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strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years

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Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

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It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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axemetaphor · 3 years

Text

im definitely not ripping off my friend by making a list of au ideas i have no siree //gonna slap this under a readmore cause i. well i say a lot. all of the time. i tried so hard to format this Good but tumblr fucked me up i am so sorry

so first-off i know i already have one WIP AU (Auckland) on ao3 so i wont talk about That one cause like. spoilers. i actualyl have it like 80% created so its likely gonna truly get finished for once and i dont wanna ruin shit

the other one ive posted about is something me and ben (catgirlrepublic) have worked on together its not at all close to done or anything but it's. a fun little crossover. Between jdate and my fuckinuhm. Original characters story “Untitled Villains Project”. the sketches of the comic version ive started is actually my pinned post 👉👈 its like the first chunk of the story, i think half of part 1? yea.

Tldr john fucking Somehow is able t oget into contact with a certain curious scientist from another reality who’d just love to study the Soy Sauce, most certainly not for her own nefarious purposes

John and Dave meet up with the scientist, her name is Boss, and her lab assistant, Toxic, and after a bit of a preliminary Vibe Check where john determines her trustworthy (which Dave doesnt agree with,) the two agree to be taken to the world UVP is set in. from there they stay in Boss’s lab (big old fucking abandoned military lab). John and Toxic are fast friends due to mutual love-of-chaos. John n Dave get to fuckin, camp out on an air mattress.

The day after they arrive, the two get split up, not exactly intentionally; big plot points of UVP are liek. Fueled by Boss sending Toxic to go fetch her “research materials,” which are usually important artifacts

Fuckin side note i guess i have to explain my dumb bullshit: Boss’s, uh, field of expertise so to speak is actually fckin, basically the scientific study of magic and superpowers n shit like that. This shit’s all real in that world. Toxic’s got fuckin superpowers, so do 4 other main characters, whatever. It’s got a bit to do with spirituality, iss Boss’s hypothesis. So she has Toxic fetch important artifacts that might have “energies” to them. The thing is actually way more fuckin complictated than that, this is just Boss’s initial hypothesis.

Motherfucking anyways. So Boss gives Toxic a job to do, and John get excited about how Cool that sounds, and ends up going with Toxic, leaving Boss and Dave alone. Neither is thrilled about this. But Dave and Boss get to have a bit of conversation (while Toxic and John are off bonding and having a good time) and come to a… mutual grudging understanding of some kind. They still dont like each other though lmao

Theres gonna be deeper shit going on but we havent sorted it out yet/tbh havent like Written For It in a while but i still like thinking about it a lot lol

Also pretty sure our endgame is john and dave steal toxic and bring them back with em lmao boss is kind of not nice and toxic would most certainly be better off in Undisclosed. Actually theyd fucking love it. Theyd become a local cryptid im sure. Undisclosed’s mothman is a teleporting spike baby.

I have. Another crossover AU that i might. Post something about for halloween? Maybe? If i have it finished?

Crosses over into, you guessed it, another one of my original-character projects. God, am i vain or something?

I promise this is just because i think blue and dave should get to team up to beat up some monsters

Quick briefing on my fuckinuh. Original character story, this one doesnt have a name (yet? Idk lol my work never actually goes anywhere sso who gives a shit). It centers around two grim reapers, Red (26, bi woman) and Blue (22, aroace agender asshole). In this reality or whatever, grim reapers function kind of like low-level office workers. They get told who’s going to die + when by some middle-management types, and upper management only involve themselves when punishment needs to be doled out. These Higher-Ups can be seen as analogous to Korrok; they’re decidedly not human, never were, and fucking terrifyingly powerful. Additionally, grim reapers are sort of .. designed to be “background noise” people. In reality theyre supernatural beings and, uh, look Real Fuckin Weird (the whole deal has a neon aesthetic im terrible at drawing uwu) but most humans just perceive them like extras in a movie. A body’s there but the camera’s not focused on it.

To the narrative: the shit starts when Red n Blue get relocated to Undisclosed. Relocation is something that just happens every now and then to reapers; they usually work in teams, but they get split up into different cities to avoid any strong bonds forming (a counter-union strategy from the Higher-Ups).

Red, Blue, John and Dave end up running into each other for the first time in a McDonalds where John n Dave are getting some 4am “hey, we just survived another horrific monster fight” celebration burgers. John and Dave are the only two people who can see how… strange Red and Blue are. Nobody else notices.

John unintentionally pisses Blue off, leading to Blue whacking him upside the head with a dildo bat. They all four get kicked out of McDonald’s. Dave and Red both are less than thrilled

Blue and John end up resolving their differences, somehow. Red and Dave briefly bond over their dumbass best friends being, well, dumbasses. They all part ways amicably.

somehow-or-other (idk yet) they end up running into each other a few more times, and eventually john invites them over to his place, and the four (plus Amy now!) get to know each other a little better

while there, Blue gets a text about some guy who's gonna die and John offers to drive them to where that's gonna go down. they take him up on the offer and get to have a bit of one-on-one conversation

after that ordeal though Blue has had Enough of people and bails, leaving John to head home alone

theres a sort of mirror-development going on with the five of em. Red, John, and Amy would all like everyone to get along, though theyre a bit tentative about it (John moreso than the other two, actually, jsut cause. well Red n Blue could still be Sauce Monsters). Dave and Blue on the other hand do Not like people enough for this shit, and Dave's not unconvinced theyre Sauce Monsters. he will not trust them until proven he should

the story's kinda nebulous but i got an idea for some Shit going down that involves both Sauce Monsters and also the Higher-Ups to have some fuckin absolute chaos go down.

Oops! All Trans

Everybody is transgender. Everyone

Ive actually workshopped this one both with ben (catgirlrepublic) and ghost (ghost-wannabe) lmao its a fun lil concept ive had from the get-go cause i mean. What’s an internet tran gonna do other than hit all their favourite media with the Everyone’s Trans beam

Dave transitioned post-high school and faked his death for it. People go missing in Undisclosed all the damned time, after all. He moved to the next city over, transitioned fully, then came back as a completely new man. Yes i know this doesnt exactly fit with the “everyone knows David from high school” thing alright, hush.

Anytime anyone brings up John’s old best friend (pre-transition Dave) John throws an entire fit like an overdramatic grieving widow. Full-on sobbing “why would you bring her up?! I miss her so much—” to the point that people just stop bringing up because Jesus Christ That Sure Is Uncomfortable KJHGFDS.

This is a scheme he and Dave came up with prior to Dave leaving, though Dave hadnt exactly anticipated John putting on this much of a performance about it— but it’s stopped Dave from ever having tto hear his deadname again, so hey.

Amy transitioned sometime in middle school/early high school. Her family was super supportive and loved her a ton and most people just know her as Amy. she was super shy her whole life really so. Yeah. people just dont think to bring it up lmao also i Feel Like big jim would absolutely wallop anyone who gave her trouble of any kind

John’s nonbinary (genderfluid specifically) and not exactly Interested in transitioning ? like hes fine with how he is. mostly.

he came out to Dave in high school but hes not out to anyone else exactly. Maybe his bandmates. Probably any other trans person in Undisclosed knows, too, cause theyre safe to tell lmao. Johns mostly a “he/him out of convenience” kinda nb who’s cool with any pronouns but does prefer they/them most. Dave and Amy use they/them when the trio are alone

Also this is a totally self-indulgent caveat that i think would be great, Dave’s actually agender but because he's transmasc and transitioned when he thought there were really only two options, and being Boy at least felt less weird than being Girl, he just kind of assumed he was a dude. It’s only through a lot of (like fucking years and years hes probably in his 30s/40s when he puts 2 and 2 together on this one) talks about gender with John that he realizes he actually feels like No Gender. Masc aesthetic with none gender.

I Just Think It’d Be Neat Is All Okay

Also Amy came out to Dave about being trans early on in them seeing each other and his response was to get very nervous before blurting out “me too” and then just being too embarrassed to talk about it for the rest of the day. Hes got a lot of hangups on talking about it actually it takes years for him to get comfortable in that

by contrast when Amy comes out to John about it his response is to yell “EYYY ME TOO” and give her a big ol hug lmao

I think itd be neatt if Amy ran a like. Transfem help/advice blog on tumblr. Kind of helped-with by John who can give her transfem nb insight for certain asks. I also just think that would be neat.

Cowboy AU - i put this one last cause its got drawings to it actually. Theyll be at the bottom

Basically just. Hey you ever watched a western. I think they look neat

This is another one me n ben have come up with lol

The soy sauce and all that shit still exist, im not sure where korrok fits in yet but ill figure it out

Theres no real like solid narrative yet ? but heres the barebones of everybody’s arcs.

John

Johns an absolute troublemaker, Of Course. Hes wanted in several towns for absolutely stupid shit. Hes a loner who shows up, causes chaos, gets drunk, does some drugs, runs away if people get too mad at him

He definitely had the same kind of deal with the soy sauce as in canon— he was at some kind of party, somebody offered it, he took it cause why the fuck wouldnt he, now he can see monsters and shit

Hes kind of a mooch also. Like. dont let him stay in your barn man he’ll never fucking leave and drink all your booze.

He runs into Dave when they happen to just, cross paths in the same town. the bullshit John stirs up ends up involving Dave in a way that makes it seem like it's his fault too, and they both get run out of town

after that he just tags along after Dave. hes decided this guy's Cool he wants to stick around. Dave is pissed at first, but not enough to shoot him or anything, and eventually, John grows on him

Dave

Dave also is a loner but unlike John hes simply so fucking awkward and bad with people. He doesnt feel like he belongs anywhere so he just travels

He’s the stereotypical Lone Ranger tbh. He wanders from town to town, solving their problems, though hed deny its out of any moral obligation (it kinda is, a little bit, tbh. He does like feeling useful). He shows up, fixes things, leaves. He's kind of a legend but most people think he's hiding something dark. other people jsut know him as that guy who farted real loud in the middle of the saloon and promptly skipped town out of sheer embarrassment. you know how it goes with Dave

He ends up involved with the Soy Sauce when a snake (not Actually a snake,) bites him. The snake’s more like the wig-monsters, really. Anyway, it injects him with the soy sauce, he fucking trips balls in the middle of the desert, he can see monsters now

He runs into John and shit goes tits-up, as said, but they become traveling buddies after that. he'd never say so, but he's glad for the company, actually. it's nice. hes not used to companionship but he feels a strange kind of easiness hanging out with John....

not sure how the Monster Dave concept will like fit in to this reality but like. trust me i want it in here. I'll Figure It Out.

Amy

Amy’s been living in a town John and Dave end up passing through and she is very curious about these two new Handsome Strangers who claim to fight monsters and just kinda. Persistently tags along til they let her join for real

Her family’s all dead, unfortunately, just like in canon, and she’s been living alone for a few years before meeting John n Dave. she had nothing left in that town to stay for, she'd been fantasizing about escaping on wild adventures for a long time and this felt a little like a dream come true. (Dave still gives her a spiel about how Difficult it is, but really, her fantasies were pretty grounded-in-reality already. i jsut think thats how she is, yknow?)

Shes the first person to react to the whole “we see monsters” shit with a kind of “oh, okay. neat” kind of response lmao

John and Dave fix whatever the fuck is up with her town (maybe that’s where the Korrok shit can fit, who knows) and Amy ends up being integral to that. After, she insists they take her with them because “they need her now” and Dave just cant really say no. John too is very much "the more the merrier!" and hes actually glad to have another person along he loves people lmao

At the start she has long hair but after she joins them she chops it short with a knife for convenience

also she still is an amputee. justt. idk. it was a wagon/stagecoach accident rather than a car accident lmao. just to clarify since i hadnt mentioned it, i wouldnt rob her of her ghost hand or yknow. all of the significance to her character that Missing A Hand has. although also now im going to have to research what was used as painkillers way-back-when, but im betting shes still got, like, her pain pills, they probably had those, maybe i wouldnt have to try too hard there. old timey medicine could be WACK though,

Shitload

Yeah hes in tthis shit mostly cause i liked designing his cowboy self lmao

Hes a kid (like 16, 17, technically i think in those days that was more Young Man than Kid but whatever. Hes Young i mean.) who got possessed by the Worms out in the desert and, by his family’s perception, just went missing!

Hes also a wanderer, but he ended up at the same town john and dave met in, at that same time, and starts following them after, already aware of who/what they are.

He keeps his face covered 24/7. actually he covers a Majority of his self for reasons. kinda want him to be a slightly more horrifying Worm Entity rather than human idk,

I kinda dont have much for this boy yet sorry Shitload

images !

with some editing notes for me cause im doing a very specific aesthetic with this lmao. i might change some lil details/colours though ...... idk

im also kinda 🤔 about shitload's colour palette. i want things assoicated w the sauce to be black'n'red predominantly but i think his palette might mirror dave's too closely. also im working on a korrok design i jsut am too busy to draw it now

#jdate #john dies at the end #aus #erh. tthe hell do i tag this as #rambles.txt #long post #well let me know if youd wanna hear more or. or something #send an ask. or whatever #yaknow #:jazz hands:

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howdoyousleep3 · 4 years

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Okay but like shrinkyclinks Valentine’s Day where Bucky lovingly completely wrecks Steve all night

Oh, I am in the mood for this. Also, I going to start putting 🙃🙃🙃 on Asks that I haven taken entirely too long to answer. This was the very last (read: first) Ask in my Inbox. Nonnie probably forgot that they sent this in lmao.

Listen. These two on Valentines Day? They go all fucking out. They don’t have nearly as much money as Daddy Steve and Bucky do so their Valentines Day looks a little different.

Steve makes some sort of art piece for Bucky. It could be a little postcard he slips under his door each day, the week leading up to actual Valentines Day. It could be a tattoo design he’s been working on for weeks now, trying to make it perfect for his Bear. It could be a few sketches that Steve had been compiling into this little portfolio over the period of their relationship.

Bucky goes totally traditional but mainly out of sheer panic and total adoration. He gets Steve roses but can’t decide between pink, red, or white so he gets them all. Steve has a sweet tooth, a massive one, and Bucky gets a box of chocolates basically the size of Steve himself. A teddy bear? Of course. A classic teddy bear too, a sweet brown one.

Bucky also spends four days before practicing cooking Steve dinner. He memorizes the steps and how to blacken chicken properly and what pans to use. He practices his plating and figures it all out...

And of course it all kinda goes to shit once Valentines Day does roll around and once he is in Steve’s kitchen turning off the fire alarm and opening windows. He’s bummed, naturally, but Steve insists it’ll make a great memory for the two of them and that he loves Bucky nonetheless.

Steve also has a couple of frozen pizzas stocked up in the freezer just in case.

Bucky’s fuck up in the kitchen makes him even more motivated to make up for it in the bedroom, so much so that they don’t even make it to the bedroom before things escalate.

After spending a gloriously long amount of time sucking on Steve’s tongue, rubbing his hands on the smooth skin under Steve’s shirt, drinking in all of those little fucking noises, Bucky shimmies down the couch and gets those lithe thighs tossed over his shoulders.

And he eats like it’s his last meal, like it’s the meal he should’ve been eating if he hadn’t have fucked it up.

With Steve’s hands in his hair and those legs trembling a little on either side of his head, Bucky can’t help but get a little heated, a little focused, a little sloppy. He loves eating his little Stevie out, loves the way he responds to Bucky’s mouth on his cunt. The way his whimpers turn to whines, the way he draws out, “Oh, Buck,” when Bucky laps at his balls or slurps at his rim.

By the time Bucky gets a fist around Steve’s cock he’s shooting off onto his own chest, Bucky’s mouth still working him over, moaning between Steve’s cheeks and milking the other man for everything he’s worth.

When Bucky lifts Steve and all his limp limbs into his arms, against his chest, Steve’s still gasping, holding on for dear life.

“You know I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Steve might love Bucky’s mouth between his ass cheeks but he is a slut for Bucky giving him a good finger-banging. He gags at how thick Bucky’s fingers are, how they fill him up so well, how they curl and push and scissor, how Bucky’s mouth runs when he’s three-fingers wide in Steve’s ass.

“Look at’chu, baby. Take me so well no matter how I give it to you, hungry no matter which hole I take. Huh? Fuck, can’t even talk can ya? So fucked out already but look at this cock get hard again, so sensitive, fuck...”

When Bucky does slide and press inside of Steve, all hot and slick and tighter than a virgin, he spends half of said time soothing his Stevie baby because he’s so upset he didn’t get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. The other half he spends getting Steve bent up into the position he wants him in, the one he knows Steve loves being put in.

And listen-- the two of them fuck and make love more than most couples do. They can’t keep their hands off of each other and make others uncomfortable and take turns fucking the other and they...they just love sex.

But this feels like something different, a point they reach only sometimes. This is frantic love making. This is eye contact and foreheads pressed together. This is slow and deep and long. This is lips sliding along jawlines and nibbles on necks and not even kisses, just mouths open on mouths. This is nods and hands in hair and cupping faces and Bucky fucking Steve through another orgasm, one that makes him almost come himself when he watches Steve’s eyes roll back when he bears down on Bucky’s ccok.

I guffaw if you think Bucky would be done with Steve. He would gather up delicate wrists and nimble fingers pushing at his chest, would press the smaller man deep into the mattress after rolling him onto his front. Things would get a little rough from here, Steve a little riled up from feeling so much and being manhandled in such a way, would love it.

“Fucking hell, Buck come on. You want it, you fuckin’ take it. Take what’s yours come on, Buck come on. I can take it, give it to me.”

