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obwjam · 4 years

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I don’t know why I didn’t do this before, but if you’re still writing marvel g/t could you do another Scott lang one or Bruce Banner one? Maybe x hurt!tiny? They’re both so underrated and are amazing characters. I love your writing 🙂

i’ll do you one better anon: what if i did scott AND bruce with a tiny? yeah i think i’ll go with that

———-

Bruce Banner’s morning started out normal, which maybe should have been his clue that things were going to go spectacularly off the rails. All was quiet at the Avengers complex upstate -- Tony was at some tech conference, Clint and Nat were doing spy business, Thor was in some other realm, Vision and Wanda were cooped up in their rooms upstairs and Steve, Sam and Bucky were off sparring together in a completely different wing of the building. Bruce was on his way down to the lab, and Scott was upstairs, munching on chips and watching TV.

“Chips at 10 in the morning?” Bruce asked with a laugh.

Scott shrugged, stuffing another handful into his mouth. “There was nothing else!”

Bruce, who was standing in front of an open fridge full of food, raised an eyebrow.

“...Nothing else I wanted,” Scott said, his attention turning immediately back to the TV. “Oh my god. Look at that kitchen! Man, can those property brothers design or what! I wonder if I can get them to do my house.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and grabbed the energy drink he came for. It was going to be a long, restless day of calculations and experiments without Tony around to help.

It was just his luck that he would never even get to start.

You had stayed up all night borrowing. It was rare for the complex to be this deserted, but it was your one chance to stock up on everything you needed in one big trip -- food and water from the kitchen, pieces of soap from the bathroom, and everything else you could ever want from the lab downstairs.

Everything was going great. Nobody had infiltrated the kitchen for a midnight snack. Someone had remembered to replace the soap. And the lab was stocked full of sharp metal for building, flat metal for creating, strings for hooks, and so many screws and nails and bolts. It took over a dozen trips up and down the tables to get everything, and you were just about finished when your greed got the best of you.

You were trying to stuff the most you possibly could inside your bags. They were overflowing. You were on your way down the leg of the table when a few pieces of metal started to slip out your bag.

“No no no no no...” you mumbled. The metal falling out of the bag wasn’t itself a big deal -- it was the noise it would make when it hit the ground that scared you. As you scrambled to stuff the metal back into the bag, your hold on your rope started to slip. You didn’t realize how tired you were until right now, and what turned into you trying to pull yourself up became your muscles giving out and your hand being unable to keep its tight grip.

You tumbled to the ground, which wasn’t that far away, but when you tried to stick the landing, your legs tangled up and you crumpled down. The metal clattered everywhere, making you wince. You waited a moment. No human. Okay. They must not have heard. You sat up, using your arms as support behind you, but when you went to stand, pain shot through your leg and you fell right back down.

Your stomach fell. “No… nononono, this can’t be happening…”

You forced yourself to stand, keeping your right leg completely straight and dragging it along as you shuffled to the table leg for cover. “No, I gotta get out of here. I can’t--”

You froze at the sound of Bruce bounding down the stairs, cracking open his drink and taking a big sip before slamming the can down on the nearest table. He blinked. Did he just... hear a whimper?

His eyes scanned the room. You were moving as fast as you could, but adrenaline could only push you so far. Your leg throbbed in pain and you cried out as you fell back to the ground again. Your shaking hand flew to your mouth. I’m done for.

Okay, he definitely wasn’t hearing things. That sounded like someone yelling. He took cautious steps forward, hoping not to make too much noise so he didn’t startle whatever he was hearing.

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as the giant started walking toward you, clearly looking for something he had heard. He stopped walking almost right on top of you, and you couldn’t help but gawk up at him towering above you like a skyscraper. The mere thought of being discovered by the human was enough to induce tears, which you desperately tried to push away as you got back up and started moving again.

Bruce heard a choppy breath and froze. That sounded close... but he was standing in the middle of the room. Nothing was behind him, in front of him or beside him... so the only option was... below him.

He looked down and gasped. He had no idea what he was looking at, but he suddenly felt sick. “Holy shit…” he whispered, putting his hands on his knees and leaning down. As soon as he uttered those words, you whipped your head up and around to meet his gaze. For a moment, he was surprised. He felt an influx of nerves when the tiny person stared at him, completely shocked. They looked terrified.

“H-hey, little guy--” he tried, but you had already turned around and started limping toward the table. Wait… limping.

Bruce, for his part, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He watched as you ducked behind the cover of the table leg. You knew it wasn’t going to help, but you just needed to get behind something so you could sit down and feel like you were hiding. Bruce felt a pang of pity. Not only was this little thing hurt, they were terrified of him.

“Um...” Bruce couldn’t even begin to formulate words in his head. He bent down, getting on his hands and knees and crawling to the side so he could fully see you. When you locked gazes, Bruce almost looked more nervous than you did. Your whole body was shaking. That’s when he noticed.

“Your leg… it’s bending all the wrong way,” he whispered, almost to himself. You blinked. Even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t. You knew this giant -- this was one of the scientists who frequented the lab. He didn’t seem as… rough as the other one, but you were pretty sure this was the one who turned into a monster when he got angry. As if he wasn’t big enough already.

He noticed how you flinched at his words. He felt his heart swell at the tiny movements, yet guilt pierced his stomach at seeing the pure terror you exuded.

“No, no, it--it’s okay,” Bruce stammered, holding his hands up. “Who... what are you?”

Your lips were trembling. How were you even supposed to answer that?

“You’re right. Bad question,” Bruce muttered as soon as he saw your facial expression. “You can understand me though, right?”

Meekly, you nodded. Bruce smiled softly. “Good, good. Do you, uh... do you need help? Do you...” he trailed off. He took note at how your eyes seemed to be burning as you stared at him in horror. He tried to speak as slow as possible to not startle you any more than he already had.

“Do you have a name?”

Your words got caught in your throat. Part of you wanted to say, but another part stopped you from saying anything. You didn’t need his help. You’d be fine. As long as you could make it back to base...

Pain shot through your leg and you bit your tongue, trying desperately not to make a sound. Bruce stared as you contorted your face. It was clear you were in pain.

“H-here, let me…” he started, reaching his hand out toward you. On instinct, you yelped and scooted back, hugging the table leg for support. No. You couldn’t let him touch you. He would hurt you even more.

“Sorry, sorry!” He stared at your tiny, trembling form, his mind racing. How could he help you? If he were three inches tall and incapacitated on the ground, he wouldn’t want the help of a nervous giant either.

Maybe he couldn’t help, but someone small enough could.

“I’ll be right back!” he shot up, completely missing the way you winced back at his movement. “Don’t--stay right there!” You watched in confusion and fascination as he ran up the stairs. This was your chance! All you needed to do was get up, get your rope and hobble all… the… way… across the room…

Who were you kidding? You could barely even stand without falling right back down. You were trapped. The giant was obviously going to get a jar to put you in to show you off to all the weirdos who lived here.

This is it, you thought as you began to cry. This is how it ends.

“Scott!”

Scott coughed on his chips and turned around in surprise. “Bruce?” he asked, but it came out sounding like Brrcsh.

“Get your suit.”

“What?”

“Your suit! Your costume. Your… Ant-Man thing.”

“Oh! That suit. What do you need it for?” Scott frowned. “You don’t want to take it apart, do you? Did Tony put you up to this?”

“What-- no! I’ll explain in a minute. Just go get it!”

“Okay, okay!” Scott folded his chip bag and ran upstairs. Bruce was pacing and tapping his finger on the counter when Scott came back down, helmet in hand.

“Wow. You change quick.”

“I’ve been working on it,” Scott grinned. “Now can you tell me what the hell you’re so worked up about?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Bruce started, “but down in the lab there’s a tiny person who’s badly hurt but I would hurt them even more if I tried to help and they’re pretty scared of me so I need your help to calm them down.”

Scott blinked, processing what he had just been told. Of all the things in the world that Bruce could have told him, the existence of tiny people wasn’t at all shocking. In fact, Scott had pondered this possibility many times while traversing the world as Ant-Man. Some things were way too conveniently set up for it to be a coincidence. But a tiny person here? In this giant complex full of temperamental superheroes? That was no place for someone so small.

“You really thought I wouldn’t believe you? You know my thing is shrinking, right?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah, I-- you’re really just going to accept all that?”

“I can grow and shrink at the press of a button and you turn into a giant green rage monster when you stub your toe. Aliens attacked New York once. This is like, a three out of ten on the surprise scale.”

Bruce stared, waiting to see if Scott would say anything else. He didn’t.

“Well, will you help or not?”

“Of course I’ll help! I guess you need me to--”

“--yeah, if you could just--”

“--okay, okay. Here I go.” Scott slipped his helmet on, pushed the magic button and in an instant, he was three inches tall. Bruce laid his hand down and Scott jumped on, using his thumb for support as Bruce bounded back downstairs.

Your breath hitched when you heard booming footsteps coming back down the stairs. You wished so deeply that you could have escaped, but a part of you knew that could never happen. The giant would probably find you again, anyway.

You quivered when the giant re-entered your vision. Why did he leave? Was he going to get help? You didn’t see any help. You didn’t see him carrying a jar, either.

That is, until Bruce took a knee next to you and lowered his hand. You gasped and your eyes went wide when a person wearing very odd clothes and a weird looking helmet hopped off his palm and kneeled down next to you.

“Hello! I’m Scott,” the person -- Scott -- said in a cheery demeanor. You didn’t know what was freaking you out more, the silhouette of the giant in the background or Scott sitting a foot away from you. He certainly looked like a borrower... but if there were other borrowers, you would have known about it. And no way a borrower would be hanging out with a bunch of humans. You couldn’t figure out who, or what, he was.

“It’s okay! Don’t freak out,” he said, scooting a bit closer. He felt a pang of guilt at the terrified expression on your face. “I’m--we’re here to help.” He gestured up at Bruce, who gave a small, awkward wave. “That’s Bruce. He’s gonna help us get off the ground. Can I help you up?”

You stared at him in disbelief. They… really wanted to help you?

“Here.” Scott stuck his hand out. You looked at it for a cautious moment before grabbing it and letting him do the hard work of hoisting you up.

“Ow!” you cried as Scott pulled. It was almost impossible to stand. Your face instantly flushed red when both Bruce and Scott shot you a look of surprise after hearing you speak.

“Hold on,” Scott said calmly. He slid his arm underneath your shoulder, acting as support while you tried the best you could to stay standing. You were leaning heavily on him to keep from falling as he stood up fully.

“You got it?”

You nodded, refusing to make eye contact. Your eyes were locked on your two bags beneath the table, scrap metal scattered everywhere. Scott followed your gaze.

“Is that your stuff?” he asked. You froze. You weren’t going to answer that. Scott took note. “Okay, well, we’re going to try and walk now-- woah!” One step forward and you instantly lost your footing. Your stomach dropped as he turned up to Bruce, who was watching intently. “Think you can give us a lift?”

“Oh--sure,” Bruce stammered. He was reluctant to try and bring his hand close to you again.

“No!” you blurted, instantly regretting it. Scott turned to you.

“No? Why not?”

“B-because…” you tried, but your words failed you when you looked up at Bruce. He was gigantic. One wrong move and he could break you even more than you were already broken. “I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. He doesn’t look like it, but he’s really gentle, I promise.”

“Hey!” Bruce protested.

“What? You should see what you look like from down here, man,” Scott shrugged. You were shaking, and Scott could feel it. “You can close your eyes if you want. We just gotta get you off the ground. It’s not safe here.”

You sighed. You knew you had to do this, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier. Following Scott’s advice, you squeezed your eyes tight as you felt the sudden push of a large mass behind you. Knowing this was Bruce’s hand, your arm tightened around Scott’s back as you fell down into his palm, legs dangling as he very slowly stood up. Scott didn’t blink, but even with Bruce going slow, the speed was still dizzying to you.

Bruce was trying his best not to shake. Not only was he holding Scott, but he had this very hurt, very scared tiny stranger at his mercy, too. This is not how he thought he’d be spending his day.

He gently lowered his hand to the table, but you were in no position to merrily jump off. Scott took instant notice.

“Hold on, let me go get something for you,” he said. You blinked in shock as he jumped off the table and… grew… to full size. This human could shrink himself? Or was he a borrower that could grow? You had never seen him here before.

“Scott! Where are you going?” Bruce asked nervously.

“Just going to get his,” he said, grabbing a clean cloth from a nearby table. He folded it neatly next to you and in an instant, he was tiny again. Were you in so much pain that you were hallucinating?

“Sit on this,” he said, gently lifting you from your spot on the edge of Bruce’s hand to the cloth. You flopped down, grateful to have some soft support for your aching body. Scott took a seat next to you, and Bruce pulled up a chair and bent down to get his face to your level. You eyed him nervously.

“I hope after all this, you feel like you can tell us your name,” Scott smiled.

You kept your eyes trained on the ground. “I’m… I’m (Y/n),” you said shyly.

“That’s a nice name,” Bruce said, quietly this time. He frowned when you didn’t even look at him. “What… why are you here? I-in the lab? What happened?”

“I…” you couldn’t believe what was happening. Were you really about to give your whole life story to a giant you met five minutes ago? Well, giants, but one of them was choosing not to be big around you. That had to count for something. And Bruce had gone up to get his help, just to make sure you were okay…

“I-I’m… I live here,” you said so softly, you didn't think Bruce could hear. “In the complex. This is my home. I was… gathering supplies. I--I didn’t want anyone to h-hear me, but… I slipped off my rope going down the table.”

“Oh, man,” Scott muttered. He looked over to where Bruce had spotted the tiny rope contraption. He couldn’t believe he was looking at a shoelace tied to a paper clip.

“This is what you use to get around?” he asked, pinching the paper clip between his fingers and holding it up.

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly. It was almost scary how small your rope looked when he held it.

“That’s incredible,” Bruce breathed. “I--I mean, the ingenuity to create something like this, and-and actually use it to climb up and down? That’s really impressive.”

You blushed. He genuinely sounded impressed. “Th-thanks,” you mumbled.

“What do you need all that scrap metal for?” Scott asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“Uhm… I use it to… build stuff,” you said plainly. “And to like, cut things and… you know.”

“That’s so cool,” Scott said with a smile. “I don’t think I could ever do what you do. You know, climb up tables and sneak around? Well, I mean, I do do that…” he stopped when he saw your confused expression. “I could never do it for a living, is what I mean.”

“How do you… you know, eat? Or bathe?” Bruce asked.

You shrugged. “I, uh, I just take whatever I can find. Stuff you guys won’t notice is gone.”

“That’s… wow.” Bruce was beside himself. This tiny person was living an entire life out under their noses every single day and he was none the wiser. As happy as he was to have made this discovery, he was even happier at the fact that you weren’t nearly as tense and scared as you were before. “I--I have so many questions!”

You knew the human would want to know everything, but the thought of answering a million questions about your secret life still freaked you out. You gave Scott a nervous glance. He instantly understood.

“Well hey, why don’t we try and patch up your leg and bring you upstairs for some breakfast?” Scott turned to Bruce. “Can we do that? Can we give breakfast to tiny strangers?”

Bruce smirked. “We can do whatever we want. As long as (Y/n) is okay with it.”

“I can make my world-famous San Fran-cakes!” Scott said excitedly. “Well, world famous might be a stretch. And I guess they’re just plain ol’ pancakes if I’m in New York--”

“Scott…”

“Right, right. Oh, and we could watch TV. Have you ever watched TV? You gotta see what the property brothers can do to a kitchen!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. No, you had never watched TV, and you didn’t know what a property brother was, but maybe now would be a good time to find out.

“(Y/n)?” Bruce had laid his palm down flat beside you. “We’ve got some gauze upstairs. I can try and make you a cast while Scott makes breakfast.”

You stared at his hand, and somehow, that crippling sense of fear you felt before was gone. Maybe it was all overwhelming, and you still didn’t feel like this was all real, but Bruce was kind and Scott had willingly made himself tiny just to calm you down. You were very glad it had worked.

Scott helped you up from the cloth and over to Bruce’s hand, where you situated yourselves between his thumb and held on tight for support. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat.

“Hold on, you two,” he said, slowly standing up. Scott was going on about something completely unrelated, and Bruce was smiling as he kept his hand perfectly steady. Bruce grabbed the cloth with his free hand and in an instant, the junkyard of a lab was just a background. You had never seen it from this angle before. It looked massive and uninviting.

You were glad to leave it behind. Whatever San Fran-cakes were, you were more than excited to try them.

#i DO still do marvel g/t dont you worry #i dont forget my roots #also it's my personal hc that scott religiously watches HGTV and talks himself through every show #as in he gets way too invested in house hunters #also welcome back to the reality where scott isnt ant sized because i think that’s too small #sorry if this sucks ive been having some weird ass writers block lately #patiently waiting for it to just go away on its own #marvel g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #obwrites

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

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Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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reinerispretty · 4 years

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beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt8

hello!! sorry for the wait, this week has been a little bit crazy for me :) but thank u all for your patience!! i adore all of u

pt1

pt7

pt9

“Yeah, Appa hates going underground,” Aang said. “And we need to do whatever makes Appa most comfortable.” To confirm this, Appa let out a small growl. (Y/N) smiled and hugged Appa’s nose, giving him a light kiss on his fur. She might fear a lot of things about her new life, but Appa was not one of them. They left the nomads at the lake, only to return a few moments later covered in ash from the Fire Nation catapults that had been hurled at them.

(Y/N) was so scared. She hated being scared. Back home, she had felt like one of the bravest girls in her tribe. She was willing to defy authority. She wasn’t afraid of bullies like others were. For as long as she could remember, she had tried to approach her life without any sort of fear. But here, out in the world, she felt so small. It was difficult for her, adapting to the nomadic lifestyle of the Avatar and his friends. Each new place they encountered had different cultures and different people that (Y/N) feared of offending. Even not being referred to as ‘Princess’ caught her off guard. The people looked different, the food tasted different, and sometimes she had trouble taking it all in. Plus it was so unbearably hot, she wasn’t sure how Katara and Sokka had ever gotten used to it.

She chastised herself in her mind, for standing at the sidelines of any interaction their group had. The others were more talkative and far more open than she ever dreamt of being. So she stayed silent and watched, inhaling each piece of her new life bit by bit until sometimes it felt like she was suffocating. (Y/N) new that the whole point of her leaving the tribe was so that she could live the life she had always wanted, but she was doing a horrible job at it. She looked over her friends’ easy-going mannerisms with slight jealousy.

Her friends, could she even call them that? She considered them to be her friends, but (Y/N) had no basis of friendship to go off of. (Y/N) had only one true friend in her entire life, and now she was gone. Everything had always been so easy with Yue, and now (Y/N) found herself replaying every single word she had said that day over and over again and reliving the embarrassment.

She watched as Momo approached the bank of the river she sat along. He sniffed the air once and bent down, lapping up the cool water. (Y/N) frowned. “I wish I had been born a flying lemur monkey,” She muttered. Momo stared at her in confusion.

Their group had reached an Earth Kingdom outpost a few days ago in hopes that they would be escorted to Omashu. The results of their visit were near-disastrous, and they decided to travel to the city by themselves. They had been walking for a few days now and rested at a small lake. Sokka drifted along in the middle while Katara and Aang practiced their waterbending. (Y/N) had had her waterbending lesson with Katara earlier that morning.

“Why don’t you hop in?” Sokka asked as he floated past. “The water’s fine.”

“I can’t swim,” (Y/N) said simply. Sokka raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re a waterbending, what do you mean you can’t swim?”

“I don’t have to swim in order to bend water,” She said defensively, her cheeks flushing red. “Besides, we have to get going soon.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He turned to Katara and Aang. “Will you guys be done soon? We have a lot of ground to cover if we wanna make it to Omashu today!”

“Like you’re ready right now?” Katara called back. She continued teaching Aang his waterbending. Sokka grumbled to himself, something about ‘any minute now.’

(Y/N) wasn’t quite sure how to feel about Sokka. Her eyes were trained on him now, watching his every move as he moved through the river. She hadn’t been the nicest to him when he arrived to her tribe. She only tolerated his presence because of Yue. Then he had done her an enormous favor and provided her with the escape that she had always wanted. Since then, their exchanges had been few and far in between. She spent most of her time talking to Katara and Aang. Sometimes Momo and Appa, but never really Sokka. She rested her chin at the tops of her knees. Maybe it’s too painful, she thought to herself. Because every time she looked at Sokka, she thought of Yue.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a group of singing people wandered into where they were relaxing. “Hey, river people!” The man holding the guitar said. The four kids stared at him quizzically.

“We’re not river people,” (Y/N) said slowly. The man blinked at her.

“You’re not? Then what kind of people are you.”

“Just people,” Aang said with a shrug.

The man had introduced himself as Chong and he had a wife named Lily. They traveled with another man named Moku. Once the others dried off, the nomads, along with Katara, Aang, and (Y/N), all sat around Appa as they told stories of their travels. (Y/N) couldn’t help but be absolutely entranced by what they were saying. She had seen more in these last few weeks than she had in her entire lifetime, and it shocked her that there was still more out there to see. Lily strung them all flower crowns and placed them atop their heads. (Y/N’s) was made from lovely lilacs that grew around the lake.

The nomads informed the group of a pass through the mountains that would lead them directly to Omashu. “I think we’ll stick with flying,” Sokka interrupted. The almost parental look he gave urged the rest of his group to get up.

“Secret love cave, let’s go,” Sokka grumbled.

(Y/N) dusted herself off as they walked to the cave, her frown deep and her forehead creased with unhappiness. “I just washed this,” She huffed.

“Come on, princess, it’s not that bad,” Sokka said, and just as (Y/N) was about to snap back at him, she looked at his smile and realized he was joking. The anger left her face quickly.

“Not a princess,” She muttered. Sokka’s smile fell into sad one before he turned back to the nomads.

“So how far are we from this tunnel?”

“Actually,” said Chong, “It’s not just one tunnel. The lovers didn’t want anyone finding them, so they built a whole labyrinth!”

“A labyrinth?” Sokka and (Y/N) asked at the same time.

“Oh, I'm sure we'll figure it out,” Chong said with an air of nonchalance.

“All we need to do is trust in love...according to the curse,” Lily hummed. (Y/N) and Sokka stared at each other.

“Curse?”

“I didn’t sign up for a curse,” (Y/N) mumbled bitterly.

As they reached the entrance of the cave, they learned that whoever entered and did not trust in love would remain trapped within its walls forever. This shook (Y/N) deep to her core. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to trust in love like the two lovers wanted. The only love she knew was for her family and she was quite sure that that wasn’t the same.

Swiftly though, they realized that the Fire Nation was still tracking them. Reluctantly, (Y/N) entered the dark cave. Within minutes, the entrance behind them collapsed. She stared in horror as Appa pawed at the rocks.

“It’s okay Appa,” Katara reassured him, but her own voice did not seem so sure.

“It’s fine,” Sokka said, trying to be confident and take charge. “All we need is a plan.”

“The last time you had a plan, we almost died from fireballs,” (Y/N) noted. Sokka waved her off with a flick of his hand.

“That was at least thirty minutes ago. My slate is clean. Here, I’ll keep track of all the ways we go, so that way we can solve it like a maze. Chong, how long do those torches last?”

“Uh, about two hours each.”

“And we have five,” Lily said as she lit all of the torches. “So that makes ten hours!” Sokka ran over to her and stomped out all of the flames.

“It doesn’t work like that if they’re all lit!”

(Y/N) sighed. “I’m gonna die in here.”

“No, no!” Aang said. “We’ve gotta remain positive!”

“Okay, I’m positive I’m gonna die in here.”

After ten dead ends, Sokka came to the conclusion that the tunnels were changing. This led to a massive panic within the group, that alerted their presence to a giant wolfbat. It swiped at their heads and Sokka tried to shoo it away with one of their torches, but the hot sparks landed on Appa. The poor animal roared, shaking the cave around them and causing rocks to fall, separating Katara and Aang from the rest of the group.

“Don’t worry!” Chong said to Sokka and (Y/N). “At least you guys have us!”

(Y/N) leaned over to Sokka and whispered, “Do you think I’m a good enough waterbender to kill them?” Sokka stifled a laugh, but shook his head.

“We’ve gotta think of a plan to get out of here.” (Y/N) sighed.

“I don’t--I don’t know. I’ve never been trapped in a cave before.”

“Oddly enough, me neither.”

“Really? With all your adventures I was sure you’d have at least some experience with this.”

“Yeah, well,” Sokka shrugged. “All the times a super dangerous cave was presented to me I turned it down, so I’m kinda lacking experience.” (Y/N) let herself smile at him. Sokka’s eyes darted from her to the nomads.

“We all need to think of a way to get out of here.” The nomads smiled their big, goofy smiles.

“I think the best thing to do right now,” Lily said, “Is to play a song!” They all started strumming their instruments and singing a song about two fish traveling through the river.

Her hope was quickly dwindling, but (Y/N’s) brain was far too distracted trying to think of a solution to their current problem to notice. She paced around the dirt floor and stared at the curvature of the cave. Could they go up? Could she use waterbending to get them out of there? Could they use Appa as a battering bison?

She whirled around, turning to look at Sokka. “How did the two lovers find their way through the cave?”

“Earthbending, I’m assuming.”

“And love!” Chong added.

“And love,” Sokka deadpanned. (Y/N) shook her head.

“They had to have anticipated that more people would come through here. That there’d be a way for them to get out...”

“Love!” Lily said.

“If you guys say love one more time I’m going to stick these rocks in a very not-lovely place!” (Y/N) snapped. The nomads stared at her with wide eyes.

“She’s not very full of love,” Chong mumbled. (Y/N) crossed her arms and buried herself into Appa’s fur. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. (Y/N) wasn’t very full of love, not anymore.

The cave began to shake again, but this time the sound of dozens of wolfbats surrounded them. They flew overhead of the group and (Y/N) ducked down to avoid them clawing at her. Sokka waved his arms frantically as they passed.

“Hey! Sokka saved us!” Chong cheered. (Y/N) opened her eyes and shook her head.

“No, they were running away from something.”

Just after she said it, two large badgermoles appeared from the shadows of the tunnel. (Y/N’s) mouth fell open as she stared at them. She had only heard stories about the badgermoles from back home. They were the original earthbenders and they were giant. They very nearly towered over Appa, who let out a low growl at their presence. The two moles sniffed the air, their noses pointed directly at Sokka. (Y/N) could practically hear him gulp as he stepped back.

She cringed as he stepped on Chong’s guitar, but the sound made the badgermoles stop approaching. “The music!” Sokka said, scrambling to pick up the guitar. He started strumming, rather horribly, and looked back at the nomads angrily. “A little help here!”

They began singing a song, which seemed to make the badgermoles happy. (Y/N) tried her best to keep up with the words, but her singing came out as incoherent mumbles. Slowly, she began to approach the one that stood closest to her. She put her hand on its rough fur and began stroking. “Do you think you could help us find a way out of here?”

Both moles sniffed the air once and lowered themselves to the ground. (Y/N) grinned at Sokka, who ran over to her and lifted her onto the badgermole’s back. She pulled him up and he sat behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he gripped onto the animal’s fur. She felt herself blush but held her head high as they began earthbending their group out of the tunnel.

“Nice work back there,” (Y/N) said to Sokka. “I didn’t know you were so into music.”

“I am a man of many talents,” Sokka said casually, and (Y/N) laughed. Perhaps this was the start of them being friends. It only took them being trapped in a cave together, but it was a start nonetheless. “By the way,” Sokka said. “I think you’re very full of love.”

(Y/N’s) face flushed furiously once more and she cleared her throat, staring straight ahead at the moving rocks. “Thanks.”

---

Tag List!

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#atla #avatar #the last airbender #sokka x reader #zuko x reader #aang x reader #katara #toph #aang #zuko #sokka #azula #suki #momo #appa #writing #fanfiction

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benhardypout-archive · 4 years

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004. thank you, alex

a/n: so this is one of my Wonty "comfort fics" - so it's far from canon or never followed the original plot - which i would probably never publish (unless there's one i would like to share), but this time in this fic which i titled "Dirty Little Secret", I'm just going to post some chapters which I enjoyed writing. So the number is the chapter of this fic, and this is the chapter 4, hence, 004. Enjoy reading! 🙈

Perhaps, my crush on Monty was getting out of hand.

