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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

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ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Across The Spiderverse, one (1) curse word, angst, unrequited love.

word count: 1, 545

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

“Right,” You snort, closing the comic book in your hands and placing it back into the pile on Miles’s bed. He glances up from the comic he’s reading, raising a brow at your sceptical expression.

“What?” He hums in amusement, casually grabbing a candy bar from his pocket and tossing it to you. It almost slips from your fingers, but you manage to catch it just in time with a playful eye roll.

“What’s so bad about Gwen Stacy ending up with Spiderman, anyway?”

“It’s just,” you hesitate. Would he think it’s stupid? “It’s unrealistic. I mean, it’s nice that Spiderman has a predestined love, but it doesn’t mean that it has to go by the book, y’know? It’s his life. Maybe there’s a really rude and narcissistic Gwen out there in another universe.”

“W-well, what if there isn’t? I’m pretty sure that there are good Gwens out there.” You look at him curiously, wondering what’s got him so defensive.

“What’s got your undies in a twist?” You chuckle at his earlier words, the tautness in his voice a surprise. Leaning back against the wall next to his bed, you kick your feet up to rest next to his arm, watching him frown and shove you off playfully.

“It’s nothing.” He tries to laugh it off, but the hint of nervousness in his eyes suggests otherwise. You narrow your eyes at him, watching him rub the back of his neck as beads of sweat form on his hand.

He’s lying. Why?

“Okay,” You choose to say instead, letting him be as you turn away. Your heartstrings tug slightly at the wistful look in his eyes when he stares at the front cover of the comic you were reading earlier, the illustration of Gwen Stacy clear as day.

You know he’s hiding something from you, something big. Ever since last month, he’d been cancelling hangouts and study sessions, and he’s always coming up with new excuses to avoid hanging out with you. During the few times you get to meet him, Miles always has a hint of nostalgia in his words, a glint of longing in his eyes as if he’d rather be with other people.

It hurts.

And it hurts even more when you planned to confess to him last week on the rooftop, only for him to show up hours late. He called you in a panic, apologies spilling past his lips before you promised you weren’t mad.

On the other end of the phone, however, you throw away the letter you’d so painstakingly written for him, just for that day. All the words prepared were useless, fading into the corner of your mind when you heard his voice on the phone.

“It’s fine,” You promised him countless times, hearing nothing but hesitance in his words when he checked to make sure it really was fine. Since then, you decided to squash down your confession, constantly procrastinating the day you tell him how you really feel.

“What about tomorrow’s bio test? You studied?” You ask, turning your head to see him freeze at the mention of the test he most definitely hasn’t studied for. He smiles sheepishly, silently pleading for you to share your notes with him.

“You and me against the world, right?” He grins, holding out his hand for a fist bump as he sits on his bed from his lazy position.

“Right,” You chuckle, grabbing the binder and notebook from your bag and handing it to him. You watch him flip through the pages fondly, eyes tracing the outline of his face and your gaze lingering on his lips.

You and him against the world.

It's always been you two for as long as you can remember. From the day you met in kindergarten to now, even as he stands in front of you in his Spiderman suit.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, sitting down on your bed. Shocked doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling right now. You come home from school and decide to drop by Miles’s apartment, waiting in his room with your feet propped onto his desk, only to see motherfucking Spiderman crawl into the room and pull off his mask to reveal your childhood friend (and the boy you’re in love with).

Miles had been keeping such a huge secret from you this whole time. You're ready to punch him - to scold him even, for not telling you earlier. He’s your best friend, but apparently, he doesn't feel the same way if he’s been hiding this from you. Aren’t you trustworthy enough?

Aren’t you good enough?

His eyes are wide and filled with pure fear, hands trembling as he hugs himself, bracing his emotions for when you finally get mad. Your breaths are shaky, eyes flitting between him and the mask he holds in his hands. Flickers of anger begin to sink in, the claws of self-doubt sinking into your chest.

But a moment of clarity hits you. Miles didn't need a reaction right now. He needs you. He needs his best friend.

"Okay. Okay," You repeat through a slow exhale, looking up at him with a nod of acceptance. You simply gesture for him to sit down next to you. He does so without a word, automatically leaning his head on your shoulder like he always does when he's nervous and scared.

"You're not mad?" He asks softly. You shake your head, bringing his hand up to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, ignoring the slight flutter in your chest as your lips graze against the skin.

To him, the action meant little, a comforting gesture used between you both since you were kids.

But to you, it means everything else. You try to push down the way your heart speeds up when his breaths brush against the exposed skin of your shoulders, hoping he won’t look up and see your gaze filled with pure love and concern for him.

Instead, you stare straight ahead at the window that overlooks the next few apartment buildings. The sunset is beautiful, auburn orange bathing the graffiti-covered concrete in a warm glow that has you wishing this isn’t the situation you’re in now. He tucks his head under yours, and your cheek presses against his hair, watching the sunset together.

"I'm not mad," You promise in a soft sigh, feeling him finally relax under you. He mumbles out thanks, and you merely grin, pressing another casual peck on his hand, the both of you falling silent after.

And for once in the five years that you've grown to love him more than he'd ever know, this time, you're not lying.

— — — — —

It's the day of the celebration, a joyous occasion meant to act as a hallmark for Mr Morales’s promotion.

But Miles is nowhere to be found. After returning from god knows where he disappeared, he returns with a girl.

Gwanda is her name. You stare at the blonde hair, the strawberry-coloured tips catching your eyes. The colour looks pretty on her. Her nervous disposition only makes you slightly suspicious, watching her leave from a short distance away after Mrs Morales approaches them.

But judging from the look in Miles's eyes after his mom talks to him, you know.

The way he looks at her is different. He's never had such fondness in his gaze with you, much less watching you walk away with such regret. So you walk to him and hand him your drink which he takes a sip from, and pat his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"Go."

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine here. Besides, I’m sure I can handle a few hours of distracting your dad." You chuckle with a roll of your eyes, pushing down the pained pang in your heart at his bright smile. Every fibre of your being screams at you to grab onto his arm, to never let go. They scream at you to part your lips and let the words festering in your heart finally spill out.

But even as your eyes linger on him with a hollow grin, he doesn’t notice.

And that’s the difference.

"Thanks. Hey, you and me against the world, right?" Miles grins, placing a soft peck on your forehead. You bat him away with a faint smile, struggling to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. If he didn’t leave in the next ten seconds, you’re not sure you can no longer hold back your choked hiccups.

"Just come back to me, okay?"

He nods, a silent promise lingering in the air between you both. To him, it's a promise of return, to come back safe.

To you, it's a promise filled with desperation, wanting nothing more than for your Miles to come back to you. For your Miles to see you in the same light he views Gwanda in. To see you the way he sees her.

Maybe he was right all along. Maybe in every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

You watch him leave with an excited grin on his lips, taking a sip from your cup and wishing that the fizzy liquid could drown your sorrows instead.

And in every other universe, you wish it were you.

#across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse #miles morales angst #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n

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astroboots · 1 year

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #10

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel tries to rob a superhero and you try to stop him.

Word count: 5,750

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

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It’s another mundane morning in your office. You’re hiding away in your cubicle with your breakfast croissant and coffee, scrolling the news on your phone.

Ever since the cosmic murder attempts have started, reading news hasn't been the same for you. It’s no longer a case of innocently keeping up to date with current events. Because now you can’t read the sensationalist headlines without a small pang of guilt that you may have been the unwilling root cause for so many of them.