Bucky knows Steve can take it because he gives it to Steve on the regular in such a way, the littler man loving to be used in such a way. But Bucky holds those parts of him at bay, wants to keep things in that gutting pace, a savory one. He’d nip at Steve’s ear in warning with a reach around grip, tucking that creamy neck into the crook of his elbow.

“So fiery, sweeheart. Lemme love on you, hush.”

And Bucky would take it even slower, would groan deep into the back of Steve’s neck, would tell Stevie all about his pretty cunt, would talk about how much he loves Steve, would shove some fingers between Steve’s lips as he whispered in his ear.

This time around Steve would need to beg Bucky to stop, would need to beg him to come, to let Steve come. He’s slurring his words and trying his best to grind back into Bucky and can barely keep his eyes open when finally, thank fuck, Bucky starts to get a little frantic, starts talking about how he feels when he gets to come inside of Steve.

“Gimme one more? Know you can, know you can come with me, baby. God, love you so much, Steve, can’t believe I got so lucky, can’t believe you let me love on you like this, let me fuck you like this. Wanna come, wanna...fuck, wanna fill you right up, baby. Lemme?”

In the afteglow, one where Steve is barely conscious, he pokes fun at how mushy his big ‘ol Bear can get, how Bucky is only sweet when he’s about to come, when he’s in Steve’s ass. He kisses at Bucky’s cheeks as they giggle and as Bucky pulls Steve close, practically to lay on top of him.

“Love you so much, Bear.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

#askK

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

peter! from physics!

a/n: this is gonna be one of those shitty fics where y/n and peter are so oblivious that they can't recognize each other's voice I'M SORRY!! also cindy moon is in this but she DOES NOT have powers for this imagine :/ srry

summary: y/n can't be controlled by wallets, peter parker gets crushes too easily, and crime in new york is abnormally low

warnings: the usual cussing, also the usual fluff. in conclusion i write the same shit every time LMAO

+ + +

"hey!" you yell, hands crossed over your chest as you look over the edge of the building, the blue and red figure jumping as he webs a perp to the wall. he looks up at you, the wide white eyes of his mask almost making you laugh as they squint. "aren't you stark's boy?"

"huh?"

the sound of a web latching onto the concrete next to you makes you flinch. spider-man flips himself onto the rooftop next to you, standing and facing you.

"you. stark. didn't he just recruit you?"

"how'd you know?"

his voice is light and incredibly boyish. he stares at you, trying to figure you out.

"well, you're not wearing pajamas anymore," you shrug, traces of humor in your words.

"yeah," the boy nods, "that makes sense."

a moment of silence fills the space between you, the sounds of traffic and people walking filling the background. you turn, sitting on the edge of the roof and dangling your legs. peter stands there for a second, frozen, feeling completely awkward and unsure of what to do.

"so, uh, how long have you been-"

"shadow?"

"yeah," he mutters, sitting beside you.

"almost a year, now," you breathe. the city-scape surrounding the two of you was quite astonishing, actually. all of your outside, mid-western family never understood your parents for moving out to new york, which is, in their words, "the big CRAPple." you don't care, though. it's home.

"cool," the hero mutters under his breath, repeating the word quietly, making you smile underneath the mask.

"you?"

"huh?" the large white eyes gaze at you, his head tilted slightly. "oh. bit over half a year, i think."

"and stark already pulled you in, huh."

the words confuse peter. was that an insult, somehow? were you jealous? the boy certainly thought you were much cooler than him-- energy and light manipulation seemed much more interesting to him than being a human spider.

"what do you-"

"shit," you seethe, head turned away from the boy in red and blue and instead toward the sound of sirens. "gotta go!"

peter's stuck in place as he watches your silhouette flip and twist as you fall off the ledge, white wisps of energy circulating around you as you use your powers to break the fall.

"jeez," he mutters in astonishment.

he stays on the ledge for a minute, in his traditional spider stance, ready to swing over and help you, if needed. yet, something about the way you immediately brought down the robber made him feel like he was okay to go.

it wasn't a long way to headquarters. ever since his recruitment, tony stark had been, as peter put it, "on his ass." every time he went patrolling, he'd have to go to headquarters, give a report, and get a checkup on his suit.

'protocol,' as tony put it.

"identification?" FRIDAY asks.

"it's me, fri."

"welcome, peter."

the doors open and peter walks in, sighing as he rips off his mask. sam, walking by, jumps and steps back, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief.

"shit! bucky, there's a spider in here!"

"get over it you cowar- oh, hey, pete!" bucky smiles and gives peter's messy curls a quick ruffle. "what's with the shit-eating grin?"

the grin drops from peter's face. how long was that there?

"oh, nothing, i, uh, need to see mr. stark," he clears his throat, giving an awkward nod before walking off in the direction of the lab.

"nothing my ass," sam mutters, taking a bite of fruity pebbles out of bucky's bowl.

bucky gasps. "hey!"

+ + +

"hey, mr. stark," peter chimes, tossing his mask on the nearest table. "let's get this over with."

"why such a rush all the time, pete?" the man asks, raising his brows at the boy. "you're fifteen, you have all the time in the-"

"sixteen, actually."

tony gives him a look and scoffs. "whatever."

the two follow the ordinary routine: plug the suit into FRIDAY's system, get it scanned, and, of course, debate star wars and physics theories in the meantime.

"i'm telling you, han sacrificed himself."

"yeah," peter huffs, "said the one who didn't see it coming when darth vader was revealed to be luke's father."

"well at least i'm not a total nerd."

"look around! you have an entire lab dedicated to nerd projects and superhero stuff. the complete epitome of being a total nerd."

tony lets out a defeated breath, subtle smile on his face as he watches the footage from peter's suit upload to the system and appear through the hologram. the grin drops as he focuses on the video, zooming in.

"you were with shadow?"

"oh, yeah!" peter says, perking up, the grin returning to his face. "what's the deal with her, by the way? she-"

"single? don't be a simp, pete."

peter's eyes widen and he looks at the man. "i'm not even gonna... no- uh- okay. what i was gonna say is: she mentioned you and was like 'stark already pulled you in, huh' and it was kinda weird, like she was.. i don't know, salty about it, or something."

a laugh sounds out from tony. "she turned me down, kid."

peter's brows furrow. "turned you- what?"

"i'd asked her to join the team a few months after she'd first started out- same timeline as you, actually- but she declined. had this whole 'ms. independent' thing going on. quite a shame, actually, i set out a room for her and everything."

well if that didn't slightly strike a chord with peter. he didn't realize that he wasn't the only teenager tony'd tried to recruit. he squints at the ground for a second, wrapping his head around all of the new information.

"wait, if she didn't accept the offer, then how is her suit-"

"she was independent enough to turn me down, kid, don't you think she's capable of using a sewing machine?"

+ + +

"cindy, shut up," you seethe, failing at your attempt not to laugh.

"ms. warren doesn't care and we already know this stuff," she giggles quietly, doodling on your notebook. a horrid laugh bubbles from your throat, your attempt to be quiet turning it into a weird noise that only furthers your laughter.

nonetheless, and much to your relief, ms. warren continues with the lesson, babbling about gravity pendulums.

"okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points a and b?" the woman asks.

you knew the answer. didn't feel like speaking, though. cindy simply mutters the answer under her breath and you nod, resting your chin on your hand.

"flash."

"it's the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by the mass," the boy states, looking over at your table and winking at the two of you. you stick your tongue out at him.

"nope," ms. warren replies, making you and cindy snicker and raise your eyebrows, pouting playfully at the boy's upset expression.

"peter, you still with us?"

you lean back in your seat, catching a glimpse of the boy. somehow, in a school filled with nerds, peter parker managed to get himself shoved to the lower end of the social ladder. he was constantly donned in button-ups, sweaters, and graphic tees bearing geeky science puns. moreover, up until a few months ago, there was a pair of slightly-too-large glasses thrown into the mix.

not that it was a bad thing, though. out of all the boys with that same stereotype, peter parker most definitely pulled it off best. he was quiet, kind, incredibly smart, and, not to mention, hot as hell.

at least in your opinion.

"uh... uh," peter mutters, scrambling to close the laptop sitting in front of him, giving you a better view of his face. "ye- yeah."

you adjust yourself in your seat, facing forwards once again and burying your head in your arms. being single all your life certainly makes your mind drift and heart swell at the sight of cute boys.

"uh... mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine."

cindy snickers at you and your overwhelmed state. you sit up, glaring at her and her all-too-knowing self before glancing back at the boy, just in time to miss his glance over at you.

ms. warren nods. "right. see, flash, being the fastest isn't always the best if you are wrong."

your laugh mixes in with the sound of your classmates, flash's face turning a deep shade of red. he turns around, facing peter, mouthing something to the boy that makes his eyes widen. you frown and sigh, refocusing on the lesson, or- in all actuality- the drawing of ms. warren that cindy doodled on your paper.

rather than reopening up his laptop, peter opts for resting his head on his arms, eyes landing on you for a few seconds. huddling with cindy moon, laughing quietly over your notebook, pencils twisting through the air; what peter assumed to be funny drawings of flash.

it wasn't his fault you'd left your notebook open as he walked by a few weeks ago, exposing random doodles of a few classmates (unbeknownst to peter, the sketch of him was on the next page).

while the boy usually spent his class time people-observing, he'd become more keen on watching you. it wasn't a weird thing, though. it was peter parker, bored in a class he was a bit too smart for, looking for something to distract himself. so what if that something was a pretty girl?

the bell rung, a sigh of relief falling from peters lips. everyone stood up, grabbing their bags, crowd slowly filtering out of the door and into the busy hallway. you say bye to cindy, who had rehearsal and claimed that "abraham will literally shoot me if i'm not there in time for warm-ups."

"shit," you mutter as you stumble, looking behind you. "sorry."

"it-" peter's voice gets caught in his throat. his wide eyes meet yours and your cheeks burn, the roses blooming all over them making you even more flustered. "it's, um, it's okay, don't worry about-"

you nod, struggling to crane your neck to look at him in the crowd of bustling teenagers. sucking in a breath, you manage to squeeze through the doorway, composing yourself and turning to look at peter. he wasn't there.

your eyes shut tight and you cringe, taking a deep breath and making your way out of the school doors.

+ + +

"why'd you do it?"

the voice makes you jump. a ball of light ignites from your palm as you turn your head to see a figure in red and blue. a breath of relief leaves your lungs and the ball sparks out, the eyes of spider-man's mask wide. "do what now?"

"whoa- uh, why'd you turn mr. stark down?" he asks, walking up to you. you scoot over, letting him sit next to you, the smooth material of his suit skimming yours.

no wonder spider-man found you so quickly; you spend every night up here.

"you think i wanna be tied down by a rich man? one who would, probably, make me follow certain stupid rules and reprimand me for not handling a situation the way he wanted it to be handled?"

"dang," he mutters, "way to make me feel bad about my decisions."

a laugh bubbles out of your throat, shortly followed by a gasp. "way to make me sound like him!"

the laugh the sounds out from the boy makes your heart flutter. it was boyish and light, confirming your suspicions of his age.

spider-man was definitely a teenager.

"he's not that bad, you know," peter offers, getting a huff from you in reply. "he just cares a lot. doesn't want me or anyone getting in trouble because of the way they handled a situation."

"how are you supposed to learn anything if you have a safety blanket wrapped around you at all times?"

peter froze, the large, white eyes of his mask blown wide. you made a good point.

there was something about you that was so intriguing. the boldness of your actions and the outward independence you carried with you was something that pulled peter in, that made him want to be around someone so unafraid of life's consequences.

he clears his throat. "so, uh, what school do you go to?"

"bold of you to assume i go to school."

you feel the hero freeze next to you, quite obviously caught off guard. peter was so sure you were his age.

"i'm kidding. i go to school, but there's no way in hell i'm telling you that," you sigh. he nodded.

identity was important.

the sound of traffic shuffles peacefully beneath you. you look over at the boy, tapping playfully on his head. "what's on that brain of yours, spider-boy?"

"uh, probably the fact that you continue to get my name wrong."

you laugh. "pretty sure i've got it right."

"whatever," peter scoffs, smile hidden behind the mask. he shakes his head and looks around. "sucks that i can't give you a name like that. what am i supposed to say, silhouette? no light girl? that's boring."

"no light girl, hmm. may just have to change my name for that one," you hum. the boy picks up on your tone and lets out that same laugh that makes your stomach twist.

you were starting to warm up to this boy.

"well, i gotta, uh," peter sighs.

you cock your head at the boy in red and blue, eyebrows raised. he looks at you.

"mr. stark wants me to check in every time i finish patrolling. says it's 'protocol.'"

"you never cease to prove my point, spider-man."

he jumps up, smiling brightly underneath his mask. "you said spider-man!"

"and i already regret it," you reply, looking up and him and saluting as he laughs and jumps off the ledge, swinging between the buildings and towards avengers headquarters.

a sigh falls from your lips as you pull out your phone, pulling up cindy's contact.

y/n/n i think i'm cheating on my unofficial occasional infatuation for peter parker

cindy lou who y/n, you do this every week ...who is it though

y/n/n a boy in red and blue

cindy lou who what the- are you telling me you have a crush on captain america he's like a hundred years old oh my god wait don't tell me it's spider-man

y/n/n ...

cindy lou who no bro like michelle said she saw spider-man just outside of school right after it ended one day

y/n/n wait what

cindy lou who yeah she thinks he goes to midtown

"holy shit," you mutter, stuffing your phone in your pocket.

now you really cared about his identity.

+ + +

"hey guys!" peter chirps, pulling off his mask and shaking his hair out with a smile.

"somebody's happy," natasha muses.

"what? no, it's nothing," he shakes his head. tony walks in, smirk pulling at his lips as he nudges the boy. "what?"

"kid had his first interaction with the girl."

"wait, the girl? as in..." rhodey trails off, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"holy shit, the kid met shadow!" bucky exclaims, bright grin on his face as he slaps the counter and laughs. "oh my god!"

a series of laughs rings through the team as peter looks at all of them in a hurried confusion. "wait, all of you know her?"

"enough to know why you're in love with her," scott throws in, munching on his sub.

"i'm not in love with her!"

tony claps his back. "only a matter of time, kid. let's get you hooked up."

the two begin walking towards the lab.

"we'll be watching that footage, pete!" sam yells, snickering. "we got ourselves a rom-com."

peter glances back at the group as tony punches in the code, glass doors sliding apart to let the two in. "what's their deal?"

"more like what's yours," tony smirks, plugging peter's suit in. "ever since your first interaction with her, you keep running in here with that goddamn giddy smile."

peter sputters. "well- uh, am i, like, not allowed to have a friend? i can be smiley after making a friend."

"yeah, kid, but this is a girl. and you're peter."

the boy is silent; he had a point. curse you, tony.

"look, pete, if you want her, go get her. i think you two'd be cute. plus, you've probably got a better chance of coaxing her here than i do," tony suggests.

peter gives him a look.

"what? she'd be a great asset to the team, and her powers are unlike any of ours."

"i know, right?!" peter blurts in a rush of excitement, smile tugging at his lips before it falters slightly. "okay, yeah, i see what you mean, now."

+ + +

you slide into your seat, ignoring the smirk pulling at cindy's face as you grab your physics notebook.

"sooo," she drawls, smirking, "let me see the ring! is it red and blue, or-"

"cindy, i will make the neurons firing in your brain short circuit if you say one more-"

"jesus!" she laughs and holds her hands up in surrender. "wait, you can do that?"

you smile, leaning back in your seat as ms. warren begins her lecture over trajectories, doodles of her drawing graphs on the board fluttering out of your pen and out onto your notes. you'd already read this chapter of the textbook; listening was no use.

instead, you let your mind (and eyes) drift to peter parker. as per usual, his head was buried behind the screen of his laptop, only a few rogue curls peeking out. a sigh falls from your lips as you turn your head back towards the board, glancing at the diagrams before hunching over your notebook, doodling spider-man's figure swinging through buildings, just as he had in front of you last night. you close the journal before cindy gets the chance to sneak a peek.

you let your head fall back, face towards the ceiling. a light draft hits you and you sigh.

there was no way spider-man didn't go to midtown.

unless he was just some sick perv who just hung around there after school. but you were sure that wasn't the case.

after another thirty minutes of zoning out, the bell rings, making you flinch out of your daydream and get up, weaving your way through the end-of-day crowd and out into the new york air. ducking into an alley, you quickly manipulate the light waves surrounding you, deeming you invisible. within a minute or so, you're suited up and determined to catch the hero.

and it didn't take much time.

as soon as you walk out from the alley, spider-man is doing the same, jogging out from another alley just diagonal from you across the street. a smile tugs at your mouth and you dart up into the air, landing swiftly onto your rooftop, turning on your crime radar.

thirty minutes later, only having had to hunt down a shoplifter and return the stolen objects, you're laying on the rooftop, physics notebook out as you read and take notes over the next chapter. your ribs start to slightly ache as you curve your body up, stomach pressing against the concrete.

curse me for forgetting a blanket.

"i'm starting to think you live up here."

without looking, you stick an arm out and shoot a quick ball of light at the hero, making sure it just barely skims past his shoulder.

"hey! what was that for?" he whines.

"fun," you look up, eyes shining at him brightly. his playful sigh is muffled through the mask, but it makes you smile even more as he flops down next to you, stretching out on his stomach.

"ooh, physics," he murmurs, scooting closer and looking at the materials. peter's eyes widen when he recognizes the textbook: the same one he has. he clears his throat.

"what?"

"hmm? nothing," he murmurs, glad his flustered expression is masked. his eyes drift along your notes and land on a doodle of a figure swinging through tall buildings. "wait, you drew me?"

shit.

the air catches in your throat as he scoots even closer, shoulder pressing against you as he pulls the notebook towards him, the large white eyes of his suit squinting at the small drawing. a flutter is sent through your stomach.