I flipped through the Liberty yearbook which Tyler lent me only to feast my eyes over the photos of the guy in Jersey no. 32 through the weekend, as I sat on the floor with my back against the bed.

Montgomery de la Cruz, I chanted in my head, reading his name printed in bold letters.

I stopped by a certain picture of his, running my fingers over the glossy paper, tracing his face. Tyler was lucky to have taken this rare shot of him smiling beautifully like this; those white teeth showing. He was leaning back and wearing a blue tank top. For once, he looked really happy…

I should probably ask Tyler the story behind this shot.

My phone rang a message.

I, mindlessly, searched for it, not keeping my eyes away from the image. I could feel my heart expanding by this simple picture of him.

Bringing my phone to my face, there’s a message from Alex: U free this afternoon?

Basically, I'm free for the whole day.

I typed a quick reply: Yes.

And not long after, Alex texted back asking us to meet up at this mall, only a five minute drive.

I wonder if this hang out thing meant anything or just platonic. Anyway, Alex seemed nice. I would love to get to know him more and perhaps get acquainted.

Looking back to the yearbook, I'm so tempted to cut the picture. Or maybe I could just ask Tyler just give me this specific yearbook, like a gift.

* * *

Alex took me bowling. And I'm not so good with the game but so far I'm having fun.

"You're so good at this," I said as Alex hit another strike.

He smiled. "Nah."

"Now, don't be modest on me," I chuckled lightly and took a bowling ball from the rack and positioned it on my hand, adjusting to its weight. Walking by the lane, I put on a stance and ran my tongue over my lower lip, aiming for a strike. Not that I'm expecting to hit one, which of course didn't happen. I looked at Alex, throwing my hands in defeat. "No, not good at this."

Alex went to hit next and of course, another strike. He raises both his arms dramatically and spun around facing me, smiling victoriously, cocking a brow.

"I give up!" I chuckled and sat down by the bench.

"You're named Winston for a reason," Alex commented, sitting beside me.

"What does that mean?"

"Winston, like Winner. Root word, win."

I laughed, throwing my head back a little. "Damn. I think I'm not doing my name justice, then."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Let's just eat. I'm starving."

"Sure."

We walked aimlessly along the mall in silence, with a few side comments about the boutiques or the shops we passed on. Then we saw and spotted some familiar faces. Well, Alex introduced me to some of them, simply pointing from afar and telling their names, since I barely knew anyone from Liberty yet, who also worked here.

Then my stomach decided to embarrass me and did a growl as we reached the food court.

“Someone’s whining,” Alex retorted.

“I know right.”

Since it’s the afternoon, there’s a lot of tables to choose from, not to mention, stalls without queues. A lot of options for us. But we just settled on some corn dogs.

"We should see some movie some time," Alex suggested. "How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, okay." I thought back if I had plans. Is looking at pictures of Monty in the yearbook counted as one?

He smiled and told me the time and rendezvous. And then added, "I-it's a date,"

I blinked. "A d-date?"

"I meant friendly date," he quickly clarified, faking a smile. I could see dejection in his eyes.

I wanted to apologize but perhaps I’m just overthinking the situation and putting meaning on how Alex was acting the past days. I may try to brush it off and act like I’m not noticing anything, but it’s there. Yet, he said so himself ‘friendly date’, maybe he really just meant us to be friendly.

"So you like someone else?" Alex asked after a moment which of course caught me off guard. I should’ve expected that question to come. I almost coughed my Coke out. Good thing, I had swallowed it down. My heart began to skip.

Should I tell him?

I avoided his gaze, and took another sip on my drink. "Uhm… yes," I said in a low voice.

"Oh…. right. Of course."

"Alex-"

"I-I'm just asking," Alex cut me off. Though, I’m afraid I’m already ruining this budding friendship and it’s the last thing I wanted. But, if he ever decides and calls off our little friendly movie date, I'd understand.

"I… Maybe I just need some company," he went on, resting his arms on the table as if for comfort. "And I… I actually like Zach," he glanced at me.

Zach. Oh. I know him.

"I kissed him," he murmured so low I almost didn’t catch it. Then he snorted, lightly. "But… of course he said he's straight."

"I'm sorry," I said in empathy. I wanted to reach for his hands but then decided against it. Then a scenario flashed in my head where I kissed Monty and then he said the same thing-- Ouch!

"It's all right. Thanks for going out with me, and listening." Alex interrupted, saving me from my disastrous thoughts.

I nodded. But then... he asked the question I’m shit scared to answer.

"May I ask who you like?"

Fuck...

I shifted on my seat. "Oh… uhm…It's..." I looked at him, warily. He was indifferent… yet. Wait till you hear this.

With a deep shaky breath I say, "Monty."

* * *

No words had been spoken since, besides the sensational "What the… fuck?" reaction from Alex who wavered before saying the word. And an awkward "Yep" from me, popping the 'p'.

We just went to our own cars and left after.

I'm sure Alex hated me now, or worse, despised me.

I knew it.

Maybe liking Monty would make you lose some friends-- lose some potential friends, rather. We're not even friends.

Was that what Monty meant when he said I got no friends here, as his own experience? Because people didn't like him?

I received a text from Alex later that night, apologizing from how he reacted. Which relieved me a hundred fold. And then he added…

Alex: But… Monty? I just can't believe it! And I think he's as straight as a ruler.

Winston: It's all right. Still a plastic ruler can be bent.

Alex: Correction. Wooden ruler. It just breaks in half, and he'll just break you.

Okay, I couldn't argue with that.

Winston: I guess. But could you keep a promise not to tell anyone?

Alex: Ok

Winston: Thanks.

Alex: So tomorrow. Same time. Same place. And move on from Monty. There's far better guys than that asshole.

Hope it's that easy…

* * *

I'm glad that Alex didn't change towards me. He still smiled and spoke to me as if I didn't tell him something, which he found horrible.

After buying two movie tickets, we went to the snack bar to buy some popcorn.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." I heard Alex mutter under his breath, causing me to turn and follow his gaze, only for my world to stop, seeing Monty by the entrance.

I forgot the ability to move until Alex nudged me. I blinked and turned to him. He has this amused smile.

"Seriously, Winston, close your fucking mouth. Some fly would literally rent in there."

I blushed, and sneaked another glance at Monty, longer than necessary, then to the other jocks he’s with. They’re standing by the ticket booth. I shifted closer to Alex and poked his side. "Zach's among them."

"I know. I hate it." Alex then stepped forward as it's our turn. "Two medium-sized popcorn please. Plain... And two cokes?" He told the guy behind the counter and turned to me.

"Coke," I confirmed.

And he went on ordering. But half of my attention was on the noise from the jocks. God… I couldn't believe I would see Monty here.

Oh, fuck.

I desperately searched for any mirror or any surface where I could see my reflection and fixed my hair as I saw them making their way towards us!!!

"Hi, Alex." Zach said beside me. I, discreetly, give Alex another nudge.

Alex barely glanced. "Hi."

"Zachy, I'm gonna have these Hot Tamales," Monty announced, tapping his fingers on the glass display counters, pointing over the Hot Tamales candy bars wrapped in red.

He caught my gaze and it was too late to retrieve my eyes back. So, I threw a soft smile at him, hoping I wasn’t too obvious about my loud attraction.

"Hey, Winston. You and Alex on a date?" he asked instead, and I swore I felt blood rush through my cheeks.

"N-no," I shook my head at once.

"What about you and Zach, Monty? You guys on a date?" Alex cuts in.

"Yeah. Actually it's the four of us, Scott and Charlie."

Scott and Charlie smiled and waved, making Alex roll his eyes.

Zach cleared his throat and looked at Alex. I guessed that maybe he wanted to speak to him… alone, so being a good friend as I am, I stepped aside and took the chance to stand beside Monty. But I made sure to be discreet and just tapped my fingers against the counter, my eyes fixated at the menu posted in front.

Zach whispered something to Alex and I could only catch a few words like 'mad' and 'me', giving me enough hint of what he's saying.

I tensed feeling Monty moved closer to me. "Never thought I'd see you here."

I blushed and glanced at him. "Yeah. Small world."

Then he asked me if we’re going to watch the same movie. A horror one.

“I think we should just sit together, then." Monty suggested, glancing over to Zach and Alex. "Especially, it looks like Zach and Alex have something to talk about."

I chuckled, "Sure." Would love to sit next to you.

"Winston," I heard Alex called and saw that our popcorn was ready. I took one last glance at Monty and uttered a "See you later," before making my way back to Alex.

"What did Zach tell you?" I whispered as we made our way inside the cinema.

"He wants to talk. I said yes."

I just hummed.

"Dammit, Winston. I still like him and I hate it," Alex whined a moment later, making me smile.

We took the seat in the middle section, since it's not too far and not too close, and we could watch properly. Different trailers were being shown and I noticed that there were only a few cinema-goers or maybe only few wanted to see this movie.

Later, I spotted Monty and the group inside looking for a seat, so I gave a secret wave at them, specifically, at Monty. He called his friends after he saw me. Then they made their way to us. I hid a smile. My heart wouldn't shut up about it, and it literally wanted to jump off my chest when Monty took the seat next to me.

Calm down, Winston. I’m afraid he could hear it from here, screaming his name.

Zach tried and asked Alex if he could sit beside him, only receiving a nod from Alex. But I could practically read his mind regretting taking the middle seats, when we could just take the space on either right or left wing, and have all the spaces on our own.

"Are you following me?" I heard Alex mumble to Zach.

"No. I… Monty pointed us here and…maybe I did, by deciding to sit next to you," Zach admitted.

I decided and just diverted my attention to Monty and his Hot Tamales. "Does that taste good?"

"You wanna taste?" He gestured one to my direction. I swallowed, not expecting his sudden offer. Or maybe it's because his shoulder brushed against mine.

"N-no. Thanks."

"Come on," Monty began tearing one package open and handed it to me, "Have some."

I glanced at him and reluctantly reached, staring intently at his hand, tempting to hold it.

"No, don't taste that." One of the jocks interrupted. I stopped. "You will get addicted," he added, grinning.

"Oh, fuck off, Charlie," Monty waved. "Come on. Gimme your hand."

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" I tried to joke.

And I blushed seeing his boyish smile. "Oh no. It's a love potion," he winked.

Now that sent me. If I happen to be an ice, I've melted by now.

You don't need to give me any love potion, Monty. I wanted to say.

With a trembling hand, I held my palm out and he poured some on it. I uttered a thanks and put everything in my mouth, letting it melt in my tongue.

Charlie was right, it's kind of addicting.

"So?"

"I think I'm in love," I blurted, not breaking eye contact.

He looked away.

Oh no! Wrong move, Winston.

"I mean your friend's right. It's addicting."

He turned back to me and smiled. "I know right." He, then, handed me the Hot Tamales. “Here, have it.”

It would be a shame to take his offer down, so I just took it, our fingers brushing; enough to send electricity down my body. I wondered if he felt it too.

Wishful thinking, Winston.

"Why are you taking Monty's food? It might be contaminated," Alex whispered.

I shrugged him off and offered it to him. "You should try."

"No thanks."

I couldn't help but find Alex's distaste towards Monty, funny. Even though I shouldn't. But I'm afraid I might continue teasing him about it.

The movie finally started. And it's supposed to be scary as it's a horror film. But I'm not a bit scared. However, I'm tempted to hold Monty's hand that was on the armrest between us. But more tempted to pull the armrest up and just lean onto him. Maybe act scared?

As he took his hand away to get some popcorn - since I decided to share my popcorn with him and his friends, who I now know the names of: Charlie and Scott - I, sneakily, placed my hand on the armrest in hopes to be held by him.

Sadly, after he took a handful of popcorn he didn't put his hand back, but my hand stayed where it was. And I just forgot all my attempts on flirting.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

And I tensed not because the scene was scary but because his hand, finally, landed on mine. I hid a smile. And when I thought he would notice and take it away, he didn't, and just stayed there. Though, I wasn't sure if he was ever aware of our hands, or he's too focused on the movie to even notice.

My heart pounded so loud, I could barely hear the show, and could hardly concentrate on it, blocking everything around me but only his presence. I’m only aware of the warmth and the weight of his hand on mine, making my throat dry. I just dreamt of kissing him, or simply lean on him, and embrace more of his scent.

Ugh! Shut it, Winston. Try and hold yourself together.

But how, when he’s close like this? Needless to say, his hand on mine?

The movie just ended without me really understanding everything that happened.

Monty made some comments about it, asking me some of it as soon as we got out to the lobby. I just nodded along, agreeing with everything he said. But Charlie argued with him and they went on, leaving me completely clueless, even though we all watched it together. I should've tried and focused on the show, so I could have a proper conversation with him. But until now, the heat of his hand pricked on my skin.

"Winston," Alex called, and began to walk. I hesitated and followed him outside, not giving me the chance to say goodbye to Monty and his friends.

"Are you alright on your own?" he asked

I frowned, blinking once. "Y-yeah."

"I need to go with Zach," he glanced at Zach, who’s busy chatting or probably saying parting words with his buddies, and rolled his eyes back to me. "Said he wants to talk."

"Oh. Sure."

"Again, beware of Monty. Don't be fooled by his good looks."

"So, you admit he looks good."

Alex stammered but soon gave up, sighing. "Whatever Winston. Don't say, I didn't warn you."

"Okay. Have fun with Zach." I gave his shoulder a pat. "And thanks for inviting me. I really had fun," I smiled.

Alex had to roll his eyes again. "I think I know why."

#13rwedit #13rw #wonty #winston williams #montgomery de la cruz #alex standall #zach dempsey #13 reasons why #zalex #winston x monty #zach x alex #*writings #*wonty #*wonty:dirtylittlesecret #*excerpt #otp:igotthegoodsideofyou #*2021 #hope you guyss like!!!! ♥

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sweatersexual · 4 years

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In Gravity Falls, You Abduct the Aliens

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“This,” proclaimed Stan, “is not a house.” He waded through the piles of books, papers, and weird gadgets. “Seriously, who keeps a chalkboard in their living room? This is more like some kind of nerd lair.”

“I prefer to think of it as my own research lab that I have all-hours access to, but the term lair does lend a certain ambience,” said Ford.

Stan picked up a deformed skull that looked like it belonged to some kind of rodent. “This feels like the intro to a horror movie. With a plucky pair of teen heroes to terrorize and giant switches to a zappy doomsday device, you’d be all set.” He started playing with the skull’s jaw hinge.

Ford reclaimed the skull from him. “Well, it’s no doomsday device, but once I get the portal in the basement working, it’ll be plenty ‘zappy,’ as you say.”

Right, the portal. Ford had talked about it a lot on their drive up from Vegas, where the two of them had happened to run into each other and ended up reconciling. Ford seemed preoccupied by how he’d build the thing without his old flame, Fiddleford McGucket. Ford had invited him to join them in Gravity Falls as well, but when the two nerds realized they still had the hots for each other, Fiddleford had decided to do right by his wife and kid and stay in Palo Alto.

Stan, on the other hand, might be no mechanical engineer, but he was smart enough to realize there was more to this portal business than Ford was telling him.

“Man, you really have a one track mind when it comes to that portal, huh? You were even talking about it in your sleep while we were driving up here. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t’ve let my personal feelings get in the way. . . . ‘S only a temporary setback . . . won’t let all our hard work go to waste . . .’ Has somebody else been helping with the portal?”

Ford nervously spun the skull around in his hand. “Really, Stanley, it’s silly to read too much into sleep talk. I could’ve been talking about anything.”

“Come on, Sixer. If you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“Don’t you trust me, Stanley?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but . . . I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Listen, bro. I’ve been all over the world. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Ford sighed. “All right, I’ll try to explain. But first, let me go get something. A visual aid, if you will.”

A few minutes later, he returned, having replaced the deformed skull with a ceramic jar in his now gloved hands. “I was lucky to get my hands on this,” Ford told him. “The Northwests hoard just about all the artifacts they can find. Please avoid touching it, I don’t have any disposable five-fingered gloves to protect it from the oils on your hands.”

He presented the design on the jar to Stan, who was doing his best to show Ford he didn’t think he was crazy. The picture was of a man with an animal pelt on his head talking to a triangle with one eye. “Don’t tell me you got recruited by the Illuminati or something,” said Stan.

“No, I haven’t joined any secret societies,” Ford assured him. “This depicts a man named Modoc from three thousand years ago, seeking wisdom from an ancient being. From time to time, this being presents himself to truly singular minds, giving them divine insight and knowledge. And now this Muse has chosen me.”

“Okay,” said Stan. “So you’ve gotten into some kind of niche religion. It’s not that weird. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid, all right?”

Ford set the jar down on what little empty space his dining room table had left. “I haven’t joined a cult, Stan. I mean, it is a kind of spiritual experience, talking to my Muse, but there’s no organized religion involved. Ever since I summoned him, he manifests himself in my dreams. I never could’ve gotten this far in my investigations of Gravity Falls without him. And he’s helped me come up with the plans for this portal. I know it sounds strange, but there really is something otherworldly about him. And even if he is somehow all in my imagination, the inspiration has never steered me wrong.”

Stan’s bullshit-o-meter was going off, but not because he thought Ford was lying to him. Stan knew his twin’s tells, and Ford was definitely sincere about this muse thing. He couldn’t take Ford’s words at face value, but he could tell that Ford was really going out on a limb here, being honest about something that could get him called a quack at best or institutionalized at worst. So what if the guy was in his thirties and had an imaginary friend? Let him have his weird triangle dreams if it made him happy.

So Stan simply said, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, poindexter. But now that I’m here, you’re not just some weird hermit living in the woods. We’re a family. And families live in homes, not nerd lairs.”

Ford blinked, seeming surprised that Stan had changed the subject. But he went along with it anyway. “Right. Well, I have been meaning to organize everything for awhile now. My research keeps getting ahead of me. But I’ll probably be able to think better without so much clutter around.”

It didn’t take long for the twins to settle into a routine. Mornings were for cleaning and organization. After lunch, Stan would run errands while Ford struggled building his machine in the basement. Stan never imagined he’d get so excited about yard sale curtains and other furnishings, but after so many years never having a permanent place of his own, he relished the chance to decorate his own living space. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to finding and studying anomalies, then Stan tried to persuade Ford to go to bed rather than get back to work on the portal again. He was rarely successful.

“I owe it to myself to at least stumble along with the limited mechanical knowledge I have,” said Ford. “And maybe I’ll find someone or something else that can help.”

Stan did try to help, but it took so long for Ford to even explain what he was trying to do, and it was so boring listening to him speak nothing but jargon, and Ford just didn’t think the way Stanley did. Stan would probably have better luck just taking Ford’s plans and trying to decode them himself, either way it would take ages. Instead he simply figured out how to use a welding torch and applied it where Ford told him to.

But Stan’s favorite hours were spent running through the woods with his brother. He had never expected to see a gnome for himself, or play with magic size-altering crystals. About one week into his stay, Ford was over the moon to find a sleeping gremloblin. “I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to study one up close like this!”

Stan helped take samples and measurements (it really was remarkable how heavy a sleeper this gremloblin was), then helped himself to his favorite toffee peanuts while Ford finished scribbling in his journal. Rustling in the bushes behind him turned his head, and before he knew it a red and black creature was running away from him, and the toffee peanuts that had fallen on the ground were gone.

Ford snapped to attention, too. “Did you see what that was?” he asked Stan.

“Something with a duck bill.” Stan held up his snack. “It was trying to get these.”

Ford grimaced. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford was so dramatic about his distaste for Stan’s favorite snack.

“Can I try to lure it back out?” asked Ford, reaching for the toffee peanuts.

“Fine.”

Once they had gotten the creature to reemerge, Ford was back to scribbling in his journal. “So the plaidypus legends are real! Fascinating, fascinating. Is it just me, or do you think it smells like maple syrup and bacon?”

They were able to track the plaidypus back to its burrow on the marshy banks by the creek, where they found a clutch of flannel-patterned eggs. To improve upon their fantastic luck, they had arrived in time to watch the eggs hatch.

“Look at that! They only have the horizontal stripes now, the vertical stripes must come in as they grow - did you get the measurements on that last one, Stanley?”

“Yeah, but what do you think the deal is with that one?” Stan pointed to a blue egg that hadn’t yet hatched.

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure that’s a plaidypus egg.”

Ford turned out to be extremely correct when the blue egg did hatch and a slimy white monster popped out.

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Stan.

Ford replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” then gasped when the monster mutated into another baby plaidypus. “It’s a mimic!”

“Wait - which one is it?” asked Stan.

Ford cursed. “I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

The shapeshifter soon revealed itself when instead of latching on to the mother plaidypus’s lactating glands, it sank its teeth into another baby plaidypus. “No!” cried Stan as he picked up the imposter and pried its jaw open. “Bad shapeshifter thing!”

Ford tended the baby plaidypus’s wounds while Stan wrestled the shapeshifter into a containment jar, where it resumed its original pale, slimy form.

The study of this creature quickly set Ford into what Stan liked to call Full Nerd Mode. They hardly seemed to get through a conversation without Ford bringing up how “Shifty”, as he’d nicknamed the thing, changed his DNA when he changed forms, and how the implications from that would revolutionize the field of genetics, or asking for suggestions for safe forms to add to Shifty’s repertoire. Stan had to admit it was nice to see his brother obsess over something other than that portal for once, though if he had his way he could think of several ways for Shifty to aid with some under-the-table schemes.

“Stanley!” Ford had chided him when Stan had joked about the idea. “You have a job with me now. You don’t need to get into more trouble with the law.”

Yeah, that had been weird, getting an actual, legitimate paycheck for once, and with his brother’s signature no less. And it really was quite a lot considering that Stan didn’t need to pay rent or anything. But Stan couldn’t help that niggling doubt in the back of his mind questioning whether he had enough, whether Stan’s luck might still run dry and he’d better get as much as he could while the getting was good -

Stan had simply shrugged at his brother. “A side hustle never hurt anything,” he said. “And with Shifty’s help, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Ford had insisted. “We wear masks around Shifty for a reason, you know. It’s too dangerous to have him impersonate humans.”

And Stan could see the wisdom in that, but even so, he thought he did a good enough impression of his brother to recognize the second-rate performance Shifty would put on. The little monster couldn’t even talk!

That last assumption was proven wrong one afternoon while they were working on the portal and a high-pitched voice called out, “Beans!”

Ford’s head perked up from his schematics. “Did you say something?” he asked Stan, who shook his head.

Stan pointed to the dog kennel where they kept Shifty. “I think it was -”

“Beans!” the voice repeated, and it was definitely coming from the kennel.

“Remarkable,” said Ford, replacing his mask as he walked over to kneel in front of the kennel, where Shifty could see him. “Are you hungry, Shifty?”

“Beans,” he repeated, “for me.”

“I’ll go get him some,” said Stan. As he climbed the stairs up to the house, he heard Ford ask, “What else can you say, Shifty?”

When Stan returned with the beans Shifty liked so much, the little monster was repeating the brothers’ names. “Stan,” said the little voice. “Ford. Sixer poindexter knucklehead.”

Ford laughed. “Very good, Shifty. Those are some other names we call each other.”

“Who am I?” asked the shapeshifter. Stan felt his mouth drop open. That wasn’t the sort of question a parrot asked . . .

“Why, you’re Shifty,” said Ford without a trace of the trepidation Stan was feeling just then. “Stan has brought you those beans you wanted, Shifty.”

“Beans!”

When he was done eating, Shifty went back to asking questions. “Who am I? Who is Shifty?”

“Speaking in full sentences already,” said Ford. “This is really quite incredible.”

“He’s asking if he’s a person, Ford.”

“Stan, don’t anthropomorphize him. Even parrots can repeat phrases -”

“Parrots don’t ask existential questions like that! And besides, when have we ever said anything like that around him?”

Ford frowned. “I’ll need to collect more data -”

“This isn’t about data, Ford!” Stan gestured to the kennel. “That’s a kid! A weird monster kid, but still a kid. And we’re keeping him in a cage. Take it from someone who’s been to prison.” At that, Ford glanced up at him in surprise, and Stan looked away. “It does things to you.”

Ford stammered, “Stan, I - I didn’t know - you never said -”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” said Stan. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about him.”

Ford nodded. It was a moment before he answered, “Well, I will need to do more tests, and we do need to keep his abilities under control, but -” Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder in a calming motion - “but . . . your concerns have merit. Even a parrot would need a more stimulating environment than this. Will you help me whip something up for Shifty?”

Stan grinned. “Of course.”

With Stan’s help, Ford was able to construct a walled-off enclosure in the basement, which Shifty took to happily. When Ford was able to determine that the burrow Shifty made in the corner was a bed and not an escape route, he found he could breathe much easier.

Ford spent an increasing amount of time in the enclosure, testing Shifty’s language and cognitive skills. Soon he had an impressive amount of data confirming the shapeshifter’s intelligence. Shifty was always eager to participate in the “games,” as he referred to them, and responded very well to Ford’s praise. Ford had to admit he also enjoyed designing activities to keep Shifty occupied while Ford was working on other projects. These activities usually took the form of a puzzle or scavenger hunt, with chicken nuggets as prizes.

Shifty was also making great strides in learning to read. Ford had picked up a number of secondhand children’s books, but only ones that contained no illustrations of humans or dangerous animals for Shifty to take the forms of. This still left him with a wide variety of benign anthropomorphic animal characters like Frog and Toad, Frances, and Little Critter, many of whom became common forms for Shifty to take.

Eventually Ford felt comfortable enough for Shifty to have supervised playtime in the house and walks around the yard, but he and Stan always stayed masked and kept Shifty from seeing any people or dangerous animals.

On one such occasion, Stan was keeping an eye on Shifty upstairs while Ford was getting in some work on the portal. A loud thump from the floor above broke Ford’s focus, and a second had him scrambling up the steps, adjusting his mask as he went. The last thing he expected to find in the living room was two elephant seals.

“You didn’t tell me humans can shapeshift too!” said one of the elephant seals.

“What? Shifty? Are you saying Stan turned into this elephant seal right here?”

The other elephant seal groaned, a grumbling, braying sound.

“Elephant seal,” Shifty repeated. His high voice sounded comical coming from such a blubbery monster. “I like being an elephant seal. I’ve never been this big before.”

This was a disaster. Ford had never intended to have Shifty turn into such a volatile creature. “I’m afraid elephant seals are too big to be in the house, Shifty. Would you please turn into something smaller?”

“But how come Stan gets to be an elephant seal?” Shifty complained as he morphed into Arthur Read, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want him to be an elephant seal either,” said Ford. “Stan? Can you try to turn back? What were you messing with, you know a lot of the artifacts I keep are cursed.”

Stan made a series of grunting seal noises, none of which were in the least helpful.

Ford sighed aggravatedly. “What happened before he turned into an elephant seal, Shifty?”

“Well, we were gonna build a blanket fort, so we got some blankets out of a trunk, then I put one of the blankets on my head and pretended I was a ghost, and Stan did too, only he used the -”

“The sealskin?” asked Ford. “The heavy one with the decorative beading?”

“I think so. He turned into an elephant seal after he put it on.”

“But that one’s cursed!” said Ford. “This is not good. We need to turn him back soon, or he’ll stay an elephant seal forever.”

Stan let out a series of angry honks and grumbles which, if translated to English, would probably be the kind of language Ford would not want Shifty repeating.

As it was, Shifty shrank into a field mouse, his ears meekly tucked behind his head. “What can we do?” he asked. “How do we change him back?”

“I’ll need to consult my journal,” said Ford. “I think I found a curse breaking spell somewhere . . .”

Ford tried to flip through journal 2 quickly, but had to pause every time Shifty climbed up to his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.

“Cut it out, Shifty,” he said, setting Shifty back on the ground for the third time. “You’re slowing me down, and time is of the essence.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” asked Shifty.

“Come now, you know my journals are off limits,” said Ford. “Why don’t you make sure Stan doesn’t wreck the coffee table, hmm?”

A few minutes later, Ford found the page he was looking for. “Vis maleficiis expello. Fundere atque fugare in pacem. Purgare. Purgare. Purgare,” he chanted over Stan’s blubbery form.

Nothing happened.

Ford rechecked the journal entry. “Did I miss something? Let me try that again.”

The second attempt was no better than the first.

“This curse is clearly more malignant than I thought,” said Ford. “A simple spell is simply not up to the task. We’ll need to try something with a little more oomph to it.”

“Can I help?” asked Shifty.