‘Apocalyptic blizzard in August.’

‘Stampede escape from Brooklyn zoo.’

‘Freak electric storm causes wide city blackout’.

It’s all just too macabre for you this early, it’s not even 10am. Your eyes flicker down, only skimming to make sure that there has been no casualties involved with each incident before scrolling away again. Then you opt for the technology section instead. Hoping it is a little bit less catastrophic and kinder on your nerves.

‘Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor Returns Home to Stark Tower.’

Your fingers pause at the headline. Stark always makes for a good read and good gossip, you think to yourself as you take another sip from your morning coffee and start to read:

‘Tony Stark, the notorious billionaire philanthropist and avid Star Wars memorabilia collector, has announced his decision to move his iconic arc reactor back to his home in New York City. The self-sustaining fusion power source kept Stark alive during the infamous hostage incident where he was captured and detained in Afghanistan by the Ten Rings terrorist organization’.

‘Self-sustaining fusion power source…’ you repeat the phrase in your head, parsing over the words. Why does that sound so familiar to you?

You read it again, and this time instead of your own voice, the memory of Miguel’s sleep husked voice fills your ears:

“Your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed.”

Adrenaline buzzes bright in your brain, and you stand up from your desk so fast you nearly knock over your chair.

Finally! It’s the Eureka moment you have been waiting for all this time.

You peer over the cubicle wall, scanning the room for Miguel. It doesn’t take you long at all to spot him; his oversized frame is hard to miss. Besides, even if you couldn’t see him, you’d be able to sense the anger vibrating off of him a mile away.

In the corner at the far end of the open-plan office, Miguel is abusing the poor printer again. He’s cramming a fistful of papers into the feeding slot like it’s a duck he’s trying to force feed to make foie gras, and judging from the vein straining on his forehead, the man is about two seconds from lifting the 50 pound machine and launching it out through one of the building’s windows.

You shake your head at the scene. You don't understand how someone so smart, so intelligent, so apt with technology—he built an A.I. so advanced it would make the most high tech of Stark Industry's prototypes look like a kindergartener's chicken scrawl—can be so inept when it comes to dealing with a basic printer.

“Miguel,” you whisper loudly, and despite the fact that he’s on the other side of a bustling office, he immediately turns to look at you.

You beckon him over, practically bouncing with excitement as you wait for him to cross the room, and as soon as he’s within reach, you stand on the tip of your toes and cup a hand around his ear so you can covertly whisper the news of your discovery.

“Stark has an arc reactor.”

You’re beaming with pride that you’ve found a solution to your dilemma, and look up at Miguel expectantly for him to celebrate with you and maybe even praise you.

Instead, he looks down at you without reaction. “What’s Stark?”

"Wait, are you serious?"

You almost think he’s doing one of his sarcastic comedic bits with you, but the angle of his right eyebrow, raised in cluelessness tells you otherwise.

"How do you know so much about Dr. Strange, but not know who Tony Stark is? He’s like the main Avenger."

Miguel merely shrugs at you. "Avengers aren't really a thing where I'm from."

You shove your phone into his hand and watch as his eyes flicker over the screen, reading through the article in a matter of a few seconds. When he’s done, he places the phone back on your desk, then grabs your left hand, leaning down as he lifts it up towards him. For a second you think he’s about to kiss your hand.

"Lyla," Miguel announces, and the watch buzzes warmly against your wrist as Lyla's hologram reforms in the small space above.

"Give me the layout of the Stark Tower, identify vulnerabilities in the security system and outline the most optimal entrance points for a break-in."

Did he just say break-in?

"Wait, wait,” you interrupt quickly, trying to defuse the situation, before he gets too far ahead of himself. “Miguel, we are NOT breaking into the Stark Tower."

"How else would we do it?"

“We could just talk to him. Lyla can hack into his schedule and book us a meeting with him, right?”

“And then what?”

“We’d ask him to help us?” you suggest, not understanding why he skipped straight over the most obvious answer and went right to breaking and entering. Though from the way Miguel is staring at you in blank confusion you may as well have spontaneously grown horns on your head.

“...Nicely,” you add, in case that wasn’t already clear.

“Because that would require us to talk to him. He would just say no, Cielito. I’d prefer to break in. Cleaner that way. More efficient. Easier.”

You can’t believe this man just admitted to being so socially awkward he thinks committing a felony is easier than having to hold a conversation with a stranger.

"Asking is pointless. No scientist is just going to hand over something like an arc reactor to a couple of strangers because they asked nicely. Besides, even if we arrange a meeting with him by hacking into his calendar, he’ll know something is up the moment he sees us. You’ll just wind up getting thrown out by security.”

Ok maybe he has a point there.

"What if we tricked him? Made him think we have something he wants?”

"Like what?"

"Stark collects rare Star Wars collectibles. We can lie and say we're collectors with a rare piece to sell like the Kenner Star Wars Boba Fett prototype?"

His right brow raises at a skeptical angle and he’s staring at you like you’re speaking a foreign language.

"Cielo, that's insane."

You bristle at that.

"How is your idea any better?" you demand.

"A break-in wouldn't require much effort or rely on the goodwill or stupidity of someone else. It’s much easier–"

“You’re talking about breaking into the personal home of an Avenger!” you interrupt because you’re not listening to any more of his madness, “He’s arguably the smartest member of a team made up of the mightiest heroes on Earth, and you want to try to steal from him, Miguel!? That is not easier!”

The office has gone alarmingly quiet around you. You look around to see that your heated discussion is gaining unwarranted attention from the rest of the office. All of a sudden, the endless click and clack of the keyboards stop.

You give your curious coworkers a strained smile, then lean up close to Miguel again, muttering under your breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel his eyes pinned to your back as you walk to your chair and sit back down at your desk to finish your croissant in two mouthfuls, chugging down the remainder of your coffee.

An hour before noon, Miguel comes to your cubicle. He sets down a lunchbox and from the logo on the plastic grocery bag you can tell that it’s from your favorite Bodega round the corner.

“I have a quick errand to run for work at lunch. I’ll be back within the hour,” Miguel tells you, “Lyla will guard you, and if something happens she’ll alert me immediately. Don’t go anywhere.”

You look up from your screen to see him stand over your desk with that passive expression etched onto his stoic face, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary.

In the last month, Miguel hasn’t let you out of his sight for longer than a handful of minutes (primarily to get more snacks when they run out).

Miguel thinks he’s being so slick. It’s insulting to your intelligence that he thinks you don’t know what he is up to: he’s obviously going to spend his lunch hour trying to rob Tony Stark.

But that’s fine, you’re not going to openly question Miguel on his suspicious behavior. If he’s not here that means you are free to get up to whatever you want.

… Including approaching a certain multibillionaire that has the one item in his possession that could save both your life and the universe as you know it from collapsing.

It’s why you wave at him as he makes his way to the exit and pay close attention to him leaving through the front glass door and take the elevator down to the ground floor. Then for good measure you wait another five minutes to make sure that he will fully be out of hearing range with his super-senses before you raise your wrist to your face.

“Lyla,” you whisper.

“Hello, boss girl! Wasssuuuup,” she greets, elongating the word sassily for comedic effect, and you can’t help but smile.

Lyla, as entertaining as she is, is an enigma to you. You don’t understand how Miguel with his short patience-span and entirely lacking sense of humor would have programmed this A.I. to have this kind of personality. Not to mention a deep archive of a millenial’s pop-culture media reference from this dimension.

