#I just want to be in the splash zone 😂 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forthesanityofstorytellers · 2 years ago

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Hedge, the PI

I may or may not have decided that I wanted to write a story where Sonic the Hedgehog is a 50s Noir PI and translated as many of the gang as I could/wanted. Also may or may not have been revisiting my love for hard-boiled black-and-white detective stories recently. 😂

WC: 5,063

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Midnight. Perfect time for a run.

Water splashed against my new red running shoes, mud turning the white stripe into a dark stain as I ran. I glanced up to see the moon through the trees, remnants of a past storm causing the stars to sparkle in the droplets against the leaves. The wind roared in my ears, hammered my overcoat, my hands and arms dragged behind my body as I sped through the forest towards the nearby town.

I sped by a green sign, almost all the words rubbed off by years of storms. The only thing left on the old decrepit sign was the word ‘valle’, and no one could remember what came before or after the word. So, ever since I’d been here, this little town had only been known as The Valle.

The space between the forest and the town was peppered with industrial buildings, half of them rusted from disuse. We had some inventor-types and investor-types move in over the recent years -- who knows where they came from -- and they all took up residence in the industrial zone or the newly-build casinos. The lights on one side flashed through the billowing smoke from the other as I ran past, mixing to create a veil of neon-lit smoke that filled the street.

Once I reached the uneven cobblestone street on the other side of developments I had to slow down, weaving between the few people still out and about at this hour. Among the thin crowd I spotted a gal with a shock of pink hair and turned down a side-street just as she spun, narrowly avoiding her sharp eyes. It’s not that I didn’t like her. She could just be a little much for me some days. I jogged my way through the still-wet back streets to a squatty 3-story building set back among the line of dirty brick-row houses that rose up on either side; my home.

From here, it looked more like a grubby hole in the forest than an office building, but home was home.

Racing up the steps to the second floor, I came up short to find someone standing directly across from my door. He stayed in the shadows, barely moving at my approach, but I knew his silhouette instantly; it was the exact same as mine.

Lanky limbs surrounded a short torso, the guy’s hands always covered in gloves and a hat to cover his head completed the enigmatic ensemble. He only ever removed said hat in front of me, and that was only because I snatched it from his head when we first met. I was never sure why he felt the need to keep his face a secret. It’s not like he was a secret agent or anything.

True to form, he pulled off his hat to reveal a head of black spiked hair, the tips stained a dark dirty red. Red eyes glared at me from a severely angled face as he stared me down over a pointed nose. “Hedge,” he greeted me, voice low and gritty. “Out for a run again?”

I crossed my arms and met his stare with a cocked smile. “Observant as ever, my weird shadow-friend.”

His frown deepened. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Shadow?”

“Friend.”

“Well, when you’re not attacking me outright you don’t act like an enemy.” I smiled as I crossed to the door, hands digging around in my pockets for a pair of keys. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a case waiting for you behind that door,” he stated, arms crossed. “Don’t take it.”

I paused, glancing at the door. Frosted glass covered half the wood, with big blocky letters spelling out “S. T. Hedge” across the top, and “Private Eye” across the bottom. Just beyond I could see the impression of someone waiting, a slim feminine figure shifting uncomfortably as she looked around. I looked back, answer in my cheeks, but my shadow-friend was gone. Disappeared into the night.

Hm. Maybe he was a secret agent.

I shrugged. Oh well.

I pushed the door open to find a pretty figure standing in the center of my office, hands clasped together tightly as she spun to face me. Two long blonde braids swung around her shoulders, large eyes brimming with tears as she raced toward me.

“Oh Mr. Hedge!” she cried, “I’ve lost them! I’ve lost them!”

I gave her a smile and patted her hands, something meant to comfort her while also peeling her hands off my shoulders. “Calm down, sweetheart. Take a deep breath, and tell me the story.”

Swallowing a couple mouthfuls of air, she took a step back and started again.

Miss C. Abbit spun me a story of how she’s got a group of children she takes care of on her own dime. She went to check on them this morning and found all of them missing, then ran around town for the rest of the day asking everyone who would glance her direction if they’ve seen the kids. Eventually someone gave her my number and she called, but no one answered. So she came down and had been waiting in the office.

Pulling out a small notepad, I sketched out my normal fee and asked for a description. Giving me a sad smile as she began to play with the orange ribbons in her hair, she described the kids as short with large heads on top of little round bodies. I hadn’t ever seen kids like she mentioned, but it wasn’t my job to judge her descriptive abilities.

She thanked me with a little bow and hurried away, her orange dress still bright in the shadows of the hallway. “‘Don’t take it’,” I muttered my shadow’s last words and dismissed them with a wave of the hand. I had a job to do and I was gonna do it.

Tossing the pad down, it landed unevenly among the mess. I eyed my desk with a sideways frown, rifling through the odds and ends covering the top and moving a handful of gold rings hiding among broken mechanical parts. Hm. Looks like someone thought this was his desk. Again.

Digging out the phone from one side, I pulled the receiver and dialed, tapping a foot as the line rung. Once. Twice. Three times before a young-ish voice hurriedly answered, “Twin Tails Power Shop, what’s your need?”

“A good assistant would be nice. Know anyone?”