“You can,” said Ford, “by waiting very patiently in your room while I take Stan to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“But I can do more!” Shifty protested. “I’m sure I can.”

“I’m sorry, Shifty, but I’m afraid the risk is too great.”

“But what if he gets stuck as an elephant seal forever and it’s all my fault?”

“Shifty . . .” Ford was surprised Shifty had developed such an attachment to Stan, and a sense of responsibility. Though as far as Ford was concerned, it was entirely unwarranted. “I don’t blame you for any of this. If Stan had been more careful -” Stan snorted at that - “or if I had clearly labeled which items were cursed,” Ford conceded, “that is to say, this was just an accident. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Shifty seemed to accept that, “But I still want to help. If you let me go with you, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you tell me, I promise.”

Ford shook his head. “Shifty, it really will be more of a help if I’m not having to watch out for you while we’re undoing the curse. Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with phenomena far more malignant than this. Why don’t I refill your octahedron puzzle, hmm?” It was one of Shifty’s favorites. “By the time you’re done with it, we’ll be back, and Stan will be in his right shape again.”

Once Ford had started a reluctant Shifty on his puzzle, and gathered a few materials he thought might be helpful for curse breaking, Ford and Stan started hiking over to the lake. Well, Ford was hiking. Stan was doing more of a hobble. Ideally they would drive over, but the El Diablo wasn’t built to cart around elephant seals, and Stan wasn’t too keen to try.

“We’re going to summon a siren I’ve had some dealings with,” Ford explained to Stan. At his questioning look, Ford added, “She’s safe, don’t worry. We may have had . . . some miscommunications, at first, but we’re on good terms. Doripea’s been an excellent source of information. I just hope she’s not too busy.”

To their good fortune, she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite gentleman caller,” Doripea greeted Ford. Her angular face and pointed ears add to the mischievousness of her grin, aided in its brightness by the afternoon sun reflecting off her turquoise scales. “Here for another interview date?”

“Ah, sort of?” said Ford.

Stan’s snorts sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“Oh, I figured out Ford was gay pretty quickly,” she told Stan, apparently in response to a comment Ford hadn’t been able to understand. “What I couldn’t figure out was why he kept trying to summon me with a suitor’s call.”

Ford groaned. “The summoning instructions in Eatherena Aquatica didn’t specify -” He was cut off by Stan’s repeated laughter. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get your input, Doripea. You see, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Aside from the shapeshifter stalking you?”

“What?” Ford whirled around, zeroing in on a deer which had frozen in place with a wide-eyed, panicked expression. “Shifty, I told you to stay in your room!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” cried the deer. “I just wanted to make sure Stan was okay! Please don’t hate me.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ford realized he wasn’t wearing a mask, meaning Shifty could now take his form if he wanted. Who knew how many people or dangerous animals Shifty had come across while tailing them to the lake? How could Ford possibly do damage control on this?

“You don’t have to panic,” said Shifty. “I said I’d be good if you let me come. I’ll do what you tell me, just please, I couldn’t just wait around doing nothing.”

“Amazing,” said Doripea. “You tamed it. I didn’t even know their kind could talk.”

Ford turned to her, curiosity suddenly overcoming his concern. “You’ve seen other shapeshifters before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a long time. It’s been, what, a century and a half? I saw it come out of its burrow to feed every now and then, but for the most part it kept to itself, I think.”

“Strange,” said Ford. “Shifty has tested well when it comes to social behaviors. It’s hard to determine such things with only one extant specimen, but I would’ve guessed his kind to be pack hunters.”

“As far as I know, only one of them has existed at a time. Can’t pack hunt without a pack,” said Doripea.

“Hmm.” Ford would have to examine the implications of this later, but for now, “Shifty, you can stay, as long as you keep close to me and stay in deer form unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, Dora, the reason I came to call on you. My brother here mishandled the selkie’s revenge and I was hoping you could help me change him back to human form.”

“How long has he been in seal form?”

“No more than two hours.”

“Oh good, you caught it early. Stan, you don’t feel any strong urges to swim in this lake, do you?”

To Stan’s grunts she replied, “Well, if you get any, resist them. This curse is designed to turn you into an elephant seal in mind as well as body. Swimming in the water will kick start that process. You’ll be drawn to the other elephant seals, and before you know it you’ll be on the wrong side of a territorial beachmaster. You’re lucky we’re so far inland, and that it isn’t mating season.”

“I tried a simple curse breaking spell, and when that didn’t work I thought we would need something more specialized.”

“You got that right, Stanford. Did you bring any material we could use as a taglock?”

Ford nodded and produced some hair he’d removed from Stan’s hairbrush. Doripea listed a few other ingredients, some of which Stanford had on him, and another she could harvest from the bottom of the lake. She sent them off to gather cedar leaves while she retrieved it.

“See, Shifty, you had nothing to worry about,” Ford reassured him as the three of them set off on their short trek through the forest. “With Doripea’s help, Stan will be back to normal in no time. You didn’t need to break out of your room.”

“I guess,” said Shifty. “It’s just that you and Stan never let me go anywhere. And maybe I didn’t have to come, but now that I’m here, it’s not so bad. Why do you think I’m so dangerous?”

Ford hesitated. How wise was it, to let Shifty know how powerful his shapeshifting abilities were? How easily they could be misused? How much of Shifty’s good behavior was due to his innocence?

Before he could start parsing out his answer, something caught his eye. “Look, there! A cedar grove. Shifty, why don’t you change into bird form and help me gather the leaves?”

Shifty was sufficiently distracted by leaf collecting for the time being. But as they made their way back to the lake with their spoils, something seemed off about Stan. He would stop moving periodically, his head cocked to the east. Then he would shake his head and catch up with Ford and Shifty.

The third time Stan stopped, Ford asked, “What is it, Stanley?” but Stan didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he took off in the eastern direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ford, running alongside him. “That’s not the way back to the lake!”

“He can’t help it!” said Shifty as he glided through the air above them, still in bird form. “Something is drawing him that way!”

“The river,” Ford realized. “It must be closer to this spot than the lake is! We can’t let him get in the water!”

“Can I turn into an elephant seal now?” asked Shifty, and he whooped gleefully when Ford gave his assent. With an extra burst of speed, Shifty flew several feet ahead of them, then dropped to the ground in elephant seal form. The two bull seals collided, and Stan looked even more frenzied as he tried to evade this new obstacle.

“Stan, don’t hurt him!” cried Ford. “You know Shifty, he doesn’t want to hurt you! Stan, look at me, you know you can’t get in the water! Snap out of it!”

Stan paid no attention to this. Clearly the call of the water was too strong. Was Stan hearing the water? Were there lower vibrations from the gallons of rushing water that elephant seals could pick up, but humans couldn’t? Ford could only think of one way to find out.

Grateful he’d thought to bring an infrasonic transducer, Ford quickly set it to the needed specifications. “Shifty, cover your ears!” cried Ford, demonstrating with his hands.

Shifty found a hole in the ground to duck his head into, just in time for Ford to press the button. Ford couldn’t tell by the sound if it worked or not, because it was far too low for human ears to detect. But Stan let out a cry and dropped to the ground, rubbing his head in the dirt.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Ford said to the writhing elephant seal. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“He’s mad at you,” said Shifty, pulling his head out of the ground. “But at least he’s not crazy anymore.”

“And what about you? Are you hurt?” Ford asked Shifty.

“I’m okay. It was kind of fun, wrestling like elephant seals.”

Ford sighed, relieved that Stan had snapped out of his frenzy, and that Shifty was unharmed. “You did very well, Shifty, thank you. I suppose it was good you came after all.”

Shifty turned into a dog, the way he always did when he was happy, and moved as if to lick Ford’s hand, but he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could change -”

“It’s all right, Shifty,” Ford assured him. “You got excited. It happens.”

For the rest of their hike, Ford kept his infrasonic transducer handy, just in case the sound of the water got to Stan again. Luckily he didn’t need it. Doripea helped him grind all their gathered ingredients into a thick paste, which they applied to Stan’s body. Then, and only then, was Stan allowed to get in the lake. Ford couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier to see Stan’s face as he watched his brother resurface from the lake. He helped Stan wring his wet clothes out and put them on, then hugged him, unconcerned about getting soaked himself.

That evening, the three of them all ate dinner together, something they’d never done before, since Stan and Ford had always worn masks around Shifty. Eating at the dinner table was new for Shifty, but he took to table manners well enough. Ford could tell it would take some doing to cure him of talking with his mouth full, though.

“Why didn’t you want me to see your mouths and your noses?” Shifty asked around a mouthful of beef.

“We were trying to protect our identities,” said Ford.

“What’s an identity?”

“Your identity is, well it’s who you are? How do I explain this . . .”

“Let me show you something,” said Stan. He ducked into his room briefly and came out with a shoebox. He pulled a few driver’s licenses out of it. “These are fake IDs. Basically they tell everyone that I’m someone I’m not. They’re lies. And they’re illegal.”

“What’s ‘illegal?’” asked Shifty.

“Only the fun stuff, kid.” With a look from Ford, Stan added, “Kidding, I’m kidding! Lots of illegal things can hurt people. Like killing, that’s bad. So the government will punish you for doing those things. If I stole someone else’s ID, I could steal their money, or do bad things under their name, so they would get in trouble and not me. It’s called identity fraud, and humans take it very seriously.”

“So that’s why we didn’t want you to see any human faces,” said Ford. “Because stealing someone’s identity like that is wrong. Do you understand?”

Shifty nodded. “You don’t want me to lie and pretend like I’m a human.”

“Exactly,” said Ford. “You’ve seen our faces now, so it can’t be helped. But if you want to meet other humans, we need you to promise you won’t take their forms, all right?”

“Okay, I promise,” said Shifty. “I won’t turn into you, or Stan, or any other humans. I won’t lie.”

Ford realized he had every confidence Shifty would keep his word.

The following week went much more smoothly, now that Stan and Ford didn’t have to wear masks so much and could take Shifty with them on field expeditions and into town. It started to feel like Shifty was a third, junior member of their team.

Shifty made it clear he thought of it differently, when one night he asked Ford, “Are you my dad?”

Surprised, Ford put down the Little Critter book he’d been reading to Shifty. He shifted uncomfortably at the beseeching look from the red eyes of Shifty’s true form, which he always reverted to when tired or sleeping. “Ah, not biologically, no. I assume you’re referring to my social role as your caregiver?”

“Yeah. You tuck me in at night, like Little Critter’s dad. And we play during the day, and you take care of me. We love each other.”

Ford was surprised at Shifty’s word choice. He’d always found Shifty interesting, at least, and Ford couldn’t deny he’d become quite invested in Shifty’s welfare, but love? How did you quantify such a thing? How did Shifty even know what that meant?

“Isn’t that how human families work?” asked Shifty.

“I - yes, I suppose. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise. I never expected to make a human family of my own. I’m still just trying to be a better brother to Stanley.” Ford adjusted the cushion he sat on, next to the opening of the den Shifty preferred to sleep in, rather than a more traditional bed. “But you, Shifty, you’re not human. Why would you want a human family?”

“I dunno. I thought it would make me happy. We don’t have to be family if you don’t want to.”

Shifty curled around himself, rolling deeper into his den, and Ford felt his heart sink. “I do want you to be happy,” he told Shifty. And that was when he knew Shifty had become more than an experiment to him. He had more than a scientific interest in helping this creature learn and grow. He had felt that way for a long time. “You can call me Dad if you want.”

“Really?” Shifty scrambled out of his den, morphing into a dog as he went. His paws rested on Ford’s shoulders, and he nuzzled his soft, furry head into Ford’s neck. Ford reflexively hugged him back, stroking his pelt. “Thanks, Dad.”

The enormity of it hit him then. He was a father now. Another being depended on him, loved him. He was Shifty’s whole world. And Shifty was his.

Ford hugged him tighter. “I love you, Son,” he said.

“I love you, too. Dad.” said Shifty.

When Shifty called him Dad the next morning at breakfast, Stan raised his eyebrows. “Shifty’s your kid, now?” he asked Ford.

“Last night, I asked if I could call him Dad, and he said yes,” Shifty informed him.

“Really?”

Ford tugged at his collar. “Well, he is a sapient child whom I have grown to care and take responsibility for, so. It is appropriate.”

“Huh. Well, Shifty, if Ford’s your dad, that makes me your fun uncle!” He clapped Shifty on the back. “It’s Uncle Stan from now on, all right, kid?”

Shifty smiled back with Little Critter’s buck-toothed grin. “Okay, Uncle Stan.”

“Mazeltov, Sixer!” said Bill. He summoned some lavender balloons that read, ‘It’s a shapeshifter!’

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful you’re able to make time for me now you’re a working parent and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know between Shifty and not having the mechanical help I need -”

Bill waved off his excuses. “I told you, a solution for that is in the works. I just don’t want you getting lost in the weeds with individual specimens while your Grand Unified Theory goes unpublished!”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try harder.”

“And anyway, once you get the portal up and running, you’ll be able to find the dimension Shifty comes from. Think of how much you could learn about his species then! Things you should probably know if you’re trying to raise one of them.”

Ford hung his head. “You’re right. When it comes to figuring out Shifty, and what he needs . . . I’m stumbling around in the dark. He’d probably be happier if we made contact with some of his own kind . . .”

“Yeah, well, for now he’s stuck with you, isn’t he? With any luck, he won’t end up resenting you the way you do your dad, right?”

“Of course not! I would never treat him the way our dad treated us.” Despite his indignation, Ford was forcefully reminded of the inhumane way he’d treated Shifty all of a few weeks before, and was ashamed.

Bill clapped a reassuring hand on his back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, Sixer.”

The deep midnight blue of the mindscape abruptly faded away, and another voice called out to Ford.

“Get out of his head!”

“Shhh, Shifty, let him sleep, he never takes a minute to rest like this . . .”

Ford opened his eyes and found Shifty in the form of a badger, scrambling to get out of Stan’s grasp. “Dad!” he said. “Did you tell the monster to go away?”

“He thinks something was attacking your brain while you were asleep,” Stan explained.

Ford shook himself awake, annoyed at himself for messing up his schedule like this. He’d only meant to sit on the couch for a minute or two . . . “Come here, Shifty,” he said, and extended his arms to Stan, who handed Shifty over.

Ford stroked his pelt and assured him, “I’m fine. Nobody was trying to hurt me. I was simply speaking with my Muse.” Really, it was quite extraordinary that Shifty seemed able to sense Bill’s presence. “Sometimes he enters my dreams and helps with my research. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Shifty looked unconvinced. “He made you feel bad. Bad shame wrong. He’s yucky.”

Ford gave an explanation that was close enough to the truth. “We were just talking about some of the obstacles setting back my project. It’s not his fault. How could you tell what I was feeling when I was asleep, anyway?”

Shifty looked confused. “You . . . smelled? No, not a smell. I just felt the, you know, the little waves, they tell you what the feelings are. I can’t feel them when I’m asleep, but I was awake. You were asleep.”

“You have a psychic sense for other people’s emotions?” asked Ford. Of course he did. Looking back, it was so obvious. Shifty had always been so confident when talking about how people felt. Ford really should have noticed sooner. “And that’s how you could sense my Muse’s presence?”

“Yes? Is that not something humans can do?”

Ford shook his head. “We can read facial expressions and body language, but otherwise, the only way we can tell how someone is feeling is if they tell us.”

“Is that why you didn’t trust me at first? Because you couldn’t tell I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“Well, yes,” Ford admitted. “I didn’t realize you were a sapient being and I didn’t know what your abilities were, or how you wanted to use them. So I kept you locked up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to be good.”

“Oh, Shifty . . .” Ford hugged him closer. “You are good. You’re a wonderful kid. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

Shifty must have sensed how guilty Ford felt, because he said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I know you love me now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be mistreated,” Stan cut in. “You don’t have to take care of Ford’s feelings. He’s a grown up. We should take care of yours.”

“You’re right, Stan,” Ford agreed. “I know we’re at a disadvantage, Shifty, when it comes to supporting you emotionally. I’m bad at dealing with feelings, even by human standards. But I’ll do my best for you. Will you tell me your feelings so I can help you?”

“Okay,” said Shifty. “I wish you had always been my dad. I wish you had never been mean.”

“Me too,” said Ford.

“I’m glad you said sorry, though. I still love you, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Ford assured him.

“And I still don’t like your muse. He’s mean, and he’s sneaky.”

“I’m not sure I like him either,” Stan concurred. “When you first told me about him, I didn’t really take it seriously. I’m sorry, it was just really weird. But if Shifty can sense him, and he’s actually real, well, all that stuff you said, about how he only picks one brilliant mind a century and all that? If I were trying to con you, that’s exactly the angle I’d go for.”

“But he’s not a con,” Ford said reflexively. “I don’t think I did a good job of explaining him. If you met him in person, you’d see, Bill is amazing.”

“No no no no no,” said Shifty. “I don’t want him in my head! Promise me you won’t let him in my head.”

“Okay, I promise,” said Ford, alarmed by how much this agitated Shifty. “He won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt any of us. Ever.”

Shifty was still wary, but he accepted Ford’s comfort. Ford could tell Stan had more to say on the subject, though, and he did, after Ford had put Shifty to bed.

“Ford, I’m just saying, your mind is a powerful thing. Letting some supernatural creature inside it is no small potatoes. Whatever you’re getting out of this arrangement you got, make sure he’s not short changing you.”

“Of course he’s not! Look, Stan, if you want to see the truth for yourself, there’s a simple spell you can use to follow him into my mind, next time he’s there. You’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Stan said tentatively. “I might do that. But just ask yourself this, Ford, what is this Bill guy getting out of this? Why does he want you to build the portal so badly?”

“Well that’s simple, he . . .” Ford realized he’d never asked Bill that question before, and he’d never volunteered the information himself. But clearly that just meant his motives were pure, right? “He’s a being of the mind, Stan. Scientific discovery is its own reward.”

“Are you serious?” asked Stan. “You’ve never questioned anything he’s said, have you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Anger flared in Ford, quick and intense. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! This is just like you, to barge into things you don’t understand -”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m just looking out for you, like I’ve been doing since day one.”

“I can think of at least one glaring exception.”

“Seriously, Stanford? Are you going to hold that one mistake over me for the rest of my life?”

“It just shows you have a history of ruining my work right when it’s about to pay off. You never cared about the things that are important to me, you’re only interested in chasing your cheap thrills.”

“I never cared about what was important to you? I thought I was important to you! You think I went to prison in three different countries just for the fun of it? I did what I had to, just to survive. Which I’ve had to do for over ten years, while you never bothered to stick your nose out of a book long enough to check on your brother.”

Ford’s seething response melted away at the thought of Stanley shivering, Stanley hungry, Stanley alone. “Stanley, I - I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you. These past weeks with you have meant the world to me. You’re right. I should’ve tried to reconnect with you sooner, and - and I shouldn’t still be blaming you for something you did in high school.”

Stan’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your perpetual motion machine. I really didn’t mean to break it, and I should’ve owned up to what I did and told you instead of trying to fix it myself. I may not understand everything about this portal, but I really do want to help you. It’s just that this Bill guy seems fishy to me.”

“And I told you, you have a chance to talk to him yourself. Will you at least try to keep an open mind about him until then?”

“I will, if you try to keep your mind open to the idea that he may not be what he seems.”

“I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

“Now will you please get some sleep? Between the kid and the portal you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.” Ford tried to shrug it off. “I think if I change the alignment on the oscillator I might get a better charge on the clux fapacitor -”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take that long to test out. Anyway, I got a nap in earlier, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, a ‘nap.’ Looked more like you passed out from sheer exhaustion. You definitely need more sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’ve published my Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.” And with that, Ford escaped to the basement before Stan could respond.

Ford didn’t want to admit it, but this whole business unsettled him. Stan was the one person he trusted best in all the world, but Bill was his Muse, the one who not only saw what Ford could be, but gave him the tools to achieve it. Now the two seemed to be setting themselves against each other. Ford didn’t want to think of what the outcome would be, should he be forced to choose between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

Read the next work in this series

#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #found family #fanfic #7500 words #do not tag as stancest

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joy1579 · 4 years

Text

the RFA reacting to MC listening to creepy pasta

I’ll admit its been a while since i listened to any new creepypasta so these are pretty old ones but i figured since they arent mine and i dont really name them in most cases i should like them jumin - russian sleep experiment yoosung - rapid blink (a my little pony grim dark fanfiction) saeyoung - the man who ate newborns zen - mr. widemouth and dear abbey jaehee - to be honest i cant remember this ones title it was really good and i cant find it anymore so if anyone knows it send it my way cuz i only heard it once at a live reading at sanjapan I’d love to hear it again though

Jumin

· You were listening while knitting in his home office

· He was working at his desk and paying no attention to the voice playing from your phone

· Absently he comments that the piano background music was pleasant

· You smile because of course that’s the part he notices.

· As the story goes on you two sit in amicable silence listening to the story

· Then a sickening crunch rings through the air and you see Jumin grimace out of the corner of your eye

· “darling? Was that your story?”

· “huh? Oh yes it was.”

· “that sounded sickening” and indeed he was a little pale though you may have missed it if you didn’t know him so well

· You tried to stifle your laugh “yeah I think it was supposed to be the character’s arm being crushed.”

· “what?”

· “you weren’t listening to the story were you?”

· “I listened to the music”

· “here you should listen to this next one it’s my favorite.” You said moving to sit in his lap as you began the next video

· “its about this scientific experiment, where they locked people up and didn’t let them sleep. Eventually they end up going crazy. They mutilate and cannibalize themselves, super creepy.” You explained excitedly

· He looked at you concerned for a moment before speaking

· “is this what you were discussing with my new assistant yesterday before we went to lunch”

· “yes! Actually she’s even more into it than I am she gave me some good suggestions.”

Yoosung

· “Puppy? I’m gonna run to the convenience store real quick okay?”

· He leaned back in his computer chair to look at you upside down as you stood behind him

· “okay MC! oh if they have honey”

· “I know yoosungie I’ll grab you some if they have them!” you said leaning over him to kiss his nose “love you. I’ll be back soon.”

· You grabbed your purse and headed out the door

· A few minutes after you had left Yoosung noticed you had left you phone

· Picking it up he noticed the quiet words that came from the headphones

· Curious he put on the headphones and began to listen

· It was a fanfiction. He recognized the characters from a show you watched every Saturday.

· A cute reboot of a cartoon from your childhood hi figured the story would follow the same plotlines of friendship and togetherness

· But as he listened it took a darker turn

· The main character was trapped, stuck with no resources aside from the occasional clone of herself that spawned into whatever hellscape she was trapped in

· Yoosung was horrified listening to the story describe how the broken and desperate character would slaughter her clone to build necessities in a hopeless search for escape.

· By the time you got back he was in tears hugging your plush version of the character

· You rushed to comfort him and saw what he had listened to

· “oh puppy I’m so sorry I didn’t think you’d listen to my grimdark fiction!

· “why do YOU listen to it?!? I thought you liked that show because it was cute!”

· “I do! It’s so cute. But I like the horror stories to. The contrast is, it’s fun.” You explained gently combing your fingers through his hair

· “it actually makes me think of you puppy” you say absently as you feel him starting to calm down

· “what?!?!?!” he cried shooting up from your arms in an instant

· “well your so cute and I love that your cute, but you can also be tough like when you went to the hacker’s headquarters for me. Your cute and manly, like that show is cute and can be scary. Your everything I love.” You explained

Saeyoung

- He knew you liked creepy pasta he had seen your YouTube history

- What he didn’t know was that you had it downloaded on your phone to listen to as you fell asleep

- So when the silence of Rikas apartment is broken by the squeal of car breaks and shattering glass he was justifiably terrified

- He was busting through the bedroom door to check on you

- But all he saw was you halfway off the bed mid lunge for your phone

- he watched you finish your tumble to the floor fumbling with your phone to stop the story that was playing

- You looked embarrassed and a little sleep addled

- “Sorry I thought I took that one out of my playlist”

- He stood stock still for a moment

- “I didn’t mean to scare you sorry! It should have been deleted its way to loud I think I did something wrong when I downloaded it.”

- “what? MC was that your phone?” he asked confused

- “yeah its um it’s the, the story where the guy tries to kidnap the new born but gets in a car crash, hence you know the um screech crash clang. Sorry”

- His back hit the wall and he slid to the floor wearily

- “MC you’re going to be the death of me”

- “um I, I got it off my playlist this time.” You offer “I think.” You add under your breath

- He held out his hand to you and you sheepishly placed you phone in his hands quickly he tapped away before handing your phone back to you

- “thanks” you say softly crawling to sit beside him on the floor

- “so living with a bomb, and being hunted by a hacker isn’t spooky enough for you? You’ve gotta listen to scary stories too?” he asked tiredly

- “well the bomb and the hacker, they aren’t scary if you’re here. I mean even if the worst happens I think it would be okay cuz I got to meet you”

- He groaned and let his head fall to his knees

- “you really are going to kill me aren’t you” he said as you saw his ears turn pink

Zen

- Zen thought You were adorable literally just the cutest thing possible

- That’s why he was shocked when one of his cast member who was a big horror fan mentioned a scary internet story and you immediately jumped into the conversation

- “mr. creepypasta? Or creepypasta jr. ?” you asked

- “Oh mr. creepypasta! I didn’t think you’d listen to creepypasta which ones your favorite?” the cast member asked

- “nothing beats “MR.Widemouth” for me gotta love a monster that tries to make you do his dirty work for him”

- “oh definitely but I like “dear Abby” myself that one is chilling

- You spent the rest of the shoot chatting with him quietly at the far side of the studio so you two didn’t disturb the shooting

- Zen had to admit it was getting to him

- You were HIS girlfriend why didn’t he know about this interest of yours.

- And why were you so happily chatting with another guy about it

- He confronts you on the way home

- “I knew you weren’t into it Zenny it’s not a big deal”

- “you talked to him all day MC. you know I’d listen to you right? Even if it’s not my thing why didn’t you tell me?”

- “here how about we do a spa night tonight and I’ll show you my favorite so you don’t feel left out next time”

- He chuckled and kissed your temple

- “well I can’t turn down my princess can I”

- So that night you ran a bath for the both of you

- You leaned against his chest and each did a facemask as you queued up the playlist on your phone

- You could feel him tense at every sound effect and could hear him grimace at the stories more gruesome details

- You chuckled a bit before saying “zenny you don’t have to listen to them you know”

- “just, why are they all so dark?”

- “because that’s the point their supposed to be spooky”

- He tried he really did. He listened until you two where drying off after the relaxing soak

- He sighed dejectedly “you were right jagi it really isn’t my thing” he said as he toweled your hair dry

- “but you tried and that means so much to me babe” you said leaning up to steal a kiss from him

Jaehee

- She knew about them but she wasn’t a fan of horror

- So she had never paid any attention to those videos as she browsed the internet

- And she certainly didn’t expect to walk into the café one morning before opening to you pulling a cake out of the oven and listening to a deep voice graphically describing a head wound

- “MC what on earth are you listening to?”

- “it’s a creepypasta!” you chirped brightly

- “those scary stories from youtube” she questioned further as she made her way around the counter

- “yeah in this one this guys tries to cure his depression but cutting out a chunk of his own brain”

- “that’s awfull” she exclaimed

- “well yeah. It doesn’t end to well for him either”

- “of course not!” She said shaking her head as she tied her apron on to help you prepare to open the café.

- The day went on fairly normally but as you closed she turned to you

- “that story, it’s not true.”

- You looked at her a little confused before nodding “of course not”

- “no one could survive that” she muttered to herself

- “no one” you agreed growing more puzzled by the second

- “how could people even come up with something so awful” she asked you setting a broom to the side

- “I don’t know? Jaehee are you okay?” you ask looking her in the eyes

- “I, yes MC I’m fine. The details in that story simply shook me up I suppose”

- You were careful from then on about listening to your stories only with headphones

- Jaehee wasn’t weak by any stretch of the imagination, but if something made her uncomfortable than you weren’t going to push it.

- You loved her after all

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years

Text

here’s a short, relatively fluffy fic about what happens when jason todd and clint barton, a pair of career criminals and expert thieves, steal the winter soldier.

and to the anon who asked for a fluffy fic featuring hot chocolate, blankets, and warm feels shared by clint, jason, and tony....um. i’m really sorry. i’ve had a lot of cold medication. my reading comprehension is compromised.