“What can I do you for?” Lyla asks, shooting you gun-fingers with a cheeky flare.

You part your mouth, but hesitate to make the request.

This is illegal isn’t it? Hacking into someone’s calendar to arrange a meeting with them under false pretenses. God, what if you get taken away in handcuffs within the first 30 seconds of entering the building, featured on Deuxmoi as a crazy stalker fan.

So far the only “illegal” thing you’ve used Lyla for is to generate Netflix passwords and hack into HBO Max to watch Succession. This is a significant next level step.

Maybe you should run downstairs and catch Miguel before he leaves the building? You could plead your case again. Try to reason with him that breaking and entering isn’t the way to go about it and the two of you should approach Tony Stark by having a mature and adult conversation.

Yeah. Right. You snort even as you think it. Miguel is never going to be persuaded on this point and you are quickly running out of time. There’s only one thing to do:

“Lyla, can you please arrange a lunchtime meeting for me with Tony Stark today.”

The lobby of Stark Tower is much like any other commercial buildings you’d find in the Financial District. Heck, it's not that much different from the one you navigate every morning at the Chrysler building. If anything, the only surprise is how ordinary the Stark Tower is.

When you enter the main lobby, you have to sign in with a stern but clearly bored security guard, then use the guest security pass you’re given in order to access the elevators.

Once you reach the 90th floor, there is a distinct lack of staff up there. Only a single, sweet-looking old man, with a well trimmed mustache above his upper lip. He's swathed in a soft-knitted cardigan and wearing gigantic vintage-styled sunglasses indoors that make him appear bug-eyed as he peers up at you and walks with you to another set of elevators using a retinal scan for security and sends you on your way.

The door closes around you in the metal box, with a swift jump to the 91st floor.

When the door finally slides open it feels like you’ve entered another world. Minimalistic opulence is the keyword for it. There are windows along the entire space. A 360 view of the New York landscape and you almost feel like you are at an Aquarium with the amount of glass surrounding you. There’s pieces of half-built tech and prototypes everywhere. Imagine having so much money that you can allocate a whole floor of a manhattan skyscraper to essentially be your garage workshop.

“So you’re my 1pm that magically appeared today,” a happy-go-lucky voice sings out.

You jump in your skin, breaking your concentration from the view, as you turn around to see the infamous man of the hour standing behind you.

“Gotta say, when I was envisioning the sort of person who might be selling me a Kenner Star Boba Fett figure, I did not imagine a gorgeous knock-out,” he says, with an outstretched hand as he greets you.

Tony Stark is shorter in real life. Less formal than in the gettymarked photos you’ve seen of him at red carpet events and fancy galas, dressed up in the most tailored fit suits that money can possibly buy. He’s also a lot more charming than in photos. All big brown eyes, and pouty lips. He might be half the size of Miguel, but Tony Stark has more than enough charm and confidence to make up for it

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He is quick witted banter and dazzling diamond smiles as he shows you the residential suite of the Stark Tower. His hand rests on the side of your waist as he guides you through the long hall, making strong eye contact all the while down the hall. 91 floors up and you cannot hear a hint of the chaotic traffic noise downstairs, it’s oddly quiet save for the faint scratching noises you hear from the ceiling. (Guess even Stark towers cannot escape the city’s rodent issues).

“Anyone ever told you, your eyes really sparkle?” Stark says, as his hand slips from your shoulder to rest at the small of your back. “You’ve got this whole Disney princess thing going on. I dig it.”

Wait, is he flirting with you?

Tony Stark, Chief Executive Officer of Stark Industries. One of the top 20 richest men in America (according to Forbes). A man who can afford to buy the whole of planet Mars is flirting with you.

God, you are already seeing dollar signs. Lobster. Caviar. All the rare exotic and poisonous puffer fish sushi you've only dreamed of eating. You've always wanted to be a gold digger, you've just never been close enough to a gold mine.

Maybe this will be easier than you thought. If he likes you, maybe you can just flirt your way into getting the arc reactor. Ask him to lend it to you.

The two of you make your way past the glass doors and into another imposing large room, bare and minimalistic. Oddly, it feels dimly lit, given the size of the windows in the room.

It’s the size of the front lobby of your office building, and you realize halfway through that this room serves no other purpose except to store more of his junk. There are half built machines piled up in every corner. Boxes and boxes of tools haphazardly strewn across the room. It’s an outrageous waste of prime New York real estate that speaks to the man’s wealth.

In the middle of the room, there’s a silver medal that glows an eerie blue in the middle, encased in a display case. With the way it sparkles, you could almost mistake it for a precious aquamarine gemstone the size of your fist.

“Wow, is that the arc reactor?” you ask.

Stark doesn’t answer. Suddenly his chattiness is nowhere to be found, and as you turn to look at him you notice he’s not paying any attention to you. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling behind you.

You whip your head around and follow his gaze to see the familiar blue super-suit trailing behind you. The unmissable angry red spider embellished across his wide chest, as he hangs upside down like a cat burglar.

Has he been trailing behind you since you got here? Was that what the noises were?

Air whizzes through the space and the force of it reverberates across your cheek. A piece of red armor flies through the air and attaches itself to Stark’s arm.

You’ve seen enough highlight reels of Iron Man on the news channel to know what it means.

“Wait wait wait,” you shout out as you step in front of Stark in mid-transformation.

You fling your hands up high in a gesture of a white flag to de-escalate the situation. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Stark’s eyebrow quirks up, tipping his head sardonically. "So your costumed sidekick hasn't been stalking us this entire time? Breaking and entering, not just into my tower–which is private property, by the way–but also bypassing security to access my private office? Yeah, I'm sure your intentions are entirely on the level."

Despite the sarcastic hostility in his tone Stark hasn’t summoned the rest of the armor. The rest of his iron suit is suspended in the air on standby two feet away. He’s only got the arm piece strapped to his arm as insurance and is clearly willing to give you at least a few seconds of a benefit of a doubt. Long enough to hopefully explain yourself and not start a Superhero brawl.

“He’s not dangerous,” you say, and the moment you say it, you want to kick yourself because of how suspicious that makes you sound.

You turn your head around to Miguel who’s done an aerial somersault with the grace of a ballerina despite his build and soundlessly landed back onto his feet on the ground.

“I can’t believe you went behind my back! We agreed to put a pin in this and wait to deal with Stark until we agreed on a plan. You said you weren’t going to break in!”

His masked eyes narrow into accusing slits, “Yeah? And what are you doing here then?”

“Stopping you before you do something stupid!” you hiss.

Before Miguel has a chance to retort, there is a loud clap from behind you that redirects both your attentions to Stark.

“Jarvis, how did our lovely Disney princess make it onto my calendar and how did Hulk Spiderman over here manage to slip past every layer of your security net?”

The voice of a posh British man sounds out across the room but there’s no person attached to it.

“I can find no record of these events in my logs. Performing internal diagnostics now, Sir.”

“Huh, interesting…” Tony hums to himself in consideration before he turns his attention back to you both.

“I have to say I'm quite impressed, but I’m hoping for an explanation. Is this a Bonny and Clyde situation? You two lovebirds here to rob me?”

“No!” you both shout in unison.

“Not lovebirds, got it.”

“That’s not–” Miguel starts, whipping down his head in your direction.

At the sight of your face, he seems too flustered to continue his train of thought and he quickly looks away from you. “None of your business,” he snaps at Stark.

You don’t know why, but that dismissive glance from him hurts. Like the very idea that you two would be in a romantic relationship is off-putting to him. It’s kind of insulting. You turn from him, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing ache somewhere in your chest that makes it hard to breathe.

