inside but she just stared at us, then at our hands.

           Crap!

           I pulled my hand back, Erwin did the same. Hange then entered with a suspiciously sly smile. Good thing though she just stayed quiet the whole way. But she kept giving us meaningful looks.

           We soon arrived at a big house – no, a mansion! – and it was brightly lit, you’d think it’s Christmas. Music was playing and you can already hear it from outside, and its only classical music which I assume is being played live. Well, duh? Like they could play Uptown Funk.

           The introductions went smoothly. Erwin introduced me to so many nobles, I didn’t even bother to remember their names. Some creepy old geezers would just be, well, creepy. Offering me all kinds of stuff and asking me to leave the military to be with them. It’s more annoying than creepy, actually.

           “Erwin, Lord Lawrence is over there. He’d love to hear about your formation proposal.” Uncle Keith popped up of nowhere, said this piece and dragged off Erwin to where ever this Lawrence is.

           “I’ll be back, Hange stay with her.” He said before disappearing with the commander. Hange is too absorbed with the buffet that she hardly pays any attention to me. “I’ll just sit over there,” I informed her before running off to sit in a corner. I think I heard her say ok, but her mouth is so full so I really can’t tell.

             Watching the party from where I am made me feel like I’m back home. No matter where you are, there really are people who can be vain. These rich assholes here are just partying and eating till they can’t breathe, while there are people who live on bread and soup in wall Maria. FYI, people like me.

           “Is the party a little too much for you, my lady?” A voice asked. Looking at the source, I found a man sitting beside me. It wasn’t just any man – he is drop dead gorgeous! I guess he could read my thoughts as I think I’m almost drooling, and he gave me a small laugh of amusement. Even though I know he’s laughing at me, I can’t help but smile. He’s that hot.

           He’s got this soft, brown, curls for hair, and he’s not too skinny nor buffed. He’s got green eyes, thick-ish brows, and perfect teeth. He’s just my type of guy, damn!

           “I’m Theodore.”

           “Andi. Uhm, I mean I’m Andi.”

           “Lovely name for a lovely lady.” He said as he scooped up my hand for a kiss. Honestly, I would’ve rolled my eyes at this but he’s just so cute. Turns out, he’s not just all looks. We spent quite some time talking about literature. Good thing that I’m well read on their books. We also talked about random things.

           We enjoyed our chat a little too much because we didn’t notice the crowd was silent until uncle Keith called me and some other man called Theo. Yes, I call him Theo now.

           Looking at uncle Keith, I now noticed that every eye in the room was on us, and most people had amused faces but Erwin’s not one of them. He’s standing right beside the commander, his face serious and his lip a tight line.

           Theo just laughed at the situation and stood up, giving me his hand so I’m standing beside him. The man who called Theo then spoke, “thank you, everyone, for coming to our humble party. My family appreciates your presence in a most wonderful celebration …” yadda yadda yadda.

           I tuned out the speech partly because I couldn’t care less, mostly because Theo wouldn’t stop talking and whispering to me. The crowd started clapping, signaling the end of the man’s speech.

           Looking around, I saw that uncle Keith was approaching with his little entourage, including the man whose speech I ignored.

           “Andi, this is Lord Thomas Van Rumpade. Lord Thomas, this is my niece Andi Frost.”

           “My my, who would’ve thought you would have a niece like her? I see you met my son Theodore.”

           In my shock, I couldn’t stop myself that I turned to Theo and asked him, “this is your party?” Good thing they just laughed. Well, I don’t really know if that’s a good thing.

           “No. It’s more like a party for me.” Theo answered me. A party for him? Shit. Is this like the party in Cinderella were the Prince can just pick whomever he wants for a wife?

           Good thing it wasn’t It was a coming of age party. Apparently, rich people are used to buying military titles, and this is the day he’ll decide to be a Military Police, or a Garrison Soldier or if he’s feeling hardcore, a Survey Corps Soldier.

           Since his family is going to buy the title, the Military branch he chooses will obviously receive the money. That’s where we come in.

           Dragging Erwin to the side, I asked him in the faintest whisper I could manage, “this is why I’m here, isn’t it? He’s almost my age.”

           “I’m afraid so.” He said. Looking at him, I really can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s like the Erwin I know is on break, and this one is soldier Erwin. But maybe it’s just in my head.

           At the end of the party, Theo and his family ended up choosing the Survey Corps. Uncle Keith was so happy, I think he would actually jump. Theo’s father said they chose us because “this wee little lass is doing her best to protect us. What better way to thank her and her comrades than giving them funds?”

           It was a little too straight to the point, but I don’t care. It’s money and if it will help, then all is well. And since it’s just a title, Theo is free to stay behind, though he wouldn’t have it that way. He ended up tagging along on our way home. Well, not tagging. He’s one of us now.

Copyright © 2019 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

[moonchildwildheart]

The ohh so lovely @mountainofthesunn tagged me and it seems really fun so thank you!

1. What is your middle name?

I don’t have one... would be kinda cool if I did though (let me feel really included on this whole thing y’know?)

2. How old are you?

21

3. When is your birthday?

November 12th

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Scorpio

5. What is your favourite colour?

purple

6. What’s your lucky number?

24 or 11

7. Do you have any pets?

Two dogs a border collie named sadie and a beagle named maggie mae.. they are really something in their own ways lol and I love them

8. Where are you from?

Utah

9. How tall are you?

5'2″

10. What shoe size are you?

5.5 or 6

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

I have no idea.. quite a bit

12. What was your last dream about?

I just remember josh kiszka coming down from stage and us giving him food (I don’t even remember who us is I don’t remember at all who else was there) and then josh wanted to stay and talk to us so he did and then someone called him from the stage because it was the point of the song where he HAD to sing and he was like “oh!” as if he forgot and then ran after telling us thank you 

13. What talents do you have?

hmm.... I can write pretty well and I make little riffs on the guitar

14. Are you psychic in any way?

Yes very much so

15. Favourite song?

Brave New World  - GVF or My song 5 by HAIM

16. Favourite movie?

...that’s so much to ask from me

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone thats fun/funny and goofy but... calm? if I were to try and give an example they’d be Joe Keery and then Jake Kiszka 

18. Do you want children?

Yesss always have ... but someday

19. Do you want a church wedding?

Always just thought of eloping

20. Are you religious?

Yes

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

nothing I can remember

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

One time I got pulled over and the cop threatened to throw me in jail because I hadn’t paid a previous ticket but then he was nice and let me go... thats the extent of my run ins with the law

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

No

24. Baths or showers?

Showers 

25. What color socks are you wearing?

Barefoot

26. Have you ever been famous?

In my head sure.... my own little world.. star of my own show

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Not super big but maybe it’d be cool to an extent

28. What type of music do you like?

so many types

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Thats all I do

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

2

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

My side or stomach

32. How big is your house?

Medium

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

cereal 

34. Have you ever shot a gun?

ohh yes

35. Have you ever tried archery?

Yeah and I was actually pretty good lol

36. Favourite clean word?

gracious (maybe.... I say it as a joke lately)

37. Favorite swear word?

whenever I’m frustrated I say shit pretty easily so probably that but a good fbomb feels good too

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

uhhh probably between 35 and 40 hours??? It was when stranger things season 3 was released and I watched it all night and didn’t sleep before doing things the next day

39. Do you have any scars?

Yep

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

No.... the heck

41. Are you a good liar?

when I need to be

42. Are you a good judge of character?

hundred percent.

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

I’d like to think I can but others may say differently

44. Do you have a strong accent?

I never really think I do until I say certain things and others point it out so maybe?

45. What is your favourite accent?

any and all of them

46. What is your personality type?

a little eccentric and talkative and chaotic (but great just the same) but still somehow really laid back? all I can say from a recent example is the other day I almost climbed onto a billboard because I looked up at it and thought “I want to go up there” I found a ladder to reach the one already attached(I’m small) and everything to get me started and I probably would have done it if my dad hadn’t called me over to help him with something

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

hmmm I try to go cheap.. but I think I have a couple pair of boots in different colors that were $135 each but thats all thats coming to mind

48. Can you curl your tongue?

yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

50. Left or right-handed?

Right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

not too scared to kill them

52. Favourite food?

chinese or barbecue chicken

53. Favourite foreign food?

sushi

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

I want to say clean so bad like I WANT to be that person... but I’m messy. I’ve accepted it

55. Most used phrase?

"I was like” I realize I do it but I don’t see myself stopping so 

56. Most used word?

wow

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

Maybe 20 minutes

58. Do you have much of an ego?

no lol I’m pretty chill about things

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

both

60. Do you talk to yourself?

all day everyday.. gotta keep that audience entertained you know what I’m saying?

61. Do you sing to yourself?

YES

62. Are you a good singer?

yeah

63. Biggest Fear?

drowning? being buried alive? abandonment? oh- are we getting too real now?

64. Are you a gossip?

no

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

SO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM pride and prejudice? Gone with the wind? They’re pretty general but that’s what’s coming to mind

66. Do you like long or short hair?

Prefer long but either works

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Maybe... doesn’t mean I’m gonna try. Just know that I might be able to

68. Favourite school subject?

English

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Definitely an extrovert but there are times where I can be pretty introverted

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

no

71. What makes you nervous?

The thought of looking like an idiot (not that you have to have everything perfect but sometimes the worry still comes)

72. Are you scared of the dark?

Not really

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Sometimes. Depends. 

74. Are you ticklish?

Extremely. To the point where I rarely if ever tell people that I am(because for some reason when people hear you’re ticklish their first reaction is to tickle you??? WHY)

75. Have you ever started a rumour?

I hope not

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

I guess sure

77. Have you ever drank underage?

No

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Nope

79. Who was your first real crush?

My best friend from when I was in kindergarten and then it grew into a crush in jr high  

80. How many piercings do you have?

the two general ones in my ears

81. Can you roll your R’s?

yep

82. How fast can you type?

Pretty fast(not to brag or anything but in elementary school I got awarded fastest typer so... lol) 

83. How fast can you run?

I run fast but not long

84. What colour is your hair?

brown

85. What color is your eyes?

blue

86. What are you allergic to?

I don’t think I am to anything but lately I’ve been thinking I might be gluten free so who’s to say

87. Do you keep a journal?

I keep one where I write poems/songs but I don’t think thats what this means

88. What do your parents do?

my dad does real estate (specifically he finds fields/open land and then develops them for apartments... he sometimes shows me the next piece of land he’s gonna work on and I silently cry on the inside cause it’s another field of “natural land” thats going away) and my mom was an accountant

89. Do you like your age?

yeah! best yet

90. What makes you angry?

people that don’t listen to others and always assume they’re right or people that don’t try and then complain

91. Do you like your own name?

I don’t really think about it. I guess its fine

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

yes- I really like Rowan for a boy and I actually really like Billie for a girl (@ Billie Lourd I’m literally wanting to name a child after you)

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

I have no preference. Both are great

94. What are your strengths?

can read the vibes of a person and know how to respond(whether its making them laugh or simply being there with them), knowing how to say what needs to be said without causing a problem, can be oddly calm when stressful things happen(especially when other people are freaking out)

95. What are your weaknesses?

Never being able to say no when people ask me to do things

96. How did you get your name?

I think it was the name of someone my older sister went to preschool with

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

I think so

98. Do you have any scars?

Yep

99. Colour of your bedspread?

white

100. Colour of your room?

White

I don’t know who’s been tagged and who hasn’t so I’m sorry if you’ve been tagged before but I’ll tag @autumnfell @marbles-shall-be-lost @chasemisprintedlies @love-personal @flowrxchild @flowervanpower

[levi-ish]

Blood In The Cut | 4

Request: Can you do a peter parker x reader that they were friends in high school but they got apart somehow and when they’re in college they meet again?

Pairing: Peter Parker X College!Reader

Disclaimer: Angst, mentions of death and sex, dubious consent about sex.

A/N: I know this chapter might seem like it has some holes in it, but the next one will explain all that.. If you want to be part of my taglist, you can always ASK and I’ll add your name to it! Thanks!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Masterlist

You didn’t know how he did that all the time.