Popular opinion would no doubt suggest that stealing the Winter Soldier is the ballsiest heist Jason and Clint have ever pulled. Jason’s not sure he’d rank it that high. After all, their Batcave stunt was pretty egregiously ill-advised, and then there was the time they stole fifty grand worth of Kryptonite with the use of a clipboard and some fake EPA inspector badges they printed out at a public library.

But keeping the Winter Soldier. Yeah. Sure. That’s pretty ballsy.

No real other options, though. At least none that either of them could live with.

Jason knows they’re doomed the moment he hears the quiet horror in Clint’s voice, the way his words catch, just a little, when he says, “Um. Jay? I think it’s a person.”

Because stealing a serial killer robot from HYDRA and then handing it off to the League of Assassins for “decommissioning” is one thing, but turning over a living, breathing human being is another. He and Clint walk all kinds of fuzzy ethical lines. God knows even Selina gets shrill about their activities sometimes. But they don’t deal in people. Not ever.

“Okay,” Jason says, nudging Clint gently out of the way. “Go steal us something fast. I’ll handle this.”

Because, between the two of them, Clint’s got the softer heart. He doesn’t get fussy about what happens in an honest fight, but he can get downright melancholy about the necessities of after-battle cleanup, and Jason’s happy to spare him from it, when he can.

So Clint goes to get them a car that’ll get them out of the country before Ra’s realizes he’s been screwed around, and Jason goes to hover over the Winter Soldier, freshly defrosted, still barely twitching his way back to consciousness.

And Jason’s not an asshole. Whatever this guy’s done, he hasn’t done it to Jason or anyone who belongs to him, so none of this is personal. It’s gonna be fast and easy, just a bullet between the eyebrows, but the Winter Soldier blinks his pretty eyes open, looks up the barrel of the gun, and stares right into Jason’s face.

“я готов отвечать,” he says.

Ready to comply, Jason thinks.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason says.

And so, after that, Jason doesn’t have the heart to kill him, either.

There’s a lot of yelling in the days that follow. From all conceivable sides. Ra’s al Ghul threatens every kind of unpleasant thing, and HYDRA hounds after them like they’re supposed to be scared of a group of megalomaniacal old cult assholes too creepy to get invited to the local Free Masons, and Selina calls Jason every day for a week to shriek at him about how she didn’t save him from the streets of Gotham so he could get murdered for stealing the world’s most brutal assassin.

“Selina, c’mon,” Jason says, muttering into the phone. Winter’s asleep in the backseat, shackled up like Houdini before a trick, and they’ve had a couple exciting moments, but he’s mostly just been quiet and kinda eerily empty-eyed. He keeps asking Jason about the mission. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s a little rough around the edges, sure. But I found Clint in a dumpster.”

“Hey,” Clint says, whisper-hissing at him from the passenger seat.

“And he looked great,” Jason tacks on quickly, with a wink he hopes will smooth things over. “Amazing. That dumpster didn’t know how lucky it had it.”

“You need to be careful,” Selina says. She put down two HYDRA goons this morning. They barged in on her in her pajamas, and she’s probably more pissed about getting caught with bed hair than having to dump two bodies before noon.

Although, she never was much of a morning person.

“We’re being careful,” Clint promises, leaning over to talk into the phone. “We couldn’t leave him, Selina. You didn’t see him. It was--- it was really bad.”

Selina’s quiet for a moment. “He’s an international criminal,” she says. And then, probably after she remembers that every single person in this conversation has their own personal INTERPOL file, she adds: “He’s an assassin.”

“I think he’s nice,” Clint says, stubborn and loyal. As always.

He only thinks that because Winter keeps trying to palm him extra food. Jason has to make a big show out of giving Clint food at the same time as he unlocks Winter for meals, or Winter will only eat half his food and then stash the rest so he can sneak it to Clint later.

Jason does not consider this behavior an endorsement of HYDRA’s caretaking expertise.

“He’d better be worth all the trouble,” Selina says. But she doesn’t mean it. Selina’s a thief and a liar and sometimes a killer, but she’s just like Clint, really. Softhearted for lost causes, both of them.

Jason can’t complain. It’s that shared weakness that brought both of them to him.

“Well,” Jason says, “if he’s not, we’ll just drop him with whatever country’s offering the biggest bounty.”

“That’s my boy,” Selina says. “But remember to start a bidding war first.”

The thing about Winter is that he’s actually James Buchannan Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He’s a Goddamn war hero, and HYDRA took him, tortured him, blended his brain, and made him kill people.

Jason grew up in Gotham, spent his formative years playing sidekick to Catwoman, so he’s seen some fucked-up situations. But it makes him sick, watching Winter work it out. Catching those sporadic flashes of Bucky Barnes, the miserable, devastated way he closes his eyes when the memories come, like it was better, somehow, when all he knew how to say was Yes, No, and Ready to comply.

And Clint was right. He is nice. He’s painfully sweet, really, in the way he frets over Clint until he figures out that Jason doesn’t actually run things, doesn’t own Clint, and sure as hell would never hurt him. And then he frets over both of them. Stoic and steely-eyed and stone-jawed, fretting like a Goddamn mother hen.

HYDRA wants him back, and Ra’s wants him dead, and Jason and Clint, as insistently and dramatically as they can, invite both of them to fuck right off.

They don’t really mean to keep him. Not forever. Just until people stop trying to murder him. Just until they can stash him in some nice town, where no one knows who he is, where he can go back to being Bucky Barnes full time and forget all about everything HYDRA made him into.

But people don’t stop. The whole world keeps coming after them. And Bucky, for his part, doesn’t want to leave them.

Six months in, Clint catches a bullet, and Bucky gets stolen, and Jason has to choose to leave Clint so he can go grab Bucky before they wipe him clean out of his own head. And Clint’s going to be fine, knows how to look after himself, didn’t get shot anywhere vital. But Jason crashes into that transport van with Clint’s blood on his hands, and it makes him crazy, a little. It makes him a nightmare.

So, afterwards, Selina brokers a meeting with Batman, and Jason goes, because Batman’s owed him a favor ever since that years-long game of tag he used to play with Nightwing resulted in him accidentally stumbling into a situation where he saved Nightwing’s life.

He doesn’t bring Clint, and he doesn’t bring Bucky, because he figures Batman’s not going to kill him, but he might throw him in prison. If he does, Selina will bust him out on principle, and she’d almost certainly do the same for Clint, but Bucky’s so new and so much trouble that she might just leave him where he’s less likely to get Jason killed.

“Look, Bats,” Jason says, when they’re finally standing uncomfortably on the same rooftop. “We don’t like each other. You’re the delusional iron fist of the bourgeoisie acting out your punishment kink on the unsuspecting poor, and I’m just a guy trying to make a living. But we gotta work together on this, okay? Or I’m gonna leak the porn I found on the Batcave computers.”

Batman takes a long breath in through his nose. He seems to visibly weigh out which issue to raise first. “You planted those files on the Batcave computers.”

And he hadn’t, actually. Clint did that. He’d spent the whole night before the job downloading Superman-themed porn, and he’d filled Jason’s laptop with so much malware that Jason eventually just burned the thing in a purifying pyre. But Jason had to admit that running those videos on every screen in the Batcave had resulted in a truly awe-inspiring, immersive experience.

“We were just trying to be supportive,” Jason says. “Anyway. Look. You owe me a favor.”

There’s a lot of back-and-forth after that, consisting mainly of Batman holding forth about how saving a life is its own reward and he doesn’t owe Jason a favor and Jason really needs to reconsider his life choices while he still has the opportunity to do so. But he seems to listen when Jason tells him what he knows about HYDRA, about how deep its infiltration of SHIELD and various world governments goes. He’s quiet when Jason talks about Bucky. And, when Jason hands over all their intel, he takes the flash drive readily enough.

“If this is more porn,” he says, holding up the flash drive, “I’m throwing all of you in Blackgate.”

“Jesus, Bats,” Jason says, not even trying to bite back a laugh. “If it had that much of an impact on you, you should do some solitary self-reflection about it. Maybe some of those documentaries we left for you could help.”

Jason leaves Gotham and drives through the morning and afternoon and early evening, doubling and then tripling back on his route, making sure he’s not being followed. When he finally makes it to the safehouse, he’s shivery cold and dead tired. Bucky goes over his bike, checking for any trackers Jason might have missed, and Clint bullies him right into the shower.

Afterwards, Jason faceplants on the couch, and Clint hauls him up a few minutes later so he can press a mug of hot chocolate into his hands. “Drink this,” he says.

“Coffee,” Jason groans.

“No,” Clint says, as he settles next to him. “You’ve gotta sleep, you asshole. You’ve been up for three days straight.”

“Whiskey,” Jason tries, a little less plaintive and a little more mutinous.

Clint sighs. “I already put bourbon in there.”

Jason hums, appeased, and leans over to press a smacking kiss to Clint’s cheek. “You’re a fucking saint,” he says.

“Oh, a fucking saint,” Clint mutters, rolling his eyes. There’s a pleased blush settling along the lines of his cheekbones. “Didn’t know they made those.”

“The patron saint of fucking,” Jason declares, sipping at his hot chocolate. “Endowed with the power of---”

“This should be good,” Bucky mumbles, from across the room.

“Oh shit,” Jason says, and nearly sloshes the hot chocolate on himself. He tries not to talk about sex too much in front of Bucky. He tries not to think about sex too much in front of Bucky. He’s helplessly in love with Clint, and has been since he hauled him out of that dumpster in Gotham, but, as Winter fades and Bucky manifests more confidently in this new century, there’s been a growing tension between the three of them that Jason, frankly, has no idea what to do with.

“No, go on,” Bucky says, like this is the conversation he wants to have. Like he’s not the slightest bit curious about the mission Jason just ran, the one that’s supposed to clear his name, open a path that allows them to work with SHIELD to burn HYDRA to the ground. “He’s the patron saint of what, again?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, blinking at him with his innocent face in place. “What were you saying?”

Jason rolls his eyes and takes a pointed drink of his hot chocolate. It’s nice, he decides. That everyone’s comfortable enough to shit-talk him these days. Real refreshing. A Goddamn triumph of the resiliency of the human spirit.

“It went alright?” Bucky says, because he’s almost always the merciful one. Maybe he enjoys the novelty of it.

When he wanders over, he snags a blanket off the nearby chair, and he curls up on the end of the couch beside Clint, tossing the blanket over the three of them. He holds his hands out toward Jason, and Jason, without even thinking, passes his hot chocolate over. Bucky’s fingers brush Jason’s, and linger.

Jason isn’t making this shit up. He knows he isn’t.

First of all, he spends half his life watching people hit on Clint. He knows the signs.

Second of all, people get hot chocolate on their lips every day, but nobody licks it off like that unless they’re trying to plant ideas in people’s heads about what else those lips and tongue could do.

“Um,” Jason says, when he realizes they’re both staring at him. “Yeah. I mean. He didn’t throw me off a roof or put me in prison, so. I think he’s gonna help.”

Clint and Bucky exchange a look and then shrug. By their standards, that’s the start of a highly promising business relationship.

“Well,” Clint says, as he sprawls out, tucked in tight against Jason’s side, with a casual ankle hooked around one of Bucky’s. “You guys wanna watch Dog Cops?”

Jason figures, between the bourbon, and the blanket, and the warm weight of Clint’s body, he’s gonna be asleep in fifteen minutes. But he’d give Clint anything he asked for. “Sure,” he says, eyes already drifting closed. “Sounds great.”

Two days later, they meet with a reserved, competent, endlessly unamused man named Phil Coulson. He doesn’t smile or laugh or seem to like them even a little bit. But he doesn’t try to kill them, either.

Four years later, they’re Strike Team Delta, and they’ve acquired Natasha Romanoff and a hell of a reputation. Coulson smiles more and yells more, and still hasn’t tried to kill them. Not once. Not even after Budapest.

HYDRA is ashes, and Bucky is theirs.

So what the hell. Maybe stealing the Winter Soldier wasn’t their ballsiest heist. But it was definitely their best.

#writing #fic

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sergeanttpoliteness · 5 years

Text

➹one love confession, please➹(peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who’s become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn’t something new; you can’t count with both of your hands the times you’ve heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn’t experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART I)

word count: 12.3k (oof)

warnings: cursing, alcohol, and mentions of sex (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: it’s five am where i live and this is already awfully long so i’m gonna make it as brief as i can. first, i’m sorry it took eight months, but at last, it’s here, and i’m so happy and proud of it ! thank you a million times for the amazing support this story got, seriously. second, this was also for @connorshero 1.6k followers writing challenge, and i can’t express enough how ashamed i am that it took so long lmao, i’m a clown. it’s here, tho, and i hope i hear your thoughts and that y’all enjoy it (:

taglist: @fanbase-jumper

Never in a million years would you have deemed possible a human could undergo through such a crushing feeling of dread, yet, sadly, you found yourself to be wrong, for there you were, a pressure smothering your lungs and an iciness washing over you. You never would have imagined yourself hiding in the bathroom from a certain Peter B. Parker, either; but then again, contrary to your previous thinking, there you sat on the closed toilet seat, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily as a frostbite in your heart eclipsed any other thoughts in your head.

For the last few days, you had tried to repress a memory which physically pained you as you worked at the bar, almost as if it were nothing more than a bizarre dream you had one night, or a movie you watched as a little kid and couldn’t figure out as a grown-up whether it was real or not. It didn’t take long before in your restless little brain, that date did not exist in the calendar. So… strange, how all of sudden you couldn't remember anything from that night. Yeah, nothing happened. There’s no reason or possible explanation as to why you nearly dropped dead to the ground every time the entrance opened, or why your lower stomach erupted like a geyser refusing to rest whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror of the bruises on your neck and, just maybe, somewhere in the back of your head, recalled how they came to be in the first place; how the small vessels burst, why they’re there. Your self-induced amnesia surprisingly worked. Yeah, like a charm. Until you looked up for the billionth time and it wasn’t another false alarm. The fortress of protection you constructed collapsed as if it took no effort to build it, because there he was— there stood Peter, just a few feet away from you.

Of course, you panicked; hysterically searched your surroundings for an excuse to leave, but no one wanted to bother you when you most needed it. Terrible luck, indeed. You only had two choices (although, really, you most likely had more): you could be, you know, smart and face your problems, or, Peter, to be more concise, or you could run away to hide and wait it out in the bathroom. So, after analyzing it thoroughly for approximately two seconds, what did you do?

Get the fuck out of there, obviously; you threw your towel, sped out of the bar, and instantly headed to have the meltdown of the century in the bathroom.

You screamed into your hands as you relived everything in your head, stomping your foot on the floor tiles. Remorse didn’t suffice anymore to explain the sharp pain in your stomach. You’d sabotaged yourself— you got a nip that night, a morsel of something greater, a catalyst for ‘what if’s and a total loss of self-control, because once the temporary high didn’t satiate you any longer, you’d seek it again. Regardless of your constant imbecility, you weren’t oblivious: it was nothing more than a distraction for Peter’s troubles and conflicting emotions over a woman he’d married, and it would never mean anything to him. It never would, despite how much it meant to you.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, narrowed eyes reading the recent message while your heart went ballistic.

‘You can’t stay there forever, he’s starting to get suspicious.’

You breathed out, partially relieved. It was your friend. You texted him earlier as you lost it in the bathroom stall, as one does. You were close to getting on your knees and start praying to any superior entity that he was simply imagining stuff like most of the time, attempting to read in between the lines when, in reality, all Peter did was drink his whiskey served over ice, totally unconcerned. Yes, perhaps, you running away didn’t signify ‘subtle’, and the fact that you two hadn’t shared a word or texted ever since you fled his apartment a week prior didn’t brighten the situation at all. Why should it matter if you chose to continue escaping your issues? You could stay there forever, and it was no one’s business. The bar’s urine-scented bathroom could be your new home.

Your phone rang again. ‘Dude, c’mon.’

Goddammit.

Your friend shouldn’t have the power to knock some sense into you with just two messages, but he did anyway. You required an abundance of courage you did not carry to hesitantly walk out of the stall, and then the bathroom. You were sure your heart could hop out of your chest, as gruesome as it may have been, at any moment as Peter’s figure came closer and closer to you with each dreadful step you took. It wasn’t as dramatic in real life, most likely (most definitely). But as if you finally understood your situation, the charisma awakened from its sleep and, in an instant, you let out a disappointed ‘aw!’, replacing your terrified features with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, man! Somebody else already took your order? Unbelievable.”

He reacted as though he overheard the most unbelievable noise— a call from God itself or extraterrestrial life, because he could’ve gotten some whiplash by the way in which his head jerked up.

Peter cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with his hands as he showed you a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, hey! Hey…” He exclaimed and you winked at him. “I thought you weren’t here, or something.”

You thought for a moment. For real this time. You couldn’t say ‘I was just having a breakdown in the bathroom’. “Nah, my boss just needed my help… with stuff,” You waved your hand, aware that your boss had left an hour ago. He hummed and nodded, downing his shot. Wait. Your eyes returned to his glass when you fully took it in. It wasn’t whiskey served over ice.

You pointed at the empty drink in his grasp. “What’s that?”

He glanced down at it, raising a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a shot of vodka?”

“No, no, I mean— yeah, but what the hell happened to your whiskey?”

Peter pressed his lips together, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno, guess I just… got tired of it?”

The corner of your lips tugged down momentarily. “Ah, I see…” You distracted yourself with a glass, cleaning it despite its already pristine look. You just needed anything to focus on other than Peter. “This is so tragic, your whiskey days have come to an end.” You joked, laughing quietly and disguising the aching in your chest.

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow and grinning a confused smile. “What’s wrong with vodka?”

“It’s just… so boring.”

An incredulous grin stretched across his face. “More boring than whiskey?”

Your smile faded, a frown taking its place. “I… I’m guessing I had just grown used to it— I don’t know.”

For the first time in a whole year of weekly meetings and ongoing chatter, an uncomfortable silence sat amongst you two. And for the first time, too, you did not know what to say. “Y/N?” You looked up at him attentively, although you did not want to hear what he had to say at all.

Peter avoided your gaze, instead focusing on his lap, and opened his mouth, closing it when you couldn’t think up any words. “I think, uh… we gotta talk, right? About… y’know.” Your face heated up as red as a field of roses.

You laughed nervously, your hands on the bar as you slanted forward. “...About what?”

“Just, about what happened, and that thing you said the morning after—”

“Did I say anything the morning after?” You cut him off, wishing you’d stuck with your plan of moving into the bathroom.

To your horror, your biggest fear unfolded as Peter let out air through his nose, chuckling without humor.

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was a dream again?” You nearly passed out as Peter cited the words you so vividly remembered uttering. “‘You’re just dreaming?’” It all came back to you, everything— your forced memory loss received a fatal blow as memories bombarded your brain: Peter’s face twisted with puzzlement and sleep after you blurted out your utter nonsense and— how could you forget, oh God, how could you— the cherry on top, your uncomfortably intense five-second staring contest as you headed for the door and dashed out of his apartment.

“‘Wake up?’” He continued and you merely blinked back at him. He didn’t need to fucking quote you and remind you what a joke you were— who does that? But also, who tells the guy you just hooked up with that he’s dreaming after he caught you in the midst of trying to sneak out? B-B-Bingo! Of course, of course it had to be you out of all people.

You stood frozen, like you did that embarrassing morning, begging your head to stop it with the callbacks and breathing out. “What if it was a dream? You never know.” You said, unwilling to give up your idiocy. Peter stared at you, his lack of amusement terrifying you further.

“A dream.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“What?”

“Stop acting like an idiot, please.”

“Peter, you literally could’ve brought up anything else other than this.” You hissed, exasperated. “Any other fucking thing.”

“I can’t not bring this up.”

“Well, why not? I surely can.”

“‘Cause it was weird.”

You grimaced and covered your face with your hands, muffling your words, “Oh my God, I know, I fucking know. What did you want me to do—”

“I don’t know, maybe just talk, you know!” He suggested with raised hands, the harsh sarcasm in his voice deepening your pained expression. “Wh-why did you even say that?! Like—”

“I didn’t want to be there! I just wanted to leave, okay?!” You admitted loudly, uncaring of your blatancy. When you didn’t hear him, your shaking hands slowly unveiled your face. A man two seats away eyed you two as he drank, while Peter stared at the counter with knitted brows, digesting what you said.

“Do you wish it had been a dream?” He asked quietly. You began to tap your finger, your lips shaping the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t exactly know how to.

“No. That’s not it, I…” You croaked out. You couldn’t continue when you noticed what you thought was a flourishing desire in his eyes which you saw that same night back at his place. Just say it. Your fingertips thudded the wood faster, your feet shifting, voice stuttering. Say you’d do it again.

“It was just a one-time thing, right?” You whispered. Then, you doubted if that lust had simply been a delusion your brain fabricated. That, perhaps, you yearned for something bigger so badly you’d projected your own silly cravings onto the man, for all trace of that weakening glimmer was now nothing more than the familiar amity the always held.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Right.” You breathed out.

“It was just a one-time thing.” He repeated as if it were obvious.

“Yes.” You both nodded, unable to look at each other straight in the eye without squirming. As soon as some clients called for you, you shared a last glance before you left. When you returned, all you found were some crumpled dollar bills and no sign of Peter.

You didn’t buy him a gift. And neither did he, but he did send you a message saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’, and there exists a possibility that you broke down crying whilst drunk because of the smiley face he wrote along with it, but that’s something you wouldn’t ever disclose— even if it happened one more time during New Year’s Eve as your head pounded with the people around you religiously blowing their party horns. That was it, though. You didn’t see him at the bar, which a part of you could only be thankful for, but the remaining kicked itself for not fixing things when you had the chance to. For not being honest when you could have.

Your friend yet again with his wisdom from the gods told you to stop wasting time and move on with your life, albeit not as kindly, as if saying it in such a way wasn’t hurtful enough. However, after being too sensitive for two seconds, you sucked it up and knew that he was right.

You managed to keep Peter out of your thoughts most of the time, focusing on your job and getting additional money with your paintings to treat yourself. You could go out more with your friends, buy a new TV, maybe save for the vacation you’d been dreaming of for the past years. For some time, as there was no Peter in your head nor at the bar, it was just like before the man nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose sat down in front of you.

You could only maintain him out of your orbit for so long, though.

You sat at another bar two blocks down your place, hunched over and your eyes glued on your cell phone’s screen, anticipation pulling imaginary strings connected to your fingers which fidgeted, tossed the device from hand to hand. Your friend was the fourth person you texted in the last thirty minutes, an act born from desperation, perhaps; created upon an urgency for an anchor, a quick fix that would momentarily patch up the heaviness in your chest that made an unwanted visit too many times to your liking and dissipate all the thoughts in your head. You needed something, a distraction, anything— hell, you’d even texted your boss, a known shopaholic, asking if she wanted to go shopping. But everyone appeared to be doing something that night, too engaged in their own affairs to remember you. It was selfish, you understood, to think that way; they had lives, after all. Nevertheless, that selfishness was a blemish you couldn’t vanish as the three dots emerged, followed by the exact same message you dreaded: ‘Can’t tonight, I’m with dad. What about tomorrow?’ There was no tomorrow, though. No, you ached for it right now, in that instant, something.

Peter.

No. You couldn’t. Another decline was a final blow you couldn’t withstand, anyway, especially from him. However, you weren’t the one making the decisions anymore. Your heart manipulated your limbs, and in a blur, you’d searched his contact. Too soon to your liking, you heard that tedious beeping, your heartbeat then the sole noise in your ears once it halted. All of a sudden, you couldn’t talk, your words lodged in your throat, because it was strange to hear that voice again and it was too much for you right now.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Peter said after you didn’t make the slightest sound, hesitance evident in his tone, for he wondered whether it’d been an accidental butt dial. You took in a big breath and pressed your phone closer to your ear, your elbows aching from the hard counter they rested upon.

“...Hi.” You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head at yourself.

“What… what’s up?” It was odd, you both knew, because when did you ever call each other, and when was the last time you two talked? But turning a blind eye to your friend’s advice, you itched to fulfill your own cravings that night— it didn’t really matter what kind, but just a friend was all you needed, just someone.

You stuttered for a while, internally grateful he remained silent and waited for you to clear your mind. “Nothing. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” You could hear the engines of driving vehicles in the background and you frowned, scratching the back of your head.

“Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to bother you. I can call another time—”

“No, no!” He stopped you, your heart growing wings, fluttering and capable of flying out of your chest with how gentle he sounded. “I just got done with something and I’m going back home, you don’t have to hang up.”

You hit the tip of your shoes against the bar, tense brows still not relaxing. “Oh, okay…”

“Are you at work?

“No, my shift ends at a normal time on Friday’s, thankfully.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I see— so you’re home alone and bored?”

You observed the place around you, focusing on the bartender and then on your drink. “Eh, not exactly.” You closed your hand into a fist, struggling to not dissect the skin around your nails like an animal in a biology class. “I know this is unusual, we never really talk outside of the bar and we haven’t seen each other in a while, but…”

“It’s kinda our first phone call, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah. Our first phone call.” You almost cursed when your voice wavered.

“Hey, you alright?”

You sighed, scratching your head. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been better.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t know. It’s a Friday night— everyone’s out having a good time, and I’m just… here, in a bar and on my own.” You shrugged, your nails carving the timber.

“It’s not stupid.” He murmured and you snorted, unconvinced. “If it makes you feel any less alone, I’m not exactly out partying and having a good time, either.”

“Do you even still party, grandpa?”

“Just ‘cause I’m old, it doesn’t mean I still haven’t got the moves.”

“It definitely sounds like you don’t.”

“Don’t sound so sure, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Seeing him wasn’t necessary, you could easily imagine his teasing grin.

“Hm, yeah, I’d immediately take off my clothes if you pretended to lasso me at the club.” You both giggled and you hugged yourself, glancing at the empty stool beside you, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you maybe want to come and have a drink with me?” You shot your shot, to your thumping heart’s dismay. Guessing by the click you distinguished, he probably just got back home.

“...Have a drink with you?”

“J-Just to hangout, you know.” You quickly explained. “Chat for a while. I can pay, if you want.”

You waited for a response, a rejection. But it didn’t come.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least, that after he agreed and you hung up, you almost dropped your phone with how the fright weakened your arms as you tried to send him the bar’s address. You eagerly waited, too, like a damn puppy anticipating its owner’s return at the end of the day. Using your phone’s selfie camera, you checked your appearance, tidying up all just to make yourself look way more put together than you actually were, even if you were in a bar, alone, and, well, drinking. Despite your awaiting, though, you were taken off guard when a man chose to settle down beside you and cleared his throat.

“I gotta say, it’s weird to see you on the other side of the bar,” Peter smiled as a greeting. Your eyes scanned him, taking in his presence, struggling to process it as if he were a ghost. In your defense, it did feel as if he hadn’t been part of your world for the last two months.

You chuckled, shyly moving your view to your beverage. “Sorry, I won’t be playing bartender tonight.”

“Too bad, I like it when you give me free drinks.”

“Technically, you still are getting free drinks from me tonight.”

He huffed, a crooked smile lingering on his face. You called for the bartender and side-glanced at Peter, quietly asking what he wanted and biting back a disappointed grunt when it wasn’t whiskey served over ice. Whatever. It was just a drink. You two didn’t share a look after that small interaction, though, your face flustered, redder than the bartender’s awful and painful-to-look-at-from-how-bright-it-was shirt. You preferred to believe it was the alcohol, regardless of the truth that you hadn’t drunk that much yet. But your skin burned since he was there, and suddenly, the last disastrous meeting you two experienced replayed way too loudly in your head, the scorching sensation only spreading further and gaining more vigor with the possibility that it did the same in his, too. The unspoken and evident discomfort was enough to make you assume that it definitely was on his mind.

You made the effort to spark up a conversation with the dreaded small talk. ‘How have you been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘The weather’s been pretty cold lately, huh?’— blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, neither of you had more to say other than short, boring responses. It became so unbearable, you knew the only way you could get through this night— seeing as you couldn’t leave after he’d just gotten there— depended on your current and whoever many you could afford future drinks. Quite an alcoholic mindset, perhaps, but there was no way you were the only one or that Peter didn’t have the same wish as you.