"no, that's captain america. silly goose."

he turns his head towards you.

"of course it's you, who else would it be," you joke, tone slightly off, embarrassed and wishing you'd been less clumsy.

of course he was going to see that.

peter feels warm and gets a feeling of adoration towards you. he could tell you were embarrassed; he'd cracked you, even for just a second. the boy almost wished you could see the bright smile his mask was hiding.

"so, um," he blurts, sitting up. "let's, uh, get to know each other...?"

you snort, shaking your head and sitting up so that you're next to him, looking out at the surrounding buildings. "very smooth, spider-man."

"i try."

the two of you begin darting questions back and forth. what's your favorite color? y/f/c. what about his? blue. favorite movie? y/f/m. his? revenge of the sith. favorite song, type of food, hobbies- you name it. and, it was actually kind of fun. it was a friendship in which you got to appreciate each other for your personalities, not for your looks. although, peter did find your eyes quite hypnotizing.

"do you have a boyfriend?"

what?

your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath. "that was-"

"abrupt, shit, i'm sorry," he breathes, scratching the back of his neck. the fact that your faces were covered helped a little, but it almost felt more awkward, nonetheless. he could see your eyebrows scrunched together and he cringed. "i was just, um, curious, i guess."

"well, no, spider-man. i don't have a boyfriend."

his heart swells. "oh, uh, nice, i guess."

"nice," you humph. "yeah. uh, i'm guessing you probably have a-"

"definitely not," he laughs, shaking his head. the conversation as a whole felt weird, but the boy was smiling under the mask.

it was very peter parker of him to build a crush in such a short amount of time.

+ + +

"cindy," you whisper, sliding into your seat, "spider-man saw my sketch yesterday."

"what?" she turns her head to you, eyes wide and shining with excitement.

"i was doing physics homework on the roof i usually hang out at and he snuck up on me."

she gives you a mischievous grin. you scoff, light grin tugging at the corners of your mouth, pen making contact with the paper as you start on another sketch of spider-man.

you'd be more careful to hide your notes next time.

as much as he resented himself for it, it became routine for peter to sit down, pull out his notes, then ignore the lesson and stare at you instead. he couldn't help it. but as he watched you today, his brain didn't slip into its usual state of zoning out.

instead, it was making connections.

his eyes got wide at his sudden revelation, darting all over the place to make sure no one was paying attention. he pulls out his phone, starting up his drone and watching carefully as it flies over to you, hovering just close enough to see while still staying discreet.

and there it was.

the view from the drone plays on his screen, the oh-so-familiar doodle making peter's breathing stop. he gulps, quickly guiding the drone back into his backpack, leaning back and resting his eyes on you with an exasperated sigh.

holy shit.

+ + +

"not enough crime in queens, huh?"

he jumps, turning around. "where were you? you're always here before me."

"thought i'd turn the tables," you shrug.

peter nods, playing with his fingers. you'd been on his mind all day, head spinning as he tried to wrap his brain around the fact that you, his crush, were the independent hero that never ceased to amaze him. "can i take off your mask?"

spider-man and his unruly mouth.

"um, why?" you laugh nervously, reaching up to fiddle with the fabric that covered the lower half of your face.

"because we're friends, and i trust you," he shrugs, muttering. "and i have a bit of a suspicion."

you suck in a breath. it takes a moment for you to think it through, but it lines up. you were both doing the same job, so what was the fault in knowing what each other looked like? "i mean, i guess. but only if i can take off yours."

he nods, stepping towards you. you reach your hands out simultaneously, eyes sparkling at him out of both nervousness and excitement. you nod and feel the fabric, your safety blanket, slip off of your face.

"i knew it!" the boy yells, jumping back and pumping a fist excitedly.

wild curls, chocolate eyes, gentle smile.

peter parker.

"holy shit, peter! from physics!" you yelp, slapping a hand to your mouth before pulling it away, feeling as though you'd hidden your face for long enough. "wait, you knew?"

"your drawing, in physics. you were drawing in your notebook so i got curious and flew my drone over, then i saw it."

"you were watching me?" you ask, smiling.

peter's cheeks got red, and it was then that it really settled in. spider-man was peter parker. the cute, intelligent boy from physics. the one with puppy eyes and nerdy t-shirts.

"i mean, like, maybe," he looks down, flustered.

"you're cuter than you realize, parker."

the boy raises his head, confused look painted on his face. "did you just-"

you lean up and plant a light kiss on his cheek. peter feels his face get hot as you turn away, looking back to give him a wink before moving to step off the ledge.

the pull of a web stops you.

peter's lips are planted on yours, soft and quick, gentle and unsure. you stumble back, gulping. "peter, you-"

"i guess hanging out with you gave me a bit more confidence," he shrugs, crooked grin on his lips. a laugh leaves your lungs and you lean your head against his shoulder.

the sound of a siren wailing in the distance makes you flinch.

"last one there owes the other a kiss!" peter yells, tugging on his mask and jumping. you sputter before pulling up your mask as well, jumping off and flying next to him.

"you do realize that it works out in your favor no matter what?"

"yup!"

+ + +

rights for cindy moon because she doesn't get enough credit in fics even though she was in homecoming 0_0

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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kachulein · 4 years

Text

Got tagged by @ultkyu to answer some questions! Thank you dear, I'm so excited for this~🥺💞

1. If you were an animal, what animal would you be and why?

× I'd be a cat, 100%. Cats are my love and my life, I've always wanted to be one, tbh (not in a furry type of way, but I feel like life would be easier if I was a cat, lmao). I love how cats take no shit and do whatever they want. They're very independent and individual and I'm all here for that.

2. What two anime characters or kpop idols are your type?

× Can I do both anime characters and kpop idols??

× As for anime characters, Jaeha from Akatsuki no Yona and Kirito from Sword Art Online are totally my type!!😍

× And in terms of kpop idols... omg,, how am I supposed to *only* name two?? Hmm, thinking about it, I guess not all of my biases are my "type" per se... but there's two that come to mind right now hhhh. One of them is Kevin Moon from The Boyz, he really ticks off (almost) every bullet point in my list for my "ideal type" and honestly, this list is freaking contradictory and has vvv high standards but Kevin is THAT boi, basically my imaginative ideal boyfriend personified. :') And the second one who I'd say is totally my type is Hwang Hyunjin from Stray Kids. I've always loved drawing him the most of all kpop idols and I still do tbh (but I can't fill my feed on my insta art account with JUST Hyunjin drawings,, you know,,,). His fashion!! I'm so here for it and vibe with it so well. Plus,,,idk,,, I feel like I could connect to him in some ways so ajxjsjdjjs yeah. There's just something about him and Kevin that inspires me so much, I really love these two bois.

3. Are there any writers or artists (art or music) that inspire you? If so, list 5.

× YES. I decided to name a few artists because I realize I've never talked about the artists whose artworks inspire me the most. They're all on Instagram, so I'll be naming their @'s

a.) @/shooky_dough: I'm probably not the only one who knows Nikki, hehe, but her art is SO amazing. She's got this really distinct style which I'd put into the category of semirealism. Her kpop fanart is soooo good and I used her tutorials to learn how to get better at sketching. If you look at the sketches I've been posting for the past few months on my insta art account, you'll notice that they're highly inspires by Nikki's art. She's definitely the artist I'm looking at most in terms of inspiration and improving on my own art.^-^

b.) @/angelganev: His art is sooo pretty. He does semirealism and I've found him by browsing through pinterest to find some art inspiration/references/tutorials. He also does drawing contests in which his followers can draw one of his work he selects in their own style and he gives a shout out to the ones he liked best. It's always interesting!!

c.) @/melmadedooks: This man can draw about ANYTHING, he's so talented. He used to draw lots of his 'dooks' and I've found him through seeing some of his works on pinterest (again, lol). I've actually redrawn two of his 'dooks' and posted them to my art account AND HE LIKED BOTH OF THEM, I WAS SO HAPPY OMG!!! He used to draw his dooks using only one coloured pencil, so I've also started experimenting with that and instead of using a graphite pencil, I used coloured pencils for my sketches and those gave off very different vibes that I really liked!!

d.) @/rezajeez: Probably *the* kpop fanartist I've been following for the longest of times. They are AMAZING!! They mainly do huge photorealistic portraits with INSANE details. It's funny actually, because their work is the complete opposite to shooky_dough's work. While Reza draws photorealism on a big surface (probably A3? maybe more??) and draws very detailed, Nikki focuses more on sketches/more semirealistic and "simplistic" art and it's usually drawn quite small, so seeing these opposites really broadens my horizon, I think^^

e.) Last but nor least, @/rossdraws: In my opinion, he's the modern day Bob Ross! His art is so freaking stunning, have you checked out his digital art landscape series?? The amount of talent this man holds in his pinky finger is more than I've got in my whole body like- OOF a huge inspiration to me!!~

4. If you could play any instrument, which would you play?

× The guitar!! I really want to learn how to play it~

5. If you could choose one anime to live in, which one would you choose and why?

× Either Ouran High School Host Club or Your Lie In April. The first one is just so much fun and I'd love hanging out with the host club members and as for the latter,,, I just really want to be here for Kousei and help him through his anxiety because I know so well how it feels like and I also wish I could sing while he plays the piano, we'd be a great duo✊🏻😔 (I'm sorry, I couldn't choose one)

6. This is a bit of an old DeviantArt fic trend, but if you received an Android of your favourite character from any anime/show/etc., who would it be?

× Hmmm... that's a great question omg there's so many amazing choices I could make😭😭 But I think I'd go with Kirito, I just really really love him ahhhhh

7. Is there anything you would like to do but haven't because your friends/family didn't want to do it with you?

× There's actually a few things I could name... first, I really want to go bungee jumping (preferably from the Macau Tower, as it's the highest bungee jump in the world😍) but my fam and friends think I'm crazy for wanting to do this but I'm actually quite an adventurous person which probably not many people know about me, so I love doing stuff like that.✊🏻😂

× I would also really like to travel with friends... it's not that I dislike travelling with my mom and stepdad but whenever I can't take someone with me, I feel like such a child ??? idk,, never travelling (I wanted to say "without adults" but then I realized I AM an adult) on my own with friends and always tagging along with my parents kind of make me feel like I'm not independent or mature/grown-up for it. But I feel like none of my friends want to travel with me... most of them have a travel buddy already but I just... don't akdjsjs

× and last but not least, getting more specific, I really want to travel to Hawaii and South Korea, but so far, I haven't made it there yet :c

8. What's your favourite flower?

× Cherry Blossoms all the way💞 but all flowers are beautiful and I really like roses, too.

9. What are some of your hobbies?

× My hobbies include singing, drawing, dancing, writing, reading, researching astrology, studying Korean, watching youtube videos/netflix, listening to music and OF COURSE DAYDREAMING✊🏻😔

10. If you were going to be stranded on a deserted island with nothing but the clothes on your back and a bag, what would you put in the bag?

× I'd definitely put food and water in the bag, my phone, earphones, a portable solar charger with a USB cable (so that my phone won't die and I could chill for however long I want while watching kpop mv's and then also use my phone to call for someone to rescue me from this island once I start running low on resources), all the books I still want to read, my art supplies and a few sketch books, some towels that I could use to lay on or use as blankets, a pillow and my teddy bear, and obviously a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush and a few hair ties and bobby pins (you don't want long sweaty hair stuck to your skin during a hot summer ewww), some soap to wash myself and my clothes, sunscreen and also some insect spray to keep the bugs away!! (it's a big bag, okay)

Sorry for writing such an essay omg!!

Here are my 10 questions:

1. What compliment you've received meant the most to you?

2. Would you rather meet your favourite celebrity/group/bias and realize they're not at all how you imagined them to be like (maybe they're not as kind as you thought, for example) or never meeting them in person but it turning out that they're actually the amazing, kind, sweet, generous, etc. person that you thought they were? (I hope that makes sense hhhh I think the ethics of this question are really interesting)

3. What's your current favourite song you always use to get hyped up to or a song currently stuck in your head?

4. If you had to write the book of your life, what genre would it be and what would you choose as a title?

5. Name your top 5 musical artists and your favourite song of each of them?

6. If you were invited to a big humanitarian event and had to give a speech on a topic you'd want to bring about a huge change for the better, what topic would you choose to speak about and voice your opinions/ideas? (Assume public speaking is one of your strongest assets and you'll ace this no matter what)

7. What is something (a skill, personality trait, or something appearance related, it can be whatever) you wish you had and/or you really admire in other people?

8. What's your favourite anime/show/youtuber (you can answer whichever you got an answer for, it can be all three options of course :D)?

9. In kpop, are you more into vocalists, dancers, rappers, maknaes, leaders, or visuals (or maybe a mix of some/all :'))?

10. What's your most beautiful/favourite memory?

oof I hope these questions will be interesting to answer🥺 hmm, Imma tag @littlefallenrebel @jinniesmeow @softpastelmx @yeonki @hanstagrams @marculees @chrryjin and anyone else who'd like to do this~💞💞💞

#tagged #tag #answer questions

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raysofcrosby · 5 years

Text

HOMETOWN PT. 3

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦." – 𝙎𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes and no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): just some angst (ofc) and bad language!!

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,059

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: give me back my hometown by eric church

𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰: i did with you by lady antebellum and what if i never get over you by lady antebellum ( like deadass on an epic repeat plz check out these songs!)

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: if you haven’t read the first two parts, you can find them here and here! okok so this has been rough to write bc i couldn’t figure out how i wanted it to end and whatnot. but it’s done and i’m actually lowkey sad lmao. but don’t worry the angst has come to an end :-) also s/o to @freddiesandersen for showing me ‘what if i never get over you’ bc that song played a huge part in this finale!! ok enjoy :-)

He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

There was no way that you were sitting across from him in the diner right now. Maybe he’s not even here right now. Maybe he’s sitting at a table at the reunion, drunk off his ass and just imagining that the two of you were here. Yeah, that’s it...this was all a dream. Josh blinked once, twice and then shook his head as if this entire situation was some shitty etch-a-sketch drawing he could erase. But he wasn’t coming back to his dream reality– he was here, at the diner, this was real.

Which meant you were real.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned this going…” You said, talking to yourself as you brought the shake towards yourself and took a sip.

He continued to just stare at you and if you didn’t already find it scary, you’d laugh a little bit. But you understood how he was feeling. Hell, you contemplated turning right back around the moment you found him here, but you had a plan, and dammit, you were going to woman up and face your past. Yet the moment you sat down in the booth, it was like every word you’d saved for this very moment over the last 10 years had just dissolved and you were left with a blank slate, which was fucking terrifying. What the hell were you supposed to say to the boy who single-handedly broke your heart 10 years ago with a few measly sentences?

“H-“ Josh cleared his throat, bringing you out of your thoughts, showing that he too was nervous about being here with you. And you didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that or grateful because you weren’t alone. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey yourself,” you replied, sliding the shake back to the center and nudging it more towards him with your index finger. “Want a sip?”

You watched as he eyed the delicious drink, your heart hammering in your chest and hoping that he’d accept it. Maybe it could be the peace offering to start off the conversation. He reached out of it, resting his fingers on the base of the glass. “Strawberry?”

Instinctively you smiled while letting out the breath you’d been holding. “With one scoop of vanilla. Wouldn’t order anything else.”

A corner of his mouth turned up as he brought the glass towards him and took a sip from a separate straw. His eyes were trained on how much of the drink he was taking in, while yours were trained on him. And all you could think at that moment was– He remembered.

Josh could groan in relief right now from how delicious the milkshake was. But instead, he just focused his eyes on the inside of the glass and took a few sips. He couldn’t believe that you remembered the shake the two of you would always share. Yet again, he never forgot either. It’s what deterred him away from anything Strawberry flavored for the last 10 years. At first, it hurt too much to even look at something without thinking about the explosive break up, right here in this very booth. But as the years went by, like all things, it got easier and easier and before he knew it, avoiding it was like walking down the street.

“You know,” He sighed, pulling away from the drink and pushing it back towards you. “This is the first one I’ve had in, God…so long.”

“Really?” You asked, bringing the glass back to you and using your straw to stir it around. “Strawberry is your favorite, though.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t really bring up good memories, so.”

Shit. He thought that sounded too harsh, right? He didn’t mean for it to come across as aggressive as it did– it just kind of…slipped out. He immediately looked at you and felt his throat tighten a little. You weren’t making eye contact with him. Your eyes were focused on the milkshake, just staring into the glass, not even stirring it anymore. He fucked up and he knew it. “So uh, life! How’s life?”

You shrugged your shoulders, keeping your gaze on the glass. Your brain was still trying to process the tone of his voice when he had basically implied that your breakup was the reason he no longer drank Strawberry milkshakes. “Fine, I guess. A lot can happen in 10 years.”

“Yeah…it can.” He replied, sinking down into his seat as he tapped his fingers on the table. He was trying his best to take you in without getting caught; still in disbelief about just how grown up you’d come to be. And that’s when he saw it.

The ring.

At that very moment, Josh could feel his stomach drop into the bottom of his shoes, but he couldn’t even begin to understand why he had that reaction. As far as things were considered, neither of you belonged to the other, so what was it to him that you were marrying another guy? Why was it that picturing you in a white dress, making vows and dancing to your dream first dance song with someone that wasn’t him…was making him feel so hurt?

“That’s a uh…” he cleared his throat and nodded at your hand. “A pretty ring.”