From across, Stark observes the two of you, whatever he sees makes him tip his head in curiosity. The intense pinch between his brow relaxes and the subtle shift in his expression is like witnessing the moment a shark senses blood in the water, then he grins and turns his attention towards you.

Stark grins, turning his attention towards you. "So you're single then?"

You peer up at Miguel and hesitate because that’s a damned good question. You of this dimension is certainly single, but there’s another version of you (a dead one) that’s married to the man next to you.

But that’s not you.

You turn to Stark, "Yes," you answer.

Miguel whips his head to you, eyes wide. "No!" he bellows.

"The lady says she is, big blue."

"And I say she's not!" Miguel growls, the last word ends on such loud volume it could break the sound barrier.

Miguel isn’t the best at reading cues. You’ve known Tony Stark for all of five minutes, and even you can tell that the man enjoys riling up people, Miguel is feeding right into that.

Stark acts like Miguel is speaking at a decibel that he is unable to register. He saunters up to you, with the most carefree gait you’ve seen anyone carry around Miguel.

"So are you free tonight?" Stark asks.

You spot Miguel’s bristling expression and hesitate for a second time.

It’s mean, you shouldn’t rile Miguel up like this. His entire back is curved up like a hissing cat. The man looks like he’s about to blow a casket, acting like a jealous spouse. And somehow under Tony Stark’s attention you feel like you are the adulterous wife.

Except once again, you’re not. Because you are not Miguel’s wife.

… Why exactly are you pining after a man still grieving his dead ex-wife who happens to look like you?

You're currently homeless. Your take-home salary as an insurance adjuster can’t afford you a new apartment in New York, not with the rising inflation and the current state of this economy. This is your highway express ticket to the charmed life of being a billionaire ex-wife.

Bye bye to 9 to 5’s and having to manually enter data into thousands of excel sheets everyday. Jeff Bezos' former wife, Mackenzie Bezos was awarded 25% of their Amazon shares valued at over 38 billion dollars. Stark is twice as rich as that.

You slide closer to Stark. "Maybe? Where are you gonna take me? Somewhere fancy?"

"Yeah, no! Absolutely not!" Miguel interjects.

He steps forward to drag you behind him, until his mountainous body blocks you from the man.

“We need the arc reactor.” Miguel announces brusquely, with no fanfare and even less by way of explanation. “If you won’t give it to us, I’ll just have to take it.”

“What do you need it for?” Stark asks curiously.

“That’s none of your business,” is the blunt reply.

Stark tilts up his head, gaze pinned to Miguel’s mask. “You know, I’m not really minded to give away proprietary technology to a man wearing a wrestling mask in broad daylight.”

There’s a stalemate between the two men as they stare each other down (or up in Stark’s case). The showdown is silent, you can practically feel the tumbleweeds rolling by, waiting to see who’s going to draw first.

“He can take his mask off,” you interject.

At your offer, Miguel’s eyes narrow, nose turning up in the air in a put off gesture, refusing to do as he’s told.

“Mig,” you warn, and despite the clear scowl etched onto the features of his mask, this time, he complies.

The blue and red fabric recedes into nothingness, until the fierce cut of his bare jawline is revealed. Eyes glowing an angry crimson.

The scowl on Miguel's face is so ferocious, you can see his fangs in clear view. But instead of scary. Instead of intimidating. He looks... almost cute. All you see in front of you is a teething puppy with no real bite. He's harmless.

Stark makes a low whistling sound at the dramatic reveal of Miguel’s face. “Didn’t expect the fifth member of One Direction under there.”

Miguel glares at the man, even though you know fully well that he doesn’t understand the pop-culture reference that’s being made.

“So let’s take this from the top,” Stark says, and he starts to pace the length of the room until he reaches the arc reactor and gives the display case a light smack like he’s tapping the rear of a mare.

“You need my arc reactor, but you won’t tell me why, and you’re not offering me anything in return, except for El Tigre over here not trying to kill me, is that about right?”

“What’s your price?” Miguel asks, voice in that low growling tone that always precedes a threat.

“I’m a multi-billionaire, cash doesn’t really interest me, and I can’t exactly have this fall into the wrong hands.”

“We’re not bad people, and we’re not going to use it for anything nefarious. I know this sounds absolutely nuts, but we need your arc reactor to save the world,” you say.

Stark chuckles at you, the way an adult would at a naive child. “That’s not really much to go on hon, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, he can vouch for us.”

Stark considers you for a moment then tilts his head to take an appraising look of Miguel, eyes dragging from the sole of his suit-clad heels and up to his neck where the suit ends.

“The unstable molecule fabric you have for the suit is interesting. I’ve been meaning to give my suit an upgrade, and having it disappear into thin air would be convenient. Wouldn’t have to constantly lug around 2,000 pounds of metal everywhere I go with me. Hand me a sample of the tech along with full intellectual property rights and we’ll talk.”

“No.” Miguel says.

He straightens up his posture and crosses his arms over his chest with a haughty expression on his face. “My suit is technologically superior to all the technology you’ve got in this building combined. It’s a bum deal. Your arc reactor has palladium in it and would be poisonous for long term use. It’s practically defunct and I only need it for a one time use.”

God, this man really doesn’t know how to endear himself to anyone does he.

“He doesn’t mean that,” you step in.

“Well if it’s practically defunct, I wouldn’t want to pawn this junk off on you,” Stark responds, throwing up his hands in feigned defeat. “Besides, it has sentimental value to me. Not sure I’m willing to just give this away to some random guy who broke into my house.”

Miguel’s lip twitches in irritation until you see another flash of those fangs like they’re itching to sink into Stark’s throat.

That only seems to entertain Stark further. “Look, you clearly need this reactor for something big, and for some reason you’re not able to build it yourself even with your advanced tech on display here. You’re obviously in a hurry, and in a desperate situation. Desperate enough to break in, and you know the saying: beggar’s can’t be choosers. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

Miguel narrows his eyes, glancing around at the electronic equipment stored in the corner of the room. “I need you to throw in the laser scalpel along with the 3d printer and genetic sequencer,” he says, cocking his head in its direction.

“Wow, toots, your boyfriend has real expensive taste,” Stark teases.

Your cheek warms at the term boyfriend, but you don’t correct him.

Neither does Miguel. Instead Miguel looks him squarely in the eyes and juts up his chin. “I want the Sonic disruptor too.”

“Fine,” Stark announces, holding up his hand in the gesture of a time-out to stop Miguel from listing out more expensive items. “You drive a hard bargain, Blue, but what the hell. It’s a deal. I’ll even give you a newer palladium-free model of the reactor so I can keep old sparky here for myself.”

The sun is setting against the skyline of the city, washing it in strokes of warm amber-orange hues. Miguel is still grumbling next to you as the two of you stroll along the Brooklyn bridge.

“Supergenius, Ha! Si los zombies comen cerebros, él sería invisible para ellos. What do you see in that guy anyway?! He’s not even good looking. He’s like what? 5 feet tall? He was wearing built in heels, you know! Es más corto que las mangas de un chaleco–”

"Can you pipe down?” you say, cutting off his tirade, “Just let it go, please. It's been hours! I didn’t see anything in him. I have no desire to be the next notch on Tony Stark's bedpost.”

That finally seems to end his rant, or at the very least slow it down. Miguel shuts his mouth, staring out over the river. “Then why did you tell him you were free?”