Swinging in the air was something that you never thought about doing before and never wanted to in the first place. Spider-Man always made that seem so easy and chill, but now, when you were feeling the cold breeze against your face and your coat and hair floating you decided to give it a second thought. You would be freezing out by the lack of your wet coat, but the heater in his suit warmed you.

Your arms were interlaced around his neck as an involuntary move, and you knew that you could take them off anytime, since his strong arm was wrapped around your waist, but you were too scared of falling to consider that at all. 

“Hanging in there?” He said in a high tone so you could hear him through all those traffic noises and screams of his fans. 

“Oh my god” you screamed and hid your face on his neck, breathing in and out while trying not to panic — something you were quite used to.

“I need you to tell me your address now.”

And you told him with your trembling voice, but he heard and let out a little laugh, shooting his webs at buildings so he could get to your apartment. You wouldn’t know, since you spent the whole trip just face-buried deep inside the hero’s neck.

But the speed slowed down and you lifted your face just to see if you guys were close and that’s when Spider-Man — Avenger, friendly neighborhood, superhero — slammed his face on the wall beside your window.

“Holy shit!” He said and feel right onto your fire escape, back hitting the railing and making a metallic noise.

You kept your balance and stood by his side, crouching down so you could see him closer and check for any injuries. The hero kept laying on his back, now a hand on his chest and moving slightly according to his breathing. 

It was kind of funny, but you kept it to yourself.

“Shit” you muttered under your breath and opened your window and threw your coat inside, rushing to get back to his side again. “C’mon, get inside, let me help you.”

“I’m okay” he said, groaning while he tried to sit up, failing. “I really—”

“No, get inside. It’s cold and you’re hurt.” You ordered, helping him up and putting his clothed arm around your neck so you could slid his body through the window.

“So bossy” he let out a faint laugh and put both his legs on your desk, then getting completely inside. 

You got to your room right after him and helped the hero to sit on your bed, putting his feet on the covers and adjusting the pillows.

“Wow, if I knew that I would receive great treatment, I would’ve gotten in quicker” he winked with his mechanic eyes and you rolled yours.

“I’m gonna get ice” you said and left after, leaving him alone inside your room.

Yeah, it wasn’t often that a superhero stopped by and hit his face on your wall, but you wouldn’t think wrong about him, since he already helped you twice in your life and he seemed like a great person. There wasn’t any dirt on his historic and the man helped saving the fucking world, so who were you to judge?

You opened you freezer and found frozen peas sitting there. Clara wasn’t in the apartment, and you remembered that she said something about going to Harry’s to watch movies — ha, as if. Was it weird that when you thought about being all alone in the apartment with the freaking Spider-Man you got some butterflies? Nah, not at all.

But when you got back to your room and found the hero walking around and analyzing all your stuff, you found that pretty weird. You watched him while he looked at some of those pictures that you hung on the walls; pictures of your mother, pictures of you and Clara at Italy when she invited you for Christmas with her family — it was right after your mother’s death, so you decided that it would be the best if you were away —, and pictures of Peter. 

You never had the courage to take them off, so you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to keep them there. 

“What are you doing?” You asked and he was caught off guard. This is weird, doesn’t he have spider senses or something?

“Uh, I was just—” He turned around, his body completely tense by the position and his hands up. “I—”

“That’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with snooping around my room” you gave him a sad smile. “But now is time for you to sit and let me take care of your head.”

The hero let out another faint laugh and did as you told him to, going back to your double bed and sitting on the grey covers, resting his hurt back on your soft pillows and letting out a small moan from comfortableness.

“Where does it hurt the most?” You asked and he sighed.

“My right cheek and my back.”

“Let’s take care of your back first, okay?” Lifting up your hand with the frozen peas, you sat by his side. “I’ll need you to take off your suit.”

“Already wanting to undress me?” He said in a sarcastic tone and you crossed your arms, shooting him a glare. “Okay, I will. Jeez.”

You smiled to yourself and waited for him to turn around and start to slide the red and blue suit down just until it was exposing his torso and the redness from the collision on the railing. You twitched your face and bit your lower lip just slightly, taking in the vision right in front of you, running your eyes through the strong lines of his muscles, as if they were drawn there by the gods and heavens, following by his spine that had some scars along the way down to his waist, making your chest feel a bit heavier.

The news were harsh on superheros. The paper and news websites loved talking shit about them as if they never helped people around and were willing to die for the others every day — I mean, how scary that is — and you never thought deeply about that, until the moment your eyes traced every inch of his marked skin, something that he would have to carry for the rest of his life and you could do nothing to erase that.

So involuntarily, your fingers brushed over his skin, almost touching the line of his spine and making the man in front of you shiver and a gasp escaped your mouth. What am I doing? You quickly removed your hands from his back and cleared your throat, leaving a very silent and awkward moment between you two.

That was until the hero decided to shoot another one of his infamous comments; “Are you done checking me out?”

“You wish” you adjusted your back and started dabbing the ice on the red lines from the railing. 

“Ouch, I’m hurt” he put a hand on his chest and looked over his shoulder, finding you there in full concentration, biting your lower lip just slightly the way you always did when focused. “By the way, it’s a nice room you’ve got here.”

You looked around just a bit and turned back your attention at him. “Thanks, I just moved in not too long ago.”

“Where did you live before?”

“I’m really starting to think that it was a bad idea to let a stalker in my room” you laughed and he crossed his arms on his chest, you were almost positive he was pouting. “I lived in the dorms, but I was sick of it and planning on moving. Not here, though, but then... things happened and I needed another place.”

Spider-Man listened carefully and was quiet after hearing it all, and you were glad he didn’t asked about what things you were talking about. 

“Well, tell me about those pictures.” He changed the subject, noticing that the air was starting to get thicker.

You took a look at them quickly and pointed at the first one; the one with your mother.

“That’s my mother” you said and felt the little pain growing back inside your chest, but you chose to ignore. “That day we decided to camp at a lake and we thought a bear was attacking us. Turned out to be the camp guard suspecting us because we were drinking and we got so scared that we left right after.”

The hero laughed and you did too, remembering the old times when she was still alive and there. 

“The other one is with my roommate, when she invited me for Christmas with her family back in Italy. It’s pretty great there, sunny and cooler than here.” You bit your lower lip when noticed what was the next one and thought about changing the subject immediately. “Have you ever traveled outside the country?”

“And the last one?” The hero was faster than you and now there wasn’t a way out and you ended up pressing the frozen peas a bit too hard on his back, making him groan. “Ouch.”

“Oh, sorry” you caressed his skin with your warm fingers, contrasting with the temperature and making him shiver again. “So, do you often help girls that are crying on dirty alleyways?” 

He didn’t seem to like the way you changed the subject, but it was necessary. 

“Only when they are cute ones.”

The comment made you blush hard. You always had something on the tip of your tongue when getting a compliment, but now you found yourself speechless.

“Hm—What about those boxes?”

You were kind of confused about what he was talking about, but when the hero pointed at the pilled up boxes sitting in the corner where you didn’t often see, you felt chills running down your spine and stopped dabbing the peas on his back.

“I-It’s a long story.” You bit your lower lip a bit too hard, now tasting the blood on your tongue.

“I have time” he persisted and you took a deep breath, adjusting your position, feeling too uncomfortable about everything around you.

You didn’t have any motive to trust the hero other than because he saved you, but yet, you did anyway. It was like just his presence could make you feel safe and you were pretty sure that the Avengers didn’t gossip about the civilians lives they saved; but your mother’s subject was still a bit unreal for you, and you were afraid of what would happen if you really said that it happened, that she was dead. You wanted to preserve the memories.

“T-They are just boxes that I forgot to... hm... unpack.”

The hero, again, didn’t seem to believe, but you ignored that anyway.

“All done” you said after taking the frozen peas away from his back and watched him turning around so he could see your face.

“Well, I have to go now” he said and dropped his hands to his lap, fiddling with his covered fingers. “Thank you, for the company and the help.”

“I should thank you” you smiled and rested your head on your palm. “Thanks for rescuing me from that dirty alley.”

The hero stood up and walked in the direction of your window, putting one of his feet on the fire escape.

“But what about your cheek?” You asked, crossing your legs and showing a worried expression.

“Well” the hero stepped back a bit and jumped outside, sticking his masked face in. “I need an excuse to come back”

With that, the hero left with a shoot of his webs and swinging by the buildings.

“We should throw a party” said Clara while putting her feet on the coffee table and eating a handful of popcorn.

You furrowed your brows from behind the counter and brought the glasses with the wine to the couch, giving one of them to your roommate and taking of for you. 

“Why that sudden idea?” Popping the wine open, you poured on her raised glass and on yours, bringing yours to your lips and sipping on the liquid.

“Because if I didn’t say anything you would be surprised with people getting here tonight and seeing you in your bunny pajamas.”

You gagged on the wine and put your glass away, now pulling your legs against your chest and coughing a bit more.

“What? You already invited people here?” Furrowing your brows again, you crossed your arms. “And what’s wrong with my bunny pajamas?”

“Nothing wrong, you just should burn it.” She laughed and you pushed her slightly. “But about the party, I just thought we could use the fun after those exams. They kicked our asses and we need to chill a bit.”

“My idea of chilling is napping or reading, not partying.”

Lies. Before meeting Spider-Man your idea of chilling was napping or reading; but after meeting the hero, you decided that it had changed. It had been two weeks since his first visit and then, every day until now you two would be hanging out inside your room and turning into friends — or something more.

Spider-Man felt like home to you. He was the only one that you could confide and trust the last few days and you would look after the time when he would get to your window with snacks on his hands and you two would talk about everything and sometimes, nothing, just to enjoy the silence. But two days ago, when you two had a very specific talk, he decided to not show up the day after, and you knew that your home was ruined.

“That’s because you’re boring” Clara showed her tongue and you rolled your eyes. “Now drown that wine and go dress up.”

You didn’t like the idea very much, but you agreed when she said that you had to lighten up a bit and have fun, after all, college wasn’t all about dying of studying and only standing up because of caffeine. 

So after you got out the shower and blew your hair dry, you applied some makeup while listening to cheesy 80s songs — those that Clara hated but you didn’t mind — and danced while doing your hair and searched for clothes to wear. You grabbed a navy blue short dress that you had hidden in your wardrobe and put a black leather jacket to protect from the cold ambient. You put your tight-high boots and stepped out of the room.

“You look like a snack” Clara said while placing red solo cups on the counter next to the beverages. She was wearing a nice tight cream colored dress and a denim jacket with a nice rose lipstick that you knew that would fade after Harry’s arrival. “C’mere, we are hostess, we need to live this party.”

You walked to the counter and sat on the stool and leaned in, picking the snacks and putting them on bowls, organizing them to help Clara setting everything up before people started arriving. 

“How so?” You smiled and watched the girl opening a tequila bottle and pouring two shots and giving one of them to you while giving you a sliced lime and sucked hers. 

You did the same and drowned the shot that came corroding your throat. Twisting your face and pressing your lips together, you let out a little laugh and a cough right after.

“Let’s get the party started” Clara smiled and raised her glass, and you raised yours too.

You decided that it was time for shots when you saw Harry arriving and bringing Peter with him. Then, the same girl from the day you went to their apartment showed up and you decided that shots weren’t enough and you needed a whole bottle of vodka.

And there you were, on the corner, gulping on the alcohol that didn’t even burned your throat anymore, and watching Peter located on the center of the room, the beautiful woman in front of him, her hands on his chest while she talked to him with a big smile on her lips. You felt like throwing up and you couldn’t even distinguish if it was from the vodka or the scene right in front of you.

You noticed that the Parker boy seemed a bit annoyed and his eyes were everywhere but the girl, but it must’ve been the alcohol tricking you into believing that he was searching for you.

“Hey, don’t you think that you drink too much?” You heard someone talking to you and turned around, still holding the bottle.

Jax was right in front of you, his hair slicked back and wearing a leather jacket, matching yours and smiled when he saw you checking him out.