Nice job Josh, that’s a good way to ease into the conversation, he thought. But why was it any of his business to ask further questions about your fiancé? Were you two even friends anymore?

He watched your eyebrows furrow as you looked down at your hand, only for them to soon relax before you looked back up at him. “Thank you, it was my Grandma’s.”

What dude proposes with your own Grandmother’s ring? He thought only for another thought to intervene about just how much your Grandmother meant to you and how romantic and meaningful the gesture would mean. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

He mentally groaned. That could have been said in a less cringe-worthy way.

Your eyebrows furrowed again as you brought your hand up to your face, twisting the ring around your finger. Only then, did he see you begin to blush. “Oh no,” you shook your head, laughing. “I’m not engaged.”

“Oh!” His own eyes went wide before he nodded his head. “Well, that’s good.”

“It is?”

“Well I mean, uh…” He could feel the foot he shoved into his mouth travel further down his throat as he gulped. “Yeah, I don’t know what I mean.”

He kept looking between you and the table, unsure of how you were going to react. And when you just smiled and shrugged, he felt a heavy weight lift off of him.

“I actually always wear it on my right hand when I go to events like this,” you sighed, switching the ring to your opposite hand. “But yesterday, Amy had the bright idea of me wearing it on the left. ‘That way people won’t know you’re still miserably single’ I believe is what she said.”

Josh laughed. “She said that?”

“Oh yeah, but you know her. She’s never had a filter.”

Josh shook his head and let out a relaxed laugh as he watched you fiddle with the ring. “Well has it been?”

“Has what been?”

Josh regretted asking that first question because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to come up with a different question and turn away from the awkward moment he was no doubt, creating. “Being single? Has it been miserable?”

You stared at the ring a little longer before looking at Josh and nodded. “I mean, I’ve met a lot of great guys and I’ve been on dates but nothing ever just felt right, you know?”

Josh knew, hell he fucking knew more than anyone else how you felt. There was a reason why he hadn’t been in a solid relationship since the two of you broke up and it was because nothing ever felt as right as it did when he was with you. The countless hookups and one-night stands held nothing against his years with you and that scared him to death. He wanted the whole shebang one day– wife, kids and a house with a dog or two. But he was terrified that he’d never find that with someone else, who wasn’t you.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Mr. Professional Hockey player,” you joked, shaking your head and letting your hand fall onto the table. “What about you? Any prospective Mrs. Andersons cross your path?”

He knew he could go two ways with this. The first, lie straight through his teeth, play along with your joke and say that he’s found one or two. The second was to tell the truth and open a door to the conversation that the two of you no doubt, both wanted to have, but terrified of doing so. “Nope, not even close. It’s been 10 years and I haven’t really been able to find someone who makes me feel…” He stopped; realizing that a simple ‘No’ would have sufficed and just shook his head. “Never mind.”

An awkward silence fell over the table and you couldn’t help but think about every moment over the last 10 years that you hoped Josh had grown up and was able to own up to your break-up. That by the time the two of you would reunite, things would be easy to talk about. You’d get a fairytale ending without well…the happily ever after standing by his side. But that was not the case. Instead, you got a half-empty milkshake glass, awkward silence and Josh barely able to keep eye contact with you.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe chasing after him was a mistake and his silence wasn’t helping you think any different. “I think I should–“

“Well as I live and breathe,” Mrs. O’Donnell walked up to the booth with her signature friendly smile on her face. “Is that you, Y/N?”

You put on your best smile as you turned to face the elderly woman. “Hi, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t just greet me. Come give me a hug!”

You stepped out of the booth, thankful for the distraction as you hugged the woman who was like your own Grandmother. “You always give the best hugs, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

She pulled away and cupped your face, keeping her friendly smile on her face. “Gosh, just look at you. You were always such a pretty girl, but you grew up to be a stunning woman.” She turned her head towards the kitchen. “Hal! Hal get out here!”

You shuffled back into the booth, looking at Josh who has his attention still on the table. “What is is Diane?” Mr. O’Donnell replied, coming through the kitchen door.

“Oh shush with the tone and look who’s sitting over here.”

Mr. O’Donnell looked over in your direction and smiled. “Diane, who do you think made Y/N that milkshake?” His eyes moved over to Josh and he walked over. “But this strapping young man, I’ve yet to see. Look at you! Win a Stanley Cup, bring it home and then never come back?”

Josh laughed and stood up out of the booth giving Mr. O’Donnell a hug. “Sorry sir, life’s just been…hectic.”

“Oh cut the shit,” Mr. O’Donnell said, pulling away from him and wagging his finger at him. “You come home more often from now on, okay? You, and the rest of the boys. Who else is going to keep this place in business with their monstrous orders?”

Josh just laughed and nodded sitting back down in the booth. “Oh, will you look at this?” Mrs. O’Donnell smiled, walking three booths down and coming back with a picture frame from the wall, in her hands. “I almost forgot this was added onto the wall.”

She put the picture frame down onto the table in between both you and Josh and your stomach sunk. “Look at the two of you. Gosh, I can’t even remember how long ago this picture was taken, but I do know it was in this very booth!”

“10 years ago…”

“10 years…”

You and Josh looked at one another for a split second before turning your attention back to the picture. It was a picture of the two of you, obviously, with a milkshake sitting in the middle of the table and both of you leaning across the table with smiles on your faces. It’s funny. Josh remembered a lot of things about that fateful day where the two of you broke up– but he didn’t remember Mrs. O’Donnell taking this picture.

He knew it was from that day because, in the picture, you were wearing his Knights shirt, the same one you’d leave on his front porch three days post-breakup and the one that he buried in the bottom of his dresser drawer, never to touch again. He stared at the younger version of himself and wanted to do nothing more than to reach into the picture and yell at him for being such a douchebag. Or at least warn him for what was to come.

He looked at you, trying his best to read your expression. You were never really good at shielding your emotions and that was something he remembered and was now extremely thankful for. Because this could be his way to find out just how you felt about seeing him again…about the break-up, 10 years later. Yet, he didn’t know how to feel once he saw the sadness in your eyes…or at least he didn’t expect him to punch him in the gut as hard as it did.

“You two were the cutest things,” She smiled, picking up the picture frame and looking at the two of you. “It makes my heart happy to see you two sitting here together again, and in the same booth too.”

“We’re closing up in about 15, but you’re more than welcome to stay here. We can just clean everything up and then leave the keys with you so you can lock it up and–“

“No, no uh…” You cleared your throat and pushed the milkshake back towards the center of the table. “That’s fine. I think we’re good here, right?”

Josh furrowed his eyebrows, as he looked at you, both confused and a little bit angry. There was nothing ‘good’ about anything. You hadn’t even had a conversation! “Actually–“

But you were already standing up and giving the two O’Donnell’s warm hugs. “I’ll stop by before I leave again, grab something quick.”

Josh felt like it was all happening again, you leaving him there in the booth with a goodbye and nothing else. He pushed himself out of the booth as you walked out of the door and looked at the couple. “It was nice to see you both again.” He smiled.

Mr. O’Donnell nodded and walked off back into the kitchen and Mrs. O’Donnell grabbed the glass off of the table, grabbing onto Josh’s arm before he could leave. “Josh?”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Donnell?”

Her gaze went off towards the door before returning back to him and immediately he knew what she was going to say. “Girls like her don’t come around often. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but what I do know is how good you were together, friendship wise and relationship wise.” She turned the picture frame towards him and put it into his hands. “It’s not a coincidence that the two of you found your way back here.”

Josh swallowed and looked down at the smiling faces of your younger counterparts. His eyes lingered on your smile and he felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long time– warmth in a place within his heart that nobody had ever been able to reach. He looked up from the picture and nodded. “Thank You, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

He turned away from her and ran out of the door, stopping on the sidewalk and looking out in the parking lot for you. He spotted you halfway across the parking lot, making your way out to the street. “Y/N, wait!”

“Go back inside Josh, please.” You replied, keeping your back to him, but he wasn’t oblivious to the emotion in your voice. You were crying…or at least had cried since you left the diner.

“Y/N, please we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to.”

He could feel the frustration from the last few hours begin to bubble up inside of him. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To talk about what happened?”

You had reached the street corner and stood beneath the street light, keeping your back to him and subtly wiping your cheeks. “Just forget it, Josh, it was a mistake, okay?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere because I want to know why you came all the way here, leaving the reunion early. I know you had people you wanted to see and catch up with. Hell, you liked more of those people than I ever did. And yet here you are, away from your old friends and the party to talk to me and you run away…again.”

You kept silent as his steps grew closer and his voice louder. “Stop shutting me out, Y/N. You don’t get to do that, not when you came here to find me!”

You whipped around and faced him, not caring if your eyes were still letting the small tears fall. “I didn’t think it’d still hurt!” You yelled, a small sob escaping from your throat. “I-I thought that maybe I was over it all. That 10-years was long enough f-for me to get over how you broke me into pieces, but it turns out the joke is on me,”

You lifted your arms, only to let them drop to your side again. “Seeing you at the reunion was like every good memory from our relationship flashing in front of me like a movie.” You wiped beneath your nose and shook your head. “But seeing you sitting in that booth again…it was like reliving that day. Only this time, it somehow hurt a whole lot worse.”

For the first time, you took into account just how close Josh was to you. He was standing maybe two steps away from you and you could smell the hint of scotch from his breath and feel the heat radiating off of him. He looked like he wanted to say something and the struggle behind his eyes was showing just how badly he was fighting with himself on whether to stay silent or speak up.

When he didn’t say a word, you just nodded and laughed. “Figures you have nothing to say Josh. 10 years later and yet you still act like you’re 18-years-old,” you turned away from him only to turn right back around, thinking of more to say. “I hated the fact that our breakup ruined me as bad as it did. I’ve met great guys, guys who would make amazing boyfriends and amazing husbands. Who’d treat me right and who’d listen to me and not jump to conclusions, but I can’t allow myself to get attached to them.”

“Do you want to know why Josh? Why I can’t allow myself to open up and care for these amazing men?” You walked towards him and shoved a finger into his chest. “Because of you. Because you basically attacked me with accusations of holding you back that day in the diner. When all I did was give myself, my hopes and my dreams, for you– and you go and switch it around on me.”

You shoved him back with your whole palm, the tears stinging in your eyes as he allowed you to hit him. “I hated you for making me feel like that. I hated you for making me so scared of opening up to another man because I was terrified that somehow, even if the situation was nowhere near as similar– it’d end the exact same way.”

Car headlights caught your attention and you sniffled, wiping your eyes as the car pulled up. “Y/N L/N?” The driver asked through their rolled down the passenger window.

“That’s me,” You said, adjusting your jacket and opening the back passenger door. You turned back to Josh and looked at him through teary eyes. “Why did you have to come after me?”

He just stared at you, not saying anything, so you shook your head and sniffled again. “Goodbye, Josh.”

Josh stood there, frozen in place as he watched you get into the car and drive away. When the car was far enough away, he clenched his fists and screamed into the night sky. Once. Twice. Multiple times before he even felt a slight weight lift off of his shoulders, only for it to crash right back down. You were right there, pouring your heart out to him and he wanted to reach out and take you into his arms so fucking bad, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He couldn’t even get himself to speak.

He ordered an uber back to the school, not bothering to go back inside and see if you had rejoined your old classmates. Instead, he got back into his truck and drove away from his own personal hell. Part of him wanted to just get up and leave, he had the opportunity to do it, and had, by all means, fulfilled his promise to his friends by attending the reunion. Yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling inside of him that was telling him to stay.

And so he did. Pulling up into the driveway of his childhood home, he sat in the car and stared off at your parents’ house just two doors down. Were you inside? Would your parents remember him? God, did they know how bad things ended all those years ago and hate you now? Pulling the keys out of his ignition, he got out of the car and opened the back door, grabbing his suitcase and closing it soon after. He walked up to the front door, hoping it wasn’t too late and that his parents weren’t asleep yet. Then he’d have to hear the lecture about forgetting his copy of the house key back at his apartment in Columbus. He felt a sense of relief when it was his mom who answered the door and no sooner than she opened it, was he in her arms, giving her a hug.

“Oh!” She said, obviously caught by surprise, returning his hug just seconds later. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Damn it. Now he was wishing that it was his dad who answered the door instead. He should have known she’d read him like a book. “I saw Y/N.”

He could feel her stiffen but keep him in a firm hug as she rubbed his back. “How did that go?”

He could feel his right foot begin to shake as he got anxious and he knew that he was only moments away from his emotions taking over. He took a shuddered breath, holding her a little tighter. “It really fucking hurt.”

“Josh, I need you to be honest when I ask this, okay?” The more she rubbed his back, the more he relaxed into her embrace and with one shuddered inhale, his exhale was a small sob– the first time he’d ever remembered crying about your break-up since it happened. She pulled back, bringing a hand to cup the right side of his face. “Do you still love her?”

When he looked her in the eyes he could hear your words echoing in his head and how bad the guilt from what he did to you 10 years ago was weighing him down. “It doesn’t matter Mom, she hates me.”

She gave him a small smile and brushed back the hair out of his face. “Oh Josh, I don’t think she could hate you even if she tried.” She sighed and patted him on the cheek, nodding into the house. “Come sit down and tell me what happened. Your dad is out in the shop.”

And just like that, for the first time in a really long time, Josh loved being home. He knew he missed both of his parents, but talking to his mom about you and telling her what had happened at the diner with his friends, the reunion and ultimately your blowup on the street– he felt a little bit lighter, but that lingering feeling was still sinking him down. But perhaps telling his mom everything was the best thing because she was able to give him a perspective. Not your full perspective, of course, but a female perspective in general. Plus it helped that she and your mom were best friends, so she had some insight on how your life has been the last 10 years.

As he stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had told him. How after College you had gotten your dream job in Detroit– only a mere three and a half hours away from him.

How you tried dating and ended up dating a really good guy a few years back, one that your parents thought was going to propose and how you broke it off with no reason, at least no reason to them.

How you were doing pretty successful in the said job and that your parents were shocked when you had requested to be transferred to Toronto out of the blue just last month.

He learned of your life of the last 10 years, one that sounded like you’d reached every dream he knew that you had and he was happy for you, he really was. Yet the one thing that perhaps was bothering him the most, was that you were in Detroit this entire time. You had been so close to him, yet so far. If he had known, maybe he would have reached out and talked about things sooner, invited you to a game. And maybe things wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe you’d be civil towards each other, friends even. You wouldn’t have screamed at him in a parking lot.

And he couldn’t help but think on the happily ever side that maybe, just maybe if he knew you were so close, he would have reached out and the two of you would have cleared the air and ended up back in one another’s arms again. But that’s exactly what it was: a fairytale, and unless you’re the Royal Family, that shit didn’t exist.

He sighed and his eyes, already adjusted to the darkness of his room, wandered over to his dresser that was no doubt still full of clothes he hasn’t touched in years. He couldn’t help but wonder though, if the one thing he had hidden in there was in fact, still there. Pushing himself out of bed, he felt his joints ache in ways that no 28-year-old’s joints should and he walked quietly over to the mahogany dresser. Using the flashlight on his phone, he propped it up against a picture frame and opened the second drawer.

As expected, it was full of old t-shirts he hadn’t worn in years, including the one you’d given back to him. He pushed them all aside, flipping them up as he looked for it, but it wasn’t there. He sighed, thinking maybe that it was in the third drawer. Flipping through old shorts, again, he came up empty. His eyes settled on the top drawer and he mentally cursed himself for being such a typical boy. Opening it, he flipped through the countless pairs of boxers and briefs, coming to a stop when he lifted up his old, favorite Stewie boxers.

He smiled and picked up the black velvet box, opening it to reveal the golden chain with the matching locket and charm of his number, nestled inside. The very same one you had dropped onto the table in front of him 10 years prior before telling him to ‘have a nice life’ and walking out of his life, seemingly forever. He didn’t even have to try to be able to remember the day he gave it to you.

The locket, one his mom had helped him pick out, was a gift for your 16th birthday and an early 1-year anniversary present. His mom had picked out her favorite picture of the two of you to go on one side and he left the other side up to you. That Christmas, coincidentally, the clasp on the necklace had broken and he took the opportunity and told you he’d get it fixed for you. And he did, but when he gave it back to you at the old park, it was wrapped up in a small box, this black velvet box, and had an additional charm on it– his number.

Up until the moment you left it on the booth table that night at the diner, you had never taken it off. And besides seeing it on display in a store, Josh had never seen it anywhere else, but on your neck. Which is why, when you gave it back to him, he put it back into the box and shoved it in his underwear drawer. Not wanting to see it because it only reminded him of how much of a jerk he was to you.

Seeing it and holding it now though, was a whole different story. While he was easily reminded of the way you looked at him and the sound the locket made when it dropped against the table– all he could think about was the way your eyes gleamed when he’d given it to you the first time. How excited you were about printing out the perfect picture for the other side. The way you giggled when you noticed the added charm on the chain and told him you’d ‘wear it forever.’

Since he arrived back in town, even though most times he wasn’t really aware of it, you were on his mind. Just like Tucker said, this place held so many memories, everywhere he went, he swore he could see younger versions of the two of you there too. It’s been 10 years. 10 years of pointless hookups, miserable nights spent drinking away a pain the alcohol was never able to touch, and even the joy of winning the Stanley Cup couldn’t ease it. Yet, it only took him 10 minutes of being back in the town he tried so hard to put behind him, to realize that you were it.

You were the one thing he’d been missing all of this time. The ache in his heart, he could never seem to fix. The reason why every failed attempt at trying to fill a void with mindless sex never worked out. You were his person. His endgame. His, once in a lifetime, girl.