“Because I wanted the arc reactor! I figured letting the guy flirt with me might help. Catching flies with honey and all that.”

He folds his arms over his chest, with a skeptical furrow in his brows. “You wanted him to take you somewhere fancy; that’s what you said,” he points out.

Damn him and his super-genius memory.

“Well, maybe I also wanted to eat at a Michelin star restaurant one time in my life. Manila Social Club is supposed to have a golden donut made with champagne jelly and actual gold on their dessert menu.

“That doesn’t even sound tasty,” Miguel mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mouth settles into an unhappy frown.

“It would have been if I didn’t have to pay for it!”

“I could’ve gotten it for you,” he says, and it’s not until you take a better look at his face that you realize it’s not so much as a frown he’s sporting. It’s a pout.

Oh, is he… ? He is, isn’t he!

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know. I’m not interested in Tony Stark,” you reassure him.

In front of you, the rigidness in his shoulder seems to melt at your words.

That surprises you. You’d have expected him to deny the accusation that he’s jealous. Adamantly object that he wasn’t, and why would he be, you’re nobody to him. Just a random stranger that happens to look like his wife that he cannot leave well enough alone.

He doesn’t do that though. Instead, his only response is a quiet, “Okay.”

His docileness takes you by surprise.

Is he admitting that he was jealous?

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't take even a morsel of enjoyment in the comical way that Miguel is getting himself riled up over you. To have him flustered and openly jealous of Tony Stark flirting with you.

As if Miguel had anything to worry about.

As if Tony Stark, a man who has ‘philandering philanthropist’ as a description for himself on his twitter bio, isn't known to be so indiscriminately flirtatious he’d eagerly court a voluptuously shaped tree.

As if that man of 5 foot 6 (with platform shoes) would ever hope to occupy every one of your thoughts the way Miguel does.

Immature and childish and inane as your behavior back at Stark Tower was—and you feel mildly ashamed of it now—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it in the moment. Not because Tony Stark, multi-billionaire, GQ's Most Eligible Bachelor five years running, was flirting with you.

No. Because for a moment you got to experience what it was like to have your rude protective Spiderman treat you as his girlfriend. Someone he was possessive of. Someone he treasures. Someone that is his. Instead of your current reality, where you know he belongs to someone else entirely.

“If anyone has anything to be jealous of, don’t you think it should be me?” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth before you can reign them back in.

Miguel tilts his head, regarding you like a cute, confused pup, so you continue.

"Because I could never compete with her, right?"

"Her?" he asks, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Your version of me," you say, "your Nena." You try to smile, try to keep it light-hearted, like the funny joke you had meant it to be, but it hurts even just to hear yourself say it. Because you know it's not a joke.

It's true. You’re in love with a man whose affections aren't yours to win.

Miguel stops in his tracks, and that makes you stop as well.

"It's not a competition," he says seriously. "You're two different people. You can't compare like that.”

You feel like you’re being scolded and probably rightly so. You’re being childish and unreasonably trying to compare yourself to his dead wife. But that doesn’t mean that it makes it hurt any less to hear you don’t compare at all. Your heart fissures and cracks, and the first sting of tears starts to well up behind your eyes.

"You're important to me too," he continues.

The words stop your heart, your eyes dart up to his face. The look on his face is gentle and soft, and it soothes the pain in your chest away, a gentle warmth rising to take its place.

“Oh,” you say. You can’t help but smile up at him, squinting against the bright sun behind his back.

“You’re important to me too,” you tell him.

His lips quirk up into a small but genuine smile at your response. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You nod, and then you have to turn away, feeling bashful under his attentive gaze. Embarrassed heat prickles your cheeks, and you need a second to catch your breath and let the evening breeze cool you down.

There are cyclists and pedestrians going past you as the two of you continue to walk in silence. You sneak a look at him to see that, like you, he’s turned away. He’s gazing out over the bridge as he walks and against the amber sun, you see a faint flush riding high on his cheeks.

Your fingers lightly brush against the side of his hand, and he turns back to you and smiles, sliding his pinkie to hook around yours.

You walk all the way home this way, heart feeling full, and you think to yourself that maybe, this time, things really are going to be okay after all.

~ Next issue

Author's note: So for fellow marvelheads checking, wouldn't Tony be dead after Endgame when Wong was made Supreme Sorcerer? This is another version of earth -- Thanos and the snap never happened. My baby Tony isn't dead how dare you!

The Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it’s left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

Dedication & Credits: To @guruan for her incredibly kind help and donating her time to check the Spanish used in this chapter.

And to the kind @forwantofwill and her generosity for doing this beautiful fanart of Miguel Folding Origami that has stolen my heart!!

And finally to @thirstworldproblemss I love you and hope you're eating all the yummy sukiyaki that you deserve. Thank you for coming with me on this wild ride.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #imguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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pennysperfectpolls · 1 day

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Ok here’s the full list of submissions!

1: Penny Polendina (RWBY)

2: Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds)

3: Penny Lamb/Jane doe (Ride the cyclone/legoland)

4: Penny (Pokémon)

5: Penny Carter (Project Blue Earth SOS)

6: Pen Pen (Neon genesis evangelion)

7: Penny (Dr Horrible's Sing-along Blog)

8: Penny Nichols (Ace Attorney)

9: Penelope Akk/Bad Penny (Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain)

10: Penelope Eckhart (Villains are destined to die)

11: Penny Pointer (Tangle Tower)

12: Lieutenant Penumbra (Ducktales)

13: Penny Pringleton (Hairspray)

14: Alfred Pennyworth (Batman)

15: Penelope (The Odyssey)

16: Penny (stardew valley)

17: Penny Gadget (Inspector Gadget)

18: Penny (The Rescuers)

19: Penelope "Penny" Bunce (The Simon Snow Series)

20: Penny (SpongeBob SquarePants)

21: Penny Luckstone (Dimension 20)

22: Penny Rescher (Hello From The Hallowoods)

23: Penny Fitzgerald (The Amazing World of Gumball)

24: Pennyuin1 (Club Penguin OC)

25: Penn Zero (Penn Zero: Part Time Hero)

26: Persephone (Greek Myth)

27: Penny (Fortnite: Save The World)

28: William "Penny" Adiyodi (The Magicians)

29: Penny Farthing (Doom Patrol)

30: Penelope Featherington (Bridgerton)

31: Penny Pepper-Bean (Doctor Who)

32: penny lane (almost famous)

33: Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward (Thunderbirds)

34: Penny Forrester (Bolt)

35: Penny (101 Dalmatians)

36: Penny Proud (The Proud Family)

37: Penelope (Barbie as Rapunzel)

38: Penelope Wilhern (Penelope)

39: Penelope Pitstop (Wacky Races)

40: Penelope (VeggieTales)

41: Peni Parker (Spiderverse/Marvel Comics)

42: Penina "Penny" Becker (Sunflowers and Lavender)

43: Penny (Animal Crossing)

44: Pennywise (It)

45: Penelope Taynt (The Amanda Show)

46: Penny (Kindergarten 2)

47: Penny (Big Bang Theory)

48: Penny Pizzazz (The Sims 4)

49: Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)

50: Miss Moneypenny (James Bond)

51: Penny Morris (Fireman Sam)

52: Penny Scavo (Desperate Housewives)

53: Penny Valentine (Holby City)

54: Penny Halliwell “Grams” (Charmed)

55: Penelope Blossom (Riverdale)

56: Will Penny (Will Penny)

57: Penelope Pussycat (Looney Tunes)