“I’m not drunk” you spat and gulped again.

“I didn’t say you were.” He laughed and leaned a bit closer to you, making your heart beat faster. Then, his fingers brushed yours to take the neck of the bottle and he put it away from you, smiling again. “Okay, what about we get some water?”

“Who are you? My mother?” You furrowed your brows and crossed your arms. “Let me be, Jax.”

“I promised to take care of you, (Y/N).” Jax arched his brow and put one of his hands on your shoulder. 

You took another glance at Peter and the girl, noticing that she was kind of grinding against him and her skirt was ridding up, showing a bit of her round ass, and you thought that you were too drunk for that. Looking back at Jax, you saw his pearl whites showing up and grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, what are you—”

“Going to my room, dummy.”  You looked over your shoulder and gave him a smirk, drowning another cup that you found along the way to the corridor.

Opening your door, you pulled the boy inside and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, attacking his lips immediately, but he leaned back quickly, surprised by your actions.

“(Y/N), you’re drunk, we shouldn’t—”

“I’m not that drunk, Jax.” You bit your lower lip and fixated your eyes on his mouth. “Stop complaining and enjoy.”

After a bit of thinking, the boy leaned into you and kissed your lips tenderly, his hands exploring your body while you tasted the beer on his mouth. You two fell on your bed and you let out a little, fainted laugh — like the fake ones you used to cover your real feelings.

His hands seemed rough, not like when you two used to date, but wrong. You felt violated, a failure to yourself and betraying the voice on the back of your mind, saying that it wasn’t the right thing to do. The alcohol spoke for you and your body was too numb to feel a anything, but your eyes accompanied all the touches and you felt filthy. 

And you did what you did best; you pretended to like it.

    The sun rays invaded your closed eyelids and warmed the skin of your cheeks. You slid your legs across the bed and grabbed the pillow tighter, yawning just slightly. The morning was like any other, tiring, lazy, but something seemed off, you felt colder, even if the covers were wrapped around your body. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair, watching the duvet fall from your chest and exposing it; naked. 

Then you remembered, the touches, the moans, the hands, the connection — without connection, actually, and felt grossness taking over you. Standing up, you searched for anything that you could wear and found a robe on the desk, putting it around your body and wrapping tight.

Deep sighing, you smelled the perfume that Jax wore last night on your pillows and panic started to rush through your veins, making your legs tremble and the temperature of your body drop. You threw all your pillows and took off the bed clothing, throwing it all on the floor and your breath pace was quicker than before. 

Sitting on the naked bed, you ran your hands on your hair again, trying to put it away from your face while you focused on taking deep breaths and stop trembling. Everything was numb again and you knew that it was your own fault.

But something caught the corner of your eye and you looked at the dresser, finding a nice bouquet of flowers just sitting there. You stood up and walked slowly there, afraid of what you might find, and then, you saw the little yellow note.

“Thanks for last night. —Jax”

Your vision was now blurry and the trembling came back, as the burning sensation on your cheeks that were now looking like red watercolors spreading to your whole face. A lump was forming in your throat and you let out a painful sob that you were holding since last night, while Jax’s rough fingers brushed against your delicate skin, like it was cutting the flesh like a sharp knife. 

The room started to seem smaller every second that passed and the walls were getting closer and closer, at the point where you felt trapped. You decided that you needed air immediately and ran to your window, pushing the curtains and being taken by surprise by a second note stuck to the glass, the one that made another sob escape your mouth and your fingernails to leave small crescents on your arm.

“I dropped by but you looked busy. —Spider-Man.”

TAGLIST: @marveldirewolf @stephie-senpai@fearsynergy@ineedanewbackpack@teamnatasha @thegirlofgardenias@tomhllvnds @hillywooddestiel @embrel@yourwonderbelle @jamienerd03@unicorn-sparkles123 @catnolannn @spider-mendes @1enchantedfantasy1@harashoruby @aelin-firehearts-court @felicia-can-fly@icat8 @starlightfound @immsmarvel @bury-my-love-inthe-moondust @tiau-man @instagrammodeltom @devastate-my-space @whovian1077 @sassygis @prettytravesty @whydididothis44 @who-cares-rn

[marvelousmarvelimagines]

Need You Now

Part VIII (of X) - Love Like Woe (Peter Parker Series) (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV) (Part V) (Part VI) (Part VII) 

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Being Tony Stark’s daughter isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For one, I didn’t want to be in the first place. My normal life was just fine, thank you. Two, there are freaking superheroes all over where I now live. There’s never any privacy. Three, everyone expects me to be this amazing genius and go to this fancy school and do incredible things. I just want to watch Star Wars and write Harry Potter fanfiction. Also, I hate Math.

A/N - Two chapters left! Sorry this took a while, but the first part is in Peter’s Point of View which I’m still not sure I’m happy with, but I tried. I hope you guys enjoy it! 

Warnings - Angst is still here folks. Sad Peter Parker. Language. 

It was definitely safe to say that I had screwed up. Not just regularly screwed up, but I had screwed up royally. I could still see the look on her face, the disappointment in her eyes. I never wanted to see her look at me like that again. 

As soon as she ran away, I started to follow, but I felt Mr. Stark clasp my shoulder. “Just let her go kid. She’ll come back when she’s ready to talk.” 

I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to find her and explain everything. How yeah, I was planning on talking to her, making her feel welcome, but then I saw her, and I knew she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Way too beautiful to pay attention to someone like me. I didn’t think I’d even be able to talk to her. Not because Mr. Stark told me too, but because her smile was the best thing I had ever seen. How could I talk to someone whose small smile was more than enough to knock the breath out of my lungs? 

Then I saw the Star Wars book and could practically feel her anxiety to get out of the room as fast as possible. I knew I had to talk to her, because not only was she obviously feeling out of place in a new school, but I had to see that smile again. I wanted to see it every day. I wanted to see it as often as possible. Now, I might not get to see that again. “Mr. Stark, I’ve got to explain -”

“I know Parker, but she needs to cool down. Give her some time to do that.” 

I did do that. Against my better judgement I did that because while Mr. Stark and I didn’t always agree, he was often right.

But then time passed. First one hour, and then another, and then two more. I had to call May and give her an excuse as to why I wasn’t back yet. I wasn’t going to leave until I got to talk to her. I had to make things right. I had to tell her what she meant to me.

When it got to be three in the morning, and she still wasn’t back, that’s when the worrying started. I called her cell phone several times, but it always went straight to voicemail. “Mr. Stark, I think something’s wrong.” There was an ache in my gut every time that I thought about Y/N, and my gut was never wrong. “Are you sure she’s still here?” 

“Nobody can leave the compound, kid,” Mr. Stark replied, but I noticed his fingers tapping anxiously on the table in front of him.

“Actually, I let her out.” 

Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, Captain, Thor and I all turned to face Thor’s brother who was casually standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. 

“What did you just say Reindeer Games?” I had never seen Mr. Stark this angry before. Usually when I did something he told me not to do he would get mad, but I had never seen him look like this before. 

It didn’t seem to phase Loki though as he just shrugged his shoulders. “She clearly wanted to leave, so I let her. I was told my job was to intimidate the insect, not keep her locked up.” Loki said, gesturing to me. 

I turned to Mr. Stark, feeling some anger start to grow in my chest. “You were trying to intimidate me?!” 

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, frustration leaking into his tone. “You’re in love with my daughter, Parker, of course I’m trying to intimidate you. That’s what Fathers do.” 

His words startled my anger away, my eyes widening. “In - in love - Mr. Stark -”

“It’s quite all right young spider. I believe you are an excellent match for Lady Stark.” Thor said, clasping my shoulder, my knees almost buckling in surprise. 

“Hello! My daughter is missing! Can we get back to the point here?!” Mr. Stark yelled. 

“Where was she going, Loki?” Captain asked him. 

“She didn’t mention it, and I didn’t inquire.” Loki answered. 

My eyes met Mr. Stark’s, the panic in my eyes mirrored in his own. Y/N was out there, unprotected for hours now. That meant that they could have . . . “Mr. Stark -”

“FRIDAY, start running facial recognition on the cameras in New York City.” Mr. Stark said, ignoring me as he stood up from the table, going into action mode. “Track her phone. If it’s off, turn it back on.” 

“Yes, sir.” FRIDAY replied. 

“I’ll call Clint.” Captain said, already dialing the number as he turned away. 

“Sir? I’m afraid it is impossible to turn Y/N’s phone back on.” 

Mr. Stark shoved a chair angrily. I watched as Ms. Potts reached over and squeezed his shoulder. It reminded me of Halloween when Y/N had laid her head on my shoulder, talking about her Mom. My parent’s deaths, and Uncle Ben’s, weren’t something I talked about a lot, but with her . . . it had been easy. When I got past my nerves, her presence always comforted me, and now, because I had been stupid, I might lose her to. Remembering this moment though, I had an idea about where she might have gone. “Mr. Stark, I think -”

“Clint’s on the way. I think we should go ahead and run some surveillance. I can call Sam in and get some more eyes in the air.” Captain said. 

“Do it.” Mr. Stark nodded. “I’ll suit up.” 

“Mr. Stark, I have an idea-!” I tried to say again, but he cut me off. 

“I need you to stay here, Parker.” 

“What?” I said, his words shocking me. “I’m not staying here when she could be out there -”

“I need someone to stay and keep her here if she comes back.” He told me, hurrying out of the room. “No arguments.” 

“I care about her too much to just sit around and do nothing!” I never raised my voice at Mr. Stark, never, but I couldn’t stand the thought of not helping to find her when it was my fault she was missing. 

“I said no arguments!” Mr. Stark replied back sharply, slamming the door behind him. 

Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair, watching the window as mere seconds later Thor, Captain and Mr. Stark all took off. 

“You know where she might be, don’t you?” 

I turned around to face Ms. Potts who was staring at me. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

“Go, I’ll let you out.” She said, gesturing downstairs. 

“But Mr. Stark said -”

“Tony doesn’t want to risk losing both of you, but I know he won’t forgive himself if something happens to Y/N. Go. Find her.” 

I didn’t need to be told twice. “Thank - thank you.” I told her, running out the door and struggling out of my clothes, my suit already on under them. As soon as I had my mask on, I spoke. “Karen, I need the fastest route to Y/N’s old apartment in Brooklyn.” 

“On it.” She replied, lighting up the screens in my eyes with the route I asked for. My web shooters shot out, grabbing a hold of a tree as I took off. On my way there, all I could think about was that night in Brooklyn, taking the long cab ride back to Queens, her tired and tipsy, but beautiful under my arm and curled into my side. 

“Ooh, you see that building, Peter? That’s where I used to live. Mom and I would sit out front and talk all the time.” She had told me before nuzzling back into my shoulder with a little smile on her face. 

I couldn’t help but smile in return. It was always like that with her. How could anyone not smile when an angel like her was looking at you like that? She was distracting, but now I was glad I remembered the location. 

My heart dropped immediately when I didn’t find her there. I slouched onto the bench, not even caring if anyone saw me. I had no idea where she could be, and she was very possibly in trouble. It was only when I lifted my head that I caught sight of a familiar Harry Potter phone case with her house on it. I ran over to it, grabbing it and turning it over, finding the completely shattered screen. 

I felt like I was going to throw up. 

“Karen, call Mr. Stark.” 

-----

(Reader POV)

A dull pounding in my skull slowly drove me to consciousness. As soon as I opened my eyes, the dizziness overwhelmed me. I forced them to stay open though, trying to take in my surroundings. The problem was, I couldn’t see much at all because a blinding light was shining in my face. 

“She’s awake.” I heard a voice say. 

“About time. Of course Tony Stark’s brat would make us wait until she was good and ready.” Another voice, this time female, replied.

The light was then shoved out of my face and a blonde woman came into view, smirking at me. 

I finally found my voice, shaking my head at her. “I don’t know what you want, but if  you think Tony is going to pay some sort of ransom -”

She laughed, a loud and cruel sound that sent a chill down my spine. “Wow, you are Tony Stark’s daughter. The stupidity continues down the generation if you think we went to all this trouble just to get some money.” 