A pause. “Sorry Hedge, I got carried away with a new design and--”

“I know, I know, it’ll change the world.” I cut him off with a sigh. “Hey Miles, think you can tear yourself away from your garage long enough to do your actual job?”

My sarcasm flew over his head as he happily quipped, “sure Hedge. What’cha need?”

“Another pair of legs; we’ve got some kids to hunt down.”

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We met outside a small dark coffee shop halfway between the office and his garage. The kid came running up, hunched under a coat to stave off the drizzling rain. He was shorter than me by a head, his somewhat round face smudged with oil and grease while smoke left a black stain on his otherwise bright-orange hair.

“Sorry Hedge,” he apologized again. “The new engine I came up with still needs a bit of work.”

I dismissed it with a shrug -- he was always coming up with new ways to spruce up almost anything mechanical -- and began telling him the details of the case. Miles listened intently while wiping his hands and face clean with a seemingly endless supply of wipes. We tossed around ideas of how to find the kids, finally settling on the one where I’d investigate where the kids last were while Miles investigated the people around the place. We set off together, and I made sure to keep it at a slow jog so he could keep up.

We trotted our way to an old apartment building leaning over a fragile shack on the edge of town, a tattered sign at the top sloppily identifying it as ‘Station Square Suites’. An old fountain sputtered at the edge of the property surrounded by weeds and thick bushes. Miles stared up and groaned, knowing he’d be dealing with drunks and people angry about being woken up. He reluctantly jogged his way to the first-story apartments while I approached the shack.

The door squealed on its hinges as I poked it open, the dim light from the surrounding streetlamps bathing the interior in a yellow glow. A mix of mattresses and sleeping bags were scattered across the floor, interspersed with threadbare rugs and discarded jackets. A dirty handprint there, a crumpled bit of bandage in that corner, small baskets piled to one side and each with an orange bow decorating the top and sides. So, miss Abbit wasn’t lying about taking care of them, then.

Sweeping the area for clues revealed a hole in the door and a broken lock lying on the floor haloed by splinters. Spatters of a black liquid marked the floor and rug, a trail leading to the window where a foot-sized mark was left at the edge of a broken window, where bits of glass and rotted wood had fallen away from the opening.

As I bent to examine the glass, something winked at me under the rug. Tossing it back revealed a small green stone, a tiny diamond only as big as my finger. I held up to what light I had, the green surface reflecting oddly in the light. I pocketed it for later and turned back to the black liquid; A quick run of the fingers to the nose told me it stunk up a storm, though it wasn’t blood by any means.

In fact...It almost smelled like…

A shadow from the doorway blocked my light. Before I could turn I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking, suspicion creeping along my neck that the barrel was pointed at my head.

“Hands where I can see them.” I complied. “Stand up.” My knees popped as I stood. “Turn around.” I did slowly, coming face to face with a pair of angry blue eyes set into a wide face, the tips of his red hair peeking from under a white wrap wound tightly over his forehead. Similar wraps clung to his hands, the prized boxer��s hands still stained with blood from all the bare-fisted fights he had won. He blinked in surprise. “Hedge?”

I smiled. “Hiya ‘Knuckles’. Done boxing for the night?”

He frowned with a snort. “The Island closes at midnight, you know that. What are you doing here?”

“Not wasting time betting on your fights,” I answered, hands dropping into my pockets. “You?”

“Something was stolen from me. I got wind it might be here.”

A rattle in the corner drew both of our attention, Knuckles’ gun snapping to the sound. We waited for half a breath, the fighter approaching the corner first. A bundle of blankets shuffled at his approach, a powerful sneeze rocking the pile from under at least three layers down. With a quick pull, Knuckles jerked the blankets back and shouted, “Where are my gems!?”

His suspect wasn’t going to be much use; his rash action unveiled a child, matching the description Miss Abbit gave me, cowering with arms over his head. “Don’t hurt me!” he squealed, “Don’t take me away!”

I clamped a hand over Knuckle’s wrist, yanked his aim away from the kid. “Easy. I don’t think this is what you think it is.”

“How can you be sure?!” he snapped, stealing a glance at the kid.

“First, he’s just a kid. A kid I’ve been hired to find. And second, there’s this.” I held up a hand, showing Knuckles the small green stone. “Found this over by the window, close to an oil spot...and I doubt the kid is leaking oil.”

Knuckles swiped at my find, but he was too slow. The gem was back in my pocket and I was two steps out of his reach.

“Don’t fight me on this, Hedge,” he warned. “That gem belongs to a private collection of mine; someone stole a handful of those from me, and I’m gonna get them back one way or another.”

I shrugged. “And you will...after I figure out what it means for my job.”

We stared each other down before Knuckles holstered the gun and turned away with a grunt. “So I’m here for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered, looking back at the kid. “Help me figure this out and you can get it sooner.”

“Give me the shard as a downpayment and you got a deal.”

I snorted and shot him a glare, but took the tiny stone out and flicked it towards him. He snatched it out of the air with a grunt, peering closely at it while I bent down to get eye-level with the kid. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to reassure him. “Miss Abbit sent me to find you.”

Her name brought an immediate turnaround. He clung to me and cried, trying desperately to talk and failing to get the words past the lump in his throat. Knuckles tried a few more times to get a story out of him, but it didn’t work any better than the first time.