58: Penny Owen (Glee)

59: Penelope (Hamtaro)

60: Penny (Life is Strange 2)

61: Phenny (Project Sekai)

62: Penny (Genshin Impact)

63: Penelope Redd (the Sims 2 gba)

64: Leonie Pinelli (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

#penny poll

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habken · 7 months

Note

HABS, IK THIS AINT MHA ND SHI, BUT OPINIONS ON TMNT? (THE TURTLES)

oh I love the turtles, I’ll always love the turtles, lol my current lockscreen is 1987 michaelangelo. It’s like the childhood interest I carried all the way from junior kindergarten to now, always bubbling away under the surface ready to activate at the drop of a hat any time something new comes out

Most recent tmnt related thing I saw was mutant mayhem which was such a fun time. Just as a piece of animation it was beautiful and so cool, but I also really loved how the turtles themselves were portrayed in it! It really highlighted the teen part of tmnt which I feel isn’t always the case. The movie’s style also just fit their vibe so well, the spiderverse influence, the sketchy quality and unique character designs made it something really special. (Also my whole family liked it, which is very rare so immediately it’s a 10/10)

P.S. You guys can always send me non-mha related asks lol I like a lot of things! I’m multidimensional !! I just so happen to really like making art for mha :’)

#ask #tmnt

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drfirsnogayny · 10 months

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Spider Cindy Spider Cindy Spider Cindy Spider Cindy Spi

Spiderverse AU (design author — @kindersbymoth (@goldmoth82) AU author —@clover-color)

Halloween AU (author — @gabycantart)

Insects AU. But such a Kindergarten AU does not exist. This is a Cleavers Cult AU where the spiders look like this (which explains what the hell Byron is doing here) and I thought it would be cool to add a Cindy in this style.

Edit: While I was drawing this, I thought that maybe Byron could do without sleep. And if He falls asleep, He has nightmares. Worse than nightmares.

Байрук

#artist on tumblr #fanart #my universe #kindergarten 2 #kindergarten game #kindergarten au #kindergarten cindy #cleavers cult #cleavers cult au #cleavers cult insects au #cleavers cult byron #tw spiders #not my au

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frostyyyroyalmilktea · 2 years

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Nevermore!Tyler x Thorpe!Reader pt.4

This is pt. 4 of my series

part 1 part 5 this fic on ao3

Also, exiting news! I finaly managed to make that playlist! I'll let you know in the future if I'm gonna add new songs there. It's only on spotify, because I don't really know how to make one on youtube sorry.

Let me know what you think!

***

Next morning you oversleep again. To be fair, there was never much of a chance you’ll start waking up earlier, but for a good fifteen minutes there you were truly determined to become a better version of yourself.

The Universe probably thinks that you’re pretty cool as is because when you stumble down to the dining hall Tyler is already at your usual table, and on his tray, there is a bowl of Captain Crunch and a carton of low-fat milk.

He bashfully moves it toward you when you flop down on the chair next to him with your cup of tea in hand. One would think it’s such a little thing but you literally can't remember the last time someone did something so mundane but ultimately caring and thoughtful for you. You're so overwhelmed by how sweet he is that your body decides to not consult your brain on the matter of the appropriate course of action to show gratitude and you end up just wrapping Tyler into a hug and planting a big wet smooch on his cheek.

His cheeks turn tomato-red and he manages to croak ‘you're welcome, y/n’ before resolutely staring at his hashbrowns for the next fifteen minutes.

You’re not usually the type to become fast friends—let alone fast more than friends—but for all that this boy is turning your brain to mush from time to time, you're unusually comfortable around him. It feels right to do things you do even if they cause the rational part of your brain to want to pack its things and leave you behind.

You don’t know how to do anything moderately and giving affection is no exception. So if Tyler plans to stick around—and he shows no signs that would indicate otherwise—then exposure therapy is the way to go.

So that's how it goes. You eat together and then he walks you to your next class after breakfast and lunch. In the evenings you hang out in the common room together and play Switch. Your dad gave it to you as a birthday present but you never really got into it the way some of your friends did. Tyler enjoys it, though, so you tell him he can keep it in his room to do whatever needs to get done to his Animal Crossing island.

He's hesitant about accepting such a costly thing even if it’s not a gift but more of a loan situation. It might as well be a gift, you think, because it was simply collecting dust in your desk drawer before you offhandedly mentioned to Tyler you owned one, and his eyes lit up in child-like excitement. You assure him—with the most gravely serious expression you can muster—that if you're to ever want it back, you'll let him know. You know you won't, though. He looks so happy playing with that damn thing that you'd rather look your father dead in the eyes and tell him the aliens stole it than ever ask Tyler to give it back.

The two of you hold hands like a pair of smitten kindergarteners when you walk to class and sometimes people give you weird looks but ultimately it doesn’t bother you too much.

You have zero problems telling those people to go fuck themselves take a picture as it’ll last longer. Tyler always carries your bag too, even though you have a Kindle and never actually carry any textbooks, but seeing him carry a giant jigglypuff on a strap with the utmost purpose is so fucking adorable, it makes you want to explode. So naturally, you never deprive yourself of such pleasure.

What also becomes a semi-regular occurrence is you turning into a bloodthirsty angel of vengeance when people are mean to him. You don’t seem particularly intimidating—especially not in your rainbow platform shoes—but you sure are determined. On a Thursday afternoon, when the two of you are walking down the hall discussing the peculiarities of the Spiderverse, some guy decides that he has a death wish apparently to call Tyler a string of particularly unpleasant things. Tyler has to physically hold you back by the waist—with no tangible strain of course, because to him you probably weigh like a couple of grapes—so you won’t actually start a physical altercation, while you rather audibly promise the guy to liquify his kneecaps.

The incident makes it into Enid’s blog and you rewatch the damn video a million times because someone filmed the moment after the guy has fucked off, leaving a vague air of fear and confusion behind him. Tyler was still holding you in his arms as he burst out laughing and called you his knight in shining armor.

He tells you afterward that it’s worrying him that you are inviting antagonism towards yourself right off the bat, but you assure him that before Nevermore you went to a private school in Beverly Hills so you have full immunity to antagonism as a whole, and, as a matter of fact, you eat people like that guy for breakfast. Tyler stares at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.

You hang out with Eugene a couple of times, planning the concept of the Etsy shop in more detail. Wednesday begrudgingly joins you and while your presence still rattles her somewhat, you’re surprised to discover she’s taking economy classes and is interested in business planning.

She’s alright, you decide eventually. After all, it would be way worse if your brother fell in love with someone utterly dull. Both you and Wednesday get very crabby and argumentative with each other about any a topic, and while Enid thinks the two of you are well on the way to murder each other, you’re sure Wednesday actually has as much as you during those little debates. Although, maybe for her it's actually both.

When Tyler goes out to Jericho to see his dad, you hang out with Bianca and her friends. They remind you a little of the crowd you used to keep company with back in Cali, but they’re alright. Xavier is grumbly and refuses to reply with full words when you ask something, preferring vaguely affirmative sounds.

That doofus can’t hold a grudge to save his life though, so when the two of you end up having History of Art together, he sits with you and copies your notes because he’s shit at remembering dates. He’s such a baby sometimes, but he’s your baby, and if someone tries to hurt him, you’re prepared to draw blood.

The curriculum at Nevermore is pretty odd, to say the least. But you got to give to Weems, it’s really diverse too. You choose natural sciences as your main academical domain so you study chemistry, physics, geology, and astronomy. You're also required to take one subject outside of the domain, so you choose History of Art to hang out with Xavier and learn just how gay every prolific art figure was.