Holding your third drink, tispy thoughts pressed you to climb out of the hell you were in. You turned your body to face him, nudging his leg with your foot. He’d been paying attention to a wildlife documentary and an animal hiding from its predator before he lifted an eyebrow and nodded at you. “What?”

“Where have you been?”

A crease formed between his brows as he found it hard to differentiate this question from the one you asked earlier. “I told you, I haven’t really been up to much—”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I asked. Where have you been?” Peter pursed his lips, contemplating.

“New York.”

You hummed, bringing your drink up to your lips. “Okay. So if you were here, how come I haven’t seen you since, uh—” You pretended to count in your head, tongue poking out of your mouth as you summed with your fingers. “—December?”

“I was busy.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hadn’t been up to much?”

“I… haven’t,” Peter said slowly, too far in to escape the contradiction. You bit your lip before finishing your half-empty drink all in one go, head spinning, the weight in your stomach drawing you down to the Earth’s core.

It’s difficult to perceive the line between overthinking and legitimacy. It’s so fine and faint, like a message written with chalk in the middle of the neighborhood’s road that can only be deciphered if you stare at it long and closely enough after the days have passed by and the rain showered upon it. On one side, the message was nothing more than scrawls and nonsensical letters, an unnecessary distraction on the road disrupting you from reaching your destination on time. But then, there was the other side: the truth. A truth that, funnily enough, you reached by overthinking in the first place. Which was what occurred when you suspected the reasoning behind the lack of Peter in your life could be pinpointed to the man purposefully avoiding you; and, right now, grasped that, after all, it wasn’t just another case of irrational overanalyzing.

“Do you hate me?” You blurted out, your eyes going round with the disappearance of your filter. Confusion overflowed Peter’s head and spilled into his expression, adorning his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you hate me—”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Where the hell did that come from, though?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You stated the obvious, visibly hurt. Peter denied with his head the misconception, sighing.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He assured you not just with his words but his gaze, too. You pressed your lips together, not fully convinced.

“Was it not?” You asked with a small quirk of your mouth. He stared at you, embarrassment crawling across his skin.

“Alright, maybe it was.” He admitted sheepishly. You let out air through your nose, turning on your seat.

“So you do hate me.”

“Y/N,” Peter called for your attention, although he knew it was half-joke. You returned your attention to him. “If I hated you, would I be here, sitting next to you?” He questioned, motioning around him. You shrugged one shoulder, a grin growing on your face.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice.” You said and he groaned jokingly, sporting his very own lopsided grin.

“I’m being nice because I like you.”

Your smile fell for an instant, but you put the expression back up, reminding yourself that, once more, it didn’t go further than platonic. “Good. But you were mad, then.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You left without saying goodbye last time.”

Peter frowned, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did. Sorry.” He apologized, the sincerity interlaced in his voice worsening your state. You wanted to place your hand on your chest, as you diagnosed with your zero quantity of medical knowledge that you had a high chance of having a heart attack before the night came to an end.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?”

“Well,” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand, moving your eyes elsewhere. “First, for being a dumbass back when we hoo—”

“You know what? You’re fine.” He interrupted you. “Save yourself some time.”

Your brows snapped together. “But—”

“You were right. Let’s just not talk about it and move on, alright?” He waved his hand, grabbing his drink. “If you do talk about it, I think I’m actually gonna get up and leave.”

You laughed, nodding. “Ah, I see. So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, then?”

His actions halted in the midst of taking a sip. “Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Peter.” You pointed out like the hypocrite you were, particularly after that was exactly what you were doing not too long ago. Peter, unaware of this, however, had to admit you spoke the truth as he rubbed his nose with his knuckles, grumbling.

“You see, you say that, but I’m still gonna continue doing it.”

“No, you’re not, because we’re going to discuss this like adults—”

“As an adult, I’m telling you that all is good and I’m over it.” He finished with a warning tone you couldn’t take seriously and you giggled. “Next topic.”

“Okay, grandpa. Sure thing. All is good.” You grinned, the ice in your heart melting off as he copied your countenance.

“For real this time.”

“Yeah. For real this time. Can I be honest with you, though?” Peter waited for you to go on, paying close attention, his gaze soft. You stared at him for a moment too long ‘till your eyes moved to your hand now feebly holding your empty drink. “I missed you. Kind of. Is that dumb?” You mumbled, your voice small.

You couldn’t properly see him, but through your peripheral vision, you didn’t catch any movement. That’s when you prepared to scream ‘sike!’ to his face— a real-life undo button to delete the emotions you couldn’t take back and shove down your system anymore. However, it felt… good. For once, it wasn’t spilling your guts out and regretting everything as you attempted to cram your organs back into you; you had plucked out a thorn that’d been hanging inside the palm of your hand for far too long. It was liberating. And you peered up at him, expecting that relief to be temporary, but his tender features didn’t let that happen.

“...No. I missed you, too.”

You both smiled.

The conversation began to flow. Words started to spill, and although you weren’t at the bar, you enjoyed that exact same security and blissful buzz. You realized then— a revelation that did not help your case— the location didn’t play an important role, and perhaps it never did; bar or not, if Peter was there, you’d still feel stupidly and overly content. Your worries faded away as you two caught up with no drop of MJ’s name, but some lingered anyway, because change was inevitable, looming over you. Laughter left your lips, his hand rested close to yours on the counter. You noticed, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, to walk away from the euphoria tainting your body. More liquor entered his, over time you stared at his mouth one, two, three, four seconds too long as you became intoxicated along with him, and so did he with yours.

“C’mon, tell me.” You pouted for an instant, interchanging it for a drunk smile. “Your secret dies with me.”

Peter slammed his fifth drink down, cheeks tinted pink. It was wrong, indeed, to take advantage of his condition and try to get out of him something you’d wanted to know for the longest time, and that he kept to himself as if it were government classified information. In your drunken brain, it did not seem too far off. Perhaps he went on outrageous underground missions. You laughed at yourself. Peter didn’t seem like a spy-type of guy. Unless…

“Do you, like, work for the government?” Peter screwed up his face at your absurdity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter opened his mouth, a giggle escaping. “I can’t.” You dragged your stool closer to him, as you weren’t close enough already. Actually, when did you get so close? It didn’t matter. You analyzed his face, hoping that somehow, if you looked at him long enough, you’d gain the ability to read minds and crack into his. Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, studying you like you were the most interesting being. You didn’t know why, but you felt tempted to move that strand of hair that always hung in front of his forehead away from his face. As any rational person wouldn’t, you did, your thumb brushing against the barely visible scratch that started the conversation in the first place.

“What are you thinking?” You questioned, brimming with interest. He went crossed-eyed as he tried to follow your hand.

“About stuff. Whatcha thinkin’?” He asked back, his view traveling down to your lips. You bit your lip.

The closeness, your full-blown pupils, the actuality that you could lean closer to him and you’d meet his lips. It all seemed too familiar. And so you wondered, if you did move and kiss him, if you stopped resisting and glanced down at his lips, too, what would happen?

“I don’t know. What does it look like I’m thinking?” You asked, lowering your voice. The stench of alcohol should have been enough to stop you both from advancing any further, but Peter licked his lips, smirking.

“It seems to me like you wanna fuck me.”

You gasped, hiccuping. “Oh, my! I didn’t know this part of yours, Peter B. Parker. Is it just the alcohol speaking?”

“Maybe. But is it true?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Your upper body swayed closer to him, tired, dizzy, and wishing to lie down. You gripped his shoulder and helped yourself add some distance, your other hand landing on his knee. “Maybe.” You simply said. Your eyes remained interlocked into one another, your hand running up his shoulder to his neck, and then all the way up to the back of his head, sensing his goosebumps. “Maybe…” You repeated as your touch on his knee traveled up his thigh. Peter took in a sharp breath, his hand unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You leaned in and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pull away, a voice said in your head as you felt his tongue momentarily slide against your bottom lip. Pull away, the nagging voice went on and you did, shaking your head.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again.” You whispered, yet your mouth came back into a messy kiss, even messier hands craving touch. Breaking glass startled you two apart and you looked down, sighing when you saw your drink’s contents all over the ground. “You owe me a drink.” You panted, your lips swollen.

Peter scoffed, his half-smile blurring your vision as he tilted his head towards your ear. “Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.” He said, mouth ghosting near your cheek despite his words, yearning to continue. You pecked his jaw, lips resting against his hot skin, careless about the other customers in the bar.

“I do want something to happen, though.”

You both ignored the conversation your sober selves had. ‘It was just a one-time thing, right?’. Peter slammed your apartment’s door closed whilst your lips were still connected, your hands clumsily coming down to try to unbuckle his belt. ‘Yeah’. His own hands aided yours, the clinking of his belt buckle speeding up your heartbeat as if it weren’t already dangerously fast. ‘It was just a one-time thing’. Peter groaned into your mouth, tasting like liquor, like something you’d both regret the next morning but did not care about the consequences, even if it was a lesson you’d already learned. Not at the moment.

But nothing happened.

You couldn’t recall much the next morning. The first proof that it didn’t go further from a make-out session was that you woke up in your bed, alone, and wearing the same clothes as the previous night. The second evidence you gathered when you barged into your living room and there slept Peter on your couch, his appearance also identical to the one in your hazy memories. He didn’t remember anything. As you struggled to cease your trembling legs, he simply laughed and asked if he got so wasted he had to crash at your place. You shrugged and smiled, still capable of tasting his lips and vividly feel his hot breath.

From then on, you avoided drinking or being too exhausted to have any common sense when you were around Peter. One day he invited you to go out and have a few drinks again, to ‘repay’ you, and to which you responded as calmly as you could that you had other ‘plans’; other plans that, truthfully, were faker than the disappointed expression of yours that followed. Then, as if you couldn’t ever reach a state of peace, he asked again a month later, and you had no other choice than to invent a faulty reason for why you didn’t feel like drinking that night, the next night, or the one after, even if, according to all the drunk stories you’d recounted to him in the past, you never really turned down a drink or the opportunity to get inebriated. Guilt poisoned you when he never brought up the idea after that, fingers crossed that he didn’t get the impression you didn’t want to meet him in other circumstances other than the bar; regardless that that’s exactly what was going on. Every other night after he helped you with closing the bar, you’d also nod goodbye at him and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting until he turned around the corner so your feet could dreadfully carry you to the subway station, your now-unfixable car present in your head like an aggravating piece of gum that stuck to your shoe.

Nothing could be more vexing than this, though.

Eventually, you began to wonder. Perhaps, yet again, you were as weary as that time you slept with Peter, seeing as you couldn’t think straight, almost as if you’d suffered from a concussion and all your neurons died, to your utmost dismay. But there was a dissimilarity: the unfortunate detail that, unlike physical fatigue, mental exhaustion wouldn’t pack its bags and wave farewell after a night-long sleep. Not when immediately after you woke up, the same worries still found their home within your head. So your imagination took it as an initiative to force feelings and schemes onto you, ones which involved the stomach-churning plausibility that maybe, just maybe, Peter liked you back and you could happily come clean. You had to laugh. But then you really started to wonder.

You needed at least six reasons to follow through with it. First. He was the one who made a move months ago. Second. He wasn’t drunk. Third, you listed in your head, you kissed. Again. And, fourth, this time he might have been drunk, but if he did it both as a sober man and a drunk one, it had to mean something, right?

You were struggling to distinguish the line between overthinking and legitimacy again.

You went to work that day, decided, the fifth reason simply being that you couldn’t get him out of your head, but the sixth reason missing. A truck landing on you would probably do the job, you thought. You didn’t mean it whole-heartedly, of course. But, apparently, the universe didn’t know about sarcasm and how it worked since, an hour after the thought passed through your head, it sent you a nice little gift and Spider-Man just so happened to get in a fight near the bar and an actual truck broke through the walls of the pub.

“I can’t fucking believe a truck landed right here. This is why I hate living in this city so much,” You scoffed, holding a towel wrapped around ice up to your bruised forehead as you observed the gigantic hole where the truck happily invited itself into. Peter barely reacted to your comment, too focused on disinfecting the wound in your arm. You pulled the makeshift ice bag away from your head, screwing your eyes shut. “I’m starting to get a headache from how cold this is, can I—”

Peter grabbed your hand and forced it back up to your forehead, shaking his head and focusing again on your arm. “No, trust me, it will reduce the swelling.”

“Should I be worried that you know so much about injuries?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “I know. Thanks.” You smiled, recalling the urgency in his voice after he called you, saying he’d seen what’d happened on the news. He moved on to the gauze and began to bandage your arm, making sure his movements were delicate lest he hurt you more. “I met Spider-Man, though. I think I can finally die in peace.” You caught the way the corner of his mouth lifted upward.

“Really? Did he apologize for almost killing you?” Peter grumbled, accepting the scissors you offered him to cut the cotton fabric. You released a huff of air, admittedly offended and immediately going to defend the masked superhero.

“He didn’t almost kill me, it was the other guy. Bad guys, you know? They’re everywhere.” He huffed. “He checked up on me and offered to take me to the hospital, though. Pretty cool guy.”

“And why didn’t you say yes?”

You contemplated his question. “Stranger danger.” You shrugged. Peter laughed softly, muttering ‘fair enough’. “It also wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to interfere with his, uh… superhero duties…”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t making sure you’re okay part of his duties?”

“I guess, but I’m fine, it’s no biggie.”

“Y/N, you could have died.”

“But look at me,” You patted your torso, then holding your arms wide open. “I didn’t. You’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly.

“Whatever,” He said, hesitance showing through his eyes. “I just think the guy should be more careful. His job is to protect the people, not to… hurt them.”

You scowled playfully, kicking him lightly. “Dude, fuck off, don’t talk shit about him like that. He’s Spider-Man. Give the poor guy a break.” He didn’t say anything, though, stirring your concern as you realized he seemed off since he first arrived. “Are you okay?” You inquired, frowning.

Peter glanced up at you before rubbing his face. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”

“Every day is a long day when it comes to you, isn’t it?” You joked lightly, nudging him a second time. “You helped me, now let me help you. What’s up?”

He moved his head from one side to another. “You’re always helping me.” He said almost as an apology, smiling sadly. You smirked back, standing up from your seat next to him to jump over the bar. You grasped an empty shot glass, checking no small debris had made its way into for the sake of Peter’s health (now, that’d be a hell of a lawsuit) before you slid it towards him.

“It’s my job as your bartender.”

He peered down at the glass and then up at you. Chuckling defeatedly, he took ahold of it, and you read it as ‘ah, the hell with it’ as you reached for the bottle of vodka. “I fucked up.” He whispered while you poured the liquid.

You screwed the cap closed, your eyebrows lifting high. “How come?”

Peter placed his head in his hands, nose crinkling. “I, um… talked to MJ?” And just like that, your mood took a fall as well, an inaudible ‘oh’ fleeting past your lips. “It’s the first time we talked in a long time.”

“...And?” You asked anxiously, folding your arms across your chest. Peter clutched onto the shot of vodka, watching the liquid dangerously reach for the edge of the glass after he slowly tipped it.

“Well, she’s trying to move on.” Surprise crossed your face. “And I was so distraught by it for the rest of the day that I really fucked up at work.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“That maybe I should move on, too.”

Your arms fell down to your sides. Maybe you really did hit your head too harshly, you thought, as your body started to feel heavy and you had to support yourself on the bar, for all this information you were hearing at once was colliding against you more vigorously than the pieces of wood which fled towards you earlier. Swallowing to bring moisture to your throat, you continued with the million-dollar question pestering you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You regretted uttering the words, something you seemed to be doing too much to suit your taste as of lately. However, Peter, although the question troubled him the same way it did you, clasped his hands together and you studied him whilst he went through every thought in his head and through every feeling, seeking an explanation he himself needed to know as well.

“I’m not sure if I want to. But I know that I have to.” He finally breathed out. You leaned forward, not satisfied, needing to hear more and more even if it’d hurt, because nothing was more vexing than this feeling.

“But you love her,” You said matter-of-factly. Silence. Your heart pounded rapidly enough you could sense it in your head. “Right?” You asked, embarrassed by the apparent desperation in your tone.

“Huh?” Peter snapped out his thoughts, blinking up at you.

“You love Mary Jane?”

He bit his lip as he went back inside the isolated room of his brain after only just sneaking his head out, evidently growing stressed. “It’s okay,” You brought him back out, sacrificing your curiosity as you gently smiled at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

Peter exhaled thankfully, downing his shot. “What’d you wanna tell me earlier, anyway?” He asked expectantly, his voice scratchy from the liquor. Oh. Yeah, right. Plans might have changed an hour ago, yet for some reason, you still wanted to come clean to Peter. However, right now, after hearing about Mary Jane, you forgot about the sixth reason and remembered why you never did in the first place after all this time.

“Do you… want to go get a drink?” You cursed your imagination for not working when it was necessary. Peter’s forehead creased with astonishment as if he never thought he’d hear that sentence again (in his defense, though, it’s exactly what you were planning to do).

“You finally wanna go and get a drink?”

“Hey, just be glad I’m feeling like it.”

It was an understatement to express you were feeling like it.

You continued searching for that sixth reason for the next weeks, even if the entire world knew that after you found it, you’d keep your lips sealed. Your friend put your friendship at risk when, during your September lunch with your boss, he couldn’t resist but telling her about your ‘secret crush’, saying he simply did it for a third opinion, but neither of you gained no new eye-opening advice for your boss dragged on about how Peter could be ‘the one’, which honestly worked in scaring you away from the topic. One day after, as you couldn’t fall asleep, you deliberated the reasons why you should forget about Peter.

One. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. You liked him being your friend. He’s funny, a nerd, and you could talk to him forever, even if it was merely absolute nonsense. Two. He’s a lot older than you. Not that eight years mattered that much, but it could. You were just entering your thirties whilst he was nearing his forties. Even if he’d made it clear kids weren’t his cup of tea, he could change his mind. You weren’t ready to settle down yet, despite most people reminding you the clock was ticking and you should start considering it.

Three. The iconic Mary Jane Watson. Peter’s ex-wife whom he loved dearly. He might have not talked about her since he mentioned the idea of moving on, but you knew it was easier said than done. If you opened up, he could shut you down and reveal he’s still in love with MJ. Or worse, if you two did wind up dating, he could decide to leave you for her. Four. Your friend helped you with the fourth one. He had yet to tell you about why he’s bruised most of the time. It admittedly awakened the cynicism in you, for it could be something which had the potential of putting you at risk, or get you killed. Plus, if he did not want to give you an explanation, it meant he didn’t trust you enough.

Five. You couldn’t lose him. You already almost did. Your absurd crush could be the last straw and get rid of him for good. If that was the case, then you’d do anything to muffle your heart singing its love songs when he crossed your mind or simply stood in front of you. You’d do it, even if it’d hurt.

Again, you couldn’t come up with a sixth reason. You established, then, that whichever reason you uncovered first, would be the final word. Your friend knew both a sixth reason for why you shouldn’t forget about Peter and why you should that, trying not to influence you any further, he kept to himself; it being clear in his head which one he hoped you’d find first.

It was another Friday night. You’d just returned home after wasting your money on some restaurant that definitely was not worth the price (goddamn New York) when your phone blared its ringtone in your pocket. Your heart clenched as you read the name and were about to answer immediately, until you stopped yourself. Counting eight seconds in your head, your thumb slid across the screen after you got to the last number and picked up the call. “Peter?” You were audibly and justifiably perplexed— why has he calling you at… you checked the time— ten P.M,? It may have not been the first one anymore, but phone calls were still a rare occurrence between you two.

“Hey! Are you busy?” His breathing was heavy, which made you wonder what he possibly could’ve been up to before he called you.

You opened your apartment’s door and blindly searched for the light switch. “No, I just got back home, actually.” You muttered, and then voiced a victorious exclamation when the room lit up in front of your eyes. “Why?”

He inhaled profoundly. “Cool. Great. Yeah.”

You guessed the barely distinguishable quiver in his voice could be defined as uneasiness as you sat down on your couch’s armrest, squinting.

“Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah!” He repeated, firstly too quietly but now with faux confidence. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ah, hell. You had one important question and one only: when would you get a break from confrontation and those words? The last time you and Peter ‘needed to talk’ didn’t exactly go as smoothly. That in mind, your organs plummeted down into an expanding black hole in your stomach as you brought your fingers up to your lips. “I’m all ears, as always.” No, not really, but you didn’t exactly have any other choice.

“Okay, okay. Um, I, uh… what am I doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I wanna say sorry in advance.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

You could solely hear what sounded like wind. “You’re not gonna believe me, so just, just look outside your window.”

The black hole having devoured the contents in your system, you raised to your feet and sped to the window, not capable of painting in your head a single picture of what in the heavens the man could be planning. You unlatched the lock and glided the window upward, your head gradually peering out. Your eyes went as big and round as the full moon glowing above you when you saw it.

You stared dumbfounded, close to pinching yourself to do a reality check. It had to be a dream. A strange dream. There was just no way. No fucking way, it was absolutely impossible. It was beyond the innumerable existing possibilities that Spider-Man looked back at you, stuck against the wall. Similar to someone’s lack of subtlety, it couldn’t have been any more evident. You didn’t even need a big brain or to think, to analyze deeply as if it were a riddle in a newspaper. Because it was just right there in front of you, plainly obvious and transforming your blood into ice: the phone he held up to his face.

“Hi…” Said the masked hero. And so did Peter through the phone call.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, yet you didn’t glance down at it. You continued to gawk at the man as he flicked his wrist and saved not only your phone, but simultaneously also your bank account from having to spend hundreds of dollars on a new one. You did not mutter a thanks, let out no relieved sigh when he gave it back to you. You just stared.

“I know I’m pretty cool to look at, but can you please say something?” He laughed nervously. Ignoring him, you took a step back and retreated your head, eyes close to falling out of their sockets. The phone in your shaky hands rang a second time and you answered without needing to look at the contact.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Peter, what the fuck.”

“I’ve done this so many times but I still don’t know what to say.” He groaned to himself. You put your hand on top of your head, disbelieving.

“Get in.” You abruptly ended the call and plopped down on your couch, clutching your stomach, blinking furiously after black dots uncontrollably twirled in your vision. You heard a thump, the floor shaking slightly; however, you didn’t turn around to look at your guest, instead focusing on the wall in front of you. It wasn’t until the cushion beside you sank with the man’s weight that you blew up. “Holy shit.” You cupped your face with your hands, laughing out of pure shock. “Holy shit… holy shit!”

“Don’t freak out.”

“How am I not supposed to freak out?!”

Peter— Spider-Man shrugged, his white lenses wide. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He admitted.

You scanned his mask, the mask you’d become familiar with after seeing it so many times on TV and pictures. Somehow, however, regardless if you knew that mask and the person behind it, you couldn’t believe its authenticity. “Take off the mask.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please.” You begged.

You first saw the stubble. Then his lips. Then his crooked nose, and soon, those eyes. The whiskey eyes. Peter’s whiskey eyes. Your hands wound up on his broad shoulders, and for some reason you yourself couldn’t work out, it just dawned upon you how muscular they were. Your eyes came back to his face. Yeah, that’s Peter. That’s Peter B. Parker. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. All the revelations crashed against you quick, glass shattering in your head, everything suddenly making sense. The bruises. His constant fatigue. Everything.

“Peter… oh my God.”

“I know I-I kept this from you for a really long time, and I know it’s hard to fully digest it, but I did promise I was gonna tell you one day.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching. But you weren’t smiling— all the terrible fights you’d watched on the news throughout the years flashed in your head, going all the way back in time to when you first discovered Queens’ brand-new superhero as a seven-year-old.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “You’re telling me you’ve been at this since you were a fucking kid?”

Peter let his mask drop to the carpeted ground, his back sliding down the sofa’s backrest. “Since I was fifteen, yeah.”

“Peter…”

He grimaced at your concern. “I know it sounds sad, but it’s not… it’s not that bad.” He promised you, but you couldn’t take him seriously. You picked up your legs, sitting cross-legged and playing with your fingers as you continued to go through your racing questions.

“I used to look up to you when I was little.” You revealed quietly. Peter scoffed, grinning playfully.

“What, you don’t anymore?”

You shook your head vigorously. “I do. Shit, I still do. I never thought I’d meet my childhood hero the way I did, though.”

“Sorry I’m just a sad, old man.”

You rolled your eyes, prodding him with your elbow. “You’re so much more than that.” All humor fled his expression and he shut his eyes, throwing his head back.

“Am I? I constantly feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. There it was, of course; he couldn’t talk about Spider-Man in a non-degrading way.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man!” You exclaimed, not accepting his utter bullshit, but he was willing to accept it as he peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I know, you always say that.”

You gave up in trying to change his mind and shifted closer to him, copying his position, unable to focus on your view of the boring, mundane ceiling; so you turned your head to see Peter getting lost in the white square. “You really didn’t have to tell me. This is a big secret.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.” You were glad he kept staring up as you felt the blood rush to your face.

“You do?” You asked, your chest warm, illuminated with glee. Peter glanced at you, nodding nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah. I really do.”

You turned your face away from him, your muscles close to tearing from how big and proudly you grinned. “Spider-Man trusts me.” You hushed to yourself.

Peter breathed out, exasperated, his eyes fluttering closed again. “Stop.” He pleaded, laughing himself nonetheless. You bit your smile back, moving to sit straight in what your friend liked to call your ‘parent worried about their kid’ sitting position.

“I guess I was right for worrying, huh?” You smiled sadly, taking in the severity of the situation. He poked his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to worry.” He sighed. You snorted.

“That’s dumb. You’re saying you’re always putting your life on the line? Of course I’m gonna worry.”

“Well, I worry about you, too.”

“How come?”

“If you’re close to me, then you’re putting your life on the line as well.”

You frowned, squeezing his arm to comfort him. “No, don’t say that.”

“Y/N, it’s the truth, though.” He fully sat up to turn toward you, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the worst thing about this. How many times have the people I care about gotten hurt? All ‘cause of me?”

You remained speechless. Moments later, he placed his hands flat against the sofa, preparing to stand up. “Y’know, I get it if you want to keep your distance from now on. I actually think it’d be a good—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You warned him, expression stern. “It’s stupid.”

“I almost got you killed that other time—”

“You didn’t almost get me fucking killed, for Christ’s sake!”

Peter’s jaw tightened and he ran his hands through his hair, that strand of hair falling back in front of his forehead. “Whatever. You can’t be so sure, anyway.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing that he was right. You nervously placed your hand on top of his. “Can I hug you?” You asked like a child, giving him a half-smile. Peter looked down at your hand before his eyes moved to you.

“Sure. Y-Yeah.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him hard, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt him slowly embrace your waist, scared of underestimating his strength. “I’m glad you told me. It must have been really hard.” You murmured against his chest. He chuckled humorlessly, his cheek on top of your head.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? Whether it’s to vent or for some weird spider shit. I…” Love you. “You’re my friend, dude.”

After he left that night, you’d never been more conflicted about your feelings. It was a conundrum; a whole headache-inducing brain-teaser. You’d striked out the fourth reason why you should forget about Peter, the original five down to only four, but you still searched for that sixth— now fifth reason. As if it didn’t scramble your brain enough that it left you dazed and your thoughts impossible untangle, Peter unknowingly joined the game with the objective of rattling you up more.

You noticed he didn’t disappear without notice ever again, and if he did, he didn’t leave you hanging, rather he sent you a text the day after with an entire clarification. Then, you caught onto the increasing meter of his touchiness: new and unexpected hugs, holding your damn hand— although that only happened twice, but still. Your overdramatic friend didn’t even need to point it out.

One Saturday, he sat down in front of you, and before you could greet him, he surprised you. “One whiskey served over ice, please.” He smirked. You gaped at him, laughing, face astonished.

“What’s up with that?” He shrugged, grin never disappearing.

“I dunno, I guess I missed it.”

You never thought you’d continue hearing ‘one whiskey served over ice, please’ ever again. But you did.

This year, you did give him a present for Hanukkah and Christmas. A painting of one of your favorite photos of his that he showed you one day; a day you so vividly recalled, for he asked you to come with him to take pictures of an exhibition at a museum, and you accidentally broke a statue after you leaned against it in the attempt of doing an extravagant pose. To your surprise, he gave you one, too: a photo album with pictures from that day, and a message that read, ‘Merry Christmas!’, accompanied by a smiley face. In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve again, except that this time, you and Peter were talking.