A knock on the door revealed Miles standing there with a notepad and a confused look on his face. He summed up his adventures in the apartment building with short sentences, to which I suggested he elaborate on later. After we take the kid back to Miss Abbit.

I had the distinct feeling that putting all our pieces together would produce a better picture to all our puzzles.

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I crossed my arms as I leaned back against the wall in thought. We took the kid back to Miss Abbit’s for safe keeping; one down and too many to go. After giving a groggy and disoriented account about a small metal man that kidnapped the rest of his friends, the child had been given food, water, and a secure place to sleep. Meanwhile Knuckles and Miles were talking around each other like water down a stifled drain, reciting facts and situations they had gone over a hundred times.

The breakdown was this; Knuckles, while primarily a boxer, also specialized in collecting rare and unique rocks. Seems he could never have enough of them and kept them locked up in the arena he owned known as ‘The Island’. A few nights ago someone managed to swipe his collection, leaving only a handful behind. His own hunt led him to think the thieves might be holding up in the shack that turned out to be where the kids were holding up.

Miles’ irritated apartment-dwellers had spun him a collective story about a fire-breathing car taking the kids away in a sack. I wasn’t buying the car story, but I had seen and heard enough things on the street that I couldn’t rule out some sort of mechanized monster maliciously snatching the minors last midnight. And if I was right, there was only one place that could manufacture said monsters and be willing to kidnap kids.

I was still fuzzy on the ‘why’ though.

Shrugging it off, I cut off the useless conversation and told them my theory. The three of them fell silent, the silence continuing past the point of my musings. I finished and Knuckles drew the same conclusion I had, slapping fist against an open hand.

“Nick Ivo,” he growled. “It’s got to be.”

“But...his company makes engines and machines,” Miles said. “Why would he…?”

I shook my head, glancing out the window. “I don’t know. But I think asking him might do the trick.”

“I’m coming,” Knuckles said, standing up and slamming his fists together. “He’s not gonna get away with this.”

I shrugged. Three against one evens the odds.

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The threat of the sun cracked along the horizon, a pale pink staining the dark of the sky as we approached a gritty tower of a building. Smoke bellowed from three chimneys at the top, the black belched cloud joined by an oversized exhaust pipe on the side. The name “Julian and Sons” was spelled out in neon lights, flickering over the doorway like a boast.

Knuckles jabbed at the door, the wood flinging open and slamming against the wall. I glanced at the inside of the doors as we made our way inside; the doors had been left unlocked. I drew my gun and motioned for Miles to keep behind me.

The inside lobby was a mess. Our feet kicked scattered nuts and bolts across a cold metal floor, pipes along the walls spewing smoke and steam in our faces. This place looked like it had been abandoned for years before being disturbed, mechanical tracks cutting through the dust and debris on the floor accompanied by a set of huge bootprints.

“So, you’ve made your way here, Hedge!” A gritty voice boomed over hidden loudspeakers, accompanied by a hearty laugh. “I wondered when you’d make your way into my trap!!”

“What have you done with the kids, Nick!?” I called up, looking around. Knuckles’ fists went up as we clustered together, moving as a group. “Hand them over and I’ll leave without tearing the place apart.”

He laughed. “You won’t get the chance!!”

The sound of gears grating echoed around the lobby, a pair of nearby iron doors opening with a slow groan. The opening filled with hot steam, surrounding the silhouette of a giant of a machine. With a rumble the giant rolled its way into the room, domed head nearly scraping the ceiling and treads large enough to squash us if we weren’t fast enough.

“Nice robot, Nick,” I called out, keeping my gun low and ready. The thing lurched forward, raising a drill-hand twice my size and aiming it at me. I motioned over my shoulder for Miles to move around as I ducked away, the drill smashing into where I had just been. I raised my head in enough time to spot Miles sliding into the shadows and mouthed the words ‘shut-off switch’. He nodded and disappeared. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”

“Of course you haven’t!” he boasted, the machine whirring in time with his voice, flexing four arms with various sharp attachments for hands. “This is a creature of my own invention; the machines are the way of the future, don’t you see!?”

Another blow slammed into the ground nearby, a buzz saw activating and racing towards me. I jumped back in time to see my reflection among the blades. “I see you’ve got a hobby,” I answered, nodding for Knuckles to head left. “But why steal Knuckles’ rocks and a handful of kids?”

“I needed a workforce!” he bellowed, “And a power source.”

I hesitated, looking up at the looming giant. “The kids built this thing overnight!?”

“Of course not, you fool! But I have several more of this same model, and I need all the hands I can get to help me build. Those kids weren’t doing anything useful, so I decided to give them a job. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got other things to attend to. Have fun!”

Two more hidden drill-hands began to whirr, the arms jerking to life and swinging around. The mechanic voice stated, “Target Locked. Initiating drill sequence.”

“Let’s go!!” I screamed, dodging a strong strike. The drill broke through the floor this time, concrete bits flying into the air as I jumped onto the arm, running up the links and landing a kick square against the metal dome. It let out a shudder and flung its arm, forcing me to jump down to the floor and steady myself.