Xavier’s domain is humanitarian sciences, so he studies literature, art, theology, and history. His out-of-specialty subject is Botanics, and it just so happens that Wednesday attends it too. They have a new teacher this semester because the last one turned out to be a bigoted psychopath with a penchant for raising the dead. It all ties to Tyler somehow, you know it, but none of the people who were also the participants of those events strike you as particularly reliable narrators, if you’re being completely honest. So you decide to wait it out and let Tyler present you the whole story when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Tyler himself chooses social sciences. He studies history, anthropology, ethnology, and economics. His out-of-his-specialty subject—to your immense joy—is astronomy so you have classes together on Tuesday and Friday. He's really good at it but in a very different way than you are. He can use the stars for navigation and orientation, while you know all the legends behind the constellations’ names and the dates when they were discovered.

***

You, Bianca, and Yoko start watching The Sandman on a Friday evening, and while the girls are out cold by one in the morning, you can't sleep until you finish the whole thing. When your alarm goes off at 8 o'clock in the morning to go to therapy, you’re only about 30% conscious of your actions as you brush your teeth and get ready. You don’t do anything with the hair—not like there’s anyone to impress anyway—so it looks a good deal like an explosion at the macaroni factory. You just wear the warm beanie Enid knit for you after you utterly horrified her with the news of you not owning any winter hats. It’s very comfy and soft, even though it makes you look a bit goofy.

You realize that you fell asleep in your contacts last night—or rather this morning—because when you blink, your eyes feel like they're full of sand. You use the soothing eyedrops and resign to wearing glasses for the day. They lowkey hide the dark circles too, so you got that going for you at least.

You dig out a red-and-white striped winter jacket from the back of the closet and drag yourself downstairs. Weems said your unfortunate driver will meet you by the main gate.

You can see the truck parked to the side when you cross the school grounds. Not a new car, but seems well cared for and unlikely to give out in the middle of the road. The driver is rounding the car to meet you and… oh crap.

“Y/n?”

Of course, it would be Tyler. Because the Universe is funny like that.

You try to squash the insistent thought that you bear an uncanny resemblance to Where’s Wally right now as well as not be awkward about the whole we’re going to therapy thing.

“Whassup, dude?” Great. Truly masterful. “So you're my unfortunate Uber driver.”

Tyler snorts, opening the passenger door for you. “I don't feel particularly unfortunate right now," he says, watching you intently. “Also, didn't know you wear glasses. It’s really cute.”

“Thank you,” you say for both the compliment and the door. “I can't see shit without them and I fell asleep in my contacts last night so I need to give my eyes some rest.”

You manage to climb into the car without tripping on your own limbs, which is quite impressive considering that the ground froze overnight and was slippery as fuck.

“I was worried I'll get stuck with some horrible dude that listens to Machine Gun Kelly and I would be forced to jump out of the car full speed.” You inform Tyler when he joins you in the car and starts backing up out of the driveway.

“I'm more of an Eminem fan,” he smiles. “But you can play whatever you want," he reaches for the aux cord, before handing it to you. “You have good taste.”

You grin as your brain starts broadcasting static.

After a moment you manage to shake off the stupor and plug the aux into your phone.

“Can’t say I’m a huge fan of the guy, but I like the song he has with Aerosmith.”

Tyler just hums approvingly as the first chords start playing from the speakers.

“Do you mind if we stop for gas?” Tyler asks after a few minutes, as the car finally turns onto the asphalted road. “It’s just outside Jerico, minimum detour time. I barely use the car now that I'm at Nevermore, so I forgot to check the tank before today.”

He’s not acknowledging an elephant in the room car and you’re not too eager to do it either.

“That's cool. I’ll get snacks and I can really use a Redbull right now,” you sigh.

“Late night?” Tyler asks, amused.

“More like an early one. In the morning.”

“Ouch. What kept you?”

“The Sandman. On Netflix, I mean. Not—you know—the actual deity.”

Tyler smiles, not looking away from the road. “You like fantasy?”

“I do. But also, like, anything else, as long as it’s good. Or not good but in a good way.”

“Like Twilight?”

“Yes!” You exclaim. “I’m so glad you understand, mon chou. Finally, an intellectual with finer tastes in life.

Tyler laughs. “I sense there’s a story there.”

“Oh, let me tell you.” You half-turn in your seat, leaning on the door. “I was rewatching the Twilight movies during Christmas break, right? And like a caring sister I asked Xavi if he wanted to join me. And this asshole had the gall to tell me—,” you drop your voice a few octaves in your impression of Xavier, though you land closer to Squidward and you can’t say it’s completely unintentional, “I am not dignifying this embarrassment with even a second of my time.”

“That does sound like him,” Tyler agrees, grinning.

“A load of crap is what it sounds like. Like, who are you trying to bullshit here, dude? I know who stole my 10th-anniversary collector's edition of Twilight books when we were 13. And then my copy of Midnight Sun last summer too. He ain't beating the allegations, I know the culprit! But I’m a nice and caring person so I let it go, and this is the thanks I get?! Unbelievable! Shame on his cow!”

Tyler bursts out laughing at your recollection of Xavier’s dishonorable thievery and as you look at his profile, surrounded by the soft morning sunlight, you think to yourself I’m never ever letting you go.

Woooah. You file that thought for—much—later.

When he finally catches his breath, Tyler says: “I kind of like chick flicks in a guilty-pleasure sort of way, but since my mom died I don't have anyone to watch them with. My dad's not a fan of both the genre and spending time with me.

Fuck. You can feel a familiar sense of protectiveness curling up inside. You’ve never even met the man, but you already dislike him quite ardently.

Tyler clearly doesn’t want further questioning on the subject and you get a distinct feeling this is his way of testing you. Not with any malicious intentions, though. He’s probably not even aware he’s doing it.

Well, you already chose a strategy and you plan to stick to it. You won’t come digging for what is not freely offered to you.

“I personally don’t feel guilty about any of my pleasures,” you grin. “We can watch something together if you’d like, though? I can introduce you to European cinema. There’s a lot of good stuff to choose from whether you want something campy and fun or something serious and dramatic. If you’re willing to read the subtitles, that is.”

“Yeah. I… I'd love that,” he agrees, his voice soft and quiet. You don’t miss the way he exhales in relief once the questions about his family don’t follow.

***

At the gas station, the two of you split up with you going inside to get snacks while Tyler fills up the tank.

You decide to forego the Redbull after all, its slogan almost mocking you from the banner above the cash register.

You grab a six-pack of cherry-flavored Dr Pepper, an unholy amount of those mini Rise Krispies, and a big box of Reese’s for Tyler.

When you emerge from the little shop, you see two guys nearing Tyler’s car with slimy leers on their faces.

Oh-oh.

“Do you see this Benny?” One of them asks the other rather loudly. “They let him out in public without a muzzle. No leash too. I’m shocked.” His companion laughs in a way that reminds you of a sound that styrofoam makes if you rub it against the glass. Screechy and revolting.

Tyler’s shoulders stiffen but he doesn’t turn to face them.

“Oh no, Charlie!” the presumable Benny exclaims tauntingly. “He’s got so poncy in that godforsaken school, he won’t even say hello to old friends.”

You see Tyler take a deep breath, close the tank cap with perhaps more force than the action requires, and turn around. “What do you want?”

“Not happy to see us, Galpin? You’re hurting my feelings.” The first pipes up again.