You came out of the party’s bathroom, unable to tear your gaze away for the fourth time from Peter’s New Year’s Eve message, until you bumped into someone and had to force yourself to pocket your phone. You lazily swayed to the music, your vision blurring out, turning it harder to find your friend amidst the people. While your body was there, all your five senses working perfectly, feeling the heat from the enclosed space, the music vibrating in your chest, the smell of alcohol and smoke fixed in your nostrils, your mind lived in December 20th. December 20th being last Monday: a date that continued to echo in your head, the entirety of the day playing from the beginning until the pitch-black hour of midnight. It played, played, played relentlessly, exhaustingly. December 20th, it continued, a stupid date that your drunk self could not let go of.

You distinguished your friend in the crowd, comfort kissing your body and your tired legs guiding you to him, until you moved a person aside and saw the full view of his lower body grinding against a girl all over him. “Ah, fucking gross,” You groaned, pushing the unlucky same guy as you took a turn and headed for the glass door leading out to the balcony.

You firstly bumped into the door thinking it was open, but successfully slid it open and made it out into the winter weather, the city more awake than ever twenty minutes before the New Year. But you weren’t focusing on the future. No, you held onto last Monday, gripping it so tightly it hurt, hanging onto it as if you’d be nothing once it left. You stumbled towards the bench to your left, falling defeated on it. December 20th. You turned on your phone, squinting down at the screen, eyes struggling to focus through the brightness. Last week. You opened your contacts and without hesitation called a number, bringing your phone up to your ear, humming along to the beeping whilst you awaited for the person to pick up.

“Hello?” Peter said. You hung up, eyes wide. What the fuck were you doing? You didn’t answer your own question, though; you pressed the button to call again.

“...Hi?”

You ended the call a second time, growing frustrated with yourself. Having finally made up your mind, you called him one last time, jumping when he answered in what appeared a worldwide record-time. “Y/N, what the fuck—”

“Peter! You answered.”

There was a short silence. “I did.” He agreed, undeniably puzzled. You slumped against the wall, muffling your dopey laughter with the palm of your hand. You could hear… ah, wait. You could see, not hear, his face in your head with no problem: his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“How are you?” You wanted to hear about his day. What had he eaten that day? What had crossed his mind? Hopefully you’d made an appearance at least once. That’d be nice.

“I’m good, thanks for asking.” You hummed happily. “How drunk are you?”

You shook your head, failing at rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. “Just a bit tipsy, maybe.”

“How much exactly is ‘a bit tipsy’ for you?”

“How many phone calls have we had?”

A question out of the blue, you knew, and you were expecting yet again the quietness as he processed your sudden need to quiz him about such insignificant rubbish. Well… did he think it was insignificant? So many questions bouncing off your skull all at once, worsening that awful migraine you could already feel coming… or was it the booze? No, who cares. All you cared about at the moment was his response, because knowing how many fucking phone calls you’ve had wasn’t that hard unless you didn’t care.

“What?” Really? He was going to make you repeat yourself? You dug the heel of the palm into your closed eye, white fireworks blowing up in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Like, for these past two years. How many phone calls?”

“I… don’t know, maybe like three?”

Your face fell ever so slightly. “It’s six, actually.” You heard an unenthusiastic gasp.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Do you remember the sixth one?”

“Isn’t this the sixth one?”

“This is the seventh one.”

“Okay, and why are you giving me a class about how many phone calls we’ve had?”

“Because you don’t remember the sixth one. I’m sure you don’t even remember the fifth one that well.”

He remained quiet for a moment. “It’s a blur.” Peter murmured.

“You were drunk…” You shut both eyes now, trying to dig through the fog to recall. “It was after you came to the bar…” Peter’s embarrassed stutters, similar to his inebriated ones, helped to uncover the memory further.

“I-I was drunk, yeah,” He admitted, “just like you are right now.”

“And what did you say?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I think you remember better than I do.”

You grinned. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed, Y/N.”

“Well, what about the sixth time you called me?”

“I seriously can’t remember a sixth time.”

“It wasn’t a failed booty call.”

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, I’m glad, I guess.”

A frown took over your features. “You really can’t remember?” You needed him to. He had to. Or else... or else…

“I swear on my aunt.”

Your heart shattered, the sharp pieces prodding and hurting your chest. “So… so I guess you didn’t mean what you said?” You mumbled to yourself, realization sobering you more than you wanted it to.

Peter couldn’t help but begin to panic a bit at the mention of expressing something without his knowledge, or at least without his not drunk self’s knowledge. You immediately grew conscious of it for this time, the silence was different. “...What did I say?” He questioned, somewhat afraid. You didn’t speak. “Y/N? What did I say?” He pushed more urgently.

“It doesn’t matter,” You changed your mind. Calling was just another bad idea. You took your phone away from your ear for a second, jumping off from your seat, but your foot accidentally knocked over your drink. You stared down at the growing pool of alcohol staining the floor, seeping underneath your shoe. Blinking, you looked at your phone, at Peter’s name, and the numbers of the counter below it rising, marking each of your thumping heartbeat.

The sixth reason. You needed it to stop you right now; an instruction to back out, the reassurance that it was still an option and it didn’t stop being one long ago. But as your finger came down to end the call for the better, your head screamed, freezing you.

Sixth. You were in love with Peter Parker.

You dropped back down on the bench, eyes glazed over. That was it. The sixth reason. Peter. The man nearing his forties and with the loveliest messed up nose. The customer you met last year and that continued to come to bar you worked at just to talk to you, his bartender. The guy you laughed with, sang with, slept with, became too close with, fell in love with. You put the phone back up to its right place, anxiously licking your lips. “Look, I’m gonna regret this. I know I am. But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, so why should it now, right?” You chuckled, your eyes wide.

“I’m really concerned about that phone call, though.”

“Peter,” You glanced up at the sky, gulping. “I’m so glad I met you. I really am.”

“I-I’m glad I met you, too.”

You smiled momentarily. “Good. Working at the bar had become such a pain in the ass, and it still kinda is, but then you came that first time, and you called me ‘kid’ which annoyed me, but I was still hoping that maybe you’d stay, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because…” Your free hand came up to aid the other which trembled too much, grasping it tightly. “I don’t know, it was weird, I just couldn’t… I-I really wanted to get to know you. And it took some time but eventually we did talk— you said that stupid pick-up line and somehow it worked. I really need to higher my standards.”

“Hey, it was a great pick-up line.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“You gave me your number, didn’t you?”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward, and you laughed softly at yourself. “I did, I did. And I’m glad I did, even if you were just trying to get your mind off of MJ.” The truth stung as it glided out of your mouth.

Peter thought for a moment before continuing, “Maybe I just wanted a friend.” But it lacked sincerity, and you both could recognize that.

“But, Pete,” You bit your lip, looking down at the mess you’d left on the ground, the sole of your shoe now sticky. “Am I really just a friend?”

More silence. You breathed in, your chest moving up. “Be honest with me, please.” You begged, your voice hushed.

“Okay.”

Your stomach began to cramp up. “That time we hooked up,” You paused, the eerie shortage of noise on the other side of the line pushing you to go on. “Did it mean anything to you? Was it anything more than just a distraction?”

“I…”

“Or what about that other time at my place? Why did nothing happen?”

“We were too wasted. It was wrong.”

“So you do remember.”

“I do.”

You placed your hand on top of the other, beginning to pace around. “Are you lying about that phone call, too?”

“What is it with this phone call you say? What happened?” He repeated, desperate and with a hint of irritation. You approached the railing, placing your elbows on the metal.

“Just… be honest with me.”

“I am, Y/N.”

You kneaded your forehead with your knuckles, shaking your head. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been too long, and it’s so confusing. You’re so confusing. Or maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know. There’s… there’s this thing, I know you can feel it as well, and sometimes it’s as if there’s a chance that you might feel the same way I do, but then the next minute it’s as if not, a-and it’s so confusing.”

“Feel the same way you do? What do you mean?” He clearly knew what you meant. Your eyes traveled around the city, the cold and strong breeze nearly knocking your body backward. If he knew, why couldn’t he simply outright admit it? Why, all of a sudden, was it taking him so long?

“The phone call…”

He groaned. “Y/N, just please tell me why you’re so hung up on that phone call?”

“It was last week. You said you liked me.”

You said it. He heard it. He finally heard it, and you waited for anything like an idiot, yet it never came. You checked if you had accidentally hung up the call, but when you saw that it was still going, you sighed and decided to end it for once and for all. “We can be anything. Anything, okay? I can just be your bartender, you can be my client, we can be friends, w-we can be more. If it’s not supposed to be, then just as long as you’re there, I really won’t mind. Just, please… I’m begging you…” You whispered, not capable of discerning whether your body quivered from the winter or the fear brutally gnawing on you.

“Be honest.”

Peter held his breath. “Y/N…” You waited, shoulders shaking, the stupid fucking silence clutching you by the neck as you waited. Just say it. Just say it—

“I’m still in love with MJ. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You said aloud, voice cracking. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Pete, no, I’m…Thank you. It’s just kinda hard to take it in, but I...” You tightened your jaw, your throat aching, swallowing back your pity. “I will. Thank you for being honest, though.”

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin things,” You could barely hear him: your brain too loud compared to his voice. You shook your head frantically, scrunching up your nose to hold back a sniffle.

“Never. I love you.” It wasn’t the way you wanted to say it. “You’re my friend. And I’m not going anywhere because you said I was stuck with you, remember?”

He laughed, a beam of light that almost mended your fractured heart. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.” You smiled brightly, wiping the tears you’d tried so hard to stop from running down your cheeks. You stood straight, but it was only for a mere second, for your arms plopped back down onto the railing from the lightheadedness which threatened to bring you down.

“Okay,” You slurred, the bile rising up and burning your throat. “I’m gonna leave you. My friend will hate me if I miss the countdown…”

“Sure. Happy new year… be safe.”

You giggled, waving your hand at no one, really. “Don’t worry about me grandpa, I do this every year.” You doubted the idea that popped in your head, but voiced it anyway, “And if you need any help with MJ, I’m here. I can give you a discount at the bar for a date night!” The excitement you forced onto yourself was salt on the wound.

“I’m not sure if that’s a romantic idea, but thanks, I’ll think about it.” You both hesitated, waiting for something once again. But when you realized that it’d never arrive no matter how much time passed, you nodded quietly and unwrapped your arms from yourself, preparing to let go of that feeling you’d clutched onto for the longest time as well.

“I’ll see you around.” You finally said and hung up. You stared at your phone, grief by your side, holding your hand. Yet, to your surprise, a weak smile started to creep on you, relief slowly sewing your heart together. You told yourself that the heaviness in your heart didn’t matter, because at least you had Peter. At least he would still be there, at the bar, with his whiskey served over ice.

As you stumbled to your feet, ready to join your friend and drink away your bittersweet ache, your phone began to vibrate. Your brows twisted together and you looked down, sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Peter?”

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #sm:itsv #spider man into the spider verse #peter b parker one shot #peter b parker imagine #one make out session #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral #sadies1.6kwc

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sunflowergirl522 · 4 years

Text

Eat The Damn Cheese Stick

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Mix of the soulmate AUs where you have the first thing your soulmate says to you on your arm and the one where your greatest fear is what your soulmate had a near death experience with.

Word Count: 1759

Warnings: language

Masterlist

Poe hated third wheeling with Finn and Rey. He hated doing it and having an awkward blind date, set up by Finn, even more. Sure Finn just wanted him to be happy but Poe, and he had told Finn time and time again, was perfectly happy dating (and sleeping) around by himself. And ya he wanted to find his soulmate and whatnot. He wanted to be happy with someone the way Finn was happy with Rey but, he wanted to find them on his terms not on a blind date set up by his best friend. He got really good at sniffing out a set up and giving any excuse to not hang out. But this time was different, Finn had managed to sneak it past him.

He didn’t even realise it until Rey came out of nowhere and joined them in the diner. Finn had invited him out to see some new horror movie and they decided to eat beforehand. It was only going to be the two of them so he didn’t think anything of it since Rey was always there so the date wasn’t ever too awkward, even though it almost always was. But when Rey showed up and sat down next to Finn at the table the veil lifted and Poe could see what this really was.

“No, no way Finn I’m leaving.”

“Poe, cmon just, please. I didn’t even pick this girl, Rey did.This was all her idea.” At this Poe shoots a glare at the girl next to his friend.

“You’ve betrayed me.” He can’t help but to joke with her. Rey always had told Poe how she didn’t agree with what Finn was doing and how she’d try to get him to stop.

“Look I know this goes against my beliefs with this but, I think you’ll really like her at least enough to be her friend. Good lord she needs friends.” Rey mumbles the last part more to herself than anything else. “After this I promise Finn’s done with blind dates and you’re on your own with finding love.”

“This is the last one?” Rey nods and Poe looks over to Finn for reassurance.

“This is the last one.”

“Fine, I’ll stay. Where is she?”

“She should be on her way. Did you guys order anything?”

“Just appetizers, tell me about her.” He hated going into these things without any info about the girl. That’s a main reason as to why he hated blind dates so much, it could be a kind of girl that he hates almost immediately and he’d have to spend the whole date with her.

“All I’ll tell you is that she can be a bit much sometimes to handle. So with that being said here she comes.” A bit much to handle? What did that mean, what was Rey getting him into?

The appetizers arrive as Rey stands to catch the excited girl in her arms and the server blocks Poe’s view. He can hear the silvery voice greet the two of his friends. The server moves and Poe can finally see the short curvy girl that stands next to his taller, thinner friend. His gaze lands on her fishnet clad thighs a second longer than they should have and he has to look away before his mind starts to wonder.

“Y/n, this is Poe. Poe, Y/n.” The minute you hear that you stop smiling and look at the man in front of Finn. Meeting new people wasn't your cup of tea and Rey knew that. Why would she invite someone and not tell you? The man is attractive you’d give him that, you were a sucker for black curls. He definitely would’ve been a go to man if you were at a bar and looking for a hookup. “I think the two of you could really hit it off.” Oh so this was her trying to set you up on a date. Rey takes her seat next to Finn again and you go to sit down next to Poe, just now seeing the food on the table.

“Oh, mozzarella sticks!” Finn smiles at you and pushes them towards you while pulling the pretzels towards himself and Rey.

“Woah buddy, I thought I was getting the pretzels. You know I can’t eat these.”

Upon seeing the confusion on your face Rey speaks in a hushed tone to you. “Poe’s afraid of cheese sticks, that’s the fear his soulmate gave him though.”

“Don’t you go telling people my business. What are you doing?” You reach towards him holding one of the sticks in your hand for Poe to take.

“Don’t be a pussy, eat the damn cheese stick.” Poe knows those words, it’s like he’s heard them before. The tingle he feels on his arm reminds him of the words that are etched on his skin. Once the realization hits him, his eyes light up and he can’t stop beaming at you. “What, why are you looking at me like that?”

Poe wants this first line to you to be something witty, something that sounds cool. But when he looks into your Y/E/C eyes he swears he can see galaxies and his mind stops working. And because of that he says, “Helicopter crash!” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and Poe wants to slap himself. “I almost died in a helicopter crash.” Your arm tingles a bit and you roll up the sleeve of your leather jacket in order to scratch at it as if it was an itch. Upon looking at your arm you see the words there that you had momentarily forgotten about, Helicopter crash. Well there’s that fear of flying you had to overcome.

“You have to be fucking kidding me, there’s no way.”

“What’s going on?” Finn and Rey were sharing looks of confusion with each other since Poe’s odd reaction to being called a pussy, normally he would try to fight anyone who dared to call him one.

Rey gasps as Poe takes off his iconic tan leather jacket to reveal the words on his arm for you to see, Don’t be a pussy, eat the damn cheese stick. “They’re soulmates, you guys are soulmates. I knew you two would get along!”

“How did you almost die from a cheese stick?” Poe leans on his arm towards you and you swallow before answering.

“I was young and you know how kids are they don’t always chew completely. Well, I was just eating one and I must not have chewed through the cheese completely because when I swallowed, all of the cheese just goes to the back of my throat while still being connected to the breading. So I was sitting there choking and tada I almost died. When’s the movie?” The question is directed towards Rey as you try to get the spotlight off of you and the situation you’re in.

“It starts in about thirty minutes. Y/n, are you okay?” Rey can see the panic beginning to rise in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I, uh, I’m just gonna go get my ticket and grab us seats. I’ll see you guys in there.” With that you stand up and walk away quickly.

Poe can’t help but to feel rejected, you didn’t seem very excited to have found him. In fact, you seemed upset and he couldn’t figure out why. He sits there in stunned silence for a while before turning to his friends. “Guys I think I might just go home. I’m not really feeling a movie any more.”

“Poe, don’t let her reaction affect you. I know her and I know that if you just give her a bit she'll be jumping with joy.”

“Ya c’mon buddy it’s not like you to skip out on things because of some girl.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but this isn’t just any girl.” And with that Poe grabs his jacket and walks away with his head down. On his way to his car that he parked at the theater, someone bumps into him.

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” Poe looks down at you and his eyes widen, shocked to see you heading back to the diner. “Oh, Poe! I was just uh, coming to apologize to you.” You put your head down not able to look him in the eyes for that confession.

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly good at being put on the spot with things or with dealing with things, like soulmates for example, being thrown at me from nowhere. So if I came across as cold or unexcited about meeting you and everything I’m sorry. And before you say anything,” You step closer to him and poke your finger into his chest. Poe can’t help but find the sight adorable as you try to be intimidating. “I’ll have you know that that’s a big deal cause I don’t apologize for things I have no reason to be sorry for.”

“Well in that case I suppose I can forgive you.” He smirks at you and you can’t stop the smile from making its way onto your face.

“Alright let’s go watch the movie.”

Rey and Finn watch as you pull him with you into the theater from the entrance to the diner. “I told you they’d be perfect for each other from the start. You should’ve just listened to me now let’s go home.”

“But I wanted to watch the movie.”

“You can let your best friend enjoy a date without you for once or you can go see the movie and be the third wheel.”

***

“What a bullshit ending! They made it a point in the first one that the doll wasn’t possessed. And the head inside was ridiculous and completely unnecessary. Why do sequels suck so much ass nowadays?” Poe has never seen someone leave a theater so fast or so angry before.

“It's just a movie Y/n. I didn’t know there was a first one until you said something about it.”

“You’ve never seen the first one?” You stop in your tracks and turn slowly towards the man behind you. He only shakes his head and that’s all you need to make a last minute decision. “Okay, then you can take me home and you’re gonna watch it.”

“Wait, what?” You’re already pulling him into the parking lot for him to take you to his car. “Didn’t you drive here?”

“Nah I bussed, gotta keep the air clean y'know? Now which one is you?”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe x reader #poe x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron au #soulmate au #soulmates

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pinkykitten · 5 years

Text

HiGH

13 reasons why

Scott Reed x female! reader

Warning: getting high, vomiting, cursing, partying

Specifics: comedy, fluff, one-shot, race neutral reader

People: scott reed, jock dude, your friend, red haired cheerleader

Words: 1,854

Requested: By anon 😍😁 I'd love a Scott Reed one with fem reader. Since its getting close to Halloween how about how they got/ get together at a Halloween party?

Authors Note: sorry guys for not posting a lot here ive been studying for exams and just my life is so complicated atm so forgive me i know i should post more its just all the stress ya girl sometimes gets writers block. i appreciate u guys still sticking w me reading my stuff and im glad to be posting something and feel good about it.

The different array of colored lights shone brightly as a hit pop song blasted loud through the speakers. The party everyone at school was looking forward to. Only the best out of the best was present, stuffing their faces with alcohol and booze to wash down the pain and stresses of school and life.

You were content with staying home, wanting to open a bag of chips and really experience Netflix and chill. Solo. Alone. By yourself. A lone wolf. Why in the world were you really here at this party? You were a nobody compared to all these wannabes.

You were fidgety, playing with your fingers to control your anxiety of all these people and the atmosphere. It was so unlike you. Then you remembered. The only reason you were here was because your friend - not really - needed to trade with you the history paper you lent her. She was very persistent to get you to come to her rather than drive her car to your house. You were a very simple girl, you hated teenagers - even though you are one of them - and high school. But why did you dress your best to come to something you cared so little about? You had spent a little more over ten minutes just to pick your shoes! Did this gathering really matter to you?

“Okay y/n you’re gonna go in there and swipe that paper out of her hands and go straight back home. You’re not going to look at the food, not going to be deceived into drinking and you are certainly not going to look at a boy and dance with them because you are better than that,” you spoke aloud to yourself walking up the stairs to the house, getting some cat calls and whistles sent your way. Opening the door you were greeted by a shirtless jock. He dripped with sweat or was that beer? He was dancing as if he was experiencing a seizure.

“Remember what you gotta do, y/n,” that phrase echoed in your head. You crawled past the dancing, then squeezed past the horny animals making out by the bathrooms. “Where the f*ck is she?” Your head whipped back and forth in search for your “friend.” You landed on her doing a chug contest. “Excuse me,” you would say periodically, shoving yourself beside hollering people. You stood beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to mess with her chugging so she pointed on the table by the drinks. “Thanks.” The table was littered with people f*cking like they were experiencing sex for the first time. Moaning and groaning really wanting nerdy, single people - like yourself - feel very alone and really praying they would get that action tonight. You grabbed your paper having to really pull as there was an a*s cheek of a red haired cheerleader plopped on top of it. You grimaced as you pulled the paper, making note to wash your hands when you have the chance.

“Now time to go home,” your determined self wiped your jacket getting ready to depart but your e/c eyes caught sight of a delicious looking drink. It was aqua blue with chunks of who knows what fruit in there. It was placed proudly on top of the kitchen counter.

“Wipe out!” The jock screamed on the top of his lungs, sounding like an alarm.

You covered your ears, annoyed. A group of teens took their cups and splashed some of the drink inside, enjoying the taste. “Why’s its called wipe out?” You asked the jock. Curious.

The jock raised his brow, taking you in.

“Pitiful,” you thought.

“Its because, babe, there is a secret ingredient in here.” He motioned to you.

Placing your palm on his chest you pushed him away, “I swear if its your jizz, count me out.”

“Its not, unfortunately, but just try it.”

You looked down and bit your lip. You were having a full out debate in your head, going back and forth with yourself. You had to do this paper. The party side took control of you and you snatched a cup from the table and poured yourself some “Wipe out.” You were totally going to regret this later.

A boy stood beside you, filling his cup as well. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, he was a cutie. From the way his f-boy, blond hairstyle stood still with either hairspray or gel or who knows what, to his baby blue eyes. Your eyes traveled to his lips. He saw you staring and presented you with a smirk. A sexy smirk at that. You almost fainted!

“This is bad,” your eyes widened as you felt light headed. You knew you could only keep away for so long.

“Hey, I know you. You are in my bio class. You always sit up front.” No way this boy was Scott Reed. He was the talk of the school, having to be entwined with the drama of Bryce. “I’m-”

“Scott Reed. I know and I’ve seen you in class.”

“And your name is,” he pondered for a moment. “Y/n l/n.”

Oh dear. You were starting to sweat from the realization that you and Scott were on a knowing name base. That was enough to start something. Something you didn’t want to start because you didn’t know if you could finish it.

“Wow didn’t think you were into this party life.”

“I’m not,” you took a large chug of your drink and Scott’s face looked disgusted. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast or all of that, for that matter. Okay you may experience being very...high.”

“High?” Yep it was truly a mistake for you step foot into this party. “There were drugs in that drink?”

“...yeah?”

“Scott!”

“Okay yes there was. I think only a little. Also alcohol, of course. It may not effect you though. Each person is different.”

You were feeling already dizzy. The world spinning but in a good way. As if you were on a ride. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of happiness and you were very, terribly hungry. The overpowering, booming music was low and muffled when it traveled through your ears. You were stoned and you wanted to dance. “DaNcE wHiP mE bAbEy.” You staggered back and forth.

“You sure?” Scott asked, holding onto your arm.

“Of CoUrSsSsSsSsSsSsSsE sCoTtY mCsNoTtY. GrInD wIf mEh.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Scott and you danced in the living room.

With the shake of your hips and the pumping of your fists you felt like you were on cloud 9.

There was a sea of fans, cheering your name. “Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”

You performed on stage. Basking in the limelight, the attention. You were a star, a performer. You sang and danced on stage with your backup dancers giving it their all. Everyone in the crowd sang along with you, knowing every word. It was perfection.

Then you threw up and blacked out.

The pounding of your head woke you up, your eyes getting adjusted to new lighting. An unfamiliar jacket was on you and you heard the engine of a car. We’re you being kidnapped? You shot up and saw Scott - the boy from earlier - sitting beside you in his car.

“You are not used to drugs,” he chuckled.

“What happened?” You laid back calm. You touched your head thinking that was going to stop the pain.

“You threw up. All over me.”

Eyes widening in horror having the knowledge that you threw up all over the cutest boy in school. That party was cursed. You covered your mouth seeing the stain on his shirt, “I am so sorry Scott. Lets go to Walmart right now, I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Scott touched your hand to calm you down, “its fine y/n, really. How are you though?”

“Well, lets just say I’m never doing drugs,” you sighed. “I feel really bad for doing that to your shirt. I bet you wish you never met me.”

“I would never wish that. We all make mistakes and to be honest you are the good one out of all of us. Don’t worry about this. You live and learn.” Scott drove to a drug store. “Wait here.”

Waiting for what felt like hours you imagined Scott as your knight in shining armor. You were hating yourself for feeling this way about some boy but you couldn’t help but get butterflies in your stomach when you pictured his eyes, lips, face, and even his smirk in your head. He was like another drug.

Finally, Scott returned to the car and with him was a couple of bags. “I got you some medicine to help with the mess and the feeling like you’re gonna throw up every minute.”

Scott was a lifesaver!

“I got you medicine also for the pounding in your head. I also got you water and this,” he scooped up a stuffed raccoon (ik this is weird but its the first thing i can think of) placing it in your arms.

“Aww this is so cute Scott. Thank you for all of this, really I truly appreciate all you’ve done from driving me to getting me these meds. Its means a lot.”

“No problem y/n. I always wanted to accompany a beautiful lady in distress.”

“Well you picked the right one.” Nausea was the symptoms you were feeling at that moment. It was unknown to you if it was the drugs, alcohol, or Scott.

“What are you going to name the little guy?” Scott pretended to pet the fake raccoon.

You stared at the stuffed animals eyes and knew what the littler vermin would be called. “Veneno. Its means drugs in Latin.”

Scott giggled. His smile making you weak in the knees. “That’s perfect.”

“I know right-” You hurled on the floor beside his car. It was almost like a continuous cycle. You, vomit, him, help. It was compared to a endless waterfall.

“Thats it.” Scott rubbed soothing circles on your aching back. “Let it all out. I’m here for you and not going anywhere.”

Feeling very sick at that moment, you clutched his hand for support. Finishing letting the drugs exit your body, Scott handed you the water bottle. “You know, you’re one of the good ones as well,” you croaked as your throat was burning.

You drank, letting the cold liquid slide past your throat. Your eyes kept opening and closing. Throwing up takes a lot out of your body. You felt you were used as a punching bag and all you wanted to do was get some sleep.

Scott got in his car and started it. You were a fallen leaf, a wilted flower. Your head fell against Scott’s shoulder - like a dropping petal - and there you fell asleep.

“I think its time to take you home,” Scott whispered.

Starting something with Scott meant something to you. Yes, you may have gotten high at a cheap, smelly party but at least you had the pleasure of meeting a young man who cared.

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories, @reginalinettis

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

#13 reasons why #13 r w #13 reasons why fanfiction #13 reasons why imagine #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #scott reed #scott reed x reader #scott reed imagine #scott reed fanfiction #race neutral reader #netflix #requested #HiGH

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dearlinong · 4 years

Text

by your side ; wang ziyi

[hi ! is it okay if i request a scenario where wang ziyi is a mentor for a show you are in and its the final stage and you narrowly miss debuting with the rest of the group. he comforts you but everyone knows you both have a crush on each other? mentor au i guess,,, from a mentor or a lover?? im not sure where i was going with this, sorry if its a bit weird... thank you so much !!]