You were it for him and he still loves you.

──

The next morning, working off what little sleep he had gotten, Josh greeted his parents, ate his moms cooking while downing a cup of coffee or two and then raced over to your house. He had hoped that by the time he knocked on your front door, you’d be awake and maybe even answer the door, but that wasn’t the case. Your mother greeted him instead and gave him a hug, a reaction he was surprised to receive– which possibly meant that you hadn’t fully disclosed why your relationship ended so long ago.

After cordial greetings with her and your father, Josh asked if you were home. His heart sank the moment they told him no, that you were out and about. But when he asked if they knew where you were going and your mother told you, a sense of hope rose within him.

You were exactly where they said you’d probably be which only made his hope grow a little more. You had your back turned to him, sitting on the swing set on the old park that overlooked the lake where he had kissed you for the first time.

Your park.

He took deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart as he made his way over to you, unsure of how to greet you when he got close enough. Should he say hi? Jump right into a conversation? Maybe just turn around and call it a day? He came to a stop only a few feet behind you and watched as the wind whisked a few pieces of your hair behind you. Your shoes were dragging in the woodchips, keeping your swing in place, but giving yourself small pushes every now and then.

With each second he stood there, he could feel his heart rate begin to rise. But he was going to do this. He needed to do this. “It killed me,” your swing had stopped and your body had perked up at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat and took another deep breath, closing his eyes only for a moment before returning his gaze back to you. “Seeing you at the reunion…it killed me. Hell, even thinking about running into you at the reunion killed me.”

“Josh…”

“No, Y/N,” His voice was raised, a sign his emotions were taking over. So he did what you and his mom always had him do: close his eyes, count to ten and take three deep breaths. He opened them again to see you with your back to him still and he had to admit, he was disappointed. “You had your turn to talk and I listened, now it’s my turn.”

“It killed me, the thought of seeing you and actually seeing you because I know how bad I fucked up back then,” He exhaled, feeling his chest quiver. “I know how bad I hurt you when I suggested that you were trying to drag my career down, but I was 18 and a total fucking idiot.”

“I’m not making excuses, understand that. Back then I had the NHL draft, London putting pressure on me to stay, I was trying to figure out what my family thought was best…and you. I had to think about you and what would benefit our relationship the best to where we could both follow our dreams. It killed me to hear that you didn’t apply to UBC, Y/N because I knew that was your dream school. You’d been wearing your dad’s old hoodie since you were 9 and suddenly, you didn’t apply?”

You hadn’t made an effort to turn around to face him, which Josh couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But he wasn’t going to question it, he wanted to get out everything he needed to say…even if it turned out that you had blocked him out the entire time.

“I was 18, I was naïve and selfish and I attacked you over something I had no knowledge of because I was stressed, insecure and I didn’t want to think that I was the reason you weren’t following your dream when I was able to follow mine. It was fucked up and I know that now and I’m so fucking sorry.” He took a deep breath and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Hell, it’s been haunting me for the last decade, Y/N.”

“You know how we were talking about relationships? And you said I fucked you up? Well, I guess I fucked myself up too because I haven’t been able to even consider a relationship with a girl since you. I’ve had meaningless sex, drank myself into blackouts– hell even winning the Stanley fucking Cup wasn’t able to fill the void you left in me.”

He swore he could hear you sniffling, that or it was just his imagination getting to him. He didn’t want to make you cry, that was the last thing he wanted. But maybe, he thought, maybe it was a good sign because that meant you still cared. You still felt the slightest way that he did.

“I want to get married. I want kids. Two, three, six– I don’t care, but I know I want a family. I want a dog, a beautiful house in a city I love– hell maybe even a cliché ass white picket fence. I want it so fucking bad, I know that I do. But the thing is,” he took a few more steps closer to you, wanting to make sure you were hearing what he was saying. “I can’t seem to find a single person that gives me a feeling like you did when I was with you. All of that stuff? It’s you. In my 10 years of being single, you’re the only girl I ever saw that happening with.”

This time he was sure you were crying. He didn’t know if you knew how close behind you he was, but he could see the movements of your hands coming up to your face to wipe your cheeks and your sniffles being carried through the summer air.

“I know about Grayson, my mom told me. She said that your parents thought that the two of you were it– that he’d propose and you’d get married. That you seemed…” he took a deep breath, not wanting to imagine you marrying someone that wasn’t him for it hurt too damn much. “That you seemed happy and in love, but that you broke it off and never gave them a reason why. But I think that you do and I think that I do too.”

“You couldn’t go on with him because somewhere in your heart, whether it be deep down or right there on the surface, you knew the truth. That it’s been 10 years and somehow, you still haven’t forgotten about me or all of the times that we had and it scares you.” He walked up to the empty swing beside you and dug into his pocket, bringing out the black velvet box with your necklace inside. He placed it down onto the empty seat and backed away. “It scares you that you still love me…just like I still love you. It’s been 10 years for me too Y/N and I swear on everything…I’ve never been able to forget you. You’ve still got my whole heart.”

As he stared at your back, he could feel the weight from holding everything in begin to lift off of his shoulders. That was it, that was everything he had to say and now all he had to do was wait and see if you said anything back. Seconds went by and you hadn’t even looked at the swing beside you to see what he had put down. He sucked in his bottom lip and nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he went to walk away.

He turned back and took a deep breath, deciding to say one final thing. “I leave tomorrow night to go back to Columbus. I know that you don’t owe me anything, especially since what happened was all my fault…but I’ll be at the diner around 1:30 tomorrow to grab something before I head off...”

With one last look, he nodded his head and turned away from you, walking all the way back to his car knowing that he did all that he could. If you wanted to talk to him, you knew where he’d be. And if you didn’t show up, he’d know that it was time to start putting effort into moving on.

But God, he really hoped you’d show up.

──

Another night of restless sleep had Josh looking like a zombie that afternoon when he walked into the diner and headed over to all too familiar booth. Not even the three cups of coffee with his breakfast this morning could have masked just how late his thoughts about you and whether or not that you’d show up, had kept him up.

Mrs. O’Donnell had greeted him with a warm hug and a strawberry milkshake with two straws already placed on the table. He didn’t know what she knew, but if there was one thing he was grateful for, it was how hopeful and positive she was that this thing…whatever it was, would work out between you two.

He had ordered a basket of fries to munch on as he repeatedly checked his watch and grew more anxious as the time neared 1:30. Maybe it wasn’t smart, suggesting that she come to the diner– maybe he should have picked a different spot. At least, that’s what he was telling himself so he didn’t have to face the only truth– that she didn’t want to come because there was no way she could forgive him or even see herself with him after everything that happened.

He was halfway through with his fries and the whipped cream on the shake was starting to melt when he looked at his phone again.

1:40.

The bell above the door rang out, but he didn’t turn around. No matter how much he wanted it to be you, he knew that there was no chance that it could have been. The place was packed and he was sure that it was just another table leaving or another family coming in for some food for the day.

He sighed and popped another fry into his mouth before taking a sip of the milkshake, letting the taste linger as if he was drinking it for the last time. When he went to reach in for his wallet to grab some cash, he saw someone place something in the middle of the table. When he looked at it, he saw that it was the black velvet box, opened…and empty. His head shot up to see you standing there, wearing that old UBC sweatshirt and your hair tossed up and out of your face.

Peeking out from the collar of your sweatshirt was a gold chain and though he couldn’t see what hung from it, he knew was it was. The empty box told him.

You took a deep breath and sat yourself down, unwrapping the second straw and plopping it into your shared milkshake, tossing the wrapper off to the side and looking up at him with a small, but hopeful smile. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #josh anderson oneshot #columbus blue jackets imagine #columbus blue jackets oneshot #columbus blue jackets writing #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey oneshot #oof i didn't proof read so yikes #my writing

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pettyprocrastination · 5 years

Text

And Scene Quentin Beck x Reader

Word count: 1655

Warnings: Spoilers for Spiderman: Far from Home, fake gore and murder/near suicide depicted in a play. Crappy writing and editing lmao.

Fic summary: You’re a local actress and quite possibly the only person in the world who is able to deal with Quentin’s pretentious bastard bullshit enough for him to see you as a friend (and perhaps more). Will you two be able to tell when the curtains close or will whats from a script mix into what’s from your hearts? (the most CLICHE FUCKEN SUMMARY LMAO)

chapter summary: After a particularly moving performance from his closest (and only) friend in a local play, Quentin realizes what Mysterio has been missing thanks to her breathtaking performance.

Chapter one

You helped create the role of Mysterio more than anybody else on Quentin’s team did.

He came to you with every idea, every costume sketch and every detail of his backstory, wanting you to read over it and give him your opinion on it. If you said you didn’t like something, he trashed it. If you said to add something, he did it without hesitation. He claimed it was because you were an actor, a small one who only did local plays, but still the best damn actor he knew.

Others on the team whispered that it was because there was more to your “relationship”.

And truly, there was. But he would never let them know that. He didn’t let them know that he did his damnedest to see every performance you had, whether he’d be front row or in the back of the theater with a fond smile. He didn’t let them know that in college when he was a pretentious engineering student, you were a bubbly theater major who was the only person on campus that could get him to step away from his latest project, the only person that could get him to laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe, make his palms sweat and knees knock like he was a goddamn schoolboy staring at his crush.

They didn’t know that even though you two shared an apartment with two rooms it wasn’t an oddity for one of you to come to the other’s late at night, longing to fall asleep in each other’s arms and then wake up early and get ready for the day with no mention of it. They didn’t know he wanted nothing more than to hold you tight the morning after and never let go, to kiss you with all the emotion and passion he had bottled up, something he’d dreamed of doing since he was nothing but a little shit in college who thought he was better than everybody else.

Even you didn’t know that last one.

It wasn’t until one late night that you truly helped shape Mysterio with a mold that Quentin wouldn’t have ever thought of using in his life.

“It’d be cool if you had another person on the other side of the spectrum on this whole thing.” You pointed at him with a potato chip before popping it into your mouth. Quentin had just gotten home from spending hours with the illusion tech to choreograph the first fight. It was all coming together perfectly but something wasn’t right, something was missing. He just couldn’t figure out for the life of him what the fuck it was.

You were tucked up on the couch underneath a heavy blanket, some superhero movie was playing on the TV but your eyes were more focused on the script in your hand. The final performance for your current play was in two day. It was some Greek tragedy that Quentin didn’t know all the details of, besides that you were the main character and it involved you getting caked in blood. “You know,” You said offhandedly. “-to really sell it.”

Quentin didn’t understand what you meant. The gears in his head so tired from running perfectly all day so much that now all they did was clash and grind against one another, leaving the man to frown and tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy dog.

“You mean, like a dirty cop?” He was surprised you would even suggest such a half brained plot like that. That was much too dangerous, too easy to be torn to shreds if one of those ties got caught on one somebody who couldn’t play the part as well as him.

Which was everybody.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “No dumb-ass, another character. You know, a sidekick or a damsel in distress.” He found himself hanging on your words, cautious at the thought of bringing in somebody knew to his project, but intrigued enough to let you ramble.

“-Like your very own Lois Lane-” it was then that you flashed a shit eating grin his way before pointing to the TV.

“-or your very own Catwoman if you’re feelin’ nasty.”

He looked at the TV to see on the screen that the main hero, Batman by his guess (ever since actual super heroes became “normal” he found the movies too nauseated to actually) in heated battle with a woman in a skintight catsuit, he assumed that was cat woman. Every punch he threw she dodged, usually with some sultry line tossed his way before she eventually escaped him all together like a vixen made of smoke.

“But then again, there’s no way in hell you’d let anybody share the spotlight with you on this.” You flicked his nose and smiled. Even though it was at his expense he felt his hands sweat. “It’s a miracle your big head can fit in the stupid fishbowl helmet of yours.”

He rubbed the tip of his nose, seemingly deep in thought but still realizing your not so subtle dig. “You said you liked the helmet!”

You merely laughed at him and continued to read your script.

Quentin had just barely made it to see the curtains open to reveal you on stage. He was out of breathe, not even mumbling apologies to those already in their seats as he stepped over them, practically clamoring over seated audience members to get to his own chair.

You had told him the story was a tad dark, but he was still surprised that at how well you played the role.

You were a woman in ancient Greece, who fell deeply in love with a man of royal blood from a far off civilization. So caught up in the infatuation you feel upon first meeting him, you both quickly get married and move away to his home. The story followed your character as she slowly learns that the man she supposedly loves was not as sweet as he was on their first meeting. He was cruel and brutal, as well as unfaithful. His twisted nature was shared by the entire royal family, stretching from your husband cheating on you to ordering attacks on the commoners for no other reason than “to keep them from knowing anything else.”

And eventually, his darling wife had snapped. In the middle of the night you killed the entire royal family in a fit of rage and take over their rule as a queen with a fair but firm hand.

You had a long monologue near the end, one that Quentin heard you practice day and night for a month nonstop. Hell, he even helped you run lines a couple of times and when he was feeling nice. And damn if all the practice and memorization quizzes didn’t pay off. You stood at the center of the stage, white dress stained in blood clinging to your figure as you spoke to the audience.

“Was I not enough for him?” You wept, trembling hands holding the blood stained dagger to your chest. “Was it not enough to have a wife, complacent in her own entrapment for him? Was it not enough to have a kingdom of civilians, obedient in their own slaughter and torture for him?!” You voice shook as you screamed to the audience. The emotion and desperation was so real Beck couldn’t help but feel his heart twisted by the picture painted before him. A woman so hurt, so alone and filled with trauma she felt no worth, no way out other than to take her own life after taking that of her wretched husband’s.

“I am no better than him.” You spat, the tears on your face mixed with the blood spatters on your cheek and onto the soaking dress that clung to your body. “I am no better than that cruel man who took the lives of others to keep them obedient. It isn’t enough that I did the same, because I was so tired, so scared of the man I thought I loved!” You raised the dagger higher before choking out. “Perhaps, in another life I will be a better wife to my beloved.”

Everybody expected you to plunge the dagger deep into your stomach before dropping to the floor in a dramatic and cliche death before the curtains close on you. But instead, you stopped mid swing, knife inches away from your stomach and eyes wide as if you had just come to your senses.

You dropped the dagger onto the floor and the sound echoed throughout the silent theater.

It was then that your shifted into a completely different character.

You stood suddenly tall, shoulders squared and head held high in a deep contrast to the stature of you staying meekly curled into yourself at your husband’s side through the entire play. Your hands stopped trembling and laid at your side, your eyes were no longer wide and afraid, but cold, focused, confident.

“Perhaps I wasn’t a proper wife.” You spoke, before your lips curled into a predatory smile. “But I will be a magnificent queen.”

The curtains quickly shut and the audience applauded, but Quentin stayed in his seat as his mind ran a marathon.

He had always been impressed by your talent in acting, but that performance left him in awe. How quickly you were able to go from a woman to weak and distraught she was willing to take her own life, to ruthless, strong-willed, and stone cold in a matter of seconds left him in awe of you.

But soon after as the fog lifted from his brain, the cogs in his head began to move in sync once more, and he realized he had found the final piece to Mysterio that he had been lacking for so long. Quentin quickly jumped over the seats, pushing his way through people moving to leave or congratulate the actors so he could get to you first. His body practically buzzing in excitement to give you praise but to also let you know that Mysterio would finally be complete. All thanks to you.

He had finally found his Catwoman.

Ayyyyy chapter one is donezo!! (It’s probably rough as SHIT so I might edit it tomorrow when I get off of work but I really wanted to get started on this and put it out. I love mcu mysterio so much that bastard has my heart!!! This is going different than my other fics because the reader is…kind of a baddie in this one i guess?? But let me know if you enjoyed it! Send me hc’s, your thoughts on it, or if you’d like to be tagged in it! Love you all

#spiderman ffh #spiderman far from home #spiderman ffh spoilers #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck #mysterio x reader #mysterio #and scene #far from home spoilers #spiderman far from home spoilers #jake gyllenhaal #this is probably shit but #thats LIFE BABEY

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

Text

Commission for Confidence, 9

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Okay, here’s the next chapter! Chapter 10 will be game night, I think, and after that there’ll be another mini-time skip! I do like where this one went. Please let me know what you think!

If you want to be on this taglist or on my permanent one, just shoot me an ask or something! If there’s a strikethrough on your URL, that means it didn’t work, but I’ll do my best to fix it if I can!

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban

CFC Taglist: @scatterbrainedgenius, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee, @heregoestheworld, @willowtree42095, @134340-cm, @this-is-just-for-fanfic-lmao, @poc-gotbang, @sincereleygmg, @toastedpopsicles, @imstupidsblog

Word Count: 4014

Warnings: fluff, Peter cooking, mention of injuries, additional minor cooking-related injuries, some swearing lmao, some crying, being super duper tired, a little bit of Peter’s POV, some negative self-talk near the end

You still had your arms around Peter’s neck as he reached your floor. You expected him to put you down as soon as you reached the top.

It seemed that Peter was full of surprises.

Peter continued to carry you on the way to your door. Right before he gently put you down, he squeezed you tightly and seemed to inhale deeply through his nose. Then, thankfully, your feet touched the floor, and you felt relatively stable.

Peter followed you inside casually and you made a beeline to the fridge. Another yawn graced your face as you pulled out one of the reusable bottles of water you always put in the fridge. As you straightened and groaned at the twinge of pain, Peter appeared right behind you, making you throw the bottle in surprise.

Peter caught it easily and handed it back to you with a chuckle. “Why don’t you go get comfy and I’ll see what I can cook up?”

Too tired to argue, you said, “Luckily for you, I just went grocery shopping.”