Confusion filled my face. What did she mean ‘all this trouble?’ All they did was drug me and drag me here. “All this . . .” 

“We’ve been following you for months, darling.” The man came into my sight, and I vaguely recognized him as the man who drugged me. “Not to mention robbing that chemical plant -”

“Which would have gone much easier if that stupid insect hadn’t come along.” The woman hissed. 

“Relax baby. We got what we wanted.” The man said in an annoyed tone, and I watched in horror as he reached out to touch me. I turned my head away quickly and shifted as much as I could in my restraints. I wasn’t going to let this asshole touch me. 

“Who the fuck are you people?” I hissed. 

“Oh how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Justine Hammer.” The woman twirled a gray and blue liquid in a vial between her fingers as her smirk deepened, “and I’m the one who’s going to make you kill your father.” 

Need You Now Tag List: 

@broadwaytrash101 @captainmommaoftwogirls @iamwarrenspeace @its-nikki-bitch @little-fangirls-blog @obsessedmaggiemay @whatdafricklefrackle @yourwonderbelle

General Tag List: 

@seninjakitey

[shielddrake]

Rebel of Sky City Ch. 23

Wow, I am so sorry for the long wait! I wanted to post this ages ago! But work and school makes life difficult. Darn you, responsibilities!

 So, after reading this, I’m sure most of you will think there is only one more chapter left. Well, you would be incorrect. There will in fact be an epilogue after that chapter, so there are two more posts after this one. Hopefully I will be able to have them out sooner rather than later.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

“Hey Jesse! Check it out!”

Jesse looked over her shoulder. At the scene, she turned around completely with a smile. There stood Lukas, his bright blonde hair shining in the sun. He held up a beautifully crafted beacon in his hands. He placed it on the ground, letting the beam shoot up into the bright blue sky above. The only thing brighter than the beam was his own grin.

“I finally got the recipe right for a beacon!” he declared, spreading his arms out wide.

 “That’s so great, Lukas!” Jesse gave him a tight hug. “I knew you’d get it!”

“And an impressive beacon it is.” Isa walked up to the pair and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “This will make it easier for people on other islands to find us.”

 “We can keep everyone safe this way,” Jesse said.

“I’m glad you suggested changing the laws, Jesse,” Isa commented. She glanced around at all the people who were happily crafting whatever they wanted. “I’ve never seen the people so joyful.”

“But it’s good to have some supervision so no one gets hurt,” Lukas added. “Just not so much that it oppresses anyone.”

“Yeah.” Jesse closed her eyes and let the sun hit her face. “It’s good that everyone’s getting along now.”

“Too bad it’s too late for us,” Isa said all of a sudden.

 Jesse looked at her with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean, Mother?”

“Lukas and I,” the older woman answered. “We’ll never see this Sky City.”

 “What?”

“We’ve already fallen,” Lukas said.

The city around them vanished, along with the ground beneath their feet. Jesse watched as Lukas and her mother both fell away from her, down towards the darkness that was the Void. They both let out loud screams that echoed against the clouds as they plummeted.

Jesse wasn’t falling with them. Instead, she floated in the air like a bird, completely safe and unaffected by gravity. She reached out her hands, hoping against hope she would be able to catch them and pull them back up. Even as slow as her loved ones seem to fall, Jesse wasn’t quick enough to grab them.

“No!”

Jesse’s eyes snapped open. The chill of the stone against her back disappeared as she leaned forward, reaching her hands out like she did in her dream. She gasped and let out a small cough. Rubbing her eyes, Jesse tried to recall what happen. She heard Reuben oinking beside her, and she glanced down to see his worried face.

Panting, she slowly put a hand on Reuben’s head. “A dream. It was just a dream.”

 But she knew, it wasn’t a dream. Lukas really had fallen off the island, followed very shortly by Isa. Aiden has pushed them, all in the effort of taking over the city. And for what? Because he was jealous. Because of that petty emotion, Jesse had lost everything. Her mother, her boyfriend, her friends, her home, her freedom…everything was gone. Ripped away from her in a single day.

Jesse slammed her head against the wall behind her. How did I let all this happen?

 There was a bang and a shriek, making Jesse jump. Reuben let out a loud squeal and started running in circles, panic taking over his tiny body. Jesse stood up in time to hear the rumblings of another shriek.

 “Wait, I know that sound.” It wasn’t something she had often heard in her life. The first time she had heard it, as a child, she knew she would never forget it. “That was a ghast. What’s going on?”

In spite of his human’s comforting pets, Reuben could only give her a scared and perplexed look. Without any windows or doors, it was impossible to know what was happening beyond the dark corridor they hid in.

“We better check it out,” Jesse said in a whisper, and Reuben quietly oinked in reply.

 She walked over to a small doorway in the hall, covered by what she knew was just a portrait of something. Reaching out a hand, she paused. Being literally inside the walls of the palace was her safeguard. Isa had built these tunnels for this kind of emergency, to keep Jesse safe. No one else knew about them. The chances of Aiden (or anyone, for that matter) finding her in there were slim to none.

Jesse knew she couldn’t hide forever though, and she really didn’t want to. She had been locked up for nearly her entire life. Staying hidden away wasn’t so different, other than never seeing the outdoors or other people again. Her gilded cage had been bad enough.

She placed a hand on the wood of the portrait back. Despite these thoughts, part of Jesse didn’t want to leave the dark corridor either. Going outside meant she had to face reality, face the fact that she was alone in the world once again, only this time it was even worse. While before she had been ignorant, his time around she knew what she had lost. Lukas and her mother were gone, Ivor was gone, probably falling to his doom in the Void as well, and Reginald was captured. Who knew where Petra and the others were? Going outside meant facing what happened and dealing with it.

I don’t know if I can, she thought, letting out a deep sigh.

Never took you for a coward, Jesse. She could almost hear Lukas teasing her. To her surprise, this thought managed to bring a tiny laugh from her mouth.

 “Now’s not the time to be afraid,” Jesse told herself, and she pushed the painting forward.

 The palace halls were dark. There wasn’t anyone around to light any of the lamps or torches that lined the ceiling. No light came from the windows either. This normally would indicate the hour of sunlight, but Jesse was pretty during it was daytime now. She felt rested enough that she was pretty sure she had slept for at least an hour or two.

 Stepping out of the hidden passage, Reuben right behind her, Jesse made her way to the closest window. It did seem to be day, but the dark clouds and falling rain gave the sky a gloomier appearance. But even without the sun, Jesse could see what was going on, and she gasped.

 Many of the city buildings had crumbled to the ground. A few areas were on fire, in spite of the rain. Meanwhile, the communal pond had turned into a shallow lake and was running over the sides of the island. Jesse was so accustomed to seeing the sharp and pristine buildings and streets of Sky City. To see it in such shambles was a complete shock to her system. She stepped back to take a breath before trying to make out some of the details of the city.

 The heavy water droplets on the glass made it hard to make out, but Jesse could see a few small forms running around in clear panic. Although they were few and far between, the people were still being targeted by what could only be mobs that had been released from Benedict’s eggs. The white forms of ghasts flew around and spat fire at anything that moved, and zombies shuffled futilely after the fleeing people. A couple of spiders climbed up and down the remaining buildings. Creepers, meanwhile, hissed right before they exploded and created more rubble.

Jesse put a hand up to her mouth. Her home was completely in ruins!

“Aiden.” The answer of what had happened was obvious. She glared at a ghast that flew a little too close to her window. “He’s gone completely crazy!”

 Reuben squealed, both at his human’s outburst and at the sight of the monsters everywhere. He glanced at Jesse, wondering what she was going to do. Jesse was looking at her hands, glaring at them with narrow eyes.

“This is my fault,” she muttered. “I didn’t stand up to Aiden when I needed to. All this is because of me.”

Reuben let out a small cry and rubbed his head against her leg. It was a small comfort, but it seemed to snap her out of her self-pity. Jesse fisted her hands and looked out the window again at her city.

“No. I have to do something,” she growled. “Lukas wouldn’t want me to just give up. He’d want me to keep going, no matter what.”

She turned sharply to Reuben, and she placed her hand on his head.

 “And Mother was right about one thing. With her gone, I’m in charge of Sky City, and it’s my responsibility to protect my people.” Jesse straightened up, pulling her pickaxe out of her inventory. “Aiden’s going to keep hurting them until he finds me. I have to do something to stop him, and that means facing him head on.”

With a spin of her heel, Jesse began to make her way down the halls. “He’s going to be in the throne room. And if not, I can wait for him there.”

Before Jesse was able to take more than a few steps, the familiar feeling of a wet snout pressed against her fingers. Jesse looked down to see Reuben watching her with wide eyes. She shook her head.

“Sorry, Reuben. You can’t come with me,” she said. “Not this time.”

 Well, that statement didn’t sit to well with the pig. Reuben glared, crumpling his nose with a grunt. She kneeled down to him and smiled, a sad smile that didn’t reach her sleepy eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she murmured to him. “You understand?”

 Reuben gave a quiet oink and a nod. He understood all too well.

“You’re all I have left, Reuben. If something happened to you…”

The little swine oinked again. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path, and stomped his front hooves. Like she said, Reuben was the only one Jesse had left. No way was he going to abandon her now. Friends didn’t do that. They stuck with each other through thick and thin, regardless of species difference.

 He stomped his feet once more, and Jesse actually chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I…Just…run at the first sign of trouble, okay?”

Reuben snorted in response. Jesse didn’t need to know about that little fib.

Jesse glanced at her stone pickaxe in her hand as she made her way down the halls to the throne room. This was the only weapon she had. Chances were Aiden and his goons had pilfered the weapons storage that Reginald kept for the Guard. Even if there was a single weapon left in there, what were the chances she could reach it without having to fight anyway?

 It was quite a choice. Either take her chances with her stone pickaxe against Aiden (and anyone else he had with him). Or take her chances of fighting more battles in order to reach the armory, which may or may not have anything she could use.

“No. No more waiting,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to let Aiden do any more damage than he already has.”

With that, she took the corner that would lead her to the throne room. Reuben galloped right behind her, his hooves echoing against the iron walls.

 It took very little time for the two friends to reach the throne room’s double doors. To Jesse’s surprise, they were already partly open. This allowed Jesse to peek into the room before she actually went inside.

Far to the right was Reginald, tied up and appeared to be unconscious. Benedict stood with him, flapping her wings and clucking. She seemed to be trying to wake him up, but to no avail. There was a black scorch mark on the ground, along with a few missing blocks from the decorated floor. Jesse immediately recognized these as signs of a creeper having exploded there.

That’s obviously Aiden’s work, she thought. Creeper eggs are one of the most dangerous to use.

Turning her head to the left, Jesse couldn’t help but drop her jaw at the sight before her. Locked together in one-to-one combat were Lukas and Aiden. The latter undoubtedly had the upper hand, pushing and slamming his sword against Lukas’ with strong blows. He was able to push the blonde against a wall, but Lukas was quick enough to dodge in time and roll away. He backed up a little, but Aiden immediately spun around and continued his assault.

“Lukas…” Jesse whispered, all breath having escaped her as she watched the blonde fight. “He’s alive…”

 Jesse felt like she could fall to her knees in relief. The possibility that she was hallucinating didn’t even cross her mind. Lukas was there! He was alive and breathing and moving!

And fighting with Aiden!

Aiden swiped his sword against Lukas, slicing him across his chest. Lukas fell to the ground and crawled backwards as he held a hand up to his bloodied shirt. He looked up as Aiden raised his sword, looking ready to bring it down.

“No!” Jesse’s voice was still raspy as she rushed forward, bringing her pickaxe to the front.

Reuben, however, was a faster runner than Jesse, and he reached the dueling men first. He released a battle cry (which really was just a loud squeal, but it was a battle cry for a pig) as he lowered his head and slammed right into Aiden’s stomach. Aiden let out an undignified grunt, lowering his sword and crossing his arms across his abdomen. This gave Jesse the opportunity to place herself between him and her boyfriend. She brandished her pickaxe and parried Aiden’s next blow.