(a/n: girl holy shit i forgot that i had this in my draft and didn’t finish it wtf. i literally forgot how to do this ;-;. so.. uhm... I MISS YOU GUYS LIKE SO MUCH!! hope you guys are staying safe and staying inside your homes. i’m just clearing off all my requests and once i’m done i can continue making requests again :>. so yeah, pls tell me how guys have been doing in my ask box! so there hope you enjoy this one <3)

genre: angst plus floof

requested: YUP!! omg 2 years in the making kjnKJNAJKDNSKAJDN and sorry if it was all over the place :<

you were currently competing in the 2nd season of idol producer

and you were one of the top competitors

you’ve ben voted as top 1 for multiple times now

and not only was it because of your talent

but you think that it was also because of your friendship with ziyi (which is is bad guys lol vote contestants bc of their talent okay)

yes, you’re friends with the very famous wang ziyi

who was also one of the rap mentors in the said show

actually you two go way back

you two have been friends even before he got into simply joy music

you two were trainees for a company called faded ent

and you two were supposed to debut as a co-ed group

so you two would practice all day and all night just to perfect the dances, singing and rap you had to do

and even after those long and tiring practices you two still had time to hang out with each other

you gotta admit, those were the times that you started developing a crush on him

so when the day he told you that he was leaving the company it was basically your own personal apocalypse

not only did you lose ziyi

but you lost your chance to debut which was on the tip of your fingers at that time

so you tried your luck this time by asking your company to let you join the new season of idol producer

and to your surprise you were doing better than what you expected

as the weeks go by, you and ziyi have been catching up on each other’s lives

but only when you and him have overlapping free time which is a 5 minute break once every week, so that’s not a lot of time

and because of your closeness with him, people have been saying that he has this massive crush on you, which you totally ignored and didn’t believe

and if they were true you’d still ignore it because you were here to compete and debut, not to find love

it was currently the last week in idol producer

while all of the other trainees were fast asleep

you in particular could not sleep for some unknown reason

and what better way to tire yourself than to practice some more

so you got up and walked towards the practice rooms

you first checked if all the staffs were gone, and when they were all gone you entered the room and started practicing the dance routine for the upcoming final episode as you were still in need of some practice

20 minutes into your practicing and you hear some footsteps walking towards the practice rooms, specifically the practice room that you were in

behind the piano was a good place to hide, so you did

as the person entered the room you peeped your hear out so you could have a look at who it was

you were surprised to see that it was ziyi who entered

you were wondering why he was still in the dorms as all the mentors were supposed to be out with the other mentors

so you went out of your hiding spot

ziyi jumped in surprise as he saw you come out

“y/n? why are you here?” he asked

“i was just practicing, but i’ll head out now, bye.” you said while rushing to head out of the room

but then he caught your wrist which made you stop

“hey, can’t you stay for a while. i really want to spend more time with you. please stay.” he said while smiling softly

you really couldn’t say ‘no’ to a guy like ziyi, so you agreed to stay with him

“so how’ve you been these past few weeks?”

“pretty good actually, but this week in particular was really draining for me and the other trainees.”

you two then eventually became comfortable with each other, like the good ol’ days

after a while you checked the clock to look at what time it was, it was almost 1 in the morning and you had to wake up early to teach the other trainees the dance for the final stage

“hey it’s getting late, better get going now.” you were about to stand up but then ziyi got your hands which stopped you from doing so

“thank you for staying with me y/n, i really miss spending time with you. i hope we can do this more often.” after saying that last word he was leaning in and getting closer to your face

he then pressed his lips to yours

you wanted to savor the moment, but a part of you says that what you’re doing is wrong

so you quickly parted with his lips and stood up

“i’m sorry ziyi, t-this just isn’t right. i have a future ahead of me, and so do you. i don’t want this to be the reason for us to fail in the future. goodbye.” after you bowed you left without even turning back

for the whole week you only thought about that moment

there were times when you couldn’t even sleep just because it was in your head

the day of the final episode has come and you’ve prepared for it since before you entered this show even

okay so this is the part where i transition from 2018 to 2020 bc im a dumb bitch and forgot to finish the au back in 2018

ok back 2 the fic

bc you already know that anything can happen during the span of these 3+ hours

the last time you checked you were still the reigning #1

and because of that you were really anxious about everything that’s gonna happen

before everything starts you guys practiced for the last time and got your last messages from the trainers

and while they were leaving ziyi handed you a small note which made all 20 trainees go BONKERS

“YIEE I KNEW THAT HE LIKED YOU!”

“I KNOW HE’S MY BIAS BUT WHAT THE HECK YOU TWO WOULD BE CUTE TOGETHER”

you became so flustered after all of them started teasing you

“YAH! Y’ALL STOP! if you guys don’t stop i won’t share my remaining facial cleanser!”

deadass everybody went silent JASNXANSDJ

and while everyone was leaving the hall you stayed behind so that you could read the note he gave you in private

it read

“i know what i did a few days ago really surprised you which made you say those words. but i know in my heart that what happened to us was right, but since you asked for it, fine i won’t bother you for now. just remember that i love you and i’m always supporting you, jiayou! with love, ziyi”

ff to the live show

the whole live show was a blur to you because you were too nervous for the final ranking

you were center for your team tho!

everyone AND I MEAN EVERYONE SCREAMED WHEN YOU WERE INTRODUCED AS CENTER

BC HELLO

YOU WERE PERFECT TO BE THE CENTER

ANYWAYS NOW ONTO THE MOMENT WE HAVE ALL BEEN DREADING

THE

FINAL

RANKING

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN

you saw some of the people you hoped to be in the final group got called and you couldn’t be happier

but sadly some of them weren’t

it’s now time to call on the prospected 1st and 2nd ranks

your anxiety levels are OFF THE CHARTS NOW as you haven’t been called yet

you were hoping to all the gods that you would turn out to be the 1st pick

or even 2nd place

but to everyones horror

your face wasn’t shown on the LED screen

which means you weren’t gonna be selected as the 1st or 2nd rank

you heard both people from the audience and from your fellow trainees a collective

“WHAT!?!?!?!?”

at this point you didn’t know what to do anymore

you felt numbness in your body

you can’t cry yet because there is still hope for the 9th place

and then it hit you

‘OH YEAH’

‘9TH PLACE’

so again with all the praying to every god thing

and then

BOOM

the 4 faces were shown on the LED screen

and luckily you were there

the PD then one by one started to announce the trainees on the screens ranks

for 12th place

it wasn’t you

for 11th place it wasn’t you either

this is it you were either in or out

you and the other trainee held hands just to relieve you both from the pressure

and then

the PD finally says the ranking

“the 9th pick is...”

“yuehua entertainment’s xi jiamo!”

that was it

all your hard work

gone

of course you were so happy for your fellow trainee

but you still have to think of yourself as well

you were then asked to give a final message

you were still in shock and didn’t know what to say yet

but you stood there and just said anything that came across your brain

“ohh, honestly i’m just so very thankful to everyone who supported me through this journey. and for every single trainee that has given me nothing but love i hope i can repay you guys some day. let’s all remember that this is not the end of our journey rather it is a stepping stone for us in order to succeed in the future. and to our dear mentors”

the audience and the trainees went wild

EVEN SOME OF THE OTHER MENTORS TOO

“i’m just very thankful that we had the opportunity to be guided by all of you, and we promise to always keep in mind everything you taught us. once again thank you for letting me stand on this stage. i will never forget this experience. thank you everyone” and then you bowed for a very long time

after the whole program all of the trainees went to the stage to congratulate the final group

but almost all of them went to you

the trainees started to flock your area and shower you with nothing but love and support

you even heard the crowd chant your name

which made you cry even more

“YAAAH! Y/N JIE I OVE YOU SO MUCH PLEASE REMEMBER THAT!”

“Y/N JIE I’M SORRY FOR TAKING YOUR SPOT!” jiamo said to you

so you had to tell her that its not her fault and she should think that way

if she thinks that way again you told her that you would be so disappointed

the staff now asked everyone to vacate the stage and go backstage

little did you know

ziyi was there waiting for you

you didn’t want to talk to him yet but the trainees insisted that you do

so they left for you two to have some privacy

once you two were alone there was nothing but silence

but he went in for a hug

which you really needed right now

a hug from one of the people that you love the most

while you two were hugging ziyi said something to you

“i know this is a really hard time for you and i just want you to know that i’ll always be by your side from now on. i’ve lost you the first time now i will never let you go”

YOU CRIED EVEN MORE BECAUSE OF THAT

you just wanted to be in his arms forever

and for now

you do stay in it

#WANG ZIYI #wang ziyi bullet point #wang ziyi scenarios #wang ziyi imagines #nine percent #nine percent scenarios #nine percent scenario #nine percent imagines #idol producer #idol producer scenarios #idol producer scenario #IDOL PRODUCER IMAGINES

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (02x12)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Episode 11: Far From Home

Season Finale

Warnings: dirty thoughts, a little fluff, good parenting, monsters and men. I am sorry but I am not sorry.

Word Count: I really wanna just leave everything and go live with the monks in the mountains if they allow me to take my laptop with me so I can keep writing.

A/N: Nearly forgot to mention the wonderful @marvel-lous-things for her original creativity that inspired the sam-bucky dialogue. I’ll link the original post here. I also did add some Brooklyn Nine Nine scene in there because I WANT TO AND I CAN!! I MISS B99!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Why do you have to be so hard?"

Peter, Javier('s camera), Wanda, Vision and you turned your heads towards a very heated Sam trying to walk out of the elevator with Bucky, their bulked up biceps fighting each other to get out of the elevator together, telling the other to go first, but going at it together, eventually looking at the other with a murderous stare. Finally, Sam rushed out before Bucky.

"It's not my fault if you cannot handle my weight," Bucky gruntled lowly, forcing you to exchange some very confused looks with Peter, Wanda and Vision. Vision was more curious than confused like the good young baby AI that he was.

"Handle your weight? Dude, do you know how hard it is to handle your ass when you keep shifting like that? Throwin' me off my rhythm."

What started as confusion now turned into the horror of knowing the unknown, forcing your eyes wide.

"Wha-" Peter tried to ask you in a whisper, but you were already covering his ears, making him look at you questioningly. "You know I'm eighteen, right?"

"I throw you off your rhythm?" Bucky jolted back slightly. "It's you who's always wiggling under me and throwing me off balance!"

"Of course I gotta wiggle, man!" Sam burst out, "you dig your fingers in me so hard! I can't just freeze there when you get rough!"

Now you were covering your ears while all Peter could whisper was, "no, you know what, cover my ears. I liked it better that way. Please. I beg you."

"I only do that because you push us too high, okay!" Bucky argued, compelling you to hide your head inside the couch. Peter just sat there frozen in shock, his eyeballs on the verge of coming out. "You clearly still have no idea how to ride because you're too used to doing it solo."

You whimpered. Peter managed to blink. Hard.

Vision was simply staring at the two of them.

Wanda went by normally shuffling the Uno cards.

"Fine, then I'll go back to solo," Sam raised his hands.

"What, no!" Bucky begged, "I like it! Please, next time I'll won't dig my fingers so hard."

"And no biting."

"It was one time! The first time! I was scared of the freaking high!"

"You bit my shoulder! I said no biting."

"Okay. Okay!"

"All right."

A shake of the hand wrapped around the other's arm sealed the deal before the party looked at the crowd sitting on the lounge floor.

"'Sup," Sam casually greeted the four of you. Bucky just simply waved.

Red . You and Peter were red from your ears to your neck.

You got up, your hands trying to find some sort of support to hold you through everything you were going inside you right now, before ultimately folding them together.

"I'm glad you guys reached a common ground," you pointed out with a forced smile that nearly made your eyes disappear, "but there's um...a bedroom for a reason. Please, think about it before...you know, you guys argue again."

Saying that, you left the lounge, whispering, "Now how the heck do I bleach my memory?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," Peter announced, getting up and taking your hand to walk out.

"Where are you guys going?" Bucky asked.

"Dr Banner's lab," Peter stated rubbing his arms, "to find out how we can destroy brain cells?"

"But doesn't that affect other functions too?"

"It would be worth it."

Sam and Bucky exchanged a confused look before turning to the two lovers left behind.

Vision shifted his gaze between your figures disappearing behind the wall while Sam and Bucky, contemplated something before turning to Wanda. "I think they were terrified for some reason."

Wanda : Sam and Bucky were talking about their plans to fly. Well, Sam doing the flying while Bucky hangs on his back. Stark showed me the whole carrier thing he made for them. *nods* *sighs* Yeah, Y/N and Peter can't read thoughts now can they. *eyes go wide in some latent thought* That girl has such a graphic memory! She could already imagine everything within seconds. *scrunches nose* in 4K! *shudders*

The Lab

"Pass me that blue vial," Banner murmured near the glass, the camera taking his face shot from the other side of the glass- zooming out to focus on a thin glass-like structure being held by a pair of tongs right in the middle of that vacuumed glass cube.

Long white slender fingers pressed a glass vial filled with the blue liquid right to Bruce's nose, making the scientist jolt a little before looking at the bearer of the hands, sighing, and taking it in his gloved hands.

The lab goggles were adjusted again before the vial was placed in another set of tongs and introduced inside the controlled environment.

This time, behind the glass besides Bruce, Loki showed his face, looking at that thin glass strand with utmost curiosity.

"What forces are you conjuring this time, doctor?"

Bruce shushed him, concentrating on the solution.

"Alright," he got away from the cube to clear his throat, "Friday, take the exact amount right to the very last millimetre and pour the N.A.T. on the compound."

Loki was on the edge of his toes now.

Loki : It is only once in a fortnight that these excuses of humans do something partly entertaining. I wouldn't want to miss it when Banner has another mishap and morphs himself into a rabbit this time. *gazing in the distance fondly* Maybe a purple one. *smiles*

"In three, two..."

Loki was quickly shifting his gaze between the experiment and Bruce. "Oh for the sake of Valhalla! Just do it already!"

"One!"

Flashes and sparks flew the moment the liquid touched the compound, making the two cover their eyes till they were sure the blazes died.

"Experiment ninety-nine point nine-nine percent successful, Doctor Banner."

"What's that, a new floor-cleaner?" you commented, walking inside the lab with Peter.

Loki leaned in to watch the outcome of the experiment while Bruce removed his goggles and gloves, too struck by the final product to contemplate your poor jokes.

"That's..." Loki lost his words, following Bruce's hands as they carefully took out an almost translucent and seemingly delicate piece of a flower made of glass- its petals decorated with capillaries running through them, reflecting softly on their own wavelengths, dancing gracefully, twirling and shifting with the lights falling on them.

"A flower," Loki grumbled.

You and Peter, on the other hand, were gasping out loud- clearly mesmerised by the outcome.

"How did you do that Doctor Banner?!" you exclaimed, not able to contain your excitement.

"Just used the geometric structures of certain compounds to make a piece of art for me," Bruce cajoled, clearly both impressed and shocked with himself.

Loki snorted, catching your attention. "And here I was thinking you were finally making some use of that brain of yours Banner."

"Come on, Loki," you stressed, "this is practically art out of science. Appreciate it. And," you turned around to look at Bruce, wiggling your shoulders as you spoke, "I'm guessing it's for someone special."

Bruce blushed straightaway!

"Uhh..." he tried to hide behind his hands while adjusting his glasses, "It's her birthday. I-I-I asked her when's her birthday once and she told me she didn't remember her real one. Just that today is the date she thinks is her birthday. So, I thought I'd do something special for her."

"Ugh, kill me," Loki complained, stomping- very graciously, his shoulders moving with an angry swing under that dark green t-shirt he was wearing- to the other end of the lab.

You, on the other hand, squealed with utter delight, jumping where you stood. "This is fantastic, Bruce!"

"Thanks!" Bruce glowed, smiling ear to ear. "And do you know it's pretty sturdy. Almost indestructible. And at the same time really delicate."

Bruce : *twirling the flower in his hand with the most tender smile* Just like her. *smiles again* *pauses* *camera pans in his anxious face* Shit, don't tell her I said that.

The camera caught Loki still rolling his eyes at the entire conversation at the other end, bonking the little bobblehead of Hulk kept on Bruce's desk.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I should bake her some of my molten chocolate cupcakes!"

This caught the God's attention.

"Yes," he declared out of nowhere, composing himself, "that would be a great gesture."

"Oh, but we're out of ingredients. I finished the last batch when Cassie came over," you pointed.

"Well, take one of the cars to the nearest grocery store," Bruce stated matter-of-factly.

Your lips turned into an 'o' before shaking your head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bruce questioned, "I'm sure Tony won't mind."

"Won't mind what?"

The camera swerved to the lab's entrance to watch Tony saunter in.

"Taking one of your cars so she can get the ingredients to make cupcakes for Nat's birthday," Peter answered.

"For everyone," Loki added from his corner.

Tony looked at you and shrugged, "Sure. I don't mind. But I don't want even a single scratch on my cars. Otherwise, Friday can order some for you."

You stood there quiet while everyone looked for an answer.

"Yeah, I think Friday should handle that."

"Oh, come on, Tony!" Bruce huffed, "let her go if she wants to go. I'm sure nothing's gonna happen on the most desolate road in this part of the state."

"No, that's-" you tried to speak, only to be cut short by Tony.

"Okay. Not what I was going for but since you started it, the weirdest shit happens on desolate roads, Bruce!"

"Guys, listen-"

"She'll be in her car," Bruce stressed, "stopping at the grocery store, getting the stuff and coming back. Not to mention Friday'll be there looking out for her."

"Okay, doc-"

"I was talking about responsible driving and you just had to take it to another level!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!"

Silence.

Neither of the science buddies tried to say something, shifting where they stood.

"Well, that solves everything," Loki's words echoed through the air of embarrassment.

The Driveway

"You really don't have to do this."

The camera captured your very concerned face before panning out to show Tony and Loki standing on your either side while Peter sat by the side with his sunglasses on, sipping on some orange soda through a crazy straw.

Peter : *glasses on as he finishes sipping through his crazy straw* *a good wind playing with his hair* Oh, I know how it's gonna go down. *turns his head to the sound of the engine getting louder* Better than a Formula One.

Thank you, Friday," Tony announced as a black SUV comes and stands in the driveway right next to you. He stepped towards it, clicking open the door and gesturing you to move, "In you go."

But you didn't budge. "Yeah, I don't think so." Shaking your head vigorously.

"Why not?" Tony asked point-blank.

"Uh..." you hesitated, taking the corners of your jacket in your fingers and wringing them, "I...I don't think I'm made for driving."

"Everyone is made for everything. What everyone lacks is practice."

Sounds of clapping broke just as Tony concluded, making everyone turn to watch Loki and Peter applauding his words.

"Not bad, Stark," Loki applauded over the soft wind flapping your hair everywhere.

"But-"

"We're just trying something new here, kid," Tony pointed out, shifting the door wider.

You looked at him and then at the car, your fingers nearly ripping the fabric of your jacket apart before a breath of 'ah, screw it’ left your lips and you climbed in."

Tony put on his glasses and moved to the other side, all the while looking at Peter, "there better not be any crumbs and sticky soda on my driveway."

Peter gave him a thumbs-up as continued munching happily on the chips.

The camera now shifted to the dashboard, catching a good angle of the car's inside from the front.

Tony sat in the passenger seat and shut his door the same time Loki sat in the back and shut his.

"Alright then, let's begi-" he began, before stopping short on catching Loki in the back- leaning forward to hear what all Tony had to say, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know how to drive your modest transport, either," he simply stated.

Tony opened his mouth to say something snarky but you beat him to it.

"Oh, thank God! It sucks being the only adult in the room who does not know how to drive."

Tony looked at you for a moment before settling in his seat. "You can stay but I don't want to hear a peep out of you. Okay, you" he pointed at you with his eyes, "seatbelt."

You quickly let your hands go to your side to bring down the seatbelt and secure it down at the other end. "Now," Tony continued, "look down at the pedals. From your right- gas, brake, clutch. The Gas pedals move the car, the brake will slow it down and bring it to a stop and the clutch will help you shift gears when the speed changes. When the speed goes high on this meter, the gear goes high, When it goes low, we go low. Okay? Try moving the gear and see if it's comfortable. Yes, just like that. Good. See that button with the start/stop sign? Push it when you want to start the car. Yes, you can start it in neutral as well. Once you start the engine you put the gear in drive while pressing down on the clutch. Okay? Wanna try it?"

Your breaths were a little shallow by now. "You sure?" you nearly whimpered.

"Yes, I am. It's okay. I am sitting right here," Tony comforted you.

You looked down at the pedals while your hands gripped hard on the wheels. Taking in one deep breath, you pressed the button and felt the car vibrate a little but never heard the roar of the engine. "Is it broken? I don't think it started-"

"It has a quiet engine," Tony blurted out to stop you from hitting the button again and again.

Making an apologetic face, you wiggled in your seat, straightened your back, checked the mirrors for no reason at all and took another deep breath. "Okay, now I press the clutch and change the gear?"

Tony nodded.

All this time Loki rested his hand in his palm, slowly getting tired of the instructions.

Pressing the clutch, you shifted the gear in drive.

"Perfect," Tony praised you, "now let go of the clutch slowly as you lightly put your foot on the gas."

With excitement in your eyes, you nodded and let go of the pedal. And just as you did, the car jerked, throwing Loki ahead.

"I'm so sorry!" you shouted, in Tony and Loki's direction.

"And this is why you wear a seatbelt," Tony followed with a chuckle, looking at the grunting figure of Loki trying to sit back up.

The Driveway

"Yo," Sam greeted Peter as he came out with Bucky, "got kicked out of the house?"

Peter shook his head, slurping his soda, never shifting in his seat that he was clearly well-adjusted in. "Watching Mr Stark teach Y/N how to drive."

Both Sam and Bucky looked at the SUV in the distance jerking and moving before coming to a stop, starting, jerking and moving ahead, suddenly picking up speed, suddenly screeching to a halt before the whole cycle started again.

"Huh."

Peter pointed to his left without looking. "There are chairs in there."

Half an Hour Later

"What're you guys doing in the driveway?"

Peter, Sam and Bucky- all three of them flinched hard at Natasha's voice coming from right next to them.

Bucky : She is sneaky. I don't like sneaky.

*camera pans out to show Sam standing behind Bucky with a plushie, throwing it suddenly from Bucky's left*

Bucky : *immediately tilts to the other side while taking out a knife from nowhere to stab the plushie*

Sam : We talked about this! Assess the f****ng target before going 'stab'! *continues in his angry voice* Congratulations! You just killed a plushie!

"Watching Tony teach Y/N how to drive."

Behind Natasha came the huffing figure of Scott carrying bags on bags in both his hands. They looked at the amount he was carrying compared to the bulk in Natasha's hand.

"No wonder you always keep beating me in training!" Scott huffed and tried to breathe through his words. He dropped the bags and let his body go floomf over them. "You're sooo strong," he heaved, "make me like you, senpai ."

"Get off the bags," she stressed, "you'll break the nachos," before turning to the trio with a stern stare, "you fellas really don't have anything to do?"

"We're supporting Y/N," Peter answered, pointing at the car nearly missing the pavement and skidding while making a turn.

But Nat didn't buy it. "What's the bet for?" She finally asked, forcing the trio to look at each other.

"How much time it takes for Tony to lose his cool," Sam admitted, "I'm going for twenty more minutes. Bucky says Tony's already lost his cool. He's just sitting in there crying. Peter thinks he'll last another hour."

The car turned and came towards where all of them sat. Nat took one step back as the vehicle skidded to a halt right next to Peter, the bumper giving him a little bonk on his knees.

The camera shifted to inside the car with three horrified faces trying to find their breaths.

"I told you," you tried but no voice came out of your throat, "I...told...you."

"Okay," Tony breathed, gulping down the horror but still having his hand wrapped around the grab-handle as tightly as humanly possible, "okay. Um...Loki," he announced, "your...turn?"

"You bitch," you hissed, "you said you didn't know how to drive!"

The car swerved by the audience effortlessly as they hooted, whistled and cheered.

Loki veered the steering wheel with such professionalism that you cursed him again.

"I swear I didn't!" Loki chuckled with excitement, "this is just so easy and fun!"

"Eyes on the road, Greeny," Tony ordered, but his eyes too were lit and he clearly wasn't holding the handles now, "now show me how you go through those two bars and then back it up."

Loki did what Tony asked, swerving smoothly through the bars, breaking without throwing anyone in the window and, reversing just as smoothly through them.

"Woah!" Tony heard himself saying, "okay now show me that thing Lighting McQueen does in 'Cars'."

Loki scrunched his nose. "The movie we saw last night?"

"Yup!"

"Brace yourselves!"

And saying that, he hit the gas and showed the crowd how to turn right to go left, making Peter and Tony lose their minds in their rush, while Sam landed a 'hot damn!', Bucky and Scott had their jaws dropped. Natasha was the only one not really phased by it.

Natasha : *nonchalantly* He can drive. *does a little head tilt* Good for him.

The vehicle came to a halt near the entrance and you were the first one to get out.

"Hey, Y/N, you did good!" Sam and Nat tried to cheer you up.

"Yeah," was all you said before turning to walk back in.

"Y/N, kid," Tony called out for you, "come on let's give it another shot."

"No, Mr Stark. I think I'm done for the day."

"But we didn't even go about for even an hour. Let's work on your gear shifting without looking at them."

"I don't think that'll hel-"

"We won't know until we try. Come on let's take anoth-"

"I can't!" You nearly shouted, taking everyone by surprise. "I can't Mr Stark! Driving requires me to focus on everything at once and I made not for that! I get distracted so easily. I can't even drive safely on an empty road inside my own home what makes you think I could possibly handle an entire vehicle on a busy road?! And believe me when I say I've been told time and again to change this 'habit' of mine. Well, I can't." You shrugged forcefully. "I really can't. That's how I freakin' am. So, sorry you have to deal with a f****d up kid like me."

Ending that, you walked inside, leaving everyone mum- discreetly looking at Tony before walking back in. Everyone except Loki.

Tony looked at the God, giving him a once-over. "The hell you looking at me like that?"

Loki just crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head, "She can't drive. She clearly doesn't have the confidence and would have to take a lot to create the natural focus required. Just wondering what you're going to do now."

Tony furrowed his brows at Loki. "What d'ya mean what I'll do? I'll find a way to help with whatever's required. It's not her fault she can't focus or is easily distracted. I'll find something to help her with that too."

Loki : *looking at an invisible void in the distance* huh. I cannot believe I'm saying this but Stark one hell of a father figure. *Pouring his lips* *scrunching his nose* Is that why all these wayward nuisance of beings choose to live with him? *Looks behind the camera* What? I don't see him as a father figure. All I see him is as a bother figure. Always bothering me any chance he gets.

*camera pans out to show Tony standing beside him leaning on the car*

Tony : Would you like me to take you horse-riding?

Loki :

Tony : *arches his brow and places his head on his fist, watching Loki tenderly*

Loki : *not making eye-contact* *softly* that would be great. Thank you

Tony : *pats him the back and leaves* Good job today.

Loki : *closes eyes* *shakes his head* *moans* Yeah, I already feel weird.

The Dorms

Tony lightly knocked your door before clicking open a bit and asking if he could come in.

The camera tried to follow him but Tony closed the door behind it, forcing it to go out to the balcony.

He sat down on the edge of your bed looking at the half-finished sketch of a woman.

"You made this?" He turned to ask your figure lying on your stomach with your head towards the footboard.

You nodded.

"Wow!" He whispered with enthusiasm before his eyes caught something in the corner by the window. "Is that a canvas? You've been painting. On a canvas!"

You shrugged. "It's not that hard. Anyways I'm not that good."

"Why do you think that?" He asked as softly as possible. "Have you seen what you create? This is beautiful!"

"This is half-finished."

"Well, it's better than not being created at all!"

You blinked, and a lone tear left your eye to directly vanish in the sheets under you.

"I'm scared," your broken voice declared in a whisper.

"Of what?"

"Of not being able to drive safely. I can hardly focus on what gear to shift while having to quickly judge what pedal to hit. How am I ever supposed to drive when all my senses aren't in the car with me?"

"Hey," he stressed softly, brushing your hair away, "we'll figure it out. And it was just the first day. You already learned which gears are what. And you were really nailing those brakes."

You both giggled.

"There's nothing you cannot do," Tony assured you, his eyes giving you a soft yet stern look, "now stop beating yourself up, get out of these stinky bedsheets and go make sure Peter and Bucky don't burn up my kitchen to figure out your cupcake recipe."

You chortled and Tony looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world right now.

"Wow," Loki's voice came from the opposite corner of the room where he stood with arms crossed ever so casually, "you two really are boring. And cringy."