“I’ll hurt way more than your feelings if you don’t piss off,” Tyler grits through his teeth.

“Not when your daddy can’t cover up for you anymore.” You see the sun reflect from the hand of the second guy. He’s flicking out a blade.

Shit.

You make a few calm but quick steps toward Tyler, like you didn’t see the scene unfold, nor noticed that one of the guys has a knife.

“You ready to go, Ty?” you ask with a smile, not acknowledging the unwanted company.

Your sudden appearance seems to throw them off, and you hope that while they collect their wits—if there are any in the first place—you and Tyler will hop in the car and be gone.

But the shitheads turn out to be of a persisting kind and they shift their attention entirely to you now. Tyler takes a step forward to stand between you and them as if to shield you.

Shithead №1 laughs, while the second one—the one holding the fucking knife—studies you carefully. “I see you didn’t waste any time, Galpin. Got yourself a freaky girlfriend right off the bat,” he scoffs.

“She looks normal to me,” shithead №1 observes, perplexed.

“Maybe we should test that,” shithead №2 replies.

Tyler growls.

If you don’t do something he’ll fucking shift and tear them apart. His distress echoes sharply in your ribcage and you feel your fingertips tingle in a way you have only experienced once. Fuck.

You will yourself to squash the panic, lest it leads to the encore of that shitshow that happened when your powers manifested for the first time.

You need to do something pronto.

You take two steps forward, stopping next to Tyler.

“Can you hold this for me for a sec, babe?” Without looking you hand Tyler the plastic bag with snacks in it. When you feel his hand curl around the handles you let go and make another step forward.

The idiots look puzzled but their hateful demeanor doesn’t budge one bit.

“Did you hear that Benny?” The first one starts to laugh but it’s short-lived because once he can’t take a breath, he starts choking. His eyes widen in panic and he looks at his companion, who also came to the realization he can’t inhale. The knife falls out of his hands and you kick it with your little pink ugg to the other side of the gas station where it disappears in the shrubbery. Neither the trajectory of the knife’s path, nor the speed with which it flew there, couldn't have been plausibly inflicted without a supernatural force.

“You know this saying,—” you ask, making eye contact with the shithead №2. His face starts tinting blue from the lack of oxygen. “— don’t bring a knife to a fight with a girl that can manipulate natural forces. Maybe that’s not word for word how it goes, but you get the point, yeah?”

Shithead №1 starts twitching and you realize you’ll have to let go soon if you don’t want the idiots to actually pass out.

“Point being,” you elaborate, “you mind your fucking business or you get your ass handed to you. Or rather your lungs, in this particular situation.”

You relax and command yourself to release them. Surprisingly, it works.

The shitheads start coughing and hungrily inhaling the cold winter air.

Your hands start trembling but if there’s one thing you are a master of, it’s keeping face.

So your lips curl into a smile that doesn’t touch your eyes when you say “Good day, gentleman.” You tip the invisible top hat at them. They look back with the fear of God in their eyes. Good. “I hope—for your sakes rather than mine—that I will never see you near Tyler ever again.”

With that, you turn around intending to hop into Tyler’s car and have a nice little freak out about the whole situation but the look on his face stops you short after only a few steps.

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. His pupils so dilated, they almost eclipse the irises.

For a second your blood runs cold. He’s scared of me, is your first panic-induced thought. The other one follows rapidly. I fucked this up before there was even an anything between us.

The avalanche of panic threatens to overwhelm you…but it never gets the chance. Tylers comes out of his stupor and in a few quick steps crosses the space between the two of you. He wraps his hand around yours, intertwining the fingers. The most brilliant smile you’ve ever seen adorns his face. “Thanks,” he says, looking at you the way one might imagine people look at Northern Lights. With awe.

He’s not scared.

***

Tyler

Back in the car, with the snacks safely deposited on the back seat, the two of them sit in silence until Tyler maneuvers the car back to the main road. Y/n slumps in the passenger seat looking exhausted and groggy.

“So,” Tyler starts carefully. “I take it you don’t know what exactly you did to them?”

“I know what I did,” she mumbles into the puffy collar of her winter jacket. If Tyler didn’t have enhanced hearing, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make out what she’s saying. “It’s the how that’s the problem. This shit happens on pure instinct, and it’s volatile. Could’ve fucking killed the bastards,” she sighs, slumping further into her jacket.

Volatile. It’s how he described her in his mind that first day in the dining hall, he remembers.

“No harm done,” he assures her. “Killing them was not your intention,” he says. So your powers reacted accordingly.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out that you're being so chill about it all,” she says with a chuckle. He relaxes a bit at the sound of it.

“Even-Steven,” Tyler announces with a grin.

That gets him another laugh. Every time he makes her laugh, he feels like he’s won something but he can’t understand what exactly.

“That’s why they sent me here. Here being both Nevermore and therapy,” she says.

“What is your power exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She doesn’t reply for a few moments, and Tyler worries he has crossed some kind of line. He’s about to backtrack and change the subject when she speaks up.

“I manipulate gravity, and by proxy the objects in it.” She looks at the scenery flickering in the passenger window.

“So, theoretically, you can fly?” Tyler asks.

That also gets him a laugh, but not the kind he enjoys at all. This one’s sharp and self-deprecating.

“Theoretically,” she jeers. “I’m afraid of both flying and the heights in general. Like, clinically. Phobiacally. My most optimistic prospect is some make-do telekinesis, and even then I can’t control when or where it manifests.”

He hates to hear this vibrant, animated girl sound so… defeated. It almost physically hurts him. It’s not the same of course, but he knows what it’s like to feel useless against your own power.

“I didn’t know I had the Hyde until someone forcefully awakened it, binding me to their will and using me to kill people.” He blurts out.

That does the trick. Her attention laser-focuses on him in an instant, and from the corner of his eye he sees her face take on a peculiar expression. The same kind it took in the hallway this Thursday. Righteous anger.

Then, as if she caught herself mid-fall, it changes into something soft and empathetic and Tyler is ready to see pity there. But he never does.

She takes his free hand, intertwining their fingers. They land somewhere around the cup holders and she just starts gently brushing her thumb over his palm. He doesn’t really know what to do with such a casual show of affection. But he thinks he wants to learn. He wants to reciprocate someday.

“You’ve really been dealt the shittiest hand I can possibly imagine Galpin,” she says after a few moments.

He scoffs. "You don't know the half of it."

“I mean, not factually, no. But I can see it in your eyes sometimes.” She sounds thoughtful.

Tyler chances a quick glance at her. “What do you see?”

“It's hard to put into words but… the weight of living I guess. The burden of responsibility you didn't ask for.”

He hums, squeezing her hand tighter. “My last therapist apparently didn’t see shit, because she missed the whole shitshow unfolding and wanted to testify against me in court. Come to think of it, I still don’t know why she didn’t.”

“Kinbott? Is that why you’re seeing Dr. Shin now?”

“Mhm. My dad found him when he was looking for someone to give an alternate opinion to Kinbott’s in court. He specializes in outcast phycology so his testimony could possibly trump Kinbott’s in the eyes of the jury. I see him ever since. He’s very nice. I’m glad you’ll be seeing him and not her.”

“Yeah… yeah me too, babe.”

***

Author's notes:

Xavier's complicated relationship with Twilight franchise is inspired by this tiktok lol I just imagined MC watching Twilight on christmas break and Xavier thinking he's being subtle

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin imagine #thorpe!reader #wednesday

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