 Aiden snarled as his sword was blocked, pressing hard against the sudden appearance of another rebel. Who would dare try to fight him, against the diamond sword he took, with something as pitiful as a stone pickaxe?

His answer came in the form of green eyes that burned like torches. “Jesse?!”

“You better back off, Aiden.”

 Without a second thought, Jesse shoved Aiden away with her foot. This came as such a surprise to him that Aiden dropped his sword. He looked up at her, as he lay sprawled against the steps at the base of the throne. She breathed heavily through her nose as she approached him, ready to stab him in the face with the sharp end of her pick.

 Aiden was not completely without something up his sleeve though. He gave out a loud roar as he tossed an orange and yellow-spotted egg at the ground. The shell blew apart, and with a puff of smoke came a floating yellow head and several yellow rods. The entire creature was engulfed in flames, and the heat of the room increased dramatically with its presence.

 Jesse had to step back to avoid the blaze’s flying tackle, allowing Aiden the opportunity to dash behind the throne. He took refuge on the small outcrop of land that stuck behind it, grabbing his sword on his way. Jesse growled.

“Get back here, you coward!”

 The blaze blocked her way, spitting three fireballs in her direction. Jesse rolled out of the way of the flames, and the two spun around to face each other. Thankfully, Jesse was much faster than the blaze. With a sharp bend of her knees, she was able to leap up and bring down her pickaxe onto the blaze, slicing right through it.

The blaze fell to the ground and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Unfortunately, it was the final strike the pickaxe could take. It also vanished from Jesse’s hands, a small wisp being all that was left. Jesse cursed, but she immediately forgot about it when her eyes fell on Lukas again.

There was only a moment of pause before the pair immediately ran to each other, clinging to each other as tightly as their arms would allow. When Jesse pulled back, all she did was place her hands on Lukas’ cheeks. Upon seeing her glossy eyes, Lukas covered one of her hands with his own and pressed his lips against her palm. They shared a reassured smile.

“I thought you were dead…” Jesse whispered.

 “I thought I was too.” Lukas’ voice was just as quiet.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Jesse kicked herself for not asking about it sooner. “What about…Mother?”

 “She’s okay,” he answered. “She’s fighting the monsters in the city right now.”

 With another sigh of immense relief, Jesse pressed her forehead against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, relishing in the fact that she could hear it.

Their moment was interrupted by the painful groan coming from behind Lukas. Jesse looked over the blonde’s shoulder, spotting Reginald as he started to rouse. Reuben and Benedict were with him, nudging him with their feet in an attempt to wake him.

 Jesse finally became aware of their situation again, and her back stiffened. She pulled away from Lukas, turning in the direction Aiden had fled in. She clenched her fists and started walking that way. She was barely able to keep her feet from stomping holes into the floor. Every fiber of her being told her to throw Aiden off the island.

See how he likes it!

A hand on her shoulder momentarily stopped her. Jesse almost wanted to snap at Lukas for keeping her even a moment from exacting some revenge on Aiden for everything he had done. Only her relief that Lukas was alive gave her enough patience to keep her from baring her teeth.

In truth, Jesse didn’t need to worry about Lukas actually stopping her. Rather, he held out his diamond sword to her. He pressed it against her palm, waiting until she enclosed her fingers around the hilt before he let go. Jesse looked up to see a confident smile on his visage.

“Kick his butt.”

Lukas backed up a step, out of the way for Jesse to head to Aiden. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Will you check on Reginald?”

“Will do.”

With that, Lukas joined the oinking pig and clucking chicken as Reginald continued to groan and rub his head. That creeper explosion clearly took a lot out of him. Jesse watched her boyfriend go before returning her attention to the task at hand.

 Aiden was waiting for her on the bit of island behind the throne. He had built a few blocks of dirt out into the cloudy sky, creating a bridge leading to nothing. He held his sword lowered at his side. His face was pointed at the ground, but his eyes faced forward to look at Jesse from under his upper eyelids. She could see he was breathing a little heavily, which was odd considering he hadn’t exerted himself recently.

Jesse slowly walked forward, ignoring the rain as it soaked her hair and clothes. She had her eyes on Aiden and nothing else. In contrast to him, her breathing was slow and smooth, allowing her to keep a clear head.

Stay focused. She slowly breathed out of her mouth. This is just like in training with Reginald.

Once she was a mere three meters from Aiden, she stopped, giving Aiden one last chance to show some remorse for his actions. Just one bit. One little bit.

But it seemed that was not to be. Aiden looked up at her with a creased nose.

 “It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Jesse,” he barked, holding a clenched fist in front of him. “This was supposed to be our world. Together! I did this all for us! You and me, ruling together! And you ruined it!”

“Listen to yourself! That’s insane!” Jesse argued. “You got people thrown in jail! You tried to kill Lukas and my mother! You let your people release all kinds of monsters all over the city! Who knows how many more people have been hurt or killed?! Do you really think that would all be something I’d want?!”

 “Was it too much to ask to win something for once?!” Aiden hollered. “I was supposed to be the top builder in Build Club! I was supposed to The Founder’s right hand! I was supposed to win you!”

 Jesse couldn’t help but shake her head at his logic. “Aiden, this isn’t about who wins and who loses. It’s about what’s right.”

“Then I’m going to make it right.” Aiden pointed his sword towards her, a toothy smirk on his face.

Jesse lifted her blade as well. The two paused for an instant before Aiden narrowed his eyes and rushed forward. Jesse met him halfway across the dirt crag just in time to block Aiden’s sword as it came down towards her. He swung a second time with a long grunt, and then thrust the sword towards Jesse’s chest. It was painfully obvious that it didn’t matter to him anymore who his opponent was. Aiden wasn’t going to hold back in this duel.

 Jesse easily dodged to the side, which also put her in a clear position to block Aiden’s backswing that followed. She lifted her sword, flinging Aiden’s above their heads. This forced Aiden’s center of balance behind him, and he stumbled backwards.

Keep your feet spread, Jesse reminded herself. Solid footing. Remember training.

By the time Aiden recovered, it was Jesse’s turn to be on the offensive. She brought her sword over her head and then down onto his. He managed to block her attack, but rather than a full parry, Aiden’s blade was knocked to the side. She echoed his motions with a backswing of her own, forcing Aiden’s sword to go the other way.

With another overhead blow, Jesse was able to throw off his balance again. Aiden swayed on the bridge, barely missing the edge, and landed backwards on his rear. His eyebrows furrowed with worry, but he swiftly flipped back onto his feet and swung his sword again.

Jesse was on a roll. She blocked his next attack, along with the one after that, with nothing more than a flick of her sword arm. She didn’t even have to put much force into her blows. Aiden was so angry that it was distracting him from making meaningful strikes.

Wait for the right opening, she thought, her mind still flashing back to her practice with Reginald. Just like I disarmed him.

It happened almost with another thought. Jesse was able to press Aiden’s sword down towards their feet. With a flick, she used the momentum of Aiden’s sword against him, forcing Aiden to release his hold on its hilt. His diamond sword flew over his head while its wielder was pushed back to the ground, landing on his back. The sword itself shimmered in the rain as it fell from the dirt outcrop and plummeted to the world below.

 Aiden gasped, crawling backwards until he was at the edge of the ridge he had built. He looked up at Jesse’s narrowed eyes as she advanced on him, her sword still aimed in his direction.

“Wait, wait, wait! Jesse! Hang on!” He threw a palm out to gesture her to stop. “Hang on! I surrender! Just, please. Don’t hurt me.”

Jesse continued to frown at the young man. Did he really think she would spare him, after everything that had happened? He had talked so big only minutes before, and now he was groveling and pleading for mercy? She shook her head and huffed.

A coward. That’s all he is. Why did I ever feel threatened by him?

“You did it, Jesse!” She turned to see Lukas standing with Reuben, Benedict and Reginald. They all remained at the edge of the island, a safe enough distance from her. “Way to go!”

Jesse smiled at him before turning her eyes to Reginald.

 “Are you all right?” The concern in her voice could still be heard over the thunder in the sky and the shrieking ghasts in the distance.

 “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” Reginald replied. “But Jesse, we need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, we have to check on the others,” Lukas agreed. The screams of the Sky City citizens only punctuated this statement.

Reginald glared at Aiden. “What do you want to do with him?

 Jesse looked at the pleader out the corner of her eye. Aiden braved getting up from his prone position, though he decided it was in his best interest to remain on his knees with his hands in the air.

“Jesse…Jesse, please,” he begged with wide eyes. “This place is getting worse by the minute.”

“And whose fault is that?” Lukas disputed, crossing his arms over his chest. Reuben snorted at his side and started digging a hoof into the ground.

 Aiden cringed at his former friend’s words, but kept his gaze on Jesse. “Please, you can’t just leave me here. Take me with you!”

“Oh no! After everything you’ve done?” Reginald yelled. “I’m not sure you deserve that kind of mercy!”

 Of course, this echoed Jesse’s very own thoughts from just moment ago. However, though she still agreed with the sentiment, hearing it from someone else made the gravity of that option truly apparent. Could she really leave Aiden to the mercy of the monsters in the city? Even though it was his fault the monsters were there to begin with?

Aiden certainly didn’t like the idea.

“No! No, no, no! Come on! You can’t just leave me behind! If you leave me here, I’ll die! Would you really do that, Jesse?” The desperation in his voice almost made it break. At her silence, Aiden instead focused on Lukas. “Lukas! We used to be friends! You’d leave me to die like this?!”

“You haven’t been acting like a friend,” Lukas sneered. Reuben oinked in stern agreement. “You haven’t for a long time.”

 Aiden’s breathing quickened as he looked back at Jesse. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling hard on it before slamming his hands on the ground and ducking his head.

 “Please. I’ll do anything.”

 He really is pathetic, Jesse thought, slowly blinking her eyes as rain trickled down her face. This is the guy who tormented Olivia, teased Axel, got nearly all my friends thrown in prison, threatened Reuben, tried to kill Mother and Lukas…Kissed me against my will! Why on earth should I spare him?

But there was a nagging beat in the back of her head. It was the part of her who argued with her mother about how unfair it was to treat people poorly, how cruel it was to punish people for having different perspectives from you. Shouldn’t Jesse try to practice what she preached and treat others with kindness? And learn to forgive? Aiden was just a poor, jealous soul who just wanted people to appreciate him and like him. Was that really too much to ask? Of course, he went about it in the worst way possible, but did Jesse really want to be the person who didn’t show mercy to someone who clearly needed it, even if he didn’t deserve it?

 She sighed and looked at Lukas. “What do you think?”

He took a breath before answering. “I think it’s up to you.”

And there was the biggest difference between Lukas and almost everyone else Jesse had encountered in her life. So many people wanted to tell her what to do, how to act. Even if they had the best of intensions, like her mother, Jesse always felt like people only wanted to control her.

Lukas was nothing like that. He shared his views with her, certainly, but he never tried to force Jesse into anything she didn’t want. He was leaving it up to her and her own judgment to decide what to do. And considering what Aiden had done to him, it would be no surprise to Jesse if Lukas wanted nothing more than to throw him off the island as well. Perhaps it was the smallest bit of him that still cared somewhat for Aiden that kept him from voicing that opinion. But the fact that he was keeping that opinion, whatever it really was, to himself showed that he trusted Jesse to do what she thought was right.

She didn’t want to be the kind of person who didn’t know how to forgive, no matter how heinous the crime.

Jesse clicked her tongue. “Get moving, Aiden. You’re coming with us.”

She ignored his simpering thanks as she turned her back to him and returned to the cover of the throne room. It was about time to get out of the rain.

Reginald huffed, as Aiden passed him. “More than you deserve, frankly.”

 This sentiment was echoed by both Reuben’s snort and Benedict’s cluck.