He gave you a grin as you shuffled away. Once in your bedroom, you slowly went about changing from your dirty work clothes into a giant sweatshirt you’d gotten from a thrift store and a pair of simple black leggings. You stared at your blob-like form in the mirror, aware that you purposefully made yourself into a blob, before padding back out to the kitchen; the sounds of cooking reached your ears.

“Smells good,” you remarked as you leaned against the counter. “Are you utilizing my garlic and onions?”

“Yep!” Peter chirped as he beamed at you over his shoulder.

“What’s on the menu, chef?” you asked as you finally took a sip of water. The coolness relieved your throat and made your entire body relax ever so slightly.

“Well,” Peter shuffled slightly so you could stand next to him at the stove, “I saw that you had some steak, and some potatoes, so we’re going to have steak and potatoes.”

“What kind of potatoes?” you asked as you saw them already washed and cut, coming to a boil on the stove. Exactly how long had you been changing clothes?

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “Not just boiled, I know that.”

You hummed slightly and grabbed a fork, poking a potato. “I’ll make some lemon pepper potatoes,” you stated as you turned up the heat.

“But I am supposed to be the one cooking,” Peter pouted at you.

“And you have done a fabulous job so far,” you smiled at him, “but let me help. I hate feeling useless. Besides,” you cut him off as he was about to say something, “my kitchen, my rules. That’s the way it is.”

“Fine,” he pretended to huff. “What do you need, sous chef?”

You chuckled and took a step back from him. “Nothing yet. The potatoes aren’t quite done enough. Would you like to hear my plan?”

“Yes please!” Peter grinned as he placed a steak in the pan with a loud sizzle. He placed the next one and added some butter and rosemary, the scent wafting through the air and comforting your soul.

“Alright, well, when they’re almost done being boiled, I’m going to toss them in some lemon pepper seasoning. I might add some other stuff too, I’m not sure yet. Then, while the steaks are resting, I’ll toss them in the pan and let them crisp up.”

Peter let out a moan as you finished describing it, and your ears burned at the sound. “That sounds amazing,” he admitted, smirking at you.

You chatted absentmindedly as he finally flipped the steaks and you were ready to drain the potatoes. As you picked it up, your wrapped arm throbbed painfully enough that the pot clattered back onto the stove. It splashed near-boiling water all over your hand and foot, making you hiss in pain and jump back.

Of course, you collided with the counter behind you.

“Son of a bitch!” you exclaimed; your breathing was almost frozen in your throat.

“Jesus!” Peter exclaimed at the same time, taking a step towards you. “Shit, Y/N, are you okay? Not a great day for you, huh?” he attempted to lighten the mood.

Your eyes began to mist with tears of frustration, pain, and exhaustion; you were much too tired to keep them in. You put your hand over your mouth as you let out a sob, your eyes squeezing shut and the tears pouring out of your eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, are you hurt?” Peter asked as he stepped closer to you, rubbing his hands up and down your shoulders and arms. “It’s okay, Y/N, just talk to me. Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re not hurt.”

“I’m, not, hurt,” you basically hiccupped around your tears.

“Oh,” he breathed, halting the rubbing of his hands on your arms. As you continued to sob, unable to stop both the tears and the jumping of your lungs, Peter stepped closer to you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you into his chest.

You couldn’t stop the hand that covered your mouth from moving to grip Peter’s soft t-shirt with tight yet shaky fingers. You were just so incredibly exhausted and achy and done with the world, that your body apparently decided that crying would be the best way to deal with your current situation.

One of Peter’s hands rubbed your back as the other squeezed you tighter. After several minutes, you felt your tears come to an end and your breathing relax.

Your head suddenly snapped up and you peered over Peter’s shoulder to look at the stove. The steaks were still in the pan, but the heat was off. You relaxed in front of Peter again, your neck rolling down to rest your forehead on his chest.

Peter chuckled and pulled back from you, making you look up at him. “Go lay down on the couch, okay?”

“But—”

“No, go. I’ll finish up dinner. Go lay down, relax. You need it.”

“But—”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, “you deserve it. Besides, you’re not allowed to argue with me when you look that adorable. Now go.”

You sighed heavily and nodded. Peter smiled at your acquiescence and you almost jumped in surprise when his lips pressed a kiss to your forehead. You made sure you didn’t look at him as you shuffled away and into the living room.

You carefully lowered yourself to the couch and then into a comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as you could. You turned the TV on and lazily picked an episode of The Golden Girls before sinking into the comfort of your couch.

Peter finished up dinner and walked into the living room to tell you it was ready, only to see you fast asleep. You were curled into yourself ever so slightly, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. Peter sat on the edge of the couch near your knees, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shifted slightly and let out a little grumble, a grimace coming to your lips.

Reaching out a hand, Peter gently ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face. At his touch, you relaxed, almost seeming to move closer to him, and his heart fluttered in his ribcage. The bandages on your face shot guilt through his chest, sending his fluttering heart back down to the ground.

He felt so bad about your injuries. It was an afternoon patrol day, and he was four blocks away when Karen told him about the robbery in-progress. Peter had swung over immediately, stopping on top of a building across the street to assess the situation.

As soon as he saw you being held by your hair, Peter was swinging down and to the window. You were throwing a gun at a man’s face when he went through the window, and then Peter was so focused on webbing everyone up to stop you from getting hurt that he didn’t get to the ones kicking you until you were already curled on the floor.

Peter’s heart panged again as he recalled you riddled with pieces of glass and clutching your ribs; he hated the look of fear on your face.

As you breathed in deeply, Peter was struck with pride at how brave you had been during the robbery. You obviously worked splendidly under pressure, and it made him admire you more. He hated that you’d gotten hurt, and that you were so torn up because he had been reckless and jumped without a proper plan, but he was happy that you were okay.

And, he admitted to himself, he was glad that he was there with you. Your sleeping form was so cute, and you looked so soft. He wanted nothing more than to crawl onto the couch and settle behind you, holding you close and keeping you safe. Then again, he also wanted to sketch out your gorgeous form…

Peter didn’t know why he was so drawn to you, especially considering that you hadn’t known each other very long, but he was. He didn’t want to stop being drawn to you, in all honesty, because he saw you as such a ray of light, even when you were sleeping.

Still, you had to wake up to eat.

You were woken up gently, and you opened your eyes to see Peter leaning over you slightly with his hand on your shoulder. His smile warmed your heart and you began to sit up. Your ribs twitched with a bit of pain, causing a wince to cross your face. Peter moved back slightly and smiled again as you stretched, wincing again at the slight pain it caused.

“How long was I out?” you muttered out, rubbing at your eyes.

“Just, like, fifteen minutes, I think?” Peter replied.

“Mm,” you hummed slightly, dropping your arms. “What’s up?”

“Dinner’s ready,” Peter said cheerfully, getting up and reaching out a hand to help you up. You put your hand in his and he gently helped you to your feet. Without letting go of your hand, he led you to your dining room table.

You sat in your usual spot, Peter to your right, and tiredly regarded your plate. You let out another hum as you finally woke up more upon smelling the food.

“This looks great, Peter,” you said sincerely, picking up your utensils and beginning to eat. The first bite of steak had you letting out a moan of happiness; it was truly delicious. “Oh my god, Peter,” you moaned around your food, “this is so good.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled warmly.

You spent the dinner in relative silence, mostly just eating. The food warmed you completely, both in body and soul. While you were eating, though, you were once again aware of how sore your body was and how exhausted you felt.

“Go lay back down,” Peter urged as you finished eating. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can—”

“Remember what I said?” he interrupted gently.

“Um?”

“You’re not allowed to argue with me when you look so cute, now go get some more rest. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

You huffed out your acquiescence and shuffled back to the couch. You sat on it this time, to avoid falling asleep, and scrolled through your phone aimlessly. Your sitting position did not, however, stop your eyes from drooping, nor your mouth from yawning.

“Y/N, I’m done—” Peter cut off as he saw you dozing on the couch again. This time, though, you were only dozing, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Sorry, Peter, for being so useless tonight,” you yawned.

Peter sat down next to you and pulled your leg into his lap. He absently massaged it through your leggings as he said, “No, you’re not useless, Y/N. You’re never useless. You’re wonderful and always exactly as you need to be, by being you.”

You nearly purred at the sensation of the massage, even as your eyes filled with tears. “Th-thanks, Peter, that means a lot,” you stuttered.

He smiled at you and then looked at the time. The feeling of him pressing into the muscles of your calf was making you even more drowsy.

“Hey, Y/N?” Peter roused you slightly.

“Yes?” you asked, opened your eyes wide to try to wake up.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked tenderly with shining brown eyes.

“You don’t have to, Peter,” you said, waking up a bit more. “I can handle the rest of the night. It’s all up to you, though.”

Peter sighed heavily through his nose, causing your eyebrows to furrow in concern. He leaned into your couch and sighed again, drawing it out into a groan and squeezing his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong?” you couldn’t help but ask. You pulled your legs underneath you and leaned forward to put a concerned hand on his shoulder.

Peter opened his eyes and you realized how close you were to him. You leaned back a little but kept your hand in place. He gave you a smile, though it wasn’t an overly happy one.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he explained slowly, “but I probably should so that I don’t neglect my duties around the house before game night.” Another sigh escaped his lips.

“Aw,” you cooed, “it’s so sweet of you to be concerned, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not concerned,” he said, then hurried to say, “well, I mean, I am concerned, but that’s not why I want to stay.” He then blushed as he said, “I just like spending time with you, Y/N, that’s why I want to stay.”

You felt your blood rushing as your body reacted to his words. In a poor attempt to hide how sheepish you were, you said, “Peter, that’s sweet, but if you gotta go, you gotta go.”

He heaved another sigh, this one obviously meant to be overly dramatic, and pushed himself to his feet. You followed suit even as he shambled to the front door. It was easy to chuckle at his dramatics, and that seemed to be his goal as he grinned at you.

“Peter?” you prompted him as he pulled on his shoes and got ready to go.

“Yes, Y/N?” His brown eyes would be so easy to get lost in…

“Well, I just wanted to say, well, thank you. You were really there for me today, and you didn’t have to, so… thank you. I really appreciate it.” You chuckled quietly before you continued, “I’ve never really had a friend quite like you, Peter. It’s a new experience for me.”

Peter was quiet for a moment as he patted his pockets to be sure he had everything. Then, he turned and beamed at you. “I’m happy to be your friend, and to be your friend the way I am. I’ll always be there for you, Y/N. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be over before you know it, mmkay?”

You nodded. “Thank you again, Peter.”

“No need to thank me. I’ll see you tomorrow for game night?” he confirmed as he stood in the threshold of the front door.

“Yep!” you chirped happily. “Bye, Peter.”

Steeling yourself a final time, you bounced forward and kissed his cheek before he was completely out of the apartment. You could see his blush as the door shut, and after a few moments, you heard his footsteps walk away.

You locked your door and made sure everything was off before plugging in your phone and curling up on your comfortable couch. Sleep came easily that night.

The next day, you woke up with aches pulsing all over your body. What had woken you up was a phone call from Edith.

“Y/N, I swear to all the saints and gods, if you come to work today, I’ll fire you on the spot,” Edith said in lieu of a greeting. “Well, I won’t fire you, but I will force you to do what you find to be the most boring work possible: math theory books.”

“Edith,” you chuckled, blinking the sleep from your eyes, “if you had waited another hour, I would’ve called in. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, the fire she had built up dying quickly. “Oh. Okay then. Well, how are you feeling? Did you get home okay? Charlie filled me in, since Arthur isn’t coming in and is still asleep. Do you need to talk about it?”

You chuckled under your breath as you managed to heave yourself into a semi-upright position. It shot pain through your midsection, but it quickly left. “I’m okay. They patched me up and gave me painkillers. My friend helped me out last night. I’m mostly just sore right now, and still exhausted.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Edith informed you. “And, well, while what you did wasn’t necessarily wise, it was smart, and I’m proud of you for being brave.”

“Thanks, Edith,” you said as emotion tightened your chest. Edith had been like a mother-figure to you ever since you got the job; hearing her say something like that was very sweet and very necessary.

“Don’t come back into work until Wednesday, okay? And no doing work from home! This is part of your paid time off; it’s about time you start using those days anyway, kid.”

“Thank you, Edith,” you repeated warmly. “I’ll only read for pleasure this weekend and I’ll be sure to relax as best as I am able.”

“Good!” Edith said firmly. After a pause, she continued, “Go back to sleep, okay? Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be right over.”

You chuckled in response. “I will, Edith. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you Wednesday.”

“See you Wednesday,” you agreed, hanging up the phone.

You stretched out on the couch again, proud of your choice last night. You knew that if you had slept in your bed, you would be unable to get up without considerable pain. And, well, your couch was incredibly comfortable. Your bed was comfortable too, but not in a way that would make it a good idea for you to sleep there with your aching body.

After another strike of pain ran up and down your spine, you kicked your legs over the edge of the couch. With your body protesting loudly, and some of the protests making it out of your mouth in the form of grunts and groans, you managed to get up, open your curtains, and go to the kitchen.

As you made some toast and tea so you could take some painkillers and head back to sleep, you heard tapping on your window.

You leaned over the breakfast bar and scanned the windows, expecting to see the crows that you had befriended. Instead, you saw Spider-Man sitting on your fire escape and tapping on the window.

With a roll of your eyes, you crossed to that window and opened it. You could tell that Spider-Man was grinning under his mask as you managed to climb out the window and onto the fire escape, despite your body protesting.

“Hello again, Spider-Man,” you greeted him. “You’re here early.”

“Well,” the obviously altered voice began, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Ah.”

“I was busy last night, so I couldn’t make it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that was strangely familiar. “How are you feeling?”

You sighed slightly and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m making some breakfast so I can take some painkillers and sleep for a few more hours.”

“What, uh, what are you doing tonight?” he asked sheepishly.

“Why, Spider-Man? Are you going to ask me on a date or something?” you flirted lightly, feeling that it was harmless. Well, if that could even be considered flirting, since you didn’t think you were very good at flirting at all.

“N-no!” he stuttered with his white eyes wide as he looked away. “I was just curious. It’s, uh, just a question. It’s Friday, you know, and I was just—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him with a laugh. “I was just teasing. I’m going over to a friend’s place for game night.”

“Is this that same friend as the one you talked to me about?” he asked, his mask shifting in a way that told you he was wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes,” you replied, crossing your arms over your stomach in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. “I kissed his cheek last night,” you admitted quietly.

“Ooo, spicy!” he chuckled, sounding weird with the voice changer.

“Shut up,” you muttered. “He was really sweet last night, and he was really flirty, I think. It made me feel… special.” You sighed and curled into yourself slightly. “He’s just being nice,” you reasoned. “I don’t think a guy like him would be capable of liking a gal like me romantically… or sexually.”

“Now why would you say that?” Spider-Man demanded angrily, making you jump in surprise. “And furthermore, how would you even know that?”

“I-I, well,” you stuttered, curling in again and looking away from him. “I just have a feeling, okay? And people aren’t really… interested in me… like that. Never have been. I’m just not… attractive and not interesting in a long-lasting way. That’s what all my exes have said, anyway, and… no one’s ever told me otherwise, no one outside of my close friend group. D-don’t get me wrong, I am trying to be better with my self-esteem, but… I’ve kinda given up on relationships. I’m just not made for them.”

Spider-Man let out a rather uncharacteristic growl, making you start again. “Your exes are garbage and I should beat them up for the way they obviously treated you. Those people don’t get to dictate what other people think of you.” Spider-Man suddenly took you by the shoulders. “Listen, Y/N, you are wonderful, okay? What those people said about you is wrong, because you are incredibly attractive and incredibly interesting, okay? Okay?”

You blinked in surprise at his serious tone, and the way his eyes had narrowed as he looked at you. After another moment, you nodded, not completely believing him, but feeling a little bit better about yourself.

“I-I… I’d better get going,” Spider-Man said after a few more heartbeats. “I should let you get back to your breakfast and your painkillers. Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” you smiled gently.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N,” he informed you as you stood up with aching limbs. He shot a web and stared at you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he stepped forward on the fire escape and there was a strange sensation on your forehead. Spider-Man had pressed a kiss to your forehead through the mask. It was a little strange, but not unwelcome.

“Bye, Spider-Man, stay safe,” you said as a way to hide your sudden shyness.

“You too, Y/N,” Spider-Man said sincerely, tugging on the web he’d shot and swinging away. You watched for another moment as he disappeared around a building.

After cramming your body back through your window, you shut and locked it again. You slowly meandered back to the kitchen and crunched on your toast, deep in thought.

Spider-Man and Peter seemed to enjoy kissing your forehead. You sighed and just chalked it up to the kindness of sweet people. It seemed to be the only reasonable explanation for that sort of affection to be directed at you.

You finished your toast and took a painkiller with a swig of your tea. Settling back onto the couch, you turned the TV on for background noise and set an alarm. You desperately needed a shower before game night, but you also desperately needed more sleep.

As you were falling asleep, you got a text from Peter asking how you were feeling. You tiredly replied with a thumbs up emoji and a triple Z emoji. Your eyes drooped fully shut as you got a winky-kissy emoji from Peter in reply.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x plus size reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x plus size reader #commission for confidence #cfc update #artist peter parker au #plus size reader #reader insert #please tell me what you think i am desperate for validation

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lucky-7times · 5 years

Note

9,17,21,22,24

9: How much time do you spend drawing on a average day?

On most days I don't draw at all, but when I'm in the mood I can easily draw for 4-6 houres straight. A simple sketch alone takes normaly 1-3 houres for me. Time flys so fast while drawing or I'm just way too slow.