“Oh Hedge, you don’t know how much this little town needs my inventions,” his voice continued to taunt as I dodged strikes left and right. Knuckles came around the other side, the robot swinging a bladed pincher hand at him, the glow deflected with a solid punch to the wrist-like connection. “My machines will become the next greatest thing, able to handle any kind of construction single-handed! I’ll be able to find oil in half the time, build or break down any building I want with less manpower. I’ll be rich!!”

An arm wound back and struck hard, one of its blades biting deep into the floor. It whined to pull back, but it was stuck. The robot jerked, and I took the opportunity to dash up the arm again, darting right to the top this time. A small glass opening allowed me to see inside the head, where one of Knuckles’ gems rested inside a tangle of wires glowing green and red. Shoving my gun against the glass, I pulled the trigger twice.

The robot jerked and shuddered, winding down with a goran. The gears screamed, oil spraying from the joints. I thought it was over and reached down for the gem when it was yanked down into the domed head, the thing popping up and flinging me into the air. The torso turned, smoke starting to spray from its arms as it wound up for another strike. Before it got it’s chance, Knuckles appeared, winding up with a scream and landed a crippling blow against its torso. The metal bent with a deafening crunch, a panel completely twisting away from its welded section.

Nick howled over the intercom, shouting demands at his monstrosity as Knuckles began to climb the sides. I shouted about the gem at the top, distracting the thing with a few more pops of my gun. It swung wildly, steam coming from the top of its head as it began to overload. Reaching the top with a grunt, Knuckles reared back and pummeled the metal until he made a big enough hole for his hands. The giant nearly shook him off, but with a quick jerk of his shoulder the machine died with a shudder and squeal. He pulled his hand out, revealing the gem he managed to free.

“No!!!” Ivo screamed. “How could you-- Wait, what are--!”

I heard Miles’ voice over the intercom yell “Freeze! We’ve got you, Nick! Come quietly, or...wait, what’s that!?”

There was a short pop and boom, static spreading over the speakers. My heart stopped for a moment, restarting once Miles’ voice came over the speaker. “Sorry Hedge,” he said, voice stilted with coughs and hacks. “He set off some kind of smoke bomb. He...He got away.”

“That’s alright,” I called up, looking at the defeated machine. Oil was starting to pool on the floor. “You got the kids?”

“Yeah, I found them and opened the back door. I told them to get to Miss Abbit’s and stay there until we get them. I also found most of Knuckles’ gems, though I think some of them are already a part of Nick’s robots. You should see the factory back here, Hedge. It’s wild.”

“That’s fine,” Knuckles called up, already making his way past the iron doors. “I’ll find them. You guys make sure the kids are safe and sound with Miss Abbit. Don’t worry about the aftermath, Hedge. I’ll take care of it. Nick won’t get away with this.”

I nodded and headed out the doors, calling out my plan to Miles. We made an agreement that I’d start to Miss Abbit’s and he’d take a minute to study the machines. He’d meet me there after he was done. I waved a hand and left, not surprised in the least. After all, Miles was a bit of a tech junkie. If I had it I would’ve bet a couple gold rings on one of Nick’s engines winding up in the Twin Tails shop.

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A quick trip to Miss Abbit’s found the kids safe and sound. She wrapped her arms around me as she cried, thanking me and Miles for rescuing them from Nick. We left after she paid us, heading back to the office while she went to cook soup for all of them.

The office was cold and quiet, the dull light of morning finally settling over the town. Miles had gone back to the garage to work on his new engine, police sirens wailing in the distance. I tossed my payment along with my hat onto the desk, the clanking of the glittering gold rings music to my ears, and ran a hand along my hair as I sat by the window. My fading reflection stared back at me, a shock of spiky blue hair sitting atop my head. Then the sun broke over the horizon, coating the street below in light and giving life to the dark buildings in our knothole of a town.

I pondered Nick’s robots. I wondered why my shadow-friend warned me away from the case. I thought about what Knuckles was likely to do once he got his fists on Nick. I considered the idea that Nick was still out there, and would likely want revenge on me for destroying his toys.

I shrugged it off, those worries being tomorrow's worries, and realized I was hungry. Stopping a moment to clean off my red running shoes, I decided to go out and nab a bit of my favorite grub; a chili dog.

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Epilogue

“Curse that Hedge...Curse him!” Ivo slammed two fists down on his desk and began to pace, his boots squealing in protest. “I can’t believe he defeated my latest robot. Defeated...no, he wrecked it!” He paced through his little hidden office, a space he built specifically for evasion in case anything went wrong. It was stocked to the brim with provisions, a wide path in the middle carved out with consideration for his generous girth. Hands clasped behind his back, he fumed and growled to himself as he paced past a scattering of blueprints, old plans, and a smaller model of the drill-bot that wound up being useless.

“I’ll show him,” Ivo muttered, glancing at his blueprints. His tinted goggles changed the color to a darker tone, but they held a secret; they allowed him to see the hidden ink scrawled over the blueprints.

Shuffling through them, he uncovered a floorplan of an anchient underground chamber, built right under this stupid little knothole town. He had traveled all over the world, looking for information on this chamber, and found many interesting theories but no facts. Some sounded far too mystical to be true, but some...Ah, some led him to believe an ancient power source was down there, just waiting to be used. He played with the tip of his wide bushy mustache as he considered his next move. “I’ll show that skinny runt,” he grunted. “This is not the end of Nick Ivo, inventor extraordinaire and genius beyond his time!!”