Tony and you gasped and threw a pillow each at him.

"Get out!" You both said in unison.

The Lounge

"You are such a sore loser."

You tilted your head and arched your brows at Loki.

"It wasn't a competition, Loki."

He simply shrugged and popped a grape in his mouth. "Something a loser would say."

"Whatever, man," you muttered, shooing him away as you went towards a very confused Peter hanging down from the ceiling to find out what Bucky was trying to cook.

"Wait." You heard Loki say after you felt a soothing coolness grab your hand lightly, making you turn back to him.

"Hmm?"

"There's-" he looked around to see if anyone was listening- clearly ignoring the camera- before coming back to you, "a thing. I need to learn how to paint. I've heard you're a really good artist. And clearly, I'm not. So, would you help me?"

You : This guy *a smirk lies at the corner of your lips* has the weirdest ways of saying 'I'm sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make your day better'. *nods* *raises shoulders* *bites lips* usually he does.

"Hmm," you pretended to think, "I don't know. Let me just show off my artist skills around a little bit and then I'll start teaching you."

"Oh, you think I'm-I'm trying to make you feel better? Don't make false assumptions, woman!"

"Din meek fils issimtion wimin," you teased him with your scrunched nose, right before Tony walked through the two of you.

"Five-second rule," he announced as your hands parted for Tony to go ahead and he slipped something over Loki's wrist.

"What's this?" Loki looked at the green bracelet that clicked shut over his wrist and did not come undone no matter what he tried.

"Just something to stop you from jumping in rooms unannounced," Tony responded, waving at him as he went away with a happy gait.

"Y/N," Natasha called out from the kitchenette, "you better take over before these boys make something everyone's gonna regret. And no one eats it before midnight!"

“Stark, get me out of this!”

Outside The Library

You walked with the camera following you out of the library, running right into Loki.

"Hey, have you seen Mr Stark?"

"No," Loki shook his head, "I rarely look at things I find unappealing."

"I made something for Nat, but I want his opinion on it. Come on," you pressed, taking his hand and pushing him away from the library and towards the lab.

"Stark's opinion? I'm sure Gordon Ramsay would be a better choice than him."

"I'm surprised you know who that is."

"Of course, I know who that is. Everyone fears him. I respect that. And he seems to have a cult!"

You sighed and turned the corner. "He has followers, not a cult. Like fans."

"What's the difference?"

"W-" and you found yourself short of an explanation, glad you were already by the lab's doors.

"Let's just concentrate on you making friends first, okay," you said in your best sarcastic tone, swinging open the door to watch Tony in the middle of the lab, going for the very familiar Pandora's box. The thing similar to the one that had teleported you to another planet.

Everything happened at once in front of the camera.

"DAD, NO!"

The small bag you'd been carrying in your hand fell down on the ground as you ran towards Tony. A shriek left your lungs as you forced him away from the familiar light that came out of the box. Loki was already trying to shield Javier behind the camera while trying to get you away from the path. Tony was not aware of what was happening until he was touching the floor.

And the next second everything disappeared.

The cameras in the lab caught Tony on the ground trying to get up, looking for you.

"Y/N?" He shouted out for you.

"Loki!" He commanded, getting up- not so gracefully- on his feet.

"Javier!" He begged, only to see Bruce, Natasha and Peter rush in from the doors.

"They're gone, Mr Stark," Friday's voice echoed through the silence of the lab, as the man tried to count his breaths while the others rushed to help him.

Unknown Place

The camera was blurry. A few sounds came from a distance before the lens shook and was wiped off where it lay- in the desert. It focused on two figures lying just a few feet away.

Javier's figure came in front as he tried to shake up one of them. And just as he did, Loki stirred, grunted and got up with a little difficulty.

Javier tapped his shoulder to get his attention away from his strange surroundings to your unconscious figure lying next to him.

"Y/N," he called out for you tenderly, his eyes scanning for any wounds on your arms or face. "Y/N, wake up," he gently tapped your cheeks and arms. "Y/N," he mildly shook you in vain.

"Y/N STARK!!" he shouted, giving you a good shake, making you get up with a scream.

"What the hell, Loki?!!"

"Come on," he commanded more than requested, taking your arms and helping you stand up.

"W-where are we?"

Javier went out of the frame and the camera was lifted up from the ground to show the barren land you and Loki were looking out to. Shades of yellow went till the horizon with curled up black tree-like structures at various intervals.

"I don't know," Loki sighed, his eyes taking in everything.

You turned around, the camera catching you walk over the rough ground outside the frame. "It's certainly not Earth. I haven't been to this...place before. We must stay close. Javier, do not leave my sight."

"Uhh...Loki?"

"Of course, you too, Y/N."

"No, Loki," you continued, the camera catching your concerned gaze as your hand pointed at something, "look."

The camera turned to face down the little hill that you three stood on to capture a battalion of aliens standing in prime formation at attention. Scales of iridescent gold and brown marked the skin on their shoulders and limbs, claws for hands and feet and a wolf-like face covered in warrior helmets.

"Yeah, suddenly I've started appreciating that old planet-thing I was trapped on," you mentioned, your voice breaking with fear. "You can teleport us back, right?"

"Ye-"

Both you and the camera turned to look at Loki, who was looking down at the amulet on his wrist.

"Stark," he sighed.

"Shit," you cursed, "sorry."

A blowhorn sounded down the hills throughout the valley, making you jump close to Loki, catching the fabric of his Henley from the elbow with your fingers.

"Okay, I've seen The Lord of The Rings enough times to know this is not good!" You nearly shouted with fear.

And just as you uttered those words, the clanking of armour sounded close to you, coming up the hill.

Three of those alien warriors came up, their march quite in unison as the taller, bulkier one walked ahead of the two who seemed to be accompanying him.

The camera stepped farther away as the creatures stepped closer while you tried to be brave yet took a step back so as to let Loki shadow you partially.

The stomps of threatening footsteps stopped nearly seven feet away from you. The stench of something eerie filled the air.

The two aliens at the back stabbed the ground with their metallic staffs, creating a gust of wind along with an incoherent vibrating echo.

The leader stepped forward towards you three, his gait slow and measured, his eyes shining a concentrated mix of purple. You shifted on your feet. Loki didn't.

He stopped right in front of Loki, standing at least two feet taller than him.

"Loki," came a low-pitched growl from the jaw that opened to reveal more fangs inside, "ward of Odin. Son of Laufey. Saviour of Asgard-"

"You could save the titles. It'll take you an entire day to get over half of them," Loki declared without skipping a beat.

The creature paused before taking out his sword from its sheath, making you step back.

"Loki, master of the Nubrath!" The leader spoke again, this time while holding his sword in both his...claws and raising it to the God. "Your army is ready."

The blowhorn sounded again.

"We're all prepared to take over the earth under your rule."

~End of Season 2~

You’ll get season 3 if you curse me with the balance of work and home to get me as many hours to write as possible. Bonus if you get me my dream job. No, I won’t tell you, you have to figure it out on your own.

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kplr-radio · 5 years

Text

Broadcast: Angelo Divine, 01/16/19

[Achy Breaky Heart Billy Ray Cyrus]

Angelo: Good morning, Kepler, this is 103.5 KPLR Radio, and that was “Achy Breaky Heart” by Billy Ray Cyrus. I hope y’all are doing well on this fine Wednesday morning. I’m here in the studio, drinking some coffee, and I’m excited for the day! Let’s get into the news, shall we? Traffic is still great, there’s still some ice on the roads but y’all seem to deal just fine with that. Weather is getting cloudy, with a chance of rain or hail this evening going on into tomorrow morning. The local hockey team, the Kepler Cosmos, is going against our bitter rivals, the Snowshoe Swans, this Friday, so be sure to get your tickets and support them. As is usual for Wednesdays at this point, I don’t have much news to report. At least, not officially. Why don’t I put on some songs to give y’all time to think, and when I get back I’ll take y’all’s calls on anything weird or creepy you saw these past few days. This is “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers.

[The Gambler Kenny Rogers] [The Devil Went Down To Georgia Charlie Daniels Band] [Seven Year Ache Rosanne Cash]

Angelo: Alright, that was “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band, followed by “Seven Year Ache” by Rosanne Cash. Let’s see, who’s first?

Caller: Angelo, I was in the woods and I got like really high, and I saw a deer but I was so high I thought it was a pony! And then the deer didn’t expect me to be there, think I surprised it or some s*** and it freaked the hell out, backed up and then... and then it opened its freaking wings, man! I was hallucinating a LOT! Oh my gosh, it looked like that yellow one, that thing in my little pony like a Pegasus and it was CRAZY! LIKE, ACTUAL FEATHERED WINGS! Holy s***! And I screamed and went backward a couple steps and I then I started backin’ away saying like “oh my god, it’s Fluttershy don’t kill me Fluttershy!” And I think that pissed it off! It was like the deer looked so… It looked so, so pissed. like, it glared at me. it started staring me down with its little eyes and then f****** CHARGED and I ran SO FAR, right outta the forest. I had a near death experience with a deer with wings and it hates me now because I called it My Little Pony. Oh god angry deer. Pegasus. Degasus. How’s that Angelo, what’s that about?

Angelo: Oh, wow, that’s… something. I’ve never heard of a deer pegasus before. I’ll, uh, I’ll look into that and get back to you. I hope you’re okay, wherever you ended up, hopefully you’re safe now. I’d recommend not going back, wherever that was, and maybe just staying away from drugs for a bit. Uh, who’s next?

Caller: Hey, I was out with my nephew yesterday and I saw this real big bird just standing and staring from on top of the Pizza Hut sign. Couldn’t really tell what it looked like, it was way high up, but it had black feathers and big yellow eyes. Real mean-lookin’ guy. Ominous, almost, like you know how the black birds are omens? Yeah, I dunno. But considering what’s happened to that sign in the past, it seems a little scary, y’know?

Angelo: Well, that doesn’t sound good. Maybe stay away from the sign for a while, if you can. Hopefully the bird will go away and not knock it down. I gotta brush up on my “omens and auguries” notes, maybe those’ll have an explanation. Or maybe it was just a month late? Anyways, thanks for calling! It looks like that’s all the calls we got for now. I’ll play this PSA from our local Forest Service rangers, and then we’ll get back to the music.

[PSA Transcript: Hey y’all, this is Ranger Divine, reminding you of some winter safety tips. Number one: If you intend to go off of the main roads for any reason, you need to have snow chains on your tires. I can’t tell you how many calls I get saying someone tried to go down an uncleared dirt road and ended up getting stuck. I won’t put you on blast, but one of you has done it three times, and we can’t keep doing this. Number two: please don’t try to go out on any frozen bodies of water. We test them every day, and they’re not safe for recreational activities. We can’t have any of y’all drowning or getting hypothermia because you thought it would be fun to skate on an unregulated pond. That’s what the skating rink is for, folks. Number three: Plan ahead. If you know you’re gonna be out in the cold, bundle up as much as you can, and bring water. It may seem like this damp winter is all you need, but it makes it even easier to get dehydrated. Alright, that’s it, have fun y’all, be safe!]

[Fancy Reba McEntire] [Friends In Low Places Garth Brooks] [Wide Open Spaces Dixie Chicks]

Angelo: That was “Fancy” by Reba McEntire, “Friends In Low Places” by Garth Brooks, and “Wide Open Spaces” by Dixie Chicks. And an important reminder from Ranger Divine, AKA my sister. Don’t worry sis, I won’t embarrass you on air. Speaking of embarrassing though, it’s time for Angelo’s Advice Hour! Call in with your questions and I will answer them with the objectively correct advice.

[Disclaimer: Angelo Divine is not qualified to answer most questions definitively. All answers are purely conjecture and Angelo Divine is not liable for any negative results that may come from following his advice.]

Angelo: Alright, here’s our first struggling citizen, what can I help you with today?

Caller: Angelo, it’s me Bonnie again. How do you make friends with people? You’re like, really good at it. Also you’re doing amazing buddy, you’re so great at this show!

Angelo: Well, thank you, Bonnie. Honestly, I think I have an advantage, having grown up here in Kepler. You end up getting to know everybody in a small town like this. But really, it’s about finding something in common. And also it’s important to accept that some friendships just won’t be that deep. Sometimes a friend is just someone who’s always at the store at the same time as you, and you make small talk about your week. It’s about going in with no expectations and learning in real-time what to expect from someone. I hope that helps! Let’s see who’s next.

Caller: Angelo, do you have any recommendations for hot drinks or comfort foods for when you really need to relax? Had a really tiring past couple days. Thanks.

Angelo: I’m sorry to hear things haven’t been going well for you. My go-to is usually some kind of fancy coffee, but I’ll also drink a hot chocolate. And as far as food goes, I usually get some kind of pastry or something, or— okay, this is random, but those little sourdough pretzels you get in the barrel thing? I love those. And you can eat them with dips, too, like I’ll eat ‘em with my favorite spinach dip. That got a little off-track, but hopefully at least one of those recommendations was helpful. Let’s take a quick break, and then I’ll answer some more quandries. This is “High Note” by Mavis Staples.

[High Note Mavis Staples] [Jolene Dolly Parton] [Take Me Home, Country Roads John Denver]

Angelo: That was “Jolene” by Dolly Parton followed by “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver. Hello advice-needing listener, you are on the air!

Caller: Angelooooo, how do you deal with crushes?

Angelo: The age-old question. I’m assuming “deal with” means murder, right? You can’t have any vulnerabilities out there. Let’s see, I’d say seduce them to your home for a romantic dinner, and then poison the wine. No, I’m kidding. I mean, I’d say the best advice is “talk to them” but I know it’s not that easy. Depending on their schedule and yours, try to spend time with them, and be prepared to take no for an answer. A lot of the time, unless you’re making your romantic intentions very clear, people just might not want to hang out or they’re otherwise busy. Even if your intentions are clear, they might either not like you or just aren’t ready for a relationship. I’m gonna say, unless you’re being creepy, nine times out of ten it’s not personal when you get rejected. Alright, who’s up next?

Caller: Hey Angelo it's Cat. I know you said to stop doing this but I freaked out again— he stared at me for a solid three minutes unblinking what was I supposed to do?— And am hiding in an undisclosed location. Again. So my question is: how do you deal with a scary co-worker?

Angelo: Cat, come on, he’s not even that scary. He’s honestly probably just messing with you. The trick is to scare him back. You gotta start leaving creepy messages on his desk, maybe draw a skull on a to-go cup full of coffee, that kind of thing. I mean, I just ruined those two things ‘cause now he’ll know I said that, but you know what I mean. That’s how you earn his respect. Anyways, looks like that’s all we got time for, I’ll play you all some music before I sign off for today. This is “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X, and yes, this song is a country song.

[Old Town Road Lil Nas X] [If I Could Only Win Your Love Emmylou Harris] [Live a Little Kenny Chesney]

Angelo: Alright, that’s it for me today, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Real quick before my producer cuts me off I’m gonna plug my podcast “Scary Stories LLC,” it’s a horror comedy podcast where I have a different guest on each episode and we try and pitch a horror movie based on titles that were suggested by listeners. Okay I gotta go, have a good day, this is 103.5 KPLR Radio.

#broadcast #angelodivine #1/16/19

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backstagepaige · 6 years

Text

“Dear Marco,”

“I propose we keep this act up, I need to prove to someone I don’t like him and you need to get your ex so envious that she’s begging on her knees. What do you say Baby?”I smirked at the way he shifted and he looked out the window before turning to look at me. He extended his hand and said “Deal.”

Not my gif all credit to the owner!!

Warnings: None? Unless you count cursing

Pairing Marco x Reader

Word count:2,715k

Author: @backstagepaige please do NOT repost my work anywhere without elicit permission from myself. This took me a bit to write and I’d appreciate it if credit was given where its due

Authors Note: I actually wrote this for @thevikingsheaux 500 Followers Writing Challenge and this is my first one shot I’ve ever posted on tumblr so forgive me for any spelling, grammatical, errors or any errors at all i’m new to this. Also I know Marco isn’t in it much but I was hoping to possibly write a part 2 with more of him and the reader. I hope you all enjoy! I in no way own the idea of “Too all the boys I loved before” This is purely for fun!

Prompt: “ 9. To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before type of situation where the reader’s little sister mails out her love letters to crushes that were never meant to see them”

“You know you could've just told me you liked me right?” My eyes dragged over to the voice that cut into my conversation.

“Excuse me?”My brows furrowed as I turned fully to face the soccer captain. Marco tilted his head back and looked at me through hooded eyes. He rolled them and reached into his back pocket pulling out a very familiar green envelope. My back straightened and eyes blown wide as I looked from him to the letter. The question now was do I play stupid or do i just own up to it?

“I um... Where? When did you get that?” Marco groaned and opened it, unfolding the pink paper inside. And began reading from it loudly, “Congratulations on the big game, I knew you'd be able to pull that last goal off! I’m really sorry about Stacey though”I cut him off by snatching the paper and shoving it in my back pocket. I grasped his forearm and tugged him away from the people I was talking to.

“Listen I wrote that in high school okay? I was a kid with a crush on the soccer captain, who by the way, Everyone also had a crush on.”I rambled feeling the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail stick to my neck and the heat creeping up my cheeks and into my ears.

“(Y/N) you do know high school was only a year ago right?” I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air. People had begun slowing down to look at us and whisper.

“Look, Yeah i liked you but you were hung up on Stacey and I knew i stood no chance. So I wrote a letter to get my feelings off my chest and I had no intentions of the letters getting mailed. I knew you didn’t like me... Good luck at the game tomorrow, I gotta go. Bye Marco”I quickly ducked my head and hurried around him.

How the fuck did he get that? I thought as I glared at the books strewn across the table for four. I groaned rubbing my eyes and laid my head down among the words of the Martindale- Hubbell Law Dictionaries. My head felt thick as I sat up and let it fall to the side, reaching for my phone. No one came to the second floor but I made sure to peek around and make sure the creep of a librarian wasn’t breathing heavy behind a bookshelf. Scrolling through my contacts I hunted my sisters number and tapped on her contact seeing her photo pop up on the screen. I closed some of the books and stacked them as I waited for her to pick up the phone.

“How’s college whore?”I rolled my eyes as the words flooded my ear. “Just cause i’m in a sorority doesn’t mean i’m sucking off every frat guy. Stop watching porn you brat, it’s ruining college for you”I laughed hearing her gag over the line “First of all, I never wanna hear you say sucking off and porn again, Secondly I prefer the real thing not videos”I squinted my eyes shut and shook my head. “Oh my god moving on, College is fine. How’s home?”I speed, pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing as she laughed. “Good, We all miss you but I miss you the most don’t let them lie to you- Your room is so awesome though (Y/N)”I furrowed my eyebrows and shot up in my seat making the legs of the chair squeal against the hardwood floor surely scratching it. “What are you talking about brat?”Her nickname felt heavy on my tongue as she giggled at something the muffled voices on the other line said. “Well you aren’t here but on the holidays so mom said I could switch rooms with you,”I felt my mouth drop at the betrayal by my mom She promised my room would always be my room no matter what! How rude! I went to speak but she cut me off “You know you had a letters at the bottom of your desk drawer? They were addressed so I figured you meant to mail them and never did so I took the liberty of doing it for you. You’re welcome no need to thank me! But hey I gotta blast and befriend some bad influences- I love you and miss you so much can’t wait to see you” I wanted to yell ‘wait’ but the dial tone cut me off. I stared out the tall windows and watched as people walked across the quad and walked up the stairs to come to the library and only one thing floated around my head. I’m gonna fucking kill her.

Zoe was sprawled out on my bed with her head hanging off the edge, Her hair dragging against the floor as she watched me pacing back and forth.

“Why did I have to be the only kid born with brain cells?” “How many brain cells can you actually have? You’re the one who wrote the addresses on the letters.” I stopped and glared at her opening my mouth to spit something back but decided against it and continued pacing. “For the love of god,”Zoe jumped from the bed and grasped my shoulders turning me to face her and shaking me a bit. “You criminal justice majors and your anxiety. How can you even wanna be a cop?”Zoe laughed continuing “You can’t do anything about it now. Just own up to it and be honest- Who knows, he's single maybe you guys can be the power couple this school needs?”I rolled my eyes before closing them and rubbing the heels of my hands into my sockets harshly.

“You’re right... Rejection isn’t something I really handle all too well.”I looked down at my hands and picked at the red acrylics. Zoe let me go and took a step back, “I’d never thought of you as the sheepish type. Wolfish? Definitely but sheepish? Not my (Y/N).” My cheeks flared with heat and I tightened my jaw “ I’m not sheepish. You can’t be in my line of career choice. That’s how you end up in a body bag.”I barked watching as Zoes brown eyes rolled behind her lids.

“You definitely have the dramatics of cop that’s for damn sure” “And you have the attitude of a lawyer”I smirked watching as she spun around slowly her left eye twitching slightly. “Take. That. Back.”Her teeth were gritted and I crossed my arms “What are you gonna do? Strangle me with your fabrics?”She flicked her hair over her shoulder as she answered “Maybe, but you always told me to never kill anyone I know. I’ll settle for bugging you for the rest of your life.” I gasped and placed my hands on my cheeks and shrieked “The horror! I'll take getting strangled by a scarf over that”I laughed as Zoe stuck her tongue out and waving me off as she flopped on her bed.

“Remind me why we joined a sorority?”She groaned and I crawled onto my bed and laid down. “Because we wanted to experience everything college has to offer even all the coke whores and guys that wear shorter shorts than mine...Plus we got a free pen”I laughed hearing her mumble ‘Fuck frat boys.’ My laughter died down as I saw a facebook message from Alex Hogh Andersen saying ‘I just received the most precarious letter in the mail from home today’ I screamed and threw my phone.

“I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked!”I hissed viscously scrubbing my scalp as the cold water pounded on my scalding skin as I tried to recant the letters I wrote to the three boys. Marco, Alex, and- “Oh god” I reached out of the shower trying to find my phone.

I quickly dialed my brothers number praying he’d pick up. “(Y/N)? What's wrong?”My 20 year old brother spoke and I sighed “Hey Are you with JP?”I was tapping my foot as the water pounded on my upper back.

“Yeah? Why?” “Let me speak to him please” there was a pause “Uhm Okay...”I heard him move the phone and a gruff voice came through the phone. “Hey (Y/N/N)” “JP Hi! Uh I have a weird question.”

“Uh...Go on?” JP spoke and I could just see him rubbing his jaw. “Oh! Sorry uhm How’s Sophie?”I stuttered scratching my neck and turned to make the water hotter. “She's good, She and I aren’t exactly seeing each other anymore...”His voice trailed off and I opened my mouth to speak.

“Uh (Y/N)? You there?” “Yeah yeah I’m sorry I spaced out...” “Of course you did, How’s College?”I scoffed and babbled on “No no no you are not changing the subject! What happened? You two were engaged!”I turned the water off and reached for my towel pressing the phone between my shoulder and cheek. I wrapped the towel around me as JP spoke, “She thought I was cheating- Hey Cam I’ll be right back”I heard JP matter as I stepped out of the shower.

“What that's insane! You would never-”JP cut me off and spat “Why’d you send me that letter (Y/N)?” “Jordan I promise you that letter was never meant to be mailed for Gods sake I wrote it before you and Sophie even dated! Yeah I may have written another when you when you got engaged but Jordan I’ll call Soph right now and talk to her”I was pacing again as the words fell of my tongue.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I told you everything!” Oh he was mad mad. “It’s not easy telling your brothers best friend that you cared for him! Jordan I’m sorry” I felt like my throat was closing up as I let the lid drop on the toilet and slump down on it. I rubbed my forehead and took a deep breath trying to control my breathing “I like you (Y/N). See it’s not that hard?”I froze at his words and pulled the phone away from my ear to make sure I was still on the phone.

“Jordan I... I... I’m seeing someone.”I blurted and covered my mouth from spewing anymore word vomit. “Well then... I guess this is gonna be weird then”I jumped as a knock resonated through the room. I heard Zoe yell that she’ll get it and I slowly stood up opening the bathroom door. I let my hand fall from my ear, Seeing Jordan and Cam standing in the doorway and Jordan ended the call “Hey” I whispered as Cam ran up and hugged me.

“We have a mixer tonight you guys are more than welcome to come but if anyone asks, you're with the VP of Sisterhood Event Planning and you're here to make sure no one breaks the rules; basically security,” I brushed my hair stepping out of the bathroom. “I gotta run to my professor's office and turn in my case and reports, I shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes to an hour.” I rambled as I walked to my desk and gathered the papers looking back to the boys as they slumped on my bed.

“Xbox remotes are in the bedside drawer and help yourself to what’s in the mini fridge” Zoe jumped in saying “Not my stuff though” “Well duh.”I sighed shaking my head and starting to stuff my binders in my bag and hugging everyone, “Be good, Don’t! Flirt with sisters either!”I scolded pointing a finger at both the boys before closing the door.

After dropping off the reports and case work I walked out to the field to see the boys scrimmage, I looked for a ponytail and a yellow band on someone’s right arm. When a couple of the guys saw me they smiled and waved, I waved and walked further onto the field.

“Hey boys, Where’s your captain?”I asked as Jaxon stood up and threw an arm around my shoulders bumping his head with mine.

“There’s our favorite photographer! Where ya been love?” He asked “Busy, You know i’ve been picking up cases for Crane. The internship isn’t helping with all the reports they're slapping me with... Where’s Marco?”I repeated raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms.

“Under the bleachers with some redhead. Lacy or something” “Stacey”I stated matter of factly looking to the bleachers on the other side of the field.

“That’s it! He stopped the scrimmage so it must be important, especially with the season starting tomorrow” I nodded and ducked under Jaxon’s arm and throwing a hand in the air. “Hope to see you guys at the mixer tonight!”I shouted taking long strides to the bleachers.

As I got closer to the bleachers I heard shouting, I knew better than to eavesdrop but i’m only human- of course i’m gonna do it.

“What was the whole point of this Stacey huh? It wasn’t enough to dump me before championships last year; Now you come and tell me you want me back? For what?”Never in my life had I heard Marco yell so loud. “I... I miss you Mar...”and never did I think i’d hear Stacey Ross sound so weak. “No you don’t, I bet your little sugar daddy dumped you and you can’t be alone so here you are trying to ring me back in well guess what Stac?” I jogged around into their line of sight “M! There you are!”I exclaimed happily running up to him and wrapping my arounds around his waist.

“Thought you said scrimmage was over at three?”I asked softly turning my back to Stacey and winking at him. “Yeah, Well it got interrupted”He spoke shakily raising an eyebrow. I turned and saw Stacey's eyes widen, “Oh my god Stacey Ross! Look at you!”I let him go and took a few steps closer to her. “You look like a hundred bucks! I just wanna thank you real quick, If you hadn’t broken up with M, He and I would've never taken the chance to be together! So thank you. Marco here must’ve spaced and forgotten our coffee date at 3:30”I cooed looking back at him and sticking my hand out for him to take, He grasped it softly and I gently pulled him away.

When we were out of ear shot I whispered “Just go along with it and I’ll buy you a coffee”Marco looked at me stunned but nodded anyway squeezing my hand a little bit. As we rounded the bleachers I shouted at the team, “Sorry guys I gotta steal your Captain for a bit- Grayson take over yeah?”The blonde boy bobbed his head and stood up.

I looked at Marco and squeezed his hand seeing him look backwards at the bleachers. “What the fuck was that?”Marco barked as soon as we got in my car.

“Hey watch your tone! I just saved you from the claws of that demon! You know you would’ve taken her back and she would’ve gone back to UF and fucked the first professor she could open her legs for!”I snapped turning the car on and twisting to face him.

“She transferring (Y/N)”My eyes dropped to my lap. “Oh... Well”I started laughing and covered my mouth. “I wanna make her work for it.”My eyes flicked on the lips that just spoke those words.

“I can help with that, I need help anyway that's why i'm here”I softly spoke turning my head to face him fully. “I propose we keep this act up, I need to prove to someone I don’t like him and you need to get your ex so envious that she’s begging on her knees. What do you say Baby?”I smirked at the way he shifted and he looked out the window before turning to look at me. He extended his hand and said “Deal.”

#marco ilsø #marco x reader #hvitserk #vikings #thevikingsheaux #writing challenge #new to this whole thing sorry guys #backstagepaige #my writing #oneshot #writing #favorites

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