17: Do you think you're justified in giving other people art advice?

I think everyone is it. Even persons who don't draw or who have no clue of art have a sense of aesthetics or what looks good, most just don't know how to describe it or what's it exactly. Some can indeed point out, what's missing or looking off without knowing how or why.

However, skilled persons can describe better what they mean and can give direct tips and ways to improve, which is more helpful in the end. Professionals can give excellent art advice, but this doesn't make them the only justified people for that. There are actually a whole bunch of people, who may not be very skillful in drawing in generell, but have really good ways in drawing something specific. This doesn't have to be something big, most times I just come across a picture, see one good aspect or detail and think: "How did you do that?" I would like to get advice from the artist, even if they're like 10 years old, it doesn't matter.

21: Do you like to challenge yourself?

I'm playing Hollow Knight so ...

If I'm alone and nobody sees my mistakes, then yes. However, I hate when people see me struggle. I was all my life seen as a failure, I don't want this anymore.

22: Are you confident that you're improving steadily?

For most of my life I thought only time will make my art skills better. I drew hella rarely back then as a child and if I came across something difficult - I gave up. I didn't drew for like years then, because what's the point if I'm not good? Then, sometime, I tried again - and I made it, without any exercise. I don't know why that is, but I literally grew up with the mind set that if I can't do something today, I can do it later. This is still in my head if I see a really good picture and don't think I can't do that as well - yet. There's something in my head literally telling me: "Yeah wait bro, gimme some time." However, this was heaviely damaged by people who compared me to others and wanted to see improvement in like days. Even when I exercise, I can't get better in a really short time and this gave me the illusion that I won't get better even if I try. Progress is slowly and fluent, it does get faster if I draw and exercise regulary, but it's not visible if it's not compared to myself.

24: Do you feel jealous when you see other people’s art or inspired? (Be honest!)

Oh boi, seeing someone better than me felt literally like poison in my heart back then. When I was a child, I got highly excited when someone complimented my art, but something in me broke if I saw the same person was complimenting someone else too. This was because of low self-estem, nobody gave me me signs or reasurement that I'm something valueable by myself so I tried to prove it. I felt like something special for having a talent that others don't have, but it was crushing when I got conscious of how much people were more skilled than me, it made me feel worthless. Only the aknowledge of getting better over time gave me hope to become something better later. When I was 14-16 I used drawings from others more to find ways to improve than seeing reasons to quit, as long the artists were younger than me (because oh noooo, if you weren't hot shit at that age you were doomed to be a looser all the rest of your life lmao).

Later when I focused my education in art, I got critisism from all sites and I don't saw the point in drawing anymore. I was neither good nor did I have fun at it, so why keep doing that? I had nothing left again, so I tried to do it from the other site: Making fun the priority. Then it got incredible better, I could enjoy more what I do and even laughed at mistakes sometimes. I even find the bravery to look more into things I was always kinda interessted in, despite how others see or think about it. From that point, I didn't felt the need to become something special anymore if I have fun in what I do.

Now, I know how precious my creations are to me and that makes me feel that I'm already good enough for myself without a need to prove that to others. With this I can look relaxed at art that’s way ahead of what can I do now and yeah, find inspiration or motivation in trying something that I’ll probably fail at first.

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trade-baby-blues · 5 years

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Sweet Savannah Sunshine

Pairing: James Flint x Thomas Hamilton

Word Count: 1593

Warnings: angst, mentions of past homophobia, more angst, one (1) single swear word

Flint couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. Not upon reaching Skeleton Island nor upon tying himself to the helm during a tempest. On both occasions, the worst outcome had been death, but which was the worst outcome here? That he would end up in Savannah to work and die alone as James Flint? Or that Thomas would be waiting for him and he would have to remember how to be James McGraw?

Thomas. Flint would have to get used to saying it aloud again. He’d treated the name as a sacrament for so long it felt heavy on his tongue. It struck him, then, that there was only one person left alive, aside from Flint himself, who knew Thomas’s name and story. Even that felt like too much, as if the more his name was spoken the more pieces of Thomas would disappear from Flint’s memory.

Would he even recognize him anymore? It had been a decade since he’d last seen Thomas. Perhaps he’d finally grown his hair out after all his griping about wigs. James could imagine it, soft as it had been, tumbling over Thomas’s shoulders in golden waves. His fingers twitched as he imagined running his hands through it, imagined it brushing his own shoulders as Thomas leaned to kiss him.

Would he taste the same? Would he feel the same? Or would his body be marked by ropes of muscle that came from years of labor? Would his skin be pale as it was in the London fog, or would it be tanned from the Georgia sun? Would he recognize Thomas? Would Thomas recognize him?

A bolt of panic shot through Flint’s spine. Ten years he’d spent memorizing Thomas’s face, sketching it on any available surface. He’d committed himself to that face, but had Thomas done the same? Or had his miserable shit of a father told him that James had left without looking back? Another jolt of panic. James’ heart roared louder than the ocean around him. What if Thomas hated him for leaving? What if he rejected him now, after all he’d done to get where he was? Because of it?

James could hardly breathe as he shut himself in the captain’s cabin, locking the door and sliding down it as he focused on the bite of the wood in his back instead of his own gasping lungs. Suddenly, he was a boy again, clinging to his mother’s skirts as a British officer explained that there was an accident at sea and his father would not be returning. It was the first chapter in a story defined by tragedy.

How he could feel so keenly the loss of something he did not yet have, James didn’t know. And yet the mere thought of Thomas dismissing him made his blood turn to ice. He buried the thought in the same corner of his mind that James kept the rest of his darkness, focusing instead on the wood beneath his palms and the gentle sway of the ship on the water. It reminded him that he was still James Flint, and James Flint didn’t have time to lose himself in emotion. The only context in which James Flint knew fear was the look in his enemies’ eyes before he slew them.

Flint dragged himself off the floor, resigning himself to solemn silence for the remainder of the journey. Silver would interpret his silence as acceptance rather than what it actually was: a feeble attempt by a desperate man to hang onto the last shreds of his composure.

The nervousness Flint had felt on the ship paled in comparison to the fear that claimed him the second his boots hit sand at port. He had half a mind to turn tail and run back onto the ship, to demand Silver take him back to the Maroon camp with the tone of voice he knew even Silver couldn’t deny. Yet, the other half of his mind urged him forward. Urged him onward. Even now, on the heels of peace, Flint couldn’t stop tearing himself apart at the seams. Perhaps Miranda had been right all those years ago. Maybe he did need someone to fight, be it Rogers or Silver or himself.

A hand guided him forward. Gunn’s hand. James had hardly taken the time to get to know him, assuming that one or the other of them would have died at the camp or the ensuing battle or any of the other myriad of ways Woodes Rogers would have seen them all killed. He thought idly about getting to know him now, asking Gunn his favorite color or if his mother read to him as a child, if only to quiet his own mind, but James’ tongue was too leaden to croak out the words. He hardly even felt the bite of irons around his wrist, too distracted he was by the ghost of irons around his ankles, weighing down every step that brought him closer to the end of his own story.

James hadn’t even noticed Gunn handing him off - had only noticed a difference when the sun was on his face again and a rougher hand grabbed his arm to push him forward. The man smelled of sweat and tobacco - two familiar scents. But he also smelled of grass and flowers, a scent both foreign and comforting. It was so different than the sea.

James took another deep breath as he was walked towards a field. The smell of freshly tilled earth greeted him, bringing his mind around to thoughts of Odysseus and his shovel. He wondered how much farther inland he would have to walk to forget about the sea.

As it turned out, James had only to walk another foot before everything else fell away from him - his name, his past, his story - because there before him stood a form more familiar to him than his own. The same cropped blond hair he could feel between his fingers, the lithe neck that had surrendered under his lips and which now stretched down into an expanse of bare skin pulled taut over ropes of muscles that contracted and relaxed as Thomas worked the earth the same way he would have worked James’ body - worshipping it and reveling in it at once.

He stopped, then, as if he could feel James’ eyes on him. As he turned, every second of the last ten years fell away. He was an officer again, standing in the dining room having just thrown Alfred Hamilton out of his own house and Thomas - Christ, Thomas looked as eager now as he had in that moment, so full of hope and longing as he took the first step forward and showed James for the first time what love was meant to feel like.

He basked in that gaze now, drinking Thomas in without reservation. He looked every bit as regal as he had in London, only with an added sheen of sweat covering his skin. He looked like cut marble, as if James was looking upon David himself, though even the towering masterpiece seemed little more than a child’s sand sculpture in comparison to the soft planes of Thomas’s body.

James was well aware what he must look like: a man starved, hungry for the touch of Thomas’s skin against his. He could feel the tenuous grip on his own composure slipping as every step brought him closer until a familiar voice crept into his mind and froze him in place.

Hennessy’s voice, as clear as the day it had been when it forced James out of the Navy, out of his home, his life. James could hear Hennessy’s voice now as the words tightened around his neck like a noose. It is too profane. It is too loathsome. Silver had assured James that the plantation owners were aware of the true circumstances in which Thomas had come here, that they didn’t much care who he bedded, but James was unwilling to take that chance again, not when Thomas was so close - so close that the thought of losing him again might actually kill James on the spot.

Thomas still had not moved, studying James from afar. There was a look in his eye that James couldn’t place from this distance. He watched Thomas touch the skin where his wedding band had been. It was a nervous tick. Something he’d done only when he was worried, and James felt the realization like a gunshot: Thomas was just as scared as he was.

No sooner had the realization hit him than James was walking, running, flying forward. He was Icarus and Thomas was the sun. If the wax melted and he plummeted to the ground, there was nowhere James would rather land than Thomas’s arms, and land there he did as their chests crashed together like waves on the hull of the Walrus. Thomas’s arms pulled him close as James dragged his calloused hands against the bare skin of Thomas’s back.

And then Thomas’s lips were against his and James could think of nothing else but the slide of their bodies against each other. Nothing else held meaning but the taste of Thomas and the glow of his smile as he stared at James with enough love to chase away the chill of the sea that had wormed its way in James’ very bones. Heaven and hell were nothing more than words to James as he let go of the oars tying him to the sea and picked up the shovel to bury Flint for good.

A/N: Uuuuuuh sorry I’ve been MIA on this blog for like...months and then come back with a Black Sails fic of all things but I binged the entire show and it has consumed my life but I do promise to get back to regularly scheduled fics eventually lmao.

#black sails #flinthamilton #this is how the scene should have gone because Georgia is hot AF

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ts-2020-olympics · 5 years

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EPISODE 3 - “Am I Old?” - Sarah

So far Shosha and Yujo haven’t lost any challenges, if we keep winning until the swap i fear that the other tribes will target our people because we’re all still intact. Maybe it would be a good thing to maybe lose one? I dunno

ちくしょう 😉

FUCK the hosts for this how many hours can you put in challenge this early in the game, i'm literally fucking pissed, FUMIN love! i knew we were gonna lose from early on but i still put in the time and hours to distract myself from this bitch ass boy who curved me yesterday night, whatever. i'm just so exhausted like of the constant losing, the tribal council, ugh. i haven't been on a losing tribe like this in SO long. and i'm so.. over it. i can't stand losing and i can't stand that emma is immune right now because deciding who to vote off is going to be impossible and people are going to be coming for me so i'm like, probably most definitely gone or whatever. and that means i'm going to have to do the arena challenge and NOT have a day off which... ugh....... dont get me wrong i know that ORGs are time commitments but usually i win the premerge challenges so THIS IS NEW OKAy kdhfnsdkfndkfndf. i'm just annoyed and i'm so over my tribe... and i didn't find any advantages at the olympic village i finally remembered to search in. anyway i dont even wanna THINK about tribal rn so this is just me saying fuck this challenge and ughhh i'm so TIRED just so fatigued of everything, i'll like come back tmrw and strategize or something. *throws a rock at the cameraman* fuck this shit i'm out, give me the osake RIGHT! GOD DAMN! NOW! (alcohol for all you non duolingo-ers)

i'm kinda happy that bailey was evacuated from the game, she would have been voted out regardless and this gives our tribe better odds at survival. even if we had gone to tribal i would've been comfortable, but now i feel like it's better than i try to prove my value as a player by competing in the arena! kinda excited.

tribal three times in a row check! 😍✨💋 LMAO no one is wanting to actually talk to me about it so i’m hoping that i can still sway the votes in my favor but we’ll see! i think landen would defiantly do his best to help keep me from going, but it’s all a matter of who would we send instead. so! we’ll see! at least i can say i did my best

So, for starters, the past round went pretty much as expected. Kathy was the vote off from my tribe, and she lost at the arena, as well, past round I found nothing yet again at the village. Now, right now in terms of this round, my tribe didn't win immunity, but Bailey ended up getting medically evacuated due to getting three inactivity strikes, so the tribal got cancelled for my tribe, and Beck ended up volunteering to do the arena. So basically, just awaiting to search Olympic Village again, and hoping to goodness there is a tribe swap next round, since right now my tribe is just my alliance with Ben and Beck, which will make things rough come another loss with no swap.

yep worst case scenario happened. My tribe lost with me sitting out and Will, my one main ally, not showing up to the challenge at all!! I was hoping it could be an easy vote so i didn’t have to vote and I could get the advantage but now it seems like my tribe is ready to boot Will and if I want that advantage I need two of those other three to vote against each other! God this is gonna be hard...

I’m in a tough predicament here. I could either A. play it safe, agree with everyone to vote will or B. try to save my ally and my advantage at the same time by getting Sarah and Eve to vote out Nik, risking my whole game. Godddd I don’t know!! aaaagh!

it's 10am, tribal is in 10 hours, and i've had about 10 separate heart attacks throughout the morning. i don't know what to do tonight. i'm really struggling to figure out what's right. my heart says jacob, that's definitely where i'm leaning. juls is my closest ally at this point, and after the whole debacle with Billy, voting him out, then instantly starting to bond with him and all that, and apologizing, and him sticking by me even after I voted him out first, I would feel terrible voting for him again and I want us to prove to eachother we can trust eachother. but the fact he said juls' name.. if that's who he's going to go for, i simply can't prove to him i will vote with him. i'm tight with juls, she saved me even over emma, and i just really feel a bond with her. we're both the youngest in this cast, we both have lots in common, it really do feel like we're the same person at times. at the same time, my head tells me jacob is good in challenges, and will be ok in arena, but that i really don't need a 3rd person upset at me for going to the arena, and if Emma is still coming after me, she could probably use me coming for Jacob to her advantage, but I don't even know where she's voting or what she's thinking. i'm torn about this vote, and it's all the more annoying that if emma just hadn't fucked up at the last challenge, we wouldn't be here without someone to vote right now. we'd all be able to agree on emma or jacob probably, and it would just... it would still suck complete ass, but it wouldn't be as complicated as it is now. with a tribe as tiny as 5 people, going to tribal THREE times, with all the same 5 people.. it's just not something we can afford. our tribe is being torn apart and... whew, i just need the swap. give it to me rn. as of now, i'm thinking i'm going to vote jacob, and i hope i can get billy on board for that and take his mind off juls. that's where my head is at right now... tribal is making me sick to my stomach

What the f does I stan you even mean? Am I old? And I no longer hip and down with the lingo? Bogus, man...

Our first tribal is tonight... I hate to say it, but I'm voting for Will. Nobody has heard from him in days, or for the last challenge, and tonight will be a second strike if he doesn't come back for tribal. WILL I'M SORRY. I definitely would not have voted him otherwise, he did great on the other challenges and is a great personality to have around. Come back for the next season Will..

I am the swing vote again lol Juls got blamed for messing up last vote by Emma and Billy, which considering Juls is beloved by everyone, PERFECT But now since we lost I need to pick a side, Landen and Juls or Emma and Billy. I like Emma, Billy sketches me out. Landen is the perfect meat shield for eternity. He's a bit of a blabbermouth. I watched the tapes of the live tribal, he sold me out unknowingly in front of Billy. How am I supposed to both sides these people now!? I could get sold onto a Landen vote, but that's not being sold, so WELL, who do I screw over. I feel so bad voting out Juls, but that's a reason to vote her out too, gah. GAH. Do I pick a side and lowkey goat, or do I make my control of the tribe forefront (but not evident because everyone hates each other) Time will tell. 1 Hour until tribal, and I have no idea what to do. inb4 voted out

why the FUCK does emma have immunity? she's literally so useless and does nothing in challenges... and the fact she already turned on juls, this quick, over practically nothing? im sick to my stomach, love. i know i said that already, but you know what? I must have the flu, because my nausea is neverending with this tribe and our constant spins at tribal council. as emma once said, we're basically taking turns sending people to the hellish arena. but the twist is so complex because you can't send someone you like there, because there IS always the very real chance that they lose the challenge. going there could be a good risk if you're smart with it, but it could be a risk that puts your entire game in jeopardy and i'm a KNOWN safe player when it comes to game mechanics ^_^ the only risks i take are in emotional labor! speaking of, myself and juls have both been working very hard to keep her safe from billy and emma's focused target on her, but i don't see it happening.. Billy and em seem to be tight now and it seems like they've convinced jacob to take out juls. The really horrible thing about all this, is that if i want to save juls.... i'm likely going to have to vote billy. and that is going to be aching, because i really like the guy, and i was being 100% honest and genuine with him saying i wanted to be on his side, to prove to him i have his trust and that i will be loyal to him and want to work with him til the endgame and be his ally. but if he's going to go against juls and i have to choose between the two of them..... i mean, i can't choose billy. it would be bad. so there's 30 minutes left and i don't have a clear idea of what's happening yet and any choice i make will permanently damage a tight connection that I thought I had heading into the later game. I guess in good news, Sammy, Caeleb, and a new friend, Jordan, ALL messaged me saying good luck at tribal, and talking to me a bit about it, saying they hope I'm safe. Forming those cross tribal bonds could be crucial in surviving the next stage of the game, which, god please, is happening VERY soon... *i bind myself to the cross* Give me strength to get through this, Japan. Onegaishimasu.