Taking his blueprint, he trotted back over to his desk and pinned it up on the wall next to a diagram of some finances. “Once I have this power source under my control,” he said, noting his habit of talking to himself and how it helped him think, “nothing will stop me from taking control of the industry, not even that runt, Hedge! And after the industry is mine, I’ll use the money and the robots to destroy this city and rebuild it in my own image; Ivotown! Yes! That’s what I’ll--”

“Talking to yourself again?”

Ivo hesitated, spinning around. He adjusted his goggles to see better, watching as a figure much like Hedge melted from the shadows. He sucked in a breath before realizing who it was.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, recovering with a smirk. “The mysterious ‘Shadow’. What do you want?”

The slender man held out his hand. “My cut.”

Ivo grunted. “Your cut. Your cut for what? You were supposed to divert him, not lead him to me.” He waved a dismissive hand, turning away. “You get nothing.”

He startled when the Shadow appeared directly in front of him, hand still out. “I did what you asked. I wasn’t told to tie him down. I wasn’t told to hurt him. Our deal was that I’d tell him not to take the case, and I’ve done so.”

Ivo sniffed through his giant nose, mustache twitched as he turned his back on Shadow. “Our ‘deal’ was for you to throw him off the case, at which you clearly failed. You get nothing. Besides, all the emeralds are back at my factory, and likely have all been taken by the police or by that idiot boxer, Knuckles. Maybe you can get your cut from them, since I no longer have access--”

Ivo felt a shove from behind, and found himself pinned momentarily to his desk with the cold steel of a gun at the base of his neck. “Wait wait wait!” he cried, “I- I- I may have one or two left. Look in my desk!” He flailed at one of the drawers. “That one! Look in there!”

Shadow opened the drawer, springing a small flash bomb. He stumbled away, falling to the ground as his senses whirled. Ivo stood over him with a laugh, gloating. “You fool!” he crowed, “did you think you could get me like that in my own office? I’ve got traps in every nook and cranny. Now get out! Get out while I still let you out!!”

Stumbling to his feet, the mysterious Shadow fixed him with a glare. “Fine. But this isn’t the last you’ve heard from me. I will come back. And I will get what is owed me.” With that, the mysterious copy of his rival stumbled from the room and Ivo turned back to his plans.

“That little snoop and his gang are going to pay for complicating my plans,” Ivo growled, snatching a blueprint for a dragon-shaped metal monstrosity from the wall. “And I know the right machine for the job...All I’ve got to do now is build him.”

Down the dark hallways and dim rooms, Ivo’s dramatic gut-filled laugh could be heard all over his abandoned, secret office building.

#short stories #my work #sonic noir #Hedge

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8bitscarlet · 3 years ago

Text

Feeling Special

Summary: All anybody on the team wanted to do for Halloween was have a night on the town where no one recognized them. All you wanted was a certain witch to recognize you as something more. Request

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (cussing, alcohol consumption)

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Halloween fic for y'all during this Halloween Week! This was a really fun one to write and just threw a buttload of characters in here 😂. Happy Reading!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

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"So, that's my plan." Sam concludes by placing the last beer bottle, respectively named Steve, onto the table. Your eyes glaze over the layout of bottles placed around as if he was planning out a tactical mission.

"That won't work, Wilson! If he walks in there," Barton slurs out as he jabs across the table towards Tony, knocking over all of Sam's hardwork, "everyone's going to be all up on us in that club!"

"Sam..." you say, waiting for him to glance up at you as you extend your hand that holds tightly onto new beers between your fingers, "You're good with constructive criticism? I don't want you crying or something."

He blows air out through his lips as he snatches a bottle from your fingers, "No, no, go ahead. I wanna hear this."

"Well firstly," passing off the last beer to Carol, you wave your now free of beer hand over his whole mock-up, "it fucking sucks."

There's a snort from your side, Carol pressing against her lips to try to keep the drink she just took inside of her mouth. Tony isn't as lucky, as his hand slaps against his face, his drink comes spraying out from behind it. Steve shouts out as he bolts up to his feet and tries to get out of the splash zone. Yelena is right behind him, hiding behind his body and yelling every Russian expletive she can.

Sam barely notices any of the anarchy happening around him as he stares out at his fallen bottles, "That's not... that's not constructive criticism, Y/N."

Grunting as you plop back to your place on the floor, you hold up your arm with a beer bottle in hand. A cold hand comes from behind you and takes it from your grasp, fingers just skimming yours.

"Hol' on, I have an idea!" Barton hiccups, trying to sit himself up in the armchair he fell in and never got up from.

You roll your eyes, feeling a slight knock against the back of your shoulders. Glancing over your shoulder, your brows raise when emerald eyes lock to yours. She gives a tight grimace to you, mouthing an apology as she tries to find a comfortable position. Leaning back, you feel the cushion fall as she leans forward, her breath running over your neck. As you clutch the bottle tighter in your fingers, you hope she doesn't notice the goosebumps that rise as you whisper,

"Watch yourself, Maximoff. Don't want you getting as drunk as Barton."

Wanda chuckles, eyes locked on yours as she lounges back into the couch and a small grin that has you pulling in a sharp breath. Resting your arm up onto the cushion to try and play it cool, you can feel the slight pressure of her leg pressing against you. You try your best to keep a clear mind, thankful she can't see just how fast your pulse is beating in your chest.