Once they reached the throne room proper, Reginald grabbed Aiden’s hands from above his head and forced them behind his back. Taking the rope he had previously been bound in, he tied Aiden’s wrists together, ignoring the young man’s grimace when he cinched them tight.

Reginald looked down at Reuben and Benedict, both of whom were giving Aiden a disgusted look. Having become accustomed to living with both of these animals, he was surprisingly good at recognizing from their expressions what they wanted. And the looks the pig and chicken were giving him detainee were not pleasant at all.

 “Don’t even think about it,” he warned them when they took a step towards Aiden. “We still need to get out of here first. This fiend will get his just desserts. Mark my words.”

 His voice rumbled with these last words, and Aiden couldn’t help but gulp at the implication. He was sure he would prefer the animals’ punishment compared to the Captain’s.

 Reginald was about to lead his prisoner out of the throne room when he turned to address Jesse and Lukas. However, his plan to lead them out of the palace would have to wait.

Jesse had her arms wrapped around Lukas’ neck as she kissed him firmly on the lips. Lukas tightened one arm around her waist while his other hand carefully ran against her wet hair. One of Jesse’s hands ran up and down his arm. In response, he brought his matching hand up to hers, entwining their fingers together as they continued to kiss.

 Don’t really have time for that, but after what’s happened, I don’t have the heart to interrupt. Reginald suppressed a laugh. You better take good care of Jesse, young man. I’d really hate to have to run you through with the sharp end of my sword.

[not-close-to-straight]

Better This Way (Chapter One)(Spideypool ABO)

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

***********

Peter loved the way Deadpool smelled.

Not like the way he smelled after a hard night of patrol, or after they each devoured their share of a dozen burritos, or after he returned from one of those missions he never ever talked about.

No, it was something under all that. Something Peter couldn't quite name. But the Alpha had a heavy scent that reminded him of something electric and wild and dangerous. And for whatever reason it was also completely comforting and safe, which of course didn't make any sense at all.

It was like the time Peter had shot a web as high as he could on the Empire State Building, then scrambled towards the top. A thunderstorm had been brewing, and he had balanced on the edge of the spire and watched the lightning snap across the sky, and heard the thunder roll and felt that eerie electricity in the that made his hair stand on end and sent chills down his back. It was not his smartest moment, and looking back he knew he could have been killed in a heartbeat.

But standing there, balanced between feeling so very alive, and what was probably certain death-- Peter had felt completely safe. Completely at home.

And for some inexplicable reason, that was how he felt with Deadpool. That's was the Alpha’s scent--electric and wild and dangerous.

And Peter was… well he was addicted.

So when Deadpool climbed up the fire escape to meet him on the roof, carrying a bag of post patrol mexican food, Peter had to swallow back the urge to lean in, to scoot a little closer to the big Alpha. And wow was Deadpool a big Alpha. All over. Thick thighs and huge arms and a broad chest and so many muscles it made Peter want to just weep and---

“Whatcha thinking about Spidey?” The Merc shoved a burrito at him, effectively startling Peter from his thoughts. “I could hear the gears in your brain turning from the street. Don't hurt yourself now. Pretty thing like you needs to just lay back and let the Alphas do all the thinking.”

Ah yes. There it was.

Deadpool was also a grade-a Asshole.  A complete and total, Alpha swaggering, pheromone pouring, muscle flexing, inappropriate comment flinging, turning everything into a sex joke while filling out that stupid spandex suit until it nearly burst-- asshole.

And dammit if Peter still wasn't half in love with him, giving back just as much teasing as he got, even occasionally pushing for more.

He couldn't really explain it. He just loved it. Wanted it. Wanted the Alpha.

But Deadpool had no interest in anything real and anytime their little moments edged into something serious, he was quick to back off, either delivering a scathing retort or literally, physically backing off to the point of jumping off the roof if he had to.

The Alpha wasn't interested. But that didn't stop Peter from flirting with him anyway.

“Pool, if I let the Alphas do the thinking the world would burn. Let us pretty boys have a little bit of input.” He retorted and turned around to lift his mask to his nose so he could eat. Deadpool turned away as well, and they sat leaning on each others backs and eating as fast as they could.

It was easier, eating back to back. No awkward staring at the glimpses of each others skins, no worrying about letting anything slip about their identities. And of course they both ate like maniacs, because after a night on patrol they were always starving, and no one wanted to see that.

So back-to-back it was.

“You see that hot piece of omega in the last store?” Deadpool said, several minutes later. “All blond hair and blue eyes? Sweet, perfect little thing. Damn.”

“Nope, I didn't notice.” Peter said and took another big bite of food.

“What do you mean, you didn't notice?” Deadpool bumped the back of their heads together. “She looked like a porn star and smelled like a bitch in--”

“Hey!” Peter elbowed him. “Come on now!”

“Right. Sorry.” Deadpool shifted against his back. “Working on that. No talking about omegas like they are a piece of meat around Spidey. Not when I should be talking about you anyway.”

“That's exactly right.” He sniffed, trying to push as much hurt into his voice as possible. “It hurts my feelings when you talk about other people in front of me.”

“Spidey!!” Deadpool cried. “You know you are my entire heart!”

“Maybe chew your food before trying to sweet talk me.” Peter chuckled and Deadpool shook his head--and Peter's head-- adamantly.

“Don't you tell me how to live, Spider-boy. If I want to spit pick up lines at the same time I spit food just let me be. Stop oppressing me! It's practically a crime the way you try to change me. Just accept me for who I am. I mean honestly---”

“Jesus Christ stop talking!” Peter knocked their heads together hard and laughed when Pool yelled. “Just eat so I can go home and sleep.”

“Damn Spidey! Are you already done with your food? Check out the mouth on you boy. Are you good at devouring anything else like that?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Peter pulled his mask down and jumped to his feet, trying not to laugh again when the Alpha fell right over onto his back. “Maybe one day if you're really good I'll show you.”

“You know--” Deadpool pulled his own mask down to hide his mouth and neck, but not before Peter caught sight of all the scars that littered his skin. “One of these days I'm gonna take you up on that offer.”

He had seen them before, or at least seen glimpses, and knew that most of Deadpool’s body was covered in them. Peter had never asked what they were from, and the Alpha had never offered the information, but Peter was sure it had something to do with Deadpool’s mutation. It didn't matter though, at least not to Peter, but the other man sure seemed self conscious about them, and tried to keep as covered as possible.

It made Peter a little sad. Sure he was covered all the time too, but at least he could walk down the street as Peter Parker and no one thought anything about him. Deadpool probably couldn't go anywhere without being stared at, and that was---

“One of these days you're going to be serious but I'll have someone else that loves me and won't want you anymore.” Deadpool was still talking. “I mean, either put out or shaddup baby boy.”

“That's not the saying.” Peter snarked quickly, rolling his eyes behind his mask. “I'm sure one day when you move on from your obsession with me, I'll cry. But until then, I'm going home to sleep and do normal day time things and leave your obnoxious ass here.”

“Okay first of all, I knew you were thinking about my ass this entire time. And second--what does a spider do during the day? Feast on the flesh of the ones he captured during the night?”

Peter made a big show of looking around. “Do you see any captured people here? You’re the only one still hanging around.”

“Ah so it's my flesh you want to feast on.” Deadpool stood to his feet and and struck an obnoxious pose, arms flexed. “I can't say I blame you. I knew you wanted me.”

Peter had to swallow the soft sound of want he made. Yeah Deadpool might be all swagger and an absolute asshole, but he was also so much Alpha Peter almost couldn't stand it.

But he didn't say any of that. Instead he faked a loud yawn just so he could hear the comically offended gasp from Deadpool, and sighed. “Most boring thing I've ever seen. See you tonight for patrol.” Peter waved then back flipped off the roof, tossing a web out at the last minute to catch himself, and soaring away through the buildings.

“That whole gymnastics routine totally does it for me, Spidey!” Deadpool yelled at the top of his lungs, and he could hear Spidey laughing as he webbed away.

********************

********************

Another long patrol night, another early dawn sitting against each other on a roof, eating Chinese food this time. It maybe was suspicious that Peter had managed to find “fresh” Chinese food at four in the morning, but neither one was complaining, just stuffing their faces, trying not to think about their night.

“You did good tonight.” Deadpool said after almost half an hour of silence. “With that little girl.”

“She ended up in the hospital.” He flinched when he heard the bitterness in Spideys voice. “As fast as I am-- still couldn't keep her from getting hurt.”

“But you kept her from getting hurt worse.” He emphasized. “That's counts for a whole lot. That mom still gets to hold her baby tonight.”

“Yeah.”

Deadpool waited for the kid to say something else, but all was silent, just a heavy sigh and the lean body lay a littler heavier against his back. “I'm serious.” he said. “You did good.”

“Thanks Pool.” Spideys voice, which usually sounded like he was laughing, was softer than usual, sounded sad. “I just-- did you hear her crying?”

He swallowed a large bite of noodles, as well all the the emotion clogging his throat. “Well yeah. I was right there. Heard her cry. Felt it too. All the fear and panic and all that coming off her.” the Alpha shifted uncomfortably. “Lucky you’re a Beta, Spidey. Don't have to feel all those fucking pheromones and vibes off everyone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I--I guess.” Silence for another minute, then-- “Thanks.”

“Just don't want you getting all blubbery on me.” Deadpool snorted. “Nothing worse than a twelve year old crying.”

“I'm not twelve.” There was that spark of amusement. “Do you think I'm a teenager?”

“Well I definitely don't think you’ve hit puberty yet.” He shrugged. “Otherwise your voice wouldn't sound like Shirley Temple after a long day and you wouldn't weigh like eight pounds.”

“Jesus Christ.” A frustrated sigh. “I'm twenty-two Pool.”

“That actually makes me feel better considering how much time I spend staring at your ass. How does that even exist? It's like it defies gravity. Just bouncy and cute, did that come with the spider-shit, or is that just squats? Cuz I gotta say---”

“Oh my god! Shut up!” Spidey laughed then, finally, and Deadpool breathed a soft sigh of relief that he was feeling better.

“Come on baby boy. You know you like me. Just admit it. No one has to know but us. Who can resist this much Alpha?”

“I'm leaving.” Spidey shook his head. “If you’re going to start talking about my ass I am definitely leaving. Too tired for your usual shit.”

“But the sun’s not up yet! I can't even stare longingly as you swing away!” He cried and the kid laughed even harder.

“Go get some sleep, Pool. Patrol again tonight?”

“You know I wouldn't miss it.” He stood when Spidey did and leaned towards him aggressively. “You know, if you were an Omega you wouldn't stand a chance against my charm. You’d be all… purring and swooning and begging me to carry you in my strong Alpha arms.”

Peter thought for a minute, smiling to himself at the thought of purring over the mercenary.

“You know what Pool?” he finally said and stepped into the big Alphas space. “You’re probably right about that.” he leaned even closer, tilting his head to show off the long line of his neck, hearing Deadpool’s breath catch at the borderline submissive action. “If I were an Omega, I would probably be a purring, writhing mess around someone like you.”

The Alpha growled, actually growled a little and made like he was going to grab Peter's waist, but Peter was faster and jumped away.

“But think about this---” he said, tapping his chin. “Are you fairly confident in your Alphaness?”

“Baby boy.” Deadpool reached for him again. “Let me prove it to you. I don't even care if you're a Beta. Come see what an Alpha can do.”

Peter just turned and walked to the edge of the roof, bending over at the waist to touch his toes before pushing himself up onto his fingertips, lifting his legs clear above his head in a straight line before letting them relax naturally, letting them bend and fall open until there was just enough space for an Alpha between them-- if an Alpha was so inclined to be there.

“Oh come on.” Spideys voice was low and soft. “Do you honestly think you could handle an Omega like me?”

He brought his legs back down until his toes touched the roof again, and his ass was on full display for a few seconds, then straightened back up, raising his arms above his head in an exaggerated stretch, moaning softly in satisfaction. “Mmmm. That felt good.”