So far the game is makin me p sad, I’m super tired of going to tribal and having to send people to arena. And that Japanese challenge was so damn frustrating

so tribal last night.... i mean, uh, i guess my power, huh? lmao........... MESS!!! IM A MESS MY GAME IS A MESS THIS WHOLE DAMN THING IS A MESS. Someone get me a MOP rn because Sonkei-Matsing tribe is STRUGGLING and it's all EMMA'S FAULT!!!!! On the other hand, I'm very grateful Emma is an idiot, because Billy got to be safe!!! So let me explain what happened in that bonkers tribal council, from MY perspective... When I heard that my closest ally Juls had her name coming up, i was like, oh HELL. NO. So I put in the WORK to get Jacob and Billy to vote for eachother. Don't get me wrong, Juls worked hella hard on this too, she is a bad ass bitch and she deserves credit. But I do believe I was a major factor in swaying their votes as well as I'd built pretty close relationships with each of them in terms of strategy. But with Billy, that relationship wasn't a tight trusting one, more of a, please, I like you a lot, let me prove to you that I can be trusted and we can work together. Let us prove that to eachother. But here's how it happened. Even though Jacob and Billy DID vote for eachother... NEITHER OF THEM TOLD ME THEY WERE VOTING FOR EACH-OTHER. BILLY LED ME TO BELIEVE HE WAS VOTING JULS THE WHOLEEEEE TIME. And initially, I was fine with it, and i was STILL going to vote Jacob off with Juls!! Thinking there was nothing I could do and she would go 3-2. But then, 5 minutes into tribal, you'll see me furiously typing... Because Jacob FINALLY told me he was going to vote for Billy (and that's on Whispering!!! #LiveTribal!!) So from my perspective.... Billy and Emma are voting Juls. Juls is voting Jacob. Jacob is voting Billy. It's 2-1-1... and if I vote for Jacob, then Jacob and Juls can't vote, and Billy and Emma have the majority to send Juls out, saving Jacob on the revote. BUT if I vote for Billy, then Billy and Juls can't vote, and now me and Jacob have the majority over Emma. That was the thought process behind my initial vote for Billy. LITTLE DID I KNOW BILLY ACTUALLY WAS VOTING WITH ME AND NOW I FEEL HORRIBLE FOR VOTING FOR HIM AND I JUST WANT TO MAKE IT UP TO HIM BUT HE DIDN'T TEXT ME WHEN HE GOT OFF AND UGH, I NEED TO MAKE THIS RIGHT!!!! Emotional labor is the most annoying thing, and I'm really bad it. I'm terrible at apologizing and owning up to things, maybe that's why I just let my friendships fall apart in real life instead of doing the actual work to save them once a problem happens. because emotional labor is fucking annoying, exhausting, and stressful! I don't got time for it! But now, I need to have time for it, because our tribes are FIVE PEOPLE strong, and at the next tribal council, if I don't get my relationship with Billy in check, I WILL be gone. It is his vote that I need to help make sure Emma's psycho ass goes home, and if he, Jacob, and Emma all think they're on the bottom... Yikes. I hope Billy understands that I was absolutely disgusted it came down to him or Juls and I thought I was doing everything I could to save an ally.. I even swayed Juls to help save him with me, when she felt uncomfortable with him. He totally screwed up by like... not telling me he was voting with me, he said in tribal people just need to be real with where they're voting, and I agree! I wish he had just followed his own advice with me, because he would still be here right now. But his screw up does not at all compare to Emma... what the FUCK was she thinking, self-voting like that...? Like, HELLO? She throws out Juls' name all round, for I don't even know WHAT reason, since they were supposedly close, but it's implied she throws out Juls' name for getting 4 crowns on the challenge... Um, YOU STUPID BITCH YOU LITERALLY ONLY GOT ONE MORE CROWN THAN HER AND BEFORE THAT DID NOTHING ON THE SLIDE PUZZLE CHALLENGE OR THE TRIBE CHANT, DESPITE US KNOWING YOU CAN PUT IN THE TIME WHEN YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT IN THE ARENA :) Headass.... Then, after doing that all round, she SELF-VOTES??? WITH IMMUNITY AROUND HER NECK??? Girl you MUST be crazy, cus this is psychotic. Headass, deadass, she is gone the next time we lose tribal, which, lbr, is probably next time because we're LIT RALLY matsing. at least caeleb thinks i'm denise though. i feel like i have the same amount of wrinkles as her, after the stress of this game like 3 rounds in. imagine how tired i am.

Round 3's over! That's fun, innit? Glad we got rid of some dead weight in Bailey. As for friendships and alliances, I'm still slightly on edge about Darcy - I trust Beck over him. Got acquainted with Karen - they seem nice, but I'll keep an eye on them, too. Other than that, Nicole and Tommy are the people I'm mainly corresponding with. Seems like fun! :) Here's to a fun Round 4!

Okay so we won this round which is fun! Tommy went to the arena which gives me, Karen and Kevin a good chance to bond because Stoner just isn’t paying attention ever. I wonder if he has even made a confessional. Anyway, I’m going to be real annoyed if we lose and he whips out an idol. Also going to be mad if after this round there’s a swap and I’m swapfucked. I don’t think it really COULD happen to me though, because I’ve talked to at least one newbie on each of the tribes. Unless I’m stuck with Nik, Emma and Billy who have no interest in speaking to me, I think I’ll be fine. Speaking of newbies, I find myself talking to Ben a lot but I’m under the impression he talks to a lot of people. He reminds me of a lot of friendly pure men in this community like Joey, just very social and very nice! The only thing is sometimes he will say something in a conversation and I don’t necessarily know where to go with it. For example right now he’s having a full conversation with me in the village chat about pizza. I don’t know what to do with this and rather not be so vocal in the village chat. While the other newbies are increasingly hard to talk to, and sitting around all day waiting for the arena stuff is boring, Ben is a very nice person to talk to but I just wish we would talk like...about the game not what I’m eating. When it comes down to it I want to know I have an ally or two to bring to the end that might offset my immediate threat of being a winner, but not give them so much power that they win over jury votes. He seems to be showing his social side and not giving me any game info at the same time, which I have to look out for. All of the other newbies I’ve spoken to have talked game. He’s either playing a really good game by doing this or a really transparent one, I can’t tell yet. We will have to see!

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Last night proved something that I’ve been wondering about Landen for a while. He truly is a snake. I unintentionally made a really good move in keeping it mysterious on who I was voting. In order to make the vote go his way and to keep Juls, he instead changed the vote to ME and got Jacob to do the same. Sneaky mother fucker 😋 thank god Juls stayed the same though. I know for an absolute fact now that I won’t be able to trust him. As for Jacob, I do hope he comes back, because now that I know where the tribe stands I know I can get him on my side.

I don't know if I ever had such a frustrating round for challenges first duolingo and now the arena I was in the lead in front of everyone until the last clue and I lost it all I didn't get a medal. I'm so pissed, you really don't wanna @ me anytime soon because I'm at the point where I wanna go off on someone.

Love the tribe, so happy we 5-0d the last tribal!! it was a cute moment!! hehe, we seem to be very together as a unit

So Will’s gone, well he’s at the arena but i think he died so he’s probably out for good. Now that he’s out that leaves me on the bottom of my tribe as the next to go, my only hope is getting as close to sarah as I can and crossing my fingers for a swap! Due to that triple tribal I think it’s going to happen next... hopefully!

Ughh i keep forgetting to make confessionals until right before the round ends so im always like oh shit and then dont really know what im gonna talk about so its not good. hows things in the life of jordan pines? great thanks for asking, while i still feel on the bottom of my tirbe i definitly see a swap coming soon which i think depending on how it goes would be pretty good for me. Id ideally like to stay with most of the people ive been with plus new ones, becuse i think im seen as like an expendable numebr to caeleb and Jacob. I want them to keep thinking of me like this while I go out and start forming stronger relationships, keep bringing in those jordan pines minions, i got my sights set on billy right now, i like him but he makes me look as humble as they come and ive i could definitly turn him into a goat for me with the right coaxing. Im hoping will survives the arena cause hes for sure a number for me, but hes also a lil innactive so maybe he peaced. Im starting to build relationships with Landen who I like. I havent even looked at the all winners tribe holy shit. Karen and Stoner are gonna be my biggest obstacles as they dont necesarily love me. Im gonna try to work with Nicole for a bit if i can tbh. Thats really all im feeling right now. I think best cast scenario is people use me as a number and carry me just a little too far that I can turn shit around and fuck em over. It's definitely gonna be an uphill climb to the finish line, but the only way to do it is go step by step.

I feel like I am in a great position on my tribe! I trust Sarah and Eve a lot. Pete says he has my back so we can only hope that in the case of another tribal council, I will be safe! I’m still going to work my ass off and play my ass off to stay safe and not have to go to another tribal! This game is long and hard and I’m trying to see big picture. And within that big picture is a flashing sign that’s telling me there’s a tribe swap soon! Hopefully I’ll be able to work some magic and avoid being on a tribe with individuals that don’t like me. But overall I’m feeling pretty good after the last tribal!

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#zestypowerfuluniqueflavorfulhealthy #confessionals

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frighthouseofalighthouse · 5 years

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Alex, I know how hard this week must be for you. You’ve always worked best with your words. Maybe try writing a letter here, in response to this ask? Like, a letter to Laurens? Everything you wish you could say to him? We’re here for you.

Holy shit, this is a super thoughtful thing to send me. You sure??? Because it will be super long. With many things I’ve never said out loud. Although I suppose that’s the point. (You don’t have to read this, seriously, you’ve been warned.) Okay. Here goes.

(Okay one more thing - never thought I’d be writing a “Dear John” letter of sorts lmao)

(ANOTHER THING - IF YOU READ THIS POSSIBLE WARNING FOR SELF HARM OR SUICIDE, POSSIBLY GRAPHIC)

John,

My love. My love. My love. The constellations in my sky. The moon to stay my tides. I fear I never told you enough how much I loved you. It was a mistake I was sure not to make with Eliza. It was always you caring for me, loving me, keeping me grounded, pulling me to shore when all I wanted was to drown. Is that why you became so distant emotionally when miles parted us physically?

I long for you to tell me whether or not it was a mistake I made. Even now, I hog blame to myself like it’s a rare book that will fall apart if I allow anyone else to touch it. Because it is. If I share it, it will be debunked, dismantled, and I will have no more reasons to punish myself. I don’t know how to stop punishing myself. The only way I could ever not do it was when I let people in, but I know it’s not healthy for me to rely on others to keep me from punishing myself. Which makes me feel toxic, which makes me want to punish myself, which takes us back to square one. Square one that we never left because my ambition was and is a front because my fear is paralyzing. It seems like I left square one, but I never did. My accomplishments were a ladder. Up and up, and down, and up, but never forward. I’ve never admitted any of that before. It was only you with whom I could be so honest.

Here are some things I remember of you.

The way your eyes, your hair, your face, glowed in the sun and scintillated like shimmering water underneath the moon.

Your arms around me late at night.

Your soft footfalls across the room as you neglected your bed to lay with me in mine, though we were crowded and smashed cheek to cheek, legs tangled together.

The way your eyes landed on me from across the room, and made me feel instantly at home even if I was trapped in an anxious conversation.

How your gaze lingered on me at dinners when the other officers had drunk too much to notice who was looking where.

Your fingers itching and twitching for something with which to sketch me as you observed me and drunk me in, in the way only an artist and naturalist could look at another living thing.

Your teasing, your laughing, your smiling.

A stolen, passionate kiss on a foggy battlefield before we threw ourselves under heavy fire for a dangerous scheme.

Your arm around me as you helped me on the long, long hike back to camp following said battle as I had shards of artillery shell in my knee.

You staying by my side the next nights, your steady voice carrying me through the sickness from the untreated wound. The anchor that kept me on this earth as I relived a hurricane in my fever dreams.

You holding me tight that winter as you barged into our room to find me bleeding from the wrists, a stained bayonet on the floor beside me.

Your wary eyes on me as I explained to my superiors that the perpetual slices on my arms were from my clumsiness as I practiced my skills with swords and weaponry in my free time.

You, you, you.

I will never understand why you didn’t tell me more about yourself during our time together. Or maybe you did? I don’t know anymore. There’s so much blank. space. That’s something else I’ve never admitted, never said in any of my responses to these questions people ask of me. As sure as I am, as sure as I have to be, some days I don’t know if I really am me. You’d break it down logically for me. You’d listen, nodding, concern in your eyes, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around your knees, strands of hair falling in your face. You’d tuck back your hair, with the same gesture you used to sketch rough lines with a pencil, so that I could see your eyes unobstructed. You’d speak to me, in that voice clear as the reflection in a still lake, smooth as the edges of a perfect cloud, resonating like a violin in an empty ballroom. You’d convince me that all of this is real, and I’d believe it til the next time I forgot what you said and you’d have to say it all again. But you would. You were too patient. But only with me. When it came to everything else, you couldn’t take action fast enough. Your life and your death showed that. Perhaps that’s why I was drawn to you - I’d never seen someone so full of plans as I was. But I was so scared inside. What if you were too? What if you were just as hurt, just as lost, just as broken, but I was too focused on my own pain to notice? What if I could have cared for you as you did me? Would that have kept you here?

Your words would steady me right now. Your words could stop an earthquake in a heartbeat, soothe those tectonic plates and tell them they need never tremble again. And they talk of the power of my words... My words can build nations, sure, but they didn’t stop the cracking and sinking of foundations that happened later. Your words...your words could halt destruction, which is infinitely more valuable. They never saw the power of your words. They never got to see the power of your words. You should have come to congress with me. You would have lived, you would have met the family Eliza and I built together. We could have built this nation together. I know it would not have decayed the way it has if we had had your words as well as mine. Did you not want that? Why did you not want that? I pleaded, I pleaded, why could I not sway you as you could me?

I remember the last face-to-face conversation we had. I had been offered a position in the south as well. You know this, of course, but many do not. Our superiors offered to allow us joint command of the battalion of which we had dreamed and schemed. But John Hanson had caught wind of my exaggerated reputation and offered me a spot in Congress. I begged you to join me. Your father, though he had not been President of Congress for several years, still had a great reputation and much sway, and I knew we could carve out a spot in that hall for you as well. But your humanitarian heart was set on the south. I think by this time, things were starting to fray, though I still cannot pinpoint exactly how. I think perhaps you held a grudge towards all of Congress because of your strained relationship with your father.

You told me I used to be better than that, that I used to be above betraying my morals for the metaphorical thirty pieces of silver.

I said that I was betraying nothing; I wrote my way off an island to come and build something.

You said that I came from an island full of slaves, that I should know very well the only way to build was to help the lowest first.

I reasoned that didn’t you see? Planting myself, an ardent abolitionist, in a group of slaveholders was the surest way to plant the seeds of freedom.

You laughed and said I’d have better luck getting my horse to recite the Hippocratic Oath. You said that I was putting a country that didn’t yet exist above the people.

I said that while you were off on a satin chaise reading Augustine’s Confessions, I was at a foul-smelling, noisy port reading Cicero in between meticulously jotting down numbers.

I wanted to tell you that once we saved the people, we would have no safety and security for them if I did not first go and build it. You can liberate all the people you want, but you cannot harbor and house them unless you first build a house. I wanted to tell you this, but the moment I opened my mouth was when you put up your hand to stop me and said the two words that stole away my breath like a broadsword in the ribs.

“Goodbye, Alexander,” you said. And you left.

We never spoke of this argument though letters. I wrote to you, as hopelessly devoted to you as ever, but your replies were never the same. Your “Adieu, beloved”s became “Adieu”s, your “yours always and forever”s became simply “yours”.

I begged you, once more, at the beginning of August, to put down your sword and come to Congress with me. We had word, you see, that the British were preparing to withdraw their final troops from south of Chesapeake Bay. There was no need for you to keep skirmishing with them. For once in your life, just stop, just wait, just rest. No need to hurry out what is already halfway through the door. If you would just listen, if you would come to Congress with me... We could be great. We could be legends. I do not know if you received this letter. I prefer to think that you did not, because I never received a reply, and no half-composed one was found among your things. This is what happened: I became a legend. Alone. Is there even a plaque on the site where you were shot down? I do not know that there is. Just a desolate, empty stretch of marshland along the banks of the Combahee River. Do the mud and the trees remember you the way this country remembers me? Your name lives on only through a fort in my current home state named for your father, through biographies of me, and through a musical. A musical written and titled for me. And, of course, in the ever-mourning, lamenting halls of my heart.

I want, need, you to know how shattered was my soul when I received the letter from your father. But -- my soul shatters again, and I cannot bear to speak of it now. Perhaps, with prompting, sometime in these next four days I will take up my pen again in the hopes to show you how much my heart weeps without you.

I love you. I miss you. I need you. I need to not be alone in the burden of these memories.

Oh, and do you know that if I had you here, we would have no more need for secrecy? We are legal. We are allowed to take pride in ourselves and our love. In fact, I am attending a festival this Saturday for that purpose. I will hold you in my heart while I am there. You would love it. You and your pride. I only hope to carry half as much pride as you would.

Love and sonnets always,

Your Little Lion

#a series of essays anonymously published #ask alex

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