"That's a horrible idea, Clint." Legs knock into your other side without an apology as Nat stands up and starts to stumble towards the bartop for another drink.

Clint blinks around at everyone, confused why he's being shot down when he's still trying to form his words, "I didn't even say anything?"

"Look," you start, hugging your knees gently, "I have an idea. What if... we all just dress up as ourselves to the party?"

The silence that hits the room is deafening. You swear as you take a drink, everyone can hear you swallow. Sam looks your way, brows clenched with drunken anger towards your previous evaluation of his plan.

"Do you take constructive criticism?" his mocking voice comes through the room and as you flash a grin his way, he leans back with a huff of air knowing he isn't getting you back in this condition.

"Absolutely not. Look, we go out to a thrift store or something and make some cheesy ass costumes." You chuckle when you see Yelena nodding excitedly and jabbing an elbow into Carol, "Come on, who would think genius, billionaire, playboy-"

"Philanthropist." Tony adds to the end of your phrase quickly, waving for you to continue when you raise your brows to see if he has any more adjectives for himself.

"Philanthropist," you speak out slowly, "Tony Stark would show up to a party with a red sweater and a cardboard arc reactor taped to his chest?"

Nat slaps your shoulder, spilling half of her drink onto you and sending a grimace across your face as you feel her accidentally press into the pressure point in your shoulder as she sits back down.

"Now, that's a great idea!" She shouts out and riles up the group with her sister, the sound of buzzing excitement and clinking drinks filling the room.

Glancing over to Barton, you see him talking with Sam, frowns on their faces, "That's what I was gonna say."

Clinking your bottle against Yelena's, there's a softer touch from behind you this time. A hand rests against the back of your neck, a thumb just barely moving as it traces against your skin. You try to hold the shiver inside of you, not wanting Wanda to figure out just how much you crave her touch.

Every hi-five after a job well done, goodbye and reunion hugs after long missions and every second she laid close to you during team movie nights, you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. You couldn't blame her for all the lingering touches. After losing her family, you knew she needed to make absolutely certain that all of you were still there. You weren't special.

That's what you had to tell yourself. You saw how she'd lounge with her legs across Steve's lap or how she'd let Yelena braid her hair.

You were just the one unlucky enough to grow addicted to her touches. To want them every hour of every day. You were the one who decided it was a good idea to catch feelings.

"I think it'll be an absolute disaster if we all go shopping together," Wanda tells you, her fingers now starting to trace absentmindedly against the nape of your neck.

You clear your throat, trying to get out a chuckle that didn't sound like you were choking on a hairball, "Like the time we all tried ordering at the drive-thru?"

As Wanda's laugh hits your ears, you feel the heat grow inside of your body and you try to run the sweating bottle across your skin.

"Let's go tomorrow. Don't tell anyone, it'll be better with just us two."

_____________________

Not special.

That's what you had to keep telling yourself as Wanda pulled you down aisle after aisle of the stores. The two of you spent hours cruising the town and searching through every second-hand store and even stopping in places that both of you knew wouldn't have what you needed.

An arcade for a few hours. A hole in the wall restaurant that had the cheesiest pizza. A flower shop where Wanda told you all about how she was going to have the grandest garden when she stopped playing superhero.

And every second of those moments, you could feel yourself being pulled closer and closer into her. The arcade game reflecting off of her emerald eyes as she held out her hand for more tokens, not wanting to lose her concentration. How you two tried to see who could pull their melting cheese the furthest. You couldn't wipe away the wide smile on your face as you watched the way she stared off towards the distant future of a life of peace and flowers.

The day had to come to an end though, there was a party to prepare for. As you pull on hastily made bracers and stick colored duct tape on your jeans, you shake your head when you catch sigh of how you look in the mirror. If there was one thing you wanted to do today, it was to just ask Wanda to sit down and watch cheesy horror movies with you.

Unfortunately, you put this idea in motion and Nat isn't going to let you sit out. With a groan, you hang your mask off of your neck and stomp heavily in your boots down the stairs. Yelena comes from the hallway behind you and holds up a hammer with a large smile.

"Are we building a treehouse?" You ask, clenching your brows as you start to notice her outfit.

Aluminum foil covering a flattened box tied to her chest, with a crooked piece of red fabric hanging behind her like a cape.

She rolls her eyes at you, "Do you think they'd let me take this into the club?"

"First of all, I think that's considered a weapon. Especially for you. Second of all, you're supposed to dress up as yourself."

Yelena groans, tossing the hammer onto the couch and pulling out a cardboard hammer cutout from her backpocket. You bite against your lip, your chin quivering as you try to hold in the laughter at the coloring job. It was as if a kid had colored it. And even though Cassie was running around the Compound right now, her coloring skills surpass Yelena's.

"I'm not a famous Avenger," Yelena smirks, "And well, I have blonde hair. I am sexy. And I can make a powerful, booming voice."

You cross your arms as you nod, "By all means,"

Yelena grins, clearing her throat as she takes on a heroic pose. "I am the mighty Thor! I have come for my adopted brother, Loki! Observe! My worthiness to wield..." Yelena's voice rises back to her normal tone as she stares down at the cardboard hammer, "What is this thing called again?"