“God Dammit, Spidey.” Deadpool forced a laugh, trying not to act like he was about three seconds from ruining his pants. “You know I've heard of Betas and Alphas getting together to blow off some steam. Maybe you take that bendy ass of yours and bring it right over---”

“Oh.” Peter glanced down at his watchless wrist and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god! Woud you--would you look at that? I am about five minutes past my curfew. Later, Pool.” He laughed out loud and leapt off the building, hearing Deadpool curse behind him as he webbed away.

*******************

It didn't take Peter long to make it back to his side of town, not even after stopping twice to help people out.

He dropped into the alley adjacent to his building and tossed some street clothes over his costume, tucking his mask into his backpack, then headed inside, foregoing the absolutely unreliable elevator to just run up the five flights of stairs to his top floor apartment.

Tonights patrol had kicked his butt and he was exhausted.  He headed right for the shower after locking and bolting his door, tossing his suit in the general direction of the hamper. Sometime before or after work tomorrow, he needed to replace the scent blocking fibers in his suit because they were wearing out, which wasn't a good thing, and he definitely needed to go grocery shopping because there wasn't any food in the house, which wasn't a good thing either.

Usually those sort of things weren't life or death issues, but as Peter stretched out on his bed, feeling way more tired usual, feeling the buzz of exhaustion around the edge of his mind, he knew he had to get them taken care of as soon as possible.

The entire world, Deadpool included, assumed Spiderman was a Beta. He wasn't big enough to be an Alpha, so a Beta made the most sense. It explained why he didn't pick up on scents as easily as Deadpool did, or why being around Omegas or even Alphas didn't affect him. Spiderman was always levelheaded, never swept away by the pheromones and emotions that the other genders were so susceptible to. It made him a well balanced superhero, not prone to fits of Omega instability, not drawn to violence like so many Alphas.

Which would have been a good thing, if Peter was actually a Beta.

But he wasn't.

The fibers in his suit masked his scent, and the suppressants and blockers and birth control kept most of his biology at bay, but Peter Parker was definitely an Omega. He was definitely affected by each and every scent of all the people he saved, was definitely prone to fits of emotions, was definitely aware of every single pheromone the overly Alpha mercenary put out there.

Even now, after his shower and desperately needing sleep, Peter couldn't get the Alphas scent out of his mind, or the way Deadpool had growled when they had been on the roof tonight.

He shuddered a little, rolling over and running a hand down his chest to his hips, hesitating before moving lower. It didn't seem right to think about the Alpha like this… but this was close as Peter would ever get so maybe it was alright.

Because he wasn't ever going to tell Deadpool he was an Omega.

If he had his way, no one would ever know.

It was just… just better this way.

***********************

[ligbi]

Animorphs Liveblog #1

I borrowed Animorphs from some friends and liveblogged my thoughts for them. I thought some tumblr folks may enjoy them as well. Animorph content warning for fucked up shit. For kids!

The Invasion 1996 Jake is a Lizard, and this weird CG render of him in a shoe is actually pretty damn good for the time. I forgot about the flipbook corners. 

Everything I tell you is a lie, but you have to believe me The Andalites promised they'd rescue us, and knowing what I know I do not believe that a smidge Marco and Jake already already friends, Tobias is a new, awkward guy, Rachel is Jake's tall cool cousin, and Cassie is black and 'mythical' So begins the heteros Tell me more about Jake's brother Tom and how you two have become distant Cool one sentence into each girl and I love them both already. Fuck the patriarchy! But also being a girl in public is scary Ha. Ax murderers.at the construction site. Ax. They're 13 right? Babies but also I call bullshit on towns with walking distance malls Marco was right Jake the idiot Shit wait which one dies how bad will I regret reading this? I get Tobias man. Looking at that sky. Also Cassie just "ufo" Marco is looking to make a buck off a ufo sighting. Okay Jake is a dweeb so says Marco Oh no baby bird you're clearly the best dude curse eager bird men We all just stood there like fools Hey the ship is burned and some of it has been melted! Also blue lights because all technology has glowing blue lights Jake's family has a minivan (oh god these are small children), and Marco wants to be on Letterman. Letterman Oh god right it's '96 you have to Go Somewhere to Call Someone. Wow 96 was I was 5 I just turned 27 Technology Rachel wants to Solve the spaceship and Cassie points out Star Trek is monolinguistic. As with all series, Girls. Blue deer-taur with no real mouth and extra eyes on stalks with scorpion tail. I've been meaning to re-read Wrinkle in Time, but I think when I first read that at like, 10, I pictured those blind creatures like this Please note, I recall fully reading one (1) of these books ever to completion. Rachel turned into a squid in that one Yes Ax does look like he can kill. I assume he does at some point Jake is almost crying upon seeing Ax, who already feels like a friend. Due to time travel and reincarnation, I am scared to find out why this is Yes I Am Dying. Oh aliens. This is not Ax, is it? Whoops Cassie's family are vets. And she's ready to jump into helping Hey whoever you are, just saying, it sounds like you're implying literally every other alien in the universe wants to kill us. Which is fair but Yeerks. Rat sized gray-green slug parasites ...How does this Andalite (right?) know none of them are controlled by a Yeerk right now? Marco is a bit of a pragmatist Oh jeez lingo uh let's see: Yeerks have Bug Fighters, a Blade Ship, Dracon Beams which destroy things to a molecular level, Andalites have a Dome Ship and Z-Space is a thing Expected Yeerk takeover time: A year or less Yikes Hey Jake fuck you get the box Ugh so straight Got the cube and hey look a hologram of their family WOW MEAN Ok so most (all?) Andlaties have a morph power to Alteans! blend in and hide also we acknowledge they are young Cassie and Tobias for best kids right now Two red streaks for Yeerks Bug fighters these are He looks at Tobias and feels weird like a chill. Normally I'd call Gay but predestination/time-travel/something is up ...How do they know how long two Earth hours are? Oh shit Visser Three. And he can Morph that's uh legit concerning? How'd he get that and what horrible things have he done? Has? Have or has? Also, what WILL he do? Third black ship, and what's his alien touched Tobias' head and did/conveyed Something Oh cool construction equipment just pfffff'd out because a giant battleaxe ship with scimitar wings Was this ship designed by the Hork-Bajir, who have blades on their wrists elbows knees and tails, and t-rex feet and falcon-beaked snake heads with three horns. Who are good people but all (?) controlled Taxxons are Big centipedes with lobster claw hands, jello eyes, and a top mouth that's a pointy circle Again, I demand quick satisfaction as to the positive vibes they get from Andalite1 Ah Visser Three is a controller of an Andaltie. Who was that Andalite? Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul is a mouthful So if he takes over enough places, Visser will become One. Who's the current One? Oh cool we're being targeted because we're over-populated compared to other species Humans behind the Visser? Is it ya'll? Please be ya'll I love me time-travel angst Now V3 is a big Monster and we're blowing up ships and I know this is a construction site but where is anyone else? Aw Jake you wanted to help. That's dumb but aw Death count: 1 Are Taxxons the ever-hungry aliens I've heard about? Or do the Yeerks just think it's fun to eat a dead guy? Oh cool those were Human Controllers and Jake seems to know one. I assume it's big bro? Most people are crying and Macro pukes I HEAR THAT FRIENDS Split up? Jinkies Rachel knows bad words. WHAT ARE THE WORDS K.A.APPLEGATE. TELL ME THE FORBIDDEN LANGUAGE (I assume Son of a Bitch from context but shout out to Rachel if it's Fucker) They can kind of speak English? Ghafrash? Hobo man: maybe dead? Probably dead Jake's strongest real memory is of aliens smiling at him. Get it boy-you're a child get nothing please So you're not close with Tobias, but you know he has a cat named Dude. Also: Cat is named Dude I love it BTW Jake, noticing another dude is Glowing? ;) Oh dang so Tobias doesn't know his Dad, Mom just left him around ten, and we're on a coast, with his aunt living on the other because his uncle is on this one How long does it take to morph? This sounds like a concerning amount of time Multiple minutes. Alright. Nightmareish. Side note: semi-crouching warped human with long butt and stubbed feet stage of morphing in the corner here Watching someone morph into a cat is giggle inducing. I will cherish these times won't I Telepathy is a good, easy answer to lots of questions about weird powers and communication Two year old string in a messy room. Boy Ha naked. Also the cat instincts mean ...oh dear this is gonna cause problems Why does Tobias get to decide Jake is the leader also why Jake? Not why like bleh why him but plot-wise something is the pre-meditated choice Homer the dog. You watch The Simpsons boy? Taking the dna puts the animal in a trance and it doesn't hurt to morph Bones feel like they should hurt yeah that sounds right Scrapping sounds are wonderful Right you're not just A Dog you're The Dog you took from Awww you're not a bad dog Jake. And Tobias is a good kid. And damn it I did not want to right about the brother. Cassie has a farm and big brother Tom is in a club called the Sharing He's obviously a Controller, but also "It's just sports" I'm pro-anti-sports but anti-cult clubs UGH WE HAVE TO RECYCLE Jake pls Wildlife rehabilitation. Convenient to touch wild animals also a cow Plus zoo mom so let's all be giraffes Dang kids with their fireworks, taking over humanity and making cops somehow worse Marco is scared and picky and right poor kid Who also has reasons? Tell me more Mom body was never found, Dad can't be around people. Ouch Cassie is not only cool enough to have clothes, but can control the morph enough to play centaur "We want them real bad" jesus yeerk cop, tone it down will ya? Hey you look like your brother- come to our yeerk cult Help endangered species? You mean like *eyebrow waggle* Is Tobias/Rachel a thing? CD game we were going to play on my computer. Wow Hey not-Tom, why would these kids have read anything in a newspaper? Wow this is shamelessly manipulative and creepy and thanks Applegate for teaching kids to be reasonably creeper out by overly forceful and manipulative folks Jake honey Marco is right please stop living in denial Let's remind Tobias, who is already a hawk, about the time limit Feathers made of wax. This boy is going to fly too long in the sun And then he was naked because boys don't care about that too much I guess?  So as long as the DNA isn't bad for any reason, the state of the animal doesn't matter. What about dead animals? Let Tobias be superman. Poor kid Yeerk pools have Kandrona rays, and Yeerks have to go back into a pool every three days. Yeerk home sun particles Protect this child who can't fight for himself but will fight for the world Time to infiltrate I guess? Gotta sneak into this night volleyball game They live near a beach I suspect this is Cali, like all kid lit about young teens unless it's from the UK Can you grab a morph from a friend if they've changed into a whatever? Kids and Adults? Smidge weird Poor actual Tom trying to protect Jake They Would notice a horse wouldn't they? Tobias hun no please don't make excuses I know being human sucks but come on Oh course the Assistant Principal is a big bad Convert or kill. Yeesh Evil cops also Cassie being Black makes vague threats uhhh worse Let Jake be a dog! Ok but just pet all the animals? Lizard yes but deer? Wolf? Buzzards? Wildcat? I just climbed into my locker all cool like playing it chill because everyone climbs into lockers all the time This is a very small lizard The animal brains being way more in control is fucked up Cool so you just almost was stepped on, lost a body part, and have a still semi-alive spider inside your body after having seen an alien be eaten and knowing your brother is alive but controlled and may be sent to kill you. For kids! And of course the brain slug pool is under the school Do ya'll remember that Nick show about the bully who like, was about to die or was cursed, and he was a dog and only one kid could hear him and no one remembered him and he had to do a bunch of good stuff to be human again? Locking children into animal forms is a special kind of 90's torture I think Rachel/Tobias is a hard thing and good because someone needs to love this kid my word I appreciate Marco though. Hey shit head this is a dumb plan but you're my best friend so I'm in or what fucking ever. Asshole I liked Cassie's little speech about Mother Earth Marco named the band. Marco is a good shit, but what does it even mean that Jake's always been a Lizard? Are you calling him cold-blooded? Flaky? A bug eater? No family guest passes for the zoo? I don't know what Bush Gardens are but is this that? Roller Coasters and Monkeys Big Jim the gentle gorilla. Also bless Jake for riling Marco up Let's drive! hits wall Go right says Jake. Marco goes left You had a chance at a rhino Marco has a dark and tanned face Male siberian tiger. I assume if you turn into THAT animal, you can be a boy turning into a girl hyena or a girl becoming a boy turtle right? He's majestic and doesn't seem like he cares about you as long as you don't run Lol ya'll almost died from a tiger? Sure you did Jake's mom is a writer who is opposed to any TV but her own. Dad is a jokester. Is it Jake's mom who dies? I know a mom dies Dad is a doctor Cassie where are you did you get home from the zoo are you okay? Okay Rachel and Tobias are just a thing already ok. Oh cool the cop has Cassie I fear for her We are Controllers. We are here to... Kandrona, Please give us the girl for... evil? Great plan If you're so advanced, why don't you have elevators- me at Akio So large underground city, small pool, cages 10 people per, aliens, construction equipment Can Tobias communicate with Cassie from where they are? Yeahhhh people volunteering to be controlled by evil alien slugs sounds sadly right. And hey, you get to watch TV Poor Tom. And Rachel is ready to fuck shit up. One alien of each two kinds dead, and a human controller flung somewhere to maybe live? Elephant and Tiger time And Marco is a gorilla Later you would think about this moment WHY WHAT'S ABOUT TO HAPPEN TOM'S FREE AND WE'RE SAVING CASSIE RIGHT? Can horses stairs? V3 thinks they're Andalites. Ouch. Also where's Ax? 8 legs and 8 arms with 3 fingered claws, and 8 heads, tall as a tree. Vriska's aliensona Oh good and it shoots fireballs from its mouth Mouths Jesus Marco just twisted a guy in half and his guts spilled out. Alien guy but still Gotta love half morphed elephant ladies with shriveled trunk faces Something happened to the cop, and Cassie won't say what. Hum Tom is captured again. But you all saves One (1) human woman. It's a fucking start kids. And Tobias done fucked up. Wonderful. End Book #1. 