By this point, a crowd has formed a half-circle to watch this Shakespearean play. Eyes flick back and forth between all of you, lips trying to contort to saying Thor's hammer's name. Cassie comes sprinting by dressed up in an oversized Spider-Man costume with Scott running right behind her,

"It's called Jonathan!" He shouts, nearly slipping on his too long cape as he snatches up Cassie's trick-or-treat bucket.

Yelena shouts back a thank you and continues on her play, jumping here and there as she reenacts one of Thor's many battles. A hand pulls you away from the free entertainment and you glance over at Wanda with her robe tightly wound around her body.

"Have you seen- what is Yelena doing?"

You chuckle and look back, shaking your head as you see Carol pretending to be a dead Loki, "She decided to be Thor."

"Right..." Wanda clenches her brows with a humored look on her face before she looks back at you, "Do you have my tights?"

"Oh! Yeah, they should be in the bag on my bed."

Watching as her eyes light up with excitement, she leans up onto her tiptoes as she grips your arm tightly and presses a quick kiss against your cheek. She leaves you there, staring at nothing as your mouth hangs open and her kiss burns into your cheek.

You don't know how long you stand there, your mouth dry by the time Nat comes and shakes you out of your haze to start pregaming. Except, she doesn't shake you. You stay halfway inside of that haze, your fingertips tracing where Wanda's lips touched you. They were as soft as you had imagined.

As a shot came your way, you quickly shook that thought from your head and tried to focus on the good time right in front of you.

Half of the crew was ready to go and the other half was still trying to get their costumes in order. The half of you that were ready shouted out that they were leaving and for the other half to just finish getting ready in the car.

"There's not enough room!" Yelena shouts as she shoves Nat's ass out of her face and into the back of the SUV.

Stark had told Happy to bring the limo. The limo had to be serviced, so that meant Happy brought an SUV that did not have enough seats for everyone.

You were one of the lucky one's to actually get into one of the seats as everyone is shouting for where they're going to sit. Tony's in the front seat arguing with Happy, the Black Widow sisters are trying to get the back seats up and Steve just looks like he wants to go back into the ice.

"Everyone shut up! We're just going to make room! Lay down in the back and I can get back there. You two, go sit on a lap!" Sam was not going to miss an opportunity to go to the club, so he was taking charge as he shoves Barton and Wanda forward.

"Hey, keep it PG you two, no lap dances." Barton teases as he sits between the two bucket seats where you and Steve sit.

Wanda climbs in first, your arms wrapping around her waist as she nearly trips over Barton's legs. She widens her eyes as she tries to talk over the ever rising volume of the car. You shrug and shake your head, you have no idea what she's saying but really you just want her to sit down. The faster you get to the club the faster you can start hyperventilating about her sitting down on your lap. Carol climbs in after her, slamming the car door shut and telling Steve she was getting the seat on the way back.

"Hey uh," you clear your throat, "you found the tights!"

Wanda chuckles, gripping your arms a little tighter when Happy hits a pothole. Everyone in the back screams and starts to cackle in laughter as Tony and Happy start to yell back and forth about whether or not he's paying attention to the road.

"Well, I wouldn't be going if I didn't." She chuckles and you catch the quiver in the way she laughs. Is she nervous?

As you open your mouth to ask if she wants to bet on who's getting hammered first, Yelena shouts from the back,

"Stark! If you don't start playing some jams, I'm coming up there and punching you in the face!"

The rest of the drive is just horrible singing and nearly blown speakers, no room anywhere to get a conversation in with Wanda. You just sit there, her fingers gripping onto your wrists as you try to keep her steady on your lap.

Wanda moves quickly to open the door once Happy hits the brakes and climbs out of the SUV, giving a quick glance back to you, an important stare in her eyes. Before she can reach out to grab you out of the car, Yelena jumps out from the trunk and pulls her towards the club, yelling that she can hear the song that's playing inside and they need to be on the dance floor now.

An arm rests heavily on your shoulders as you shove your hands in your pockets and kick a rock. Glancing over, Sam is there and you let out a loud groan.

"You know how you can win that girl over?" Sam wiggles his brows with a playful grin.

You shove him away, "We are not having this conversation again. You are not being my wingman again. Steve's a better wingman and he called it 'courting' last time."

Sam holds up his hands, "I was going to say swallow some liquid courage, but damn! You need to get out on that dance floor!"

Whether you liked it or not, you were going to be following that advice. The club is practically bursting at the seams with every costume imaginable. The sexy costumes, the costumes that weren't really costumes and those who went full out with their costumes. Your plan worked thankfully. No one recognized that the actual Avengers were waltzing into the club dressed like the Avengers. Whether it was because the plan was brilliant or because people were too drunk to care, shots made their rounds again and again in celebration.

Holding out your arms as you stumble your way to the bar, you hold up two fingers to the bartender as you lean against the counter. You had gotten away from the dancing circle when Nat said she needed another drink. Anything to get out of all that fake smoke and sweating to another round of 'Monster Mash'.

A flash of red comes from beside you and catches your eye. Glancing over as you bob your head to the beat of the song, you nearly choke on the water you grabbed.

"Hey, where've you been? I lost you after that spell song came on."

The bartender hands you your drinks as Wanda pulls out her phone and starts to swipe into it. You start sipping on Nat's vodka cranberry, distracted by the concerned look on her face.

"I didn't want to bring this up earlier and get you embarrassed or anything."

Your jaw clenches as you try and think of anything that was embarrassing in your room. You're pretty sure you had put your laundry away and the evidence of a late night binge fest was thrown away. A bright light shines up through the dark club and you squint, trying to figure out what she's showing you.

"Why do you have this?"

Your eyes widen when you see that white box with a bobblehead inside of it. Through its clear plastic in front of the box, there's a clear view into who that bobblehead is supposed to be.

"Shit..." you breathe out, tipping the rest of Nat's drink into your mouth and holding up a finger to the bartender to refill it.

Wanda looks at you, rubbing your forehead as you try to figure out a non-creepy way to explain why you have a bobblehead in the likeness of her. The stupid box has her name right there on the front, you can't even say it just looked cool.

"I mean, they did a great job at matching my hair color." Wanda zooms in, laughing and glancing up at you, "I didn't even know they made these!"

You miss how excited and happy she looks when her eyes glance up towards you. You're practically pacing, running your shaking hands through your hair as you start to sputter out any words you can think of,

"Oh, well you know. All the fans have 'em. I mean... Well, I saw it y'know. Eventually I was gonna go out and get everyone's. Not just yours and uh... and well,"

Wanda grabs your shirt and brings you back to the bar. She bites against her bottom lip as her hand slides down your chest and grips your wrist to make sure you stay put,

"It's cute."

You swallow roughly, the jitters in your body at an all time high now that she's touching you, "Not weird?"

She glances back down at her phone, "I mean, having an action figure thing is kind of weird but... this is cute. You're cute, Y/N."

"Like..." you breathe out carefully as you grip onto the bartop to keep your knees from buckling, "like action figure cute?"

Wanda laughs, her finger running over yours and watching you slowly release your iron vice grip. As you do, she slowly flips over your sweating palm and intertwines her fingers with yours,

"Y'know, I can hear when you're telling yourself to stop thinking about how attractive you find me over and over again, right?"

"Ugh!" You groan out as you lean your head against the bartop, "I thought I was playing it cool."

"It's okay," a cool hand runs through your hair and you open your eyes and see Wanda leaning with you, "I was doing the same thing. And you don't even read minds."

You chuckle when you realize that after all this time worrying, you are in fact special. Wanda's brow ticks up, hearing that thought form in your head. Her fingers squeeze yours tightly as she starts to walk back towards the dance floor,

"Come on. I can show you just how special you are."

"You seriously want to dance right now?" You smile at the way she's already halfway dancing as people try to walk around her.

"We are at a party. In a club. We can get down to the nitty gritty of what it means for you to have a shrine for me."

You roll your eyes but let her lead you right back onto that dance floor. Wanda's arms wrap around your neck as you feel the booming bass hit your chest, nearly in time with your beating heart. You feel her wrist turn and your hands are whipped up to her hips, pulling a grin from you.

"You're a witch."

She raises her brows, feeling your shoulders start to sway to the music, "It is Halloween, babe. Let loose, what've we got to lose?"

You laugh out into the air as your feet start to step to the beat, "Oh, I can think of a few things we can lose."

Wanda bites against her lip, scrunching her nose playfully as she waits for you to tell her.

"This bar, these lights. Our friends. We could lose all track of time and maybe a little sleep, too."

Her cool hands rest on your face and as she rests her lips on yours, you know she agrees with you.

__________________________

Stepping slowly back into your room, you rub your eyes as you gently close the door behind you. Kicking the bed softly as you lean forward, you watch as Wanda's eyes squeeze hard as she tries to stay asleep just a while longer.

"Hey," you whisper out, "Wanda."

She lets out a tired hum, rolling over as she wraps her arms around your pillow and hikes her leg up and over the blanket.

"You sleeping?"

With her face half pressed into the pillow she mutters out, "No. I'm clearly fighting crime."

You chuckle, your eyes grazing across her body. Still in the red tights and leotard, her crown lost and forgotten somewhere in the club, "Oh yeah, your outfit is a dead giveaway."

Wanda smiles, reaching out and grabbing your hoodie pocket to yank you back into the bed. You crawl back beneath the covers, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. Closing your eyes to give in to the exhaustion in your body, there's a sharp buzz beneath your ribs.

With a sigh, you lift yourself up and reach under for the buzzing phone. You glance down at the screen and feel your blood freeze as you read the notification on the lock screen. Wanda's opened her eyes by now and sees how your face falls, her hand caressing your cheek.

Slowly, you turn the screen her way and watch the humor reappear in her eyes, as well as a deep blush on her cheeks.

"Surprise!" she exclaims as she hugs you close and hides her face in your chest. You're frozen in place, the picture of the online order for one of those bobblehead figurines on her phone. You barely feel the kiss she presses beneath your chin, "They make one of you, too!"

Groaning, you fall back onto your pillow-less side of the bed and look down at a proud Wanda, "Gross. Now we're that couple who has a gimmick."

As Wanda lets out a hum, her legs wrapping around yours and you stare down at that figurine, you feel a smile grow on your face. Maybe you were a little a special.

______________________

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