Oh cool now I can finally start listening to Morph Club, an Animorph pocast by some cool kids

[handofvictory]

Does this for Y’gar because he’s precious

What is your character’s name? Does the character have a nickname?

Y’gar. For much of Cata/Mists/etc. he is known as “Son of the Seabeast” in full, because his father wanted to hammer in his mother’s legacy. He ditches it the moment he becomes Battlelord, at which point that is the title he adopts. He’ll later be taking his husband’s false surname of Anchorfist. Conveniently, it’s applicable to both a dwarf and an orc!

What is your character’s hair color? Eye color?

His hair is brown and his eyes are red; basically not at all differentiating from in-game colour-wise.

What kind of distinguishing facial features does your character have?

He has a few lip marks, which are common for orcs (likely scars from biting one’s upper lip. Tusks, man). His face is very soft and gentle for an orc, although he is still very expressive.

Does your character have a birthmark? Where is it? What about scars? How did he get them?

He’s as scarred as one would expect a typical orc to be, albeit he feels as though he should have more. He has no birthmarks to speak of, but he does have tattoos.

Who are your characters friends and family? Who does he surround himself with? Who are the people your character is closest to? Who does he wish he were closest to?

Of his guild, his particular close friends are Morana, Hallomanaha, and likely others but they don’t come to mind right now. He’s divorced himself from his birth family, having been overwhelmed by his father and the memory of his mother. He regrets it at times, but then he remembers something that helps him recognize “yeah no screw it”. One of the dearest people to his heart is, of course, his fiancé (to be husband once Legion officially ends).

Where was your character born? Where has he lived since then? Where does he call home?

He lives currently in Silvermoon with the rest of the guild. He spent most of his life in Durotar/Orgrimmar, and briefly spent some time in Dun Morogh during Mists and hung out in Booty Bay between Wrath and Cataclysm.

Where does your character go when he’s angry?

Onto the battlefield, where he can, like any orc, take his fury out on his enemies. If that’s not an option, he goes to the training room. It’s rare to get him particularly angry, though.

What is his biggest fear? Who has he told this to? Who would he never tell this to? Why?

Being alone. His other most major fear of losing Moroes boils down to this, as well. Even jailed and isolated isn’t so bad to him, not just because of his apparent self-destruction manifesting into confidence in such a situation, but because his jailer would count as company. But lost, in an unknown place with no way out, he would break down. He very much needs people.

Given that Moroes has the same fear, they’ve discussed this before. They’re very comforting to one another about it.

Does he have a secret?

Not as of Legion. He’s generally quite the open book, and doesn’t like hiding things from others.

What makes your character laugh out loud?

He has a light-hearted and innocent sense of humour, though occasionally a more lewd joke will get the better of him. He’s not boisterous about his laughing.

When has your character been in love? Had a broken heart?

Currently, he’s engaged to a dwarf and they consume me tbh. Y’gar’s dated before Moroes, but has never really been in love. Compulsory heterosexuality had him with a woman, at which point he quickly realized he wasn’t into that.

Then dig deeper by asking more unconventional questions:

What is in your characters refrigerator right now? On his bedroom floor? On his nightstand? In his garbage can?

im lazy

Look at your characters feet. Describe what you see there. Does he wear dress shoes, gym shoes, or none at all? Is he in socks that are ratty and full of holes? Or is he wearing a pair of blue and gold slippers knitted by his grandmother?

Armoured boots, as any warrior. There’s plenty of damage and signs of repairs from battle and post-battle, as Y’gar regularly takes the attention of the enemy as per being the tank.

When your character thinks of his childhood kitchen, what smell does he associate with it? Sauerkraut? Oatmeal cookies? Paint? Why is that smell so resonant for him?

im lazy

Your character is doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for him to throw out? What is difficult for him to part with? Why?

im lazy

Its Saturday at noon. What is your character doing? Give details. If he’s eating breakfast, what exactly does he eat? If he’s stretching out in his backyard to sun, what kind of blanket or towel does he lie on?

im lazy

What is one strong memory that has stuck with your character from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

im lazy

Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where is he going? What does he wear? Who will he be with?

im lazy and also need to go to bed i need to reobtain my g1 tomorrow

Character Questionnaire 2

This questionnaire was invented by the noted French author Marcel Proust. These questions are frequently used in interviews so you may want to pretend youre interviewing your characters.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

“I suppose becoming Battlelord is an impressive professional achievement... really, I don’t know why me over the countless others surely more talented than I am, but at the same time, I don’t want to complain.”

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

“Him and I, away from this faction war nonsense. Somewhere where my brothers and sisters of the guild are not burdened, either-- nor are those he cares for from his guild. But... that’s just pure idealism.”

What is your current state of mind?

“I’m alright, I guess. Argus is a discomforting place, with the Legion abound. Still, I’ve been in worse moods.”

What is your favorite occupation?

“I didn’t think I had the heart for battle, but I find I actually... like tanking for the guild. It’s a confidence-booster, at the very least, to stand against beasts and villains several thousand times my size and keeping their attention away from everyone else. I certainly feel helpful.”

What is your most treasured possession?

He smiles and touches his gauntletted left hand. “Until the wedding... ♥”

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

“By the ancestors-- if you get me started on how I adore Moroes Anchorfist, Battlelord and my sea and stars, I’ll finally have reason to never shut up.”

What is your favorite journey?

“Favourite? Um-- I... actually can’t decide. I just enjoy spending time with others, no matter what’s happening. ... I just know I don’t prefer anything that involves spiders.”

What is your most marked characteristic?

“Personality-wise? Um... I get a lot of comments about being shy, or sweet, or pathetic depending on who’s talking. Physically? Anyone who checks me out tends to stare at my abs.”

When and where were you the happiest?

“That moment will come soon. Very... very soon.” Smiles.

What is it that you most dislike?

Makes a face. “It’s a shallow answer, but... spiders. I’ll be happy if I never have to sink my axe into another one of those damn creepy bastards ever again.”

What is your greatest fear?

“I... losing my love is a major one, but... on a purely selfish level, I just... I don’t want to be alone.”

What is your greatest extravagance?

“Not really mine, but Odyn insists on officiating mine and Moroes’ wedding in the Halls of Valor with the Vrykul, as much of the guild as we want to invite... I would have been happy with just doing it in a private ceremony in Pandaria like we had planned before, but Moroes liked the idea, and, well... where he’s happy, I’m happy.”

Which living person do you most despise?

“Um, I guess Garrosh is out of the question since he’s dead now. I... don’t know. I have a hard time really hating people. Okay, Catahecas is an asshole and nobody likes him, but he... really could be worse? People really have to earn my ire, I guess, and... wow, that sounded presumptuous...”

What is your greatest regret?

Buries his face in his hands. “... Northrend...”

Which talent would you most like to have?

“Talent? Practically, I should ask Althrich for tips on cooking. I’m going to be married soon, and I know Moroes doesn’t know how to do it.”

Where would you like to live?

“I think I would like someplace with a winter’s chill, but not so cold as, say, Icecrown. Dun Morogh is actually rather nice, I find, but, er-- I know Moroes would rather avoid it... Perhaps Kun-Lai is close enough to that climate?”

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

“I... a lot of people have gone through much worse than I. Torture. The weight of the world. Deaths of others, their own deaths. Of them, I don’t know which would be the greatest of despair... I want to give you an answer to be polite, and so I don’t feel so ignorant, but at the same time...”

What is the quality you most like in a man?

“Well, I know what I like in my beloved. He’s clever, strong, inspirational, hard-working, caring, thoughtful, incredibly handsome-- I like blue eyes and a long beard...” Blushes suddenly. “I-I’m sorry, I’m going on too long.”

...Pause. “Aw, hell, it’s him, how can I not? ♥ As I was saying, handsome, witty, brave...”

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Blank-faced -- “When they’re not attracted to me.”

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

His face tells of a struggle not to say ‘everything’. “I... um... Just the worst one? I guess... My biggest weakness is how I waver before opposition. I mean, I’m-- I’m getting better, I think? That’s what everyone else is telling me, but...”

What is the trait you most deplore in others?

“I think... what I hate to see most in others is undeterred, uncaring cruelty. I hated Garrosh’s warmongering, Illidan irks me with his self-justifications... It’s not even sadism on their part. It’s that they are-- or were-- just so... impassive about it. As if the lives and pain of others just meant nothing.”

What do you most value in your friends?

“I admire their hard work and resilience, their marching onward despite everything. I know a lot of them have demons they battle regularly, worse than I could dream of, but still they continue. I aspire to be that way, as well.”

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

“I can’t think of a good tale. All the ones I know are true stories.”

Whose are your heroes in real life?

“Aside from people I know personally, I’ve long admired High Overlord Saurfang’s strong morals and sense of honor. I’m glad he now leads the people of Orgrimmar.”

Which living person do you most admire?

“Have I mentioned my future husband often enough yet? I have? No I haven’t. Let me talk about him some more--”

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

“I wish I could say warmongering wasn’t a virtue I could list for you, but then again, take one step into Orgrimmar and you’ll hear about thirty people boasting their latest kills.” Growls. “And they say Grom freed us from our bloodlust.”

On what occasions do you lie?

“I don’t like to lie... but I’ll do it to keep others safe.”

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

“I’ve had a lot of people tell me to stop apologizing for things... and then I apologize for apologizing. It doesn’t happen much anymore, thankfully.”

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Once again, ‘everything’ comes to mind. “I-I maybe answered this when you asked what I most hated about myself? But if not that, then I just want to be strong enough to be reliable. I feel like that encompasses everything...”

What are your favorite names?

“Besides my fiancé’s? Uh, I don’t know. I associate good things with my allies’ names. I don’t think about it besides that?”

How would you like to die?

Shifts uncomfortably. “Not anytime soon. Unlike most of my people, I... don’t want to die in battle. I’d rather pass peacefully.”

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

Groans. “You realize that is reality for far too many, right? Some wear undeath well, I... don’t think I would. In fact, I think I’d be too weak to maintain my sentience in undeath. So I’d rather not.”

What is your motto?

“Don’t have one? I mean... I guess... the Horde battle cry, but everyone